Personally, I couldn’t understand how he would find that sexually pleasurable, but he was squirming in the chair with a bulge in his pants. Something did it for him. I hadn’t been able to kill the men, but I was confident I could physically harm them. Only when they asked me to.
“Want to try?”
If Kirin could look more shocked, he did. “Hadley, are you serious right now?”
Had he ever used my real name unprompted before? He usually referred to me as princess, and for whatever reason the endearment had stuck through every iteration. “Dead serious. Do you have a knife?”
“Are you going to kill me with it? Because this doesn’t make sense otherwise.”
Of course it doesn’t, to the one who doesn’t remember what my pussy tastes like.
“I’m going to cut you like you want me to, and then I’m going to make you come like I own you. After that, you’re going to make me come. That’s your step-by-step plan so we know where this is going.”
He was silent for longer than I would have liked. Then, he pulled open a lower drawer in his desk and grabbed a dagger. The blade was curved, the edge sharp enough to sever a finger, and the handle was gold inlaid with precious gemstones. Kirin held it out in my direction, hilt side out, and I gingerly took the dagger from him. “Are you about to bring a precious family heirloom into kinky bedroom play?”
“Not my family’s heirloom,” he said, shrugging. “I wouldn’t care if it was. They can get fucked.”
“Well, you’re about to get fucked too, so go lay on the bed. All clothes off.”
Tension evaporated from his body as he wordlessly listened to the order. Being told what to do calmed him, and doing the telling calmed me. Any hesitance I’d had over the danger behind this was dissipating. I had no clue what I was doing, but Kirin knew what he could take, and we’d melded well last time.
I examined the blade for any tiny imperfections and found none. When Kirin was laid out on the bed like a snack to be sampled, I wandered over to him and climbed up, straddling his legs. Gently, I ran the flat side of the blade against his chest, and he shivered.
“Tell me why you like the idea of this. Have you ever done it before?”
He shook his head, gaze not leaving the exposed blade. “Never. I like…”
“Come on, be a good boy and tell me.”
I was hovering above his cock, but my words made it jerk and brush against me. Settling down, I placed his bare length against the apex of my thighs, clothed in my trousers.
“Giving up control. Total surrender. Technically, you could kill me right now. Not that I have a death kink or anything, but knowing I’m at your mercy is exhilarating.”
“And why do I need to draw blood? Couldn’t I just hold the knife?”
“Follow through. Knowing you’ve cut me before and if I displease you, you’ll hurt me again.”
His words came out with an accompanying groan as I ran the flat of the blade along his skin again. The metal was cool, but I doubted it would stay that way for long. If I’d cared, I would have put something down on the bed to prevent bloodstains on the mattress, but we wouldn’t be around in this cycle long enough to care. Kirin clearly didn’t have his head on straight enough to be thinking of that either.
“Where am I not allowed to use this?”
“My cock,” he hastened to say. “You can bite, but don’t cut it. Please. Or my face. I’d like to stay pretty. Maybe not my feet or hands either, and try not to make the cuts too deep. I should heal right away, but if you put a deep cut in a major artery, I might have trouble.”
“Understood. And what’s the safe word?”
His forehead scrunched together. “We don’t have one. I usually—”
“Use fruits, I know,” I said, sighing. “Safe word is kiwi. If you need me to stop, say it. If you say stop, I keep going.”
“I prefer that.”
Yes, because you were the one who told me to play that way.
Grinding my hips against his length, I accompanied the friction on his cock with a short, shallow cut along his pec. He hissed in a breath, expression hovering between pain and pleasure. When I made another slice through his skin, it settled on pain. As he’d expected, the cuts healed before my eyes, stitching themselves up until the skin was as smooth as before I’d made them.
Placing the knife on the duvet, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. He moaned into the kiss, letting me lead and shove my tongue in his mouth. I nicked myself on one of his fangs, my blood joining the coffee-flavoured chaos of the kiss. He’d had a cup on his desk; he must have finished recently, and not this morning like I’d assumed.
His hips thrust up, and I pulled back, pressing down against him. “Don’t move unless I allow it, you know that,” I said.
