Chapter Twenty-Two #2
As the claws draw closer to my center, my breath hitches. He wouldn't. Not there.
"You're holding your breath, sweet Violet. Be good and breathe for me. I won't hurt you."
Not hurt me much, I think.
Just as the swelling lips of my center are prepared for the feel of the sharp points, he skirts it, circling my ass again, trailing down my arms as I shiver, goosebumps sprouting, even in the heat from the fire.
My ankles are abruptly released and I stifle a shriek as Roman flips me over onto my back, chaining my ankles again and then pushing the lower half of the table in two, spreading my legs as he steps between them, pressing his hard dick against me.
"Look at you," he says. "Laid out in front of me like a feast, such a sweet sacrifice."
I can feel those razor-sharp tips on both legs now, running down the delicate skin of my inner thighs.
He's put on another set of claws. I wonder what they look like.
Are they long and terrifying, like Wolverine's?
I can't stop the shiver that goes through me and Roman slaps the inside of my thigh sharply. I yelp.
"Don't move," he says sternly, sounding slightly disappointed with me.
"It's hard not to when you have ten talons running down your body," I wheeze.
"Would you like to see?" His voice is darker and I can hear the slightest tinge of a Russian accent creeping in.
"Y- Yes?"
He chuckles darkly. "You don't sound certain."
"Yes, please," I moan.
One of those points hooks delicately under my blindfold and shreds it away like paper.
Roman is standing between my legs, naked, his cock hard and thick against his abdomen and on each fingertip, a razor-sharp claw.
They glitter in the light from the fire and I suck in my breath again.
These claws could surely slice through my skin as quickly as they did that silk blindfold.
He's watching me, the way my chest is heaving.
"Are you afraid, Dushistaya fialka?"
"Yes." I can't lie, he can see it. My hands tighten to fists in the manacles twisted over my head, as he lifts the claws very carefully, letting me see them.
He runs them along the tender underside of my arms, bound and helpless.
My gaze follows their movement as they slide down the sides of my breasts and circle them.
It could be the tiniest twitch, and one of those could cut into my nipple.
I wonder what it would feel like.
"Do you want to know?" I think Roman must be psychic until I realize I'd said that out loud.
"Just the lightest touch," he whispers diabolically.
He slips a pillow under my head, elevating it so I can see more clearly, and he circles my breasts again, sweeping over my stomach and back up, resting delicately on my chest until the claw on his index finger makes the slightest scratch on my nipple and I gasp.
There's a bright bead of blood welling up and with a growl, Roman fastens his mouth around my nipple. His hot tongue circles me.
He's licking my blood.
This should horrify me, but instead, my hips lift again, my thighs widening needily as he pulls back and kisses me so that I can taste it, like bright pennies against my tongue.
"So beautiful, so brave," he says, those terrifying talons moving down again, sliding in the thin crease between my thigh and my pussy. Every muscle turns to stone.
Not there. They could do so much damage not there. Why am I not screaming "Amber"?
Because every inch of my skin is excruciatingly sensitive. Every stroke of the claws awakens something inside me. He cut me and I liked it. Because I am so wet.
Roman runs the claws with utter delicacy between my lips, lightly circling my hole, and then up to circle my clitoris, his gaze fixed on mine. His head is tilted down and he looks like a wolf, gazing at me with his green eyes.
"Tell me what you're feeling."
"Every… every nerve in my body is on fire. My skin is like a completely different organism, every part of it is excruciatingly aware of the feel of those claws."
"Beg me to come, sweet Violet." I can see the lethal gleam of those steel tips, circling the most sensitive, vulnerable bit of me.
"Please," I gasp, "please let me come!"
That claw circles my clit one more time and very lightly taps the hood and a shriek rips out of my mouth as I come brutally fast. Violent, surging streaks of pleasure tear through me, I feel it everywhere, sweeping over my skin.
He pinches my clit between two knuckles and twists it, dragging out my orgasm long past my ability to take it.
The first thing I can feel other than my pussy is a trickle of blood from my breast. I'm wet, my thighs are so soaked that is hard to know, but I'm praying it's come and not blood between my legs. I don't care, though. Nothing matters more than this feeling.
"No blood." Roman kisses me as I blink up at him lazily.
"I only draw blood from you when permission is given.
" With a flick of his fingers, the claws drop with a clatter on the stone floor.
"Your hole is so needy isn't it?" His grin is almost cruel as he runs his fingers along my wet center, but never pushing inside.
"I can see your cunt pulsing desperately, wanting to be filled. "
He twists his hand in a practiced motion that I've seen a dozen times when he's flipped his stiletto and- Oh, fuck it's in his hand.
The glistening ivory handle is thick with a silver tip at the base of the knife, and holding the blade between his thumb and forefinger, he pushes it between my legs and inside me.
"Roman!" I gasp. "What are you –"
"Filling your greedy cunt," he says, watching the handle of his knife plunge in and out of me. "It's slippery with your come already."
I feel it, hard and utterly foreign, scraping along my wet walls and pushing deep.
His biceps pulse and flex as he fucks me with his knife.
I should be screaming. Instead, that shaky feeling of something surging out of my control is back, the hard thing inside me is yanking another orgasm from me.
Electric spikes of pleasure from my center pulsing through my painfully sensitive skin and when he angles the base of his knife, rubbing it hard against me inside, I detonate.
There's a low curse in Russian and I shriek as he drives his stiletto into the wood next to my head and shoves his cock inside me. Greedy, uncaring of my shaking body and mindless moans, just fucking me with his head thrown back, fingers tight on my hips.
"One more time, baby," he rasps. "You'll give me one more. I'm not going to stop until I feel it. I'll take it from you if I have to."
It's so shocking and filthy and unimaginable that I clamp down on his cock, screaming, trying to keep him inside me and with one last, stuttered thrust, my god of sex and pain comes too, his release burning through me.
***
Dushistaya fialka - Russian for sweet Violet.