Chapter 23 #2
“You’re going to cum all over my knife,” he instructs. “And when the time comes, this is the knife I’ll use to kill Brent.”
Why does that sound so damn hot right now? I don’t want to think about Brent in this moment, but the thought of Tristan using this knife to kill the worst memory in my life brings tears to the edge of my vision.
As the first tear falls, Tristan presses the handle into my pussy. Inch by inch, my body gives way to the weapon until it’s in, stopping at the hilt before the blade can cut me.
“God, you took it so well.” He smiles with encouragement and…pride?
Tristan leans lower, kissing me fiercely as he releases the knife. His fingers skim upward to my clit and tease me in quick circles, bringing me back to the edge of bliss.
I moan into the kiss as the ropes bite into my wrists more. The pleasure mixes with the dull pain, and Tristan swallows every moan, every whimper my body gives up.
His lips skate lower, peppering kisses down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. Need burns in my core, my muscles so tight, so ready for an orgasm that’s threatening to break me apart.
“Tristan,” I warn, my body right on the edge as his fingers keep that steady pace.
“Give it to me, Daphne. I want to watch you come for me.”
His words push me over the edge. I cry his name out in the night air as his lips capture one of my nipples, sucking it into his mouth.
Pleasure bursts like fireworks through my body, my mind a whirling haze of fog and pleasure.
All I can do is lose myself to the sensations Tristan’s drawing out from me.
“That’s it,” he growls against my skin. “That’s my good fucking girl. Keep coming.”
His fingers keep moving, drawing out my orgasm so long I can barely breathe. My lungs burn, fighting for air as white-hot pleasure ripples through me. Consuming me, drowning me in sensation.
My pussy clamps down on the knife handle, fluttering around it like it’s a cock and trying to draw it in deeper before my muscles relax. The knife slips out an inch, coated in my cum as Tristan’s fingers pull back.
He looks so goddamn pleased with himself as he stands and gazes down at me, admiring his handiwork again.
“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” he says.
My eyes lock with his, and my chest swells again with words and emotions I’m too afraid to name. It’s the hazy afterglow. Just hormones swirling in my brain. Nothing more, though I know I’m lying to myself.
So I keep my lips closed.
Until Tristan slips the knife from my body, securing it safely back in the leather sheath.
“You’re not going to clean it?” I ask.
Tristan shakes his head. “No. This will be your kill as much as it is mine. This is your revenge, Daphne. I’m just the hand to make it happen.”
Tears well again as he sets the knife onto the table. His hand cups his hard length through his jeans as he adjusts himself.
The people-pleaser in me rears her ugly head. It’s selfish of me not to have thought about reciprocating at all during that performance.
“Do… do you want me to?” I ask as he lowers the zipper of his jeans.
“Do you want to get me off, Princess?” he asks with a teasing note in his voice.
I nod and try to turn, but the ropes stop me from moving more than a couple of inches. So I open my mouth to prove my point.
“Fuck me,” Tristan groans as he undoes the button of his jeans.
He shoves his pants and underwear down around his knees.
His cocks bobs heavy and hard between his legs, rising from his muscled thighs.
His balls hang wide and close to his body.
The man looks like he’s ready to come as a droplet of pre-cum glistens on the tip of his thick cock.
His hand strokes it in slow, teasing movements as he kicks off his shoes and steps out of his pants, leaving him in his hoodie and socks. “Do you want a taste, Princess?” he offers as he steps closer, keeping his cock inches from my lips as he hovers over me.
He unzips his hoodie and tosses it aside, quickly followed by his t-shirt. He reaches down and discards his socks.
“Yes,” is all I can say as he manages to swing his leg over my head to maneuver himself in a perfect sixty-nine position over me. He nestles his leg in the space between my head and my bound arm. He hovers over me as he adjusts his body to the tight space available.
He hunches over me, his head diving straight to my pussy.
His cock presses to my lips as his tongue swirls against my clit, making me gasp and open wide enough for him to slip the head in. Salty precum coats my tongue as I lap at the head of his cock.
Tristan groans into my pussy as he trails my lips with his tongue. “You’re so fucking sweet, Daph.”
I can’t speak as his cock slides in deeper. I whimper around his girth as he lashes my clit with his tongue. My hips wiggle, but they can’t escape the pleasure that’s building from his wicked tongue.
I try to focus on his cock, on bobbing my head as much as I can with the small space between the pillow and his hips. I can barely swallow half of him like this, but it’s enough for me to breathe around him.
Until he lowers his hips, pressing his cock in deeper. I gag slightly as he raises his hips for me to catch my breath.
Then he lowers them again, stealing the air from me. Over and over, he fucks my mouth in short thrusts, letting me breathe just enough before he fills my mouth again.
Tristan groans into my pussy. “I’m going to cum, Princess. Be a good girl and swallow.”
Tristan focuses his attention on my clit, teasing and sucking on the small bud, edging me closer to an orgasm.
Pleasure ripples through me as that first spurt of salty cum hits my tongue. With his thick cock swelling in my mouth, I can’t swallow, but I keep him there until he pulls out enough for me to close my lips and swallow every drop he’s given me.
His hips lower again, and I swipe up the last bit of cum from him as he laps at my clit, sending ripples of aftershock through me.
I moan his name around his cock as he teases my clit. He manages to shove two fingers into me, fucking me in a position I didn’t know was possible, but he rips my orgasm out of me, white-hot pleasure crashing into me as my pussy squeezes his fingers, drenching him in my arousal.
I moan his name again, his cock softening in my mouth but still deep enough to keep me trapped against him as my orgasm consumes me like wildfire, burning up any reservations I might have had about Tristan.
As my orgasm floats away, Tristan ceases the delicious torture on my pussy. He carefully stands on shaking legs.
His multicolored eyes shine with satisfaction, and he gazes down at me with a tenderness I’ve never seen in him before.
“You did so well, Princess,” he says behind a smirk. “I’m going to untie you. Then you’re going to sleep with me. In this bed. In my arms. Because I have never fucking done something like that, and if you kick me out of your bed, I might break.”
I can’t imagine him leaving. Not right now. Every inch of my body craves Tristan. His touch. His comfort. Him.
So, I oblige—purely because I don’t want a mad serial killer on the loose. Only that, and not because I’ve never had such an intense experience either.
Not because I need him too.