Page 112 of Villainous Intent

I burned. I had worn my best set. The pale pink lace was delicate, barely there. And it was different enough from the set I’d worn to provoke him last night that I didn’t think it would piss him off.

“Did you wear this for me, Annie?” The question was a taunt.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Pink,” he mused, as his knuckles grazed the curve of my hip. “It makes that sweet pussy look even more tempting. Like candy waiting to be unwrapped. I’ve never had anyone wear pink for me before. Usually, they try to match the suit. Black. Leather. Boring.”

His hand slid lower, tracing the waist of my panties. He tugged the lace away from my skin, letting it snap back against me.

“I think it might be my new favorite color,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over my neck. “After blue, of course.”

Blue? But the thought was there and gone. I didn’t have any room to think about his color preferences when he was standing that close.

The blade returned. It pressed flat against the swell of my breast, just above the lace cup. My heart raced as he traced the curve of my breast, the pressure just enough to dent the skin but not break it.

“Don’t move,” he commanded. “I’d hate to ruin such pretty skin because you couldn’t stay still.”

I whimpered as he sliced through each bra strap then slid the knife down, slipping the tip under the center of the bra.

“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now. I want to tear this off you and bury myself deep in that beautiful cunt of yours. But we’re going to take our time.”

Snap.

The front of the bra gave way under the blade. The lace cups fell open, dragging against my hardened nipples as they went. The knife trailed lower, over my ribs, circling my navel until the tip hooked the waistband of my panties. He pulled the fabric away from my skin, the tension tight against my hips.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, sounding delighted. “Are you scared, Annie? Or are you just desperate for me to touch you?”

“Cipher—”

The fabric fell away as he sliced through the lace and the panties joined the dress on the floor.

I was naked and bound with a knife against my thigh. I should be terrified, I was terrified, but the terror was feeding the arousal, turning it into an ache.

He dragged the knife up the inside of my thigh, the sharp edge scraping against my skin. It stung, a sharp, distinct line of pain that made me hiss. He pressed the flat of the blade against my hip, then dragged the tip around to the small of my back. He pressed harder there, dragging it down. It felt like a thin line of fire that would leave a red welt.

“You’re soaking wet for me, aren’t you?” he taunted. “For a knife. You really are a little monster, aren’t you, Annie?”

The flat of the blade slid over my hip bone and I held my breath, my lungs burning with the effort to keep my chest still. The knife went lower. My thighs trembled and I wanted to clench them shut but I fought against it. I kept myself wide open for him. For his eyes. For his blade.

“Look at this,” he growled. “You’re dripping for a knife, Annie.”

He moved the knife inward and I flinched, expecting the bite of the edge, but he twisted his wrist. The flat, cold metal pressed directly against my pussy.

The sensation was electric and a gasping moan tore from my throat.

“Fuck,” Cipher hissed. The pressure vanished and I heard a wet, slick sound, followed by a low groan from him.

He’s licking it, I realized. He’s tasting me on the knife.

Then the tip of the knife returned.

It touched the hollow of my throat. I swallowed hard, feeling the sharp point bob against my skin. He dragged it down, tracing a line between my breasts, down the center of my stomach.

“Don’t move,” he commanded.

The blade moved lower, past my navel. He wasn’t using the flat anymore. This was the edge. The tip pressed into my skin, just enough to sting, just enough to remind me that he was dangerous. That this was dangerous.

“Cipher,” I breathed, panic finally clawing its way up through the haze of lust as I realized he was headed for my clit.