Rogue (Dead Man's Ink, #2)(48)
My hard on is digging into my jeans, caught up, beginning to throb like a motherf*cker, but this is too delicious to stop. I will wait until the pain reaches unbearable levels before I quit my little game and rearrange so that things are a little more comfortable. Sophia tenses a little when I make the final cut through the right hand side of her jeans, right at the top, through her waistband. Folding the material away from her leg, I see her lacy black underwear for the first time and my blood starts roaring through my body, all chasing through my veins, charging in one direction: to my cock. Before I know it, I’ve reached that unbearable level of pain and I have to adjust my dick. Sophia watches me do it, looking shy yet hungry at the same time. I can’t wait to get through destroying her clothes so I can bury my tongue in her *. I can’t wait to taste her come all over my tongue, sweet and delicious and all mine. And I really can’t wait ‘til she’s digging her fingernails in my back, desperately trying not to make a sound, to not displease me while I f*ck her so hard her whole body shakes.
I lean down and place a feather-light kiss on her exposed hipbone, warring with myself as I fight not to take things further. To kiss her lower. A little to the left. A little further down again. I know she’s feeling the same anticipation I am when she angles her hips up a few millimetres; she catches herself and freezes almost straight away, but I sit back on my heels, giving her a warning look.
“Careful, sugar. That nearly counted.”
She opens her mouth, wants to say something, but yet again she catches herself. She’s good at this game so far, but things haven’t even begun to get difficult for her yet. Not too long from now, it’s going to take everything she’s got to stay silent, and I am going to relish the moment when she breaks one of my rules. It’s going to be absolutely f*cking perfect.
I cut the other leg of her jeans off her body, watching her struggle to keep still the entire time, and then I take the scissors to the flowy shirt she’s wearing. I cut down the arms, and then straight down the middle, biting back a smile every time she twitches when the cold metal makes contact with her belly, her arm, her chest.
“Get up,” I tell her. “Stand here, in front of me.”
She climbs out of the ruins of her clothes, leaving them behind on the bed, and it’s almost like she’s leaving behind the scared, frightened part of her. I gather up the material and dump it on the floor at the end of the bed, and then I sit on the edge of the mattress, surveying her in her underwear.
She doesn’t cover herself or hide. She simply stands there, waiting for my next command. She’s good at this. Perfect, in fact. “Come here,” I say, opening my legs so she can stand between them. She takes two steps forward so she’s right where I want her. There’s only a flicker of doubt in her eyes when I raise the scissors and slowly slide the blade beneath the lacy material of her panties at her left hip. The soft snip of the metal cutting through the lace is the only sound in the room. I cut the material at the other hip, too, and her panties flutter to the floor, nothing to hold them up anymore.
Now she gets antsy. She shifts from one foot to the other, pressing her thighs together, and I tut. “You want me to punish you, don’t you, sugar. You’re asking for trouble.” Again, she wants to speak but she doesn’t. She frowns at me instead, her fingers curling into fists by her sides. She’s self-conscious. God knows why, she has the most incredibly sexy body, but she is, I can tell. She wants to keep me from seeing the one part of her that no one ever sees. But I have seen her. I’ve gone down on her often enough to be on very good terms with that part of her body. I’m willing to put good money on the fact that her ex never went down on her. Not properly. He should have made her feel comfortable with her body. She doesn’t know that her * is beautiful, that I could happily look at it all day long as I made her come, and she would have a fight on her hands if she tried to stop me.
I take the scissors and run the point from a couple of inches below her belly all the way up until I hit the under wiring of her bra. She knows what comes next. Her hands make fists again and this time they don’t uncurl. She looks up, away from me, eyes fixed on a point on the wall straight head. Her shoulders lift up and down rapidly, like she’s afraid I’m going to cut her. She knows I won’t, though. She’s hardly a shy woman. She’d be waling on me in a second flat if she thought I was going to do her any harm. I love that about her.
She’s still focusing on the wall when I cut through the slender strap between the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts. “Take it off, sugar,” I growl. Her eyes meet mine again as she obliges me, sliding the thin straps that I’ve left intact over her shoulders and down her arms. Completely naked, she stands in front of me like a statue, not moving, not saying anything, doing exactly as I told her to. Her obedience is remarkable, given that I know she wants to cover herself up. I place the scissors on the floor and kick them under the bed so they’re out of the way, and then I tell her what I want from her next.
“On your knees, Soph. Be a good girl now.”
She gives me a sharp look, eyes narrowed, but she only takes a moment’s pause before she’s lowering herself to her knees. I’m thinking she must be pretty pleased with the fact that her * isn’t at my eye level now, but little does she know that’s about to change.
“Good. Now, open your legs for me, sugar.”