Chapter 20
“Answer me, Isabella. Do you trust yourself?” he asks again, tilting his head to the side with a sinister expression.
“W-What do you mean?” I mutter, my eyes fixed on him.
He leans in slowly. “I am someone you should run away from. I am a liar. I am a manipulator.” He lets the word vibrate on his tongue for a bit longer, as if he enjoys the way it sounds.
“I am a savage, and a killer, yet you say you trust me.” He guides the blade in my hand to his throat, pressing it gently.
“What are you doing?” I gasp, frozen in fear.
“Would you trust me if I did the same to you?” he asks, eyes wide, leaning even closer to me, the blade almost slicing into his skin.
Is he crazy?
It’s one more time that I feel terrified around him, yet not as much as I should. I do trust him. I know he won’t hurt me. Maybe he is all the things he said, but he’s not like this with me.
“Yes,” I breathe.
His brown eyes burn into mine for a little longer, as if he didn’t expect that answer from me.
Eventually, he grabs the blade, pulls the knife away from his throat, and takes two steps back.
What was that? What was that feeling? I’ve never felt such excitement, fear, and heat between my thighs.
Breathless and shaken, I turn back to face the mirror. I need to distract myself. My eyes land on the glass clock on the wall. Ugh.
“I don’t want to go on that stupid date.” The words slip out before I can keep them.
He crosses his arms and leans against the vanity, almost facing me. “Right, you need to go on a hot blind date that your daddy approves of.”
“You’re too calm about that.”
“No need to stress. I’ll be watching him all the time, and at the end of the night …” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll kill him.”
“What?” I gasp.
“Relax. I know my job.”
And just like that, he wears that signature smug smirk and his other face and twists everything in me.
“Your job is to keep me safe, not kill him.”
His expression turns solemn again, his eyes piercing mine, daring me to look away. But I don’t. I keep looking at him.
“I won’t let him touch you,” he says, voice low and soft. “I won’t let anyone touch you.”
I exhale, almost relieved. “Promise?”
“Mhm.” Slowly, he reaches for the knife, letting it turn lazily between his fingers, his gaze never leaving mine. “I’m a selfish man. And I don’t take kindly to anyone reaching for what belongs to me.”
My eyes roll involuntarily. “I’m not yours.”
“Wrong answer.”
With a sudden movement, he’s behind me, his breath ghosting over my skin, the knife pressing gently against my throat and eliciting a small gasp from me.
“What are you doing?”
“I swear to you, I’ll kill that man.”
“Adam, you’re scaring me,” I pant.
God, I’m scared and aroused at once. He never touches me, yet his presence alone numbs my head and makes my thighs tighten.
“I’ll kill him for daring to think he can have what’s mine,” he whispers cruelly in my ear, making me shudder.
“Stop. You sound …”
“Like a killer? I am.”
His torso presses softly against my back like he owns the space—like he owns me. His hardness settles between my cheeks through the thin silk fabric of my dress, teasing and tempting me. I arch closer, my breath hitching, shameless in the way I lean into him.
“Do you trust me while I hold this against you?” he growls in my ear, trailing the knife lower on my belly. The feeling of the blade makes my heart rate accelerate, but I nod. “Perfect.”
Without laying a hand on me, he lifts my dress just high enough, eyes locked on mine as the blade slides under the thin lace.
One sharp slice that causes a soft gasp from me and my thong hits the floor.
He watches me through the mirror, eyes slow and hungry, then smirks like he already knows exactly what he wants to do to everything underneath.
“You have no idea how hard it is not to touch you when all I can think about is your moans,” he growls, forcing my legs to part with his knife. “Your shudders. You gasping my name from pleasure.” The flat of the knife glides over my already soaked pussy. “I want to see this again.”
Shame sears through me, but the arousal is far stronger.
His free hand grips my jaw, pulling my head back until it rests against him.
The cold blade presses against my clit as he drags it back and forth.
He knows exactly what it’s doing to me. A broken gasp rips out of me, my legs shaking, the pressure winding tighter with every stroke.
“Yes,” he hisses, unable to tear his eyes from the knife grinding against me. “Show me again. Show me how good you look when you fall apart for me.”
Fuck, it’s already too much, but I can’t stop. My hips move on the blade, chasing more like a needy slut, shame be damned. I’m soaked, throbbing, and it still isn’t enough. I feel obscene—hell, I look obscene—and still, it’s not enough.
