Chapter 20
Katana
Shadows pool along the walls, but all I see are Micah’s eyes, black and unwavering, locked with mine like he’s tethered me in place.
“Don’t look away,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. “Eyes on me.”
Heat flares under my skin, my body answering before my brain can catch up. Shame prickles at the edges—but deeper and hotter than that is something else. A rush of power I didn’t expect washes over me from the way he’s staring at me. As though I’m sacred. Desired. His.
“Open your legs wider,” he orders softly, stepping closer, his stare dragging down the length of me. “Let me see that pretty pussy.”
Jesus. Embarrassment surges, but it doesn’t drive me away. It roots me. I part my thighs further, breath catching as his focus sharpens.
His gaze returns to mine, a dangerous glint in the darkness. “Play with yourself, little murderess. Show me how you like to be touched.”
I nod, biting my lip as my fingers slide over my clit. A whimper comes out of me, and heat burns in his eyes, incinerating me. At the same time, it encourages me.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “You’re so damn wet.”
“For you,” I whisper. “Only you.”
A soft moan escapes him, and I swear, I’d sell my soul to the devil to keep hearing that sound. Since that’s not an option, I settle for turning him on so he keeps moaning.
I slide one finger inside my pussy, still playing with my clit. My breath hitches at the intensity in his eyes, his gaze flickering from my wet pussy to my heaving chest, then to my face, as though he’s memorizing what I like.
I shove another finger inside me, biting my lip to prevent the moan that wants to slip out. I’m already losing control, and I’ve barely gotten started. Usually, it takes me a long time to get myself to come. Apparently, that’s not the case when Micah’s watching me.
“Don’t come. Not yet.” The words strike like a shiver through me. “Not until I touch you.”
The air between us vibrates. I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
I nod, frantic and desperate for him to touch me. “Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
Micah moves closer, like a predator choosing when to strike. He looms over me, the heat of his body swallowing the chill of the room. His hand hovers low, fingers grazing where I’m aching most.
A soft sound escapes me, half-moan, half-plea. His lips part, breath hitching in his throat, and for a heartbeat, he looks almost undone.
“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice rough and reverent. “My good fucking girl.”
I didn’t realize I had a praise kink until now. But those words in that deep, gravely voice nearly send me over the edge.
He grabs my hand, his eyes locked with mine. He eases it out of me, then bends down, sucking my juices from my fingers, never breaking eye contact. A jolt of pleasure courses through me, my pussy squeezing air.
“Please, Micah,” I whisper, not caring that I’m begging. “Touch me.”
He keeps sucking on my fingers while his other hand moves to my pussy. His finger slowly moves around my clit, and my body turns to jelly.
“Jesus,” I whisper.
He releases my fingers from his mouth. “Oh, little murderess, I’m not Jesus. I’m your fucking monster who can please you better than any deity ever could.”
Holy shit. My hips buck, wanting him to show me.
He slides a finger inside me, and I can’t contain my moan.
I slap my other hand over my mouth. The world narrows to the rhythm of his hand, the way his stare never breaks from mine, and the quiet rasp of his breath mixing with my own.
My hips move, chasing the pleasure, needing more, the edge so close it terrifies me.
His mouth crashes against mine in a hard, hungry kiss. The shock of it steals my air, but I quickly recover, responding to his hunger, my whimper swallowed by his heat. His lips devour, claiming and consuming me.
“Yes,” he breathes against me. “My little murderess.” The nickname he’s given me curls dark and possessive in the space between us.
His words detonate something inside me. The world dissolves into sparks, into the endless drag of his kiss, into the storm of release that rips through me with his name on my lips.
When I collapse back against the mattress, shaking, his mouth lingers on mine—slower now, almost tender. His forehead rests against mine, his voice low, promise woven through every syllable.
“I’m not finished with you yet.”
I blink up at him. “W-What?”
“I need to taste your soaked pussy.”
A whimper bursts free, and he chuckles, the sound dark and possessive.
“Will you let me taste you, little murderess?”
I nod frantically. “Please.”
He hisses sharply as he moves, head drifting closer to my center.
His soft breath hits the wetness between my legs, and I stop breathing.
My hands curl against the sheets, nervousness and anticipation racing through my veins.
I’ve never consensually had anyone touch me, and no one has ever gone down on me, so I don’t know what to expect.
Instead of licking me, Micah blows softly on my pussy. I jerk, gasping at the unexpected pleasure jolting through me like a bolt of lightning. “Jesus, Micah,” I whisper, my hand curling in his black hair.
He chuckles against me. “Jesus isn’t in this room, murderess.” He spreads my legs wider, his tongue flicking against my clit. “Just your monster.”
“Holy shit!” I cry out, my back arching. His hand flies up, covering my mouth.
“Shhh. If we get caught, you won’t like what happens to us.”
Fear courses down my spine. I nod as he readjusts himself, getting comfortable between my legs.
His tongue swirls around my clit, sending pleasure rippling through me.
My heart hammers against my ribs from fear and excitement.
My eyes move to the window in the doorway, but there’s no one there.
My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer.
He moans, his tongue sweeping along my pussy before sucking my clit into his mouth.
When he dips a finger inside me, I slap a hand over my mouth.
“You’re soaked for me, murderess,” he rasps before adding another finger.
I tug on his hair harder, his fingers stretching me.
“You’re so tight,” he whispers before he sucks my clit hard, pumping his fingers inside me.
The orgasm comes on embarrassingly fast. I don’t have time to brace for it.
My pussy squeezes his fingers once before pleasure barrels through me.
Stars explode behind my eyes. My back arches as I clamp my teeth into the skin of my hand, trying not to scream.
My hands push at his head, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure.
But he doesn’t budge. His mouth sucks harder, his fingers pumping in and out of me through every wave of my orgasm.
“Please,” I murmur, torn between begging him to stop and pleading for him to never stop.
His dark eyes are heated as he watches me. The pressure from his mouth starts to lessen, and the pumps of his fingers slow as I come down from my orgasm. My heart still pounds, and my mind buzzes like a beehive, but there are no thoughts there.
Micah pulls back, licking his lips. “You taste so good, little murderess. I could eat you every day, twice a day.”
I groan against my hand, finally removing it from my mouth.
He chuckles at my awed, wide-eyed expression, placing a kiss on my pussy before kissing my lips.
“Mine,” he whispers against my mouth. “You’re fucking mine, Katana.”
Then he pulls back, pinning me with his dark stare, before getting up and exiting my room like he was never there.
Like it was all just a dream.