Page 90 of Arran's Obsession

My breathing hitched. “Have you ever killed anyone with that?”

He didn’t stop, drawing a leisurely trail over my belly. “What do you want to hear from me?”

“The truth.”

“Yes, baby, I’ve killed men with this knife. Also with my bare hands.” He reached the entrance to my pussy and eased the holster tip into me, the sharp, murderous blade contained within the leather.

My chest rose and fell, and a spike of alarm woke every nerve ending. “How many?”

“Not nearly enough.”

Another push and the leather stretched me, getting stuck. Arran drove it around in a circle then yanked it free and flipped it, easing the handle into me instead. My body gave around it, accepting the intrusion.

On my elbows, I watched, unnerved but irrationally turned on, too.

With a flick of his thumb, he unclipped the button and removed the holster, revealing the cruel, evil-edged knife.

“Fuck,” he drawled.

I shuddered, the sight of it between my thighs alarmingly