Tragic King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 2)

She flicked her tongue carefully over the knife tip but then pulled back, just he gave a violent shudder. That movement. Oh fuck. The knot of lust in her belly flared into the orgasm she couldn’t hold off anymore. She came hard, riding him with wanton snaps of her hips, pushing hard against him even though her sore clit was screaming for her to stop, and the wet sounds they were making made her grimace.

Fuck, he felt good. Her pussy clenched, empty and jealous, but the ache her orgasm caused hinted at how much it would have hurt if he’d been inside her. As she fell forward he caught her by the breasts and held her upright while he angled his hips to try to impale her on his dick, digging his heels into the mattress and swearing. He grunted, low and rumbling while hot come spurted from his glorious cock, coating her thighs and his belly and chest, dripping down to her knees. Some of the mess was definitely hers.

“That was four minutes,” he growled.

She gaped at him. “What?”

“Four minutes. You were only allowed to take two.” He picked her up by the waist and threw her onto the mattress next to him. “That means I get to cut you.”

“No!”

He pressed her knees apart and picked up the knife.

“Please, Mister Leduc. I tried my best!”

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. Were you trying to get me off, or were you worrying about your greedy little cunt?”

She bit her lip and gazed up at him from under her lashes. “But I was just so excited to be alone with you, I couldn’t help it, Mister Leduc.”

He arched a brow and knelt on the back of her thighs, pinning them wide apart and back. She eyed the knife in his hand and shuddered, the sore spot between her legs starting to warm with arousal again before she’d even cooled down.

Damn it. The man could give her a kink for anything.

She flexed her hips toward him, watching him with more enthusiasm than she would have guessed she had for knives. He was always handling them, though. Maybe she was starting to associate the two.

“How bad are you going to cut me, Master?”

“You mean how good?”

She screwed her eyes shut and whined. “Just a little, okay?”

“Just a little,” he agreed. “But you have to watch.”

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. Nude, knife in hand, he was an erotically terrifying sight. And his dick – fuck, he was already getting hard again.

“Stay still, girl.”

“Yes, Mister Leduc.” Her words came out as a shuddery whisper.

“Are you scared?”

“Yes, Master. Horny and scared.”

He held the knife between them, blade upright, as though he was performing a ritual. Maybe he was. He loved inflicting pain so much maybe it was turning into his religion, the bed one of his many altars.

“Just one little cut,” he said quietly, his expressi

on hard to read.

“Yes, Master.”

“Safeword if I don’t stop after one.”

“Mister Leduc,” she said, trying to sound stern instead of frightened. “I’m going to safeword now if you’re not sure you can control yourself.”

The blade came down and kissed the inside of her thigh, cold and unforgiving.

She sobbed in fear.