The knife was dull—deliberately so. Adagio ran his thumb along the edge again, testing, savoring the muted resistance of his skin against the blade. It wouldn’t cut, not easily. That was the point. He exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, eyes fixed on the flickering candlelight across the room. In the shadow, his naked lover composed, savoring the blood dripping from her lips, masturbating with the broken glass in her fist. She knew what was coming. She’d begged for it, screaming for Adagio’s big six. A cigar from the humidor was already waiting in his other hand, giving its ashes to the pewter silent butler, exhaling smoke. After all, everything was better with fire and menthol pussy caterwauling for its supper.
The first bite of the blade wasn’t sharp—just pressure, grinding against flesh, dragging a choked gasp from her throat. Her fingers spasmed in the ropes, her body arching off the bed like a marionette yanked by invisible strings. Adagio watched the way her skin dimpled under the steel before it finally broke, the slow welling of blood a dark, glistening ribbon in the candlelight. Dripping like asphalt in heat. She tasted it before he did—tongue flicking out to catch the first drop, her moan vibrating against his wrist where he pinned her down.
With his tongue, giving her pink little mouse a lashing like Tupperware gasping for air—each flick of his wrist drew another welt, another muffled scream against the cigar’s ember pressed to her thigh. The scent of singed flesh curled in the air, mingling with the iron tang of blood and the cloying sweetness of spilled cognac from her pussy’s snifter.
She shuddered, her pupils blown wide, saliva slicking her chin as she whimpered around the knife handle now wedged between her teeth. Adagio could feel her heartbeat through the grip he had on her jaw—fast, frantic, rabbit-quick—and the pulse point beneath his fingers throbbed in time with the ragged breaths she drew through her nose. The ropes creaked as she twisted, her thighs glistening with sweat and something darker, the scent of her arousal thick enough to choke on. He dragged the blunt edge of the blade down her sternum, watching goosebumps rise in its wake, feeling the hitch in her breath when it caught on the delicate skin just above her navel.
Until tomorrow, never comes.
