SERAPHINE
Leroi has such beautiful veins. When he’s angry, they stand out against his skin like little rivers of blue. If I look close enough, I can almost see the hot rush of blood as it disappears beneath his mask.
I press the dagger’s blunt edge into his jugular, but he grabs my wrist. Warmth pools in my core, and the pulse between my legs pounds to the rapid beat of my heart.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
My gaze snaps to meet his eyes. They’re dark pools that draw me in, daring me to run the blade across his neck and slice his throat. Heat radiates from his fingers into my skin, electrifying the blood coursing through my veins. He squeezes, the sudden pain pulling me back to awareness, but this time, I don’t drop the knife.
“Leroi?” I whisper.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his brows a deep furrow.
“No.”
He glances to my wounded hand and back into my face. “What do you need?”
I want to see why the blood beneath those veins colors his flesh that unusual shade of blue. I want to nick his skin and find out if the liquid beneath it is vermilion or crimson or magenta, but most of all, I want to clear my head.
Somewhere on the edge of my awareness, I know Pietro gave us another lead, but the last few moments are replaying on an endless loop. Leroi just flew into a protective rage because of a little cut. He strangled Pietro to death because he hurt me, and then he tended my wounds.
Men don’t protect women. They only stake their claim. They almost never care if a woman gets hurt unless it’s out of some twisted sense of ownership, but Leroi just did the unexpected. Could he be different? The only way I’ll know is if I get a peek at what’s running in his veins.
“Seraphine.” He moves my hand and the knife away from his neck.
“Yes?”
“Tell me what you need,” he says, his voice so deep that the muscles of my core constrict.
Shifting on the kitchen counter, I sweep my gaze up his muscular chest. “Touch me.”
“What?” He pulls off his mask.
“You said I was racking up the rewards,” I whisper. “I want my reward. I want my orgasm.”
His nostrils flare. “Bleeding turns you on?”
“Not when it’s my blood,” I say.
“Then what?”
My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. “I liked it when you killed Pietro.”
His pupils dilate, and the hand encircling my wrist tightens. Without another word, he plucks Pietro’s dagger from my fingers and cleans it with some antiseptic wipes.
My breath quickens. “Let me do it.”
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
“Cut yourself for me,” I reply, my voice breathy. “Let me see all that lovely blood.”
He chuckles, the sound carrying no warmth. “Is that what you want, little Seraphine?”
“More than anything.”
“Even more than that orgasm?”
I nod.
“My blood wasn’t part of our bargain,” he says. “But since you like blades so much, I’ll give you a choice. Do you want to come on my fingers or the knife?”
“The knife,” I reply instead of asking what he means.
Leroi steps back. “Take off your panties.”
Without hesitating, I lean to the side and ease down my underwear and leggings in one swift movement. Leroi slips off my shoes and pulls the garments down to the floor.
He parts my thighs and stares down at my bare legs and exposed pussy. I tremble with anticipation, feeling exposed, and more vulnerable and needy than I was when he spanked me.
“You’re so wet,” he says. “Is that for me, little angel?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
The pad of his thumb brushes a slow circle over my inner thigh. “Is that sweet little pussy aching for me?”
I nod, my eyes squeezing shut.
“Look at me or I’ll stop,” he commands.
My eyes snap open, and I’m once again transfixed by the intensity of his stare.
“Good girl.”
Even though it’s irrational, a part of me preens at his praise. A cool draft wafts over my exposed flesh, and I shiver, my nipples tightening into stiff peaks. I’m a kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions, ranging from arousal to terror. Leroi could slice me open with that dagger he just cleaned, and I would still ache for more.
“Does that turn you on?” he asks, tracing the blade along my inner thigh, cooling my heated flesh. “Do you like it when this blade is so close to cutting slices off your pink little pussy?”
“Yes,” I whisper, biting down on my bottom lip. All sensation races to my core and the intensity of his stare makes me grow wetter.
“Yes, what?” His voice hardens.
“Yes, sir.”
He slides the cold blade over my wet folds until it’s hovering just below my clit. My muscles tighten in anticipation. I don’t know if he’s going to give me pain or pleasure, but I need to feel something more than this desperate ache. The flat metal glides over my clit, leaving me panting, trembling, and desperate for more.
When he pulls back the dagger, my throat vibrates with a disappointed whimper.
“You want more?” he asks.
“Please, sir.” My voice cracks.
“Spread your legs. Show me how much you want it.”
I place a palm on each knee and push my thighs so far apart that cool air hits my overheated flesh. This should be embarrassing, but I’ve never wanted anything more.
“Just like that,” he says. “Now, be a good little girl and stay still.”
He flips the knife around and presses the handle against my clit. The metal’s intricate designs send delicious thrills straight through my core.
Adrenaline races through my veins, making me feel alive for the first time in an eternity. I’m so focused on what he’s doing with the knife that all thoughts of revenge fade into the background.
“Oh god,” I moan.
“Not god,” Leroi growls. “Say my name.”
“Leroi.”
He grazes the textured head around my clit, making it swell to the point of bursting. “Once more, angel.”
“Fuck,” I groan. “L-Leroi.”
“That’s my girl.”
Somewhere on the outer reaches of my subconscious, pleasure bubbles up at the thought of being Leroi’s anything. I don’t dwell on that for long as the metal handle’s up-and-down moments push me to the brink.
Pressure builds up behind my clit, and the muscles of my core tighten. Getting pleasured by the hilt of the same dagger used to cut me open and make me bleed is even more intense than getting spanked.
I glance up at Leroi. His face hasn’t changed since he caught me reaching for his jugular.
“You look so pretty down there, writhing against this knife,” he says. “And look at the mess you’re making on the kitchen counter.”
My gaze drops to the tiny pool of fluid gathering on the dark surface, and I flush. That can’t be all from me because I almost never get aroused. I shake my head, not wanting to admit that something like a knife could get me so excited.
“Don’t deny it,” Leroi growls. “You love it when I rub your clit with the hilt of a knife. Admit it.”
I nod, my heart beating faster.
“Use your words,” he says.
“I love it.”
“And?”
“And I want more,” I say through panting breaths.
My clit feels like a raw nerve, every stroke pushing me to desperate precipices of pleasure. Just as I’m about to explode, the hilt slides down my folds. The sudden absence of the metal is almost too much, and I’m left panting. I cry out but stop when the thick metal circles my opening.
Fuck. Leroi isn’t going to—
“Will you take this hilt like a good girl?” he asks.
“Please!” I buck my hips, wanting it, needing it, aching for him to fuck me with the knife.
“Open wider, angel,” he says.
I part my thighs as far as they’ll go, and he pushes the hilt into my opening. It’s thicker than a man’s finger, but cool compared to my needy heat. The swirling patterns of the metal press against my inner walls as he moves it in and out. I clamp around it, adjusting to the pleasant intrusion.
Leroi stands so close I can feel the heat of his body radiating through his clothes. Each time he thrusts inward with the hilt, the pad of his thumb grazes my clit. and his chest brushes against my peaked and desperate nipples.
“Yes,” I rasp. “More.”
“Look at how well you take the knife. See how much you coat it with your juices.”
He uses his other hand to grasp the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing me to look down between my thighs and I moan. He’s right. The metal is glistening with my fluids. My clit has swelled to twice its usual size and is so red that I swear it will burst. Each time his thumb even gets close, he detonates tiny explosions of ecstasy.
“Fuck. You look so pretty when you’re taking this dagger. Pretty enough to draw blood.”
My legs tremble, and I throw back my head, letting it hit the wall tiles. Pleasure builds and builds until I’m so close to climaxing that I can barely breathe. If Leroi pulls back like he did during the spanking, one of us will die.
He leans even closer and growls. “Come for me, little angel.”
The muscles of my core clamp around the hilt, and my clit swells to the point of agony before he swipes it once more with his thumb. I explode in a powerful orgasm that throws me back against the kitchen counter.
I shudder and gasp, my entire body convulsing as I ride out wave after wave of pleasure. It spirals through my veins, infuses every nerve ending with sparks. I’ve never felt anything so intense. These all-encompassing sensations burn through my memories, my thoughts, my very being. Ecstasy and awe battle through my senses until I lose myself in the climax.
Leroi’s whispered words of encouragement hover on the edge of my awareness until the orgasm subsides, and I’m left trembling and panting with aftershocks. Then he eases the dagger out and pulls me into his chest.
I melt against his larger body, the last vestiges of my orgasm still sizzling across my senses. His arms tighten around my shoulders, keeping me from splintering.
“Leroi,” I rasp.
My throat thickens, and the backs of my eyes sting. I suspected Leroi might be the man to give me my first taste of pleasure, but never dared to hope it would be so intense. I’m breathing so hard that it feels like every pent-up emotion forms a bottleneck at the tops of my lungs. There are no words to describe this euphoria. Part of me feels like I’m orbiting our joined bodies and the other part thinks I’m dreaming because there’s no way a man could make me feel so good with just his hands and a dagger.
Leroi’s lips graze my temple, but I want them to graze my mouth. I would follow this man into hell for another taste of this pleasure.
“You did so well, angel,” he murmurs.
“That was amazing,” I say through panting breaths, my body entirely boneless.
Leroi sets the dagger aside and returns his hand between my legs.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes half-lidded.
“We’re not finished.”
I’m so relaxed that I don’t even flinch when he slides in two thick fingers that open me up with a delicious stretch. He moves them in and out in time with the steady beat of my heart, driving me higher and higher until I’m clinging to his shoulders with both hands.
“Leroi?” I moan.
“You’re going to give me one more.”
His thumb finds my clit a second time, and he works me back into another pleasurable peak. I’m panting so hard that my throat dries and my voice goes hoarse. Two orgasms should be impossible, but Leroi makes me soar higher and higher until I’m nothing but a quivering mess.
“That’s it,” he murmurs into my ear. “Let it go.”
My pussy is still clenching and spasming around his fingers when my body builds up to a second climax that makes me cry out. It’s more intense than the first, with spasms so powerful that they border on pain.
I cling to his shoulders as my orgasm burns me into ashes floating on the breeze. When I come back down, I’m slumped against Leroi’s chest with his large hand rubbing circles over my back.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You were so beautiful, coming apart at my command.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I relax into his embrace. He showers me with encouragement and praise, but I’m not naïve. This moment is too perfect to be real. Girls whose fathers condemn them to lives of death and degradation don’t get rescued by white knights.
The first orgasm filled my head with clouds. The second has given me perfect clarity. Leroi might appear protective and caring, but he’s still a man. Sure, he’s better looking and is more skilled than most, but that just means he’s better at hiding his true intentions.
I’m going to enjoy this blissful moment while it lasts and be ready for him when his mask slips.
