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I could come out shooting and end the night before it begins. But then I won’t get a chance to set a trap for Stephanos.
Carefully, so as not to make any telltale creaks, I open the cabinet under the sink and hide the weapon and holster behind a neat stack of toilet paper. Then I rise and wash my hands, and not a moment too soon.
The door handle turns, and Victor saunters in. I didn’t lock the door on purpose—in case the clicking sound alerted him to the fact that I had something to hide. I expected him to respect my need for privacy.
My reprieve is over.
I meet his gaze in the mirror. My cheeks flush even further. With my red lips, I look more than ready to play seductress. “Help me with my dress?”
He steps forward, crowding me. I lean over the bathroom counter until the sword on my necklace points into the sink and stare at Victor in the mirror. His favorite knife makes its appearance, flashing between us. Every muscle in me goes rigid.
Victor slides the knife up the back of my dress, slicing off the old-fashioned buttons. The dress sags, the puffed sleeves wilting off my shoulders. I go to strip them off, but Victor tsks, “No,” and waves the knife, his icy eyes holding mine in the mirror. “Do not move.” He sets the blade at my back against my skin. Close enough to shave the soft hairs there. “Do not even breathe.” He slices the rest of the bindings away.
The weight of the fabric makes the dress fall with a heavy, rustling sound, leaving me naked but for my sheer stockings, garter belt, bra, and panties.
I had a plan for my wedding night. A few bottles of wine and a bit of Rohypnol in David’s glass, and I could spill a little blood on the sheets and coo to him in the morning that he was amazing. Idiot that he was, he’d believe it. He believed when I said I loved him, that I was a virgin, and that I’d give myself fully to him as soon as we were married.
For my own pleasure, I wore my favorite set of sheer lingerie in a bright, cheerful color. Something blue. The exact color of Victor’s eyes.
I don’t believe in fate, not like my cousin Royal. But if I did, I’d say she’s up to something. The bitch.
In his dark suit, Victor makes a somber frame for my naked self. The black of his pupils has grown to swallow up the blue. He murmurs something in his native tongue. A curse or a compliment, something low and soothing to steady me as he traces his long fingers over my back and shoulders, down my arms. It’d be more relaxing if he wasn’t still holding the knife.
I swallow and dig for my courage. Before I can turn, he presses into my back, pinning my hips against the sink. I can’t stop the flare of fear in my eyes. He glides his hand over the flat of my stomach, the handle of his knife imprinting my skin. “So beautiful,” he murmurs into the curve of my shoulder, kissing the tender junction at the base of my neck.
It’d be so easy for him to bring up the knife and hold it to my throat, looking deep into my eyes and slicing my jugular while murmuring sweet nothings into my ears. He could so easily do it, but something tells me he won’t. I don’t know why I’m so sure. I lean into my captor’s strong embrace, letting my breasts rise and fall in time to my rapid heartbeat. I didn’t take the time to kick off my heels, and with their added inches, I’m tall enough that his cock probes my backside.
Then he kicks my legs apart. I watch Death’s beautiful face, helpless to stop him as he slips his left hand between my legs. His eyes widen when he discovers my secret, the one I’ve been keeping from him.
I’m so fucking wet, wetter than I’ve ever been before. Does the threat of being stabbed turn me on? Is the fear an aphrodisiac, making me crave the basest proof that I’m alive?
He holds me between his hands, his right hand on my belly, the knife an unspoken threat, his left stroking over the soaked gusset of my La Perla panties in a come-hither motion. Arousal flares deep in my belly. I hold out for several long minutes, but when his middle finger presses through the fabric to tease my sensitive opening, my eyes flutter and almost close.
“Look at me,” he orders, and I obey, grateful for the harsh rasp of his voice. Better to not lose myself. Better to not take my eyes off my adversary.
He dips his head, breathes in deeply, and drops a kiss on my shoulder. He brings the knife up and across my collarbone to my bra strap and, with a small snick, bares my left breast. Goosebumps rise all over my chest, and he rubs at them, finding my nipple and thumbing it. I swallow my breath and hold still. The knife blade is right there. And he knows I’m aware of it, that I’m afraid. With a cruel twist to his lips, he flips the blade in midair and palms the sharp edge to use the handle as a second digit, pinching my nipple between it and his thumb.
It’s too much. I cum in a rush, shaking silently. Heat and a pink stain flood my chest. I stifle my cries but can’t hide my reaction from him.
I just came in my captor’s arms.
He releases my nipple and flips the knife again to use the blade to slice away my panties. The rest of my bra is next. He spares the garter belt and stockings, but they only emphasize how naked and vulnerable I am before him.
He raises his left hand, the one that made me cum. My pussy soaked his cuff. He licks my essence off his fingers, watching my face in the mirror.
Once more, he palms the sharp edge of the knife before lowering it between my legs. He presses the handle into me. The base of the knife slides in smoothly, my juices easing the way.
I jerk in his arms, and he clamps his free arm around me, holding me between him and the sink. We make a pretty picture—a naked woman, her chest flushed from orgasm, and a beautiful man behind her, securing her against his powerful, suit-clad frame. You just have to look closely to see the tip of a knife in his hand and the monster lurking in the corner of his smile.
He slides the knife handle in and out of me, fucking me so deep I feel it behind my belly button. He knows just how to angle the weapon, how to drag it across the sweet spots inside me. I shudder, fighting my rising orgasm.
“Don’t resist, beautiful,” he breathes, drawing the handle out and pushing it back in. My soaked pussy makes a squelching sound. “Surrender.”
A series of thrusts with the knife handle trigger my G-spot, and it’s all over. I come again, this time with a low, breathless rush of air, not quite a moan.
“So quiet.” Victor laughs softly in my ear. “So controlled. I’m going to make you scream for me.”
He tips me forward and braces his left hand on my hip. Teetering off balance, I slap a hand against the mirror to hold me upright and look into my own dark eyes. My cheeks are flushed red. My captor made me come, not once, but twice.
