Page 71 of Taming Seraphine

“That’s my girl.”

Somewhere on the outer reaches of my subconscious, pleasure bubbles up at the thought of being Leroi’s anything. I don’t dwell on that for long as the metal handle’s up-and-down moments push me to the brink.

Pressure builds up behind my clit, and the muscles of my core tighten. Getting pleasured by the hilt of the same dagger used to cut me open and make me bleed is even more intense than getting spanked.

I glance up at Leroi. His face hasn’t changed since he caught me reaching for his jugular.

“You look so pretty down there, writhing against this knife,” he says. “And look at the mess you’re making on the kitchen counter.”

My gaze drops to the tiny pool of fluid gathering on the dark surface, and I flush. That can’t be all from me because I almost never get aroused. I shake my head, not wanting to admit that something like a knife could get me so excited.

“Don’t deny it,” Leroi growls. “You love it when I rub your clit with the hilt of a knife. Admit it.”

I nod, my heart beating faster.

“Use your words,” he says.

“I love it.”

“And?”

“And I want more,” I say through panting breaths.

My clit feels like a raw nerve, every stroke pushing me to desperate precipices of pleasure. Just as I’m about to explode, the hilt slides down my folds. The sudden absence of the metal is almost too much, and I’m left panting. I cry out but stop when the thick metal circles my opening.

Fuck. Leroi isn’t going to?—

“Will you take this hilt like a good girl?” he asks.

“Please!” I buck my hips, wanting it, needing it, aching for him to fuck me with the knife.

“Open wider, angel,” he says.

I part my thighs as far as they’ll go, and he pushes the hilt into my opening. It’s thicker than a man’s finger, but cool compared to my needy heat. The swirling patterns of the metal press against my inner walls as he moves it in and out. I clamp around it, adjusting to the pleasant intrusion.

Leroi stands so close I can feel the heat of his body radiating through his clothes. Each time he thrusts inward with the hilt, the pad of his thumb grazes my clit. and his chest brushes against my peaked and desperate nipples.

“Yes,” I rasp. “More.”

“Look at how well you take the knife. See how much you coat it with your juices.”

He uses his other hand to grasp the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing me to look down between my thighs and I moan. He’s right. The metal is glistening with my fluids. My clit has swelled to twice its usual size and is so red that I swear it will burst. Each time his thumb even gets close, he detonates tiny explosions of ecstasy.

“Fuck. You look so pretty when you’re taking this dagger. Pretty enough to draw blood.”

My legs tremble, and I throw back my head, letting it hit the wall tiles. Pleasure builds and builds until I’m so close to climaxing that I can barely breathe. If Leroi pulls back like he did during the spanking, one of us will die.

He leans even closer and growls. “Come for me, little angel.”

The muscles of my core clamp around the hilt, and my clit swells to the point of agony before he swipes it once more with his thumb. I explode in a powerful orgasm that throws me back against the kitchen counter.

I shudder and gasp, my entire body convulsing as I ride out wave after wave of pleasure. It spirals through my veins, infuses every nerve ending with sparks. I’ve never felt anything so intense. These all-encompassing sensations burn through my memories, my thoughts, my very being. Ecstasy and awe battle through my senses until I lose myself in the climax.

Leroi’s whispered words of encouragement hover on the edge of my awareness until the orgasm subsides, and I’m left trembling and panting with aftershocks. Then he eases the dagger out and pulls me into his chest.

I melt against his larger body, the last vestiges of my orgasm still sizzling across my senses. His arms tighten around my shoulders, keeping me from splintering.

“Leroi,” I rasp.

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