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“You’re not going to tell me.”
He raises his hand in my line of sight, presses his fingers together and makes a chopping motion. “You don’t need to know.” He smooths his hand over my knees, the razor following in the wake of his touch. “You don’t need to know anything, sweet Lula, except how to please me.”
I scoff, but I know he’s right. I’m becoming attuned to the shift in his moods and his postures. I will study him like the prey studies the hunter if it means my very survival.
His dick is hard under my backside as he parts my legs, guiding the razor over my sensitive inner thighs. I’m breathing faster now.
“It’s all right,” he murmurs. “I’ll be gentle.” And he is. With deft and nimble movements, he shaves my pussy bare. Is it my imagination, or does his knife linger a moment over my femoral artery? One easy slice, and I’d bleed out in his arms.
But then his fun will be over. I have the feeling his plot for revenge has only just begun.
“Why knives?” I ask because I’m too high from my orgasms to keep my barriers up. Which I’m sure is what he counted on.
“Why not?” He sounds amused. “They’re strong yet versatile. Simple, easy to hide. People use them every day but forget how deadly they are. But if they handle them too carelessly. . .” He holds up the blade and presses it to his thumb, shaving a layer of skin from the callouses there. “They exact a price.”
“But. . . why not a gun?”
“You prefer guns, don’t you, my lethal little one?” He kisses my temple and sets the blade at my pussy, angling it to scrape away the dark hairs there. I try not to breathe.
“They’re expedient,” I say when I can.
“Who taught you to shoot? Your father?”
“No. My father didn’t approve at first.” I’m distantly aware I’m spilling too much information, but the bridle I keep on my tongue is long gone. “But there was no stopping me. I made one of my uncle’s men take me to the shooting range until my father relented and gave me a gun.”
“He didn’t encourage you?”
“He thought it was amusing.” My voice is hard.
“He underestimated you.”
“Yes.” Like every other man in my life. Except Royal. And now, maybe Victor.
“And now you are an excellent shot.”
“I missed Stephanos.”
“You got closer to him than anyone has. He’s better at hiding and surviving than anything else.”
“So I’ve heard.” This is why my father and uncle gave up on avenging my mother decades ago. Until I learned the truth of her murder and decided to do it myself. “And it still wasn’t good enough.”
“Do not punish yourself.” He sets the blade aside with a clink and palms my bare pussy. His lips find my ear. “That is for me to do.”
His long, skilled fingers glide up and down my sex, drawing out threads of arousal.
“Did your fiancé ever touch you like this?”
I can’t stop my sharp laugh. “David? No. I never even let him touch me. How do you think I got him to the altar so quickly?”
Victor hums and touches me more, taking what I’ve refused to give any lover. I try to stay his hand, and he captures my wrists with his large left hand, keeping his right one free to rub me. Under the thick blanket of fatigue, my pussy throbs under his touch. My orgasm threatens.
I rock my head from side to side, resisting. “No. . .”
“Yes. Just one more, Lula. And then I’ll let you rest. I’ll be done with you for at least a little while.”
The hard cock under my ass says otherwise, but I have no choice. I melt into the strong cage of his body and allow him to wring another round of climaxes from my exhausted body.
I wake on my back and raise my head. I’m still in Victor’s murder dungeon, with the same gray shadows and dim lights. The long, steel rods of my enclosure separated me from the rest of the room, but I slept comfortably for being in a cage.
