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If so, I was a willing victim. Dying in his hands was a lovely way to die.
“Trust me.” His eyes held mine, and I had a feeling this was an exercise in letting go. A trust fall of sorts. He wanted to bring me to the edge and show me that I was safe with him, no matter what.
“I trust you.” My voice was steady, leveled. Row grabbed another knife—just as big and scary—and pinned the other side of my dress to the block. I was now essentially glued to this board, completely at his mercy.
My mouth hung open. His eyes were hooded, clouded with desire and determination. He grabbed a third butcher’s knife from the neighboring station without moving an inch from his spot between my thighs and used the tip to tilt my chin up. Adrenaline zipped through my veins, making my entire being sore.
“I said only food goes on here,” he growled, baring his teeth. Yet somehow, I wasn’t scared. “So now, Dot, I have no choice but to eat you alive. Now, how does that sound?”
The pressure between my legs became almost impossible. My panties were soaked, my heat dripping a thin river down my thigh. He was pushing all my limits, pressing all my buttons, and showing me that I wasn’t scared. That I knew how to trust. Him. Myself.
“S-sign me up,” I said breathlessly.
“Do you like fluorescent lights, Dot?” He slid the tip of the butcher knife from my chin, down my neck, and toward the top of my dress. An excited tremor moved through me, my skin exploding with goose bumps. I hadn’t even known I liked knife play. Wait, was this knife play? The blade barely touched me. There was a lot of googling to be done when I got home.
“Big fan. Huge.”
“Good, baby.” With one swift motion, he tore the front of my dress with his knife, revealing my embarrassing gray Calvin Klein sports bra and my strained nipples behind it. “Because you’re about to be looking at them for some time.”
He dumped the knife on the board, flattened a hand over my rib cage, and pushed me down to lie firmly on the surface. I was pretty sure the majority of my blood flow ran straight to my clit, making me lightheaded. Fisting my panties (also gray Calvin Kleins), Row slid them down my legs and discarded them on the floor.
I couldn’t believe we were doing this in his kingdom. In his kitchen. He grabbed my left ankle and pressed my thigh down with his strong, capable hands, looping the back of my knee around the knife holding my dress. Then he did the same thing with my right leg, so I was spread eagle, awkwardly open wide right in front of him.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about fucking you like this?” He trailed his rough knuckles along the soft flesh of my dripping slit leisurely, taking a long, unhurried look at my cunt. My inhibitions popped like buttons after Thanksgiving dinner. Pluck, pluck, pluck. He used the tip of his finger to stroke the seam of my pussy back and forth, teasing me lazily, his hand quivering to stop himself from ravenously devouring me. My inner thighs were wet and sticky with my need for him, and I bucked my hips forward, begging for more of his touch.
“A lot?” I purred, barely capable of producing words. What were thoughts anyway? I had no recollection of having formed any.
He lowered his head between my legs, pressing his entire mouth onto me and sucking my pussy whole. The pleasure was so sharp and maddening, I arched like a crescent moon and whimpered ferally at the foreign sensation.
“The answer is every single minute of every single day, of every single month, of every single year of my fucking life since you turned seventeen,” he growled, his hot tongue swirling and teasing, licking and penetrating.
My mouth fell open, my head lolling on the butcher block as I stared up at the ceiling while Row’s tongue disappeared between my folds, entering my narrow channel. A violent shudder ran through me. I fastened my fingers in the thick, dark strands of his hair, shuddering not only with pleasure but also with glee. I’d never been this intimate with a man before. This comfortable in my own skin.
I didn’t trust people.
I did trust Row. With my body. With my life. Just…maybe not with my heart.
That was the only organ I wanted to keep for myself.
He fucked me raw with his tongue while swirling his thumb over my clit. I gasped, tightening my grip on his hair. My muscles began to spasm, both from the way my legs were stretched open and an impending orgasm.
“So delicious. So fucking tight.” He kissed my inner thighs, biting softly, spreading my wetness over my skin, then diving back for another lick. He began kissing his way up my body, nibbling, kissing, and tonguing, toying with my clit using his thumb. “That first time I fucked you, I thought I was going to come before I was halfway in. I couldn’t believe my luck.”
My eyes prickled with tears because I knew how I’d treated him not even minutes later. How I’d discarded and belittled him because I couldn’t admit my feelings toward him to Dylan—to myself.
“Row…”
“Shh.” My orgasm seized me, a yelp of joy tearing through my mouth as my entire body tightened and froze, hardening like a clenched fist, and then all of a sudden, heat spread over my entire body as my muscles relaxed.
His lips skimmed up my stomach, tongue dipping into my belly button and swirling playfully as his fingers kept playing me like a piano, knowing all the chords, breathing life into me with music only we could hear. “I don’t want to talk about the past. I want to focus on the present. And what a lovely fucking present you are.” He tugged the thin strap of my sports bra, dragging it with a trembling hand until the sound of fabric tearing assaulted my ears. Every nerve ending in my body was ablaze, my core achingly empty, begging to be filled with him. He covered my puckered nipple with his mouth and traced the areola with the tip of his tongue. Christ almighty, I was going to combust right here on his station and win him a C from the health department for unsanitary conditions.
My eyes rolled in their sockets, stars exploding on the backs of my eyelids.
A knock on the door snapped us out of our trance. We both froze, bolting upright, our eyes meeting in horror.
“I…Chef?” I could practically hear Taylor awkwardly drawing circles with the tip of his shoe on the floor on the other end. “I forgot my headphones.” The door shook back and forth as Taylor tried to open it up, but it was locked from within.
“No fucking way I’m waiting another second to fuck you,” Row said, his eyes murderous. He flattened his entire palm against my pussy. My cunt dripped so much, it slicked his hand, making it slippery. That was when I realized…he had put something inside me. In my pussy. A…small zucchini?
