What does it say about me that I want to leave more bruises like those, evoke more of those reactions, that I want to…
My fingers tighten around the karambit, and I lick my lips.
I’ve been wanting to repay her for so long for catching me off guard,humiliatingme. I have the chance. I can slice her open with her own fucking knife.
I should do it.
She won’t stop me.
My hand is surprisingly steady as I draw the very tip of the blade along her collarbone. It leaves a thin red line, but barely any blood wells up to the surface.
Not yet.
Pandora watches me with those green eyes of hers, not a shred of fear in them.
If anything, there’s arousal, her mouth parting and her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
“Do you have the balls to do it?” she whispers.
“Do you have the balls to take it?” I retort, my breathing coming more heavily. “Or are you gonna run to the police like a little bitch?”
I’ve never done anything like this.
But I’ve fantasized about it.
Not with thosenicegirls, but in my darkest fantasies, the ones I never intended to act on.
I don’t want her to see my indecision.
Pandora grins widely. “I wouldneverrun to the pigs, Asch.” She reaches up and cups my jaw. “But I might run to Blaze, if you don’t fucking do something already.”
I jerk my head away from her, then stare down at her chest. I take the wickedly sharp curved blade, and I cut her, right over the swell of her breast.
This time, blood does bubble up to the surface almost immediately, and my breath catches as I watch.
Pandora lets out a breathy moan. “Oh! That’s good.” She drags her finger through the cut and smears the blood, then brings the finger up to her mouth to lick it clean.
I shudder.
I want to cut her again, but instead, I lean down, crushing my lips against hers in a kiss I’ve been denying myself. I pull away with a sharp inhalation, hating myself for having given in for even a moment, then I narrow my eyes as I stare back down at her chest.
Another cut, this time directly below her collarbone, and then it’s like an addiction, like something I couldn’t stop if I tried, as I leave inch-long slices over and over across her chest.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each time, the sounds she makes are damn near orgasmic, going straight to my cock.
“How many times have you done this before?” I demand, though my voice is hoarse. “Let someone cut you up, like they can’t just slit your throat when they’re done with you?”
Pandora wraps her hand around my wrist and drags it—and the knife—closer to her face. She kisses my hand, leaving a small, bloody lip print behind.
“No one has ever cut me up like this,” she says. “I’ve never let another person get a knife this close to me.”
I bark out a laugh of disbelief. “So you let someone who fucking hates you get near you with a sharp blade?”