His grasp tightens around my throat. “Yes. Show me how filthy you really are. How twisted that pretty little mind gets when you’re this desperate.”
God, I can barely think.
“Adam, I—”
“Right here,” he says, pressing the blade a little harder on my dripping pussy, making me twitch. “I want to see it. I want to see you lose control for me,” he hisses, possessive and hungry, and I do lose control. My hips jerk before I can stop them.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, breath hot at my ear. “So fucking wet for something you’ve never even had.”
The blade presses harder on my pussy, and I whimper, too needy to hide it. “Rub against it,” he snarls. “I want to feel how desperate this pussy is for my cock.”
My breath’s a mess, ragged and uneven, but I can’t look away.
His eyes are locked on mine in the mirror, dark and hungry, like he’s already inside me. I watch his hand move, the blade pressing lower against my pussy, and I can see how wet I am. Fuck, I’m soaked.
I should be ashamed. Hell, I should be terrified. But all I can think is how much I want more.
My chest is rising too fast, my thighs already shaking. I can see everything. The way I’m spread open for him, the slick between my legs, the look on my face like I’m already fucked.
And he’s barely even touching me.
I want him to touch me.
I need him now.
“Please …” I whisper, breathless and humiliated. “Touch me. I—I need it.”
My voice cracks. I don’t even know what I’m asking for. I just know I want his hands on me.
“Please … I can’t take it anymore. Just touch me.”
“You want me to touch you?” he murmurs, voice dripping heat. “Fuck, baby … if I could, you’d already be on your knees, and my fingers deep in that sweet little pussy while you beg me not to stop.”
His breath grazes my neck, and I shudder, legs trembling.
“I’d take my time with you,” he goes on, savoring every word. “But fuck, what I really want is to feel you wrapped around my cock.”
I let out a sound I don’t recognize—a moan, soft and aching, my body clenching at the thought.
“Oh, how tight you’ll be,” he growls, eyes fixed on mine in the mirror, watching every twitch, every breath. “I’ll fuck you slowly the first time, just to feel every second of it. Make you take every inch until you’re shaking.”
My knees threaten to give out. I reach for the wall, for anything to hold onto, but I can’t stop the words from spilling out.
“I want it,” I whisper, breathless. “I want you.”
He grits his teeth, jaw tight, and I can feel the restraint in him.
“You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“I don’t care,” I moan. “I want to feel it. I want to feel you.”
He laughs under his breath. He sounds dark and fucked, barely holding it together.
“Yeah?” he murmurs. “You want me deep inside you, filling up that tight little pussy while you cry for more?”
I whimper, my hips shifting, grinding down with no rhythm.
“You’ll take it so well,” he breathes. “I’ll have you shaking and moaning before I even get inside you.” His breath drags over my neck. “You’ll be dripping down my cock, baby. So fucking needy you’ll beg me to keep going even after you come.”
My mouth falls open. My whole body tightens, my hips still grinding down the blade, feeling the climax surging through me.
“Adam—” I gasp, voice cracking, “I’m—I’m coming, oh, God—”
His hand covers my mouth as a scream rips through me. I don’t care how loud I am. I don’t care what I sound like. All I know is the way my legs are shaking and how empty I feel without his hands on me, and how badly I still want more.
“So fuckin’ pretty when you do,” he carries on.
His hand drops from my mouth, and before I can even catch my breath, he grabs my waist and spins me to face him.
He watches me like he’s starving. Like he’s hungry for my surrender. There’s a darkness in his eyes, deeper than before, like my orgasm didn’t satisfy him.
Lifting the blade between us, he drags his tongue up the flat edge, tasting me from the metal, enjoying the aftermath of something holy and filthy at the same time.
His gaze never leaves mine.
“This,” he says quietly, flicking the tip of the knife against his tongue, “belongs to me.”
The words hit low, straight between my legs, and I’m too breathless to say a damn thing. He steps closer, eyes gleaming, and leans in until I can feel his breath on my lips.
“Next time, you’re gonna be on your knees, choking on how bad you want it.” He lifts the knife again, eyes still locked on mine, and taps the flat of the blade gently against my cheek.
His smirk curves, slow and wicked. “Now, get ready for your date,” he says, voice dripping sarcasm. “You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”