* * * *
Everett and Wylie arrived shortly after, so Skye didn’t have to wait long for relief. After cleaning the blade with alcohol, Axel led her back out to the far side of the lanai and to one of the loungers. Stripping her again, he had her lie facedown on it with her legs spread wide and knelt next to it. He’d tested the knife already, the point and edge, on his own inner arm after cleaning it, to see how it felt.
“Do not move, baby,” he whispered.
“Yes, Sir.”
She closed her eyes as she felt the tip of the knife touch her flesh at the base of her neck and slowly move south. Not hard enough to even leave a mark yet, but as he gained confidence with the weight and feel of it, and made his way down to her already tender ass, he increased the pressure until she felt that awesome scratch that bordered on pain. She’d look like a cat had gone after her tomorrow, but he likely wouldn’t draw more than the faintest traces of blood.
Up and down and around, the backs of her upper arms and her upper thighs. After a few minutes, he slid two fingers from his other hand between her legs, into her pussy, and slowly finger-fucked her, even as he kept drawing patterns in her flesh with the knife’s tip.
“Don’t come.”
She whined but gritted her teeth and held back despite him playing with her clit between deep thrusts. After what felt like forever, his fingers and the knife disappeared.
“Turn over. Legs spread.”
She did, now able to stare up at him, his eyes on what he was doing, intensity on his face.
The hand returned between her legs, and now it was two fingers inside her pussy and his thumb slowly rubbing her clit as he drew increasingly tight spirals around her breasts.
Then his gaze focused on her eyes.
“Come.”
She didn’t realize she’d been that close, but he was sneaky. He hooked his fingers inside her, hitting her spot perfectly as his thumb sped up.
She was there.
Her gaze didn’t leave him as she fisted the lounger cushion and struggled to hold still while her orgasm surged hard through her.
The point of the blade pressed into the tip of her right nipple, and he kept her coming, knowing he had her now and enjoying whatever desperation must be painted across her face.
The knife drifted across the valley between her breasts, up to her left nipple, and still his thumb worked her clit, his fingers fucked her—a third being slid into her wet and ready cunt—and showing no signs of stopping.
Then he pulled the knife away and leaned in for a hard, deep kiss.
That’s when the fun really started as he slammed his hand against her pussy, hard and fast, getting one last orgasm out of her that arched her back and pulled a scream of pleasure out of her that his mouth muffled.
The hand withdrew, only to appear at her lips.
She was ready, opening wide and sucking his fingers, wishing they were his cock. When he stood, she realized he’d set the knife down and already opened his jeans. He climbed on top of her, fucking her hard and fast, another kiss to hold her cries between them as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on tight.
There was something damned sexy about being naked and vulnerable and getting fucked by a fully dressed man, the texture of the fabric rubbing against her skin as he used her.
This time, he was the one who moaned when he finished, just as she gave up one last orgasm to him. He lay there, his forehead resting against hers, noses touching.
“So…we have to do that on a regular basis,” he said.
She giggled. “Yes, Sir.”
“I think I could get used to this.”
“Me, too, Sir.”
He closed his eyes as he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Am I doing this right?”
She let out a happy sigh. “You’re doing it perfectly.”
THE END
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Tymber Dalton, See You Sometime
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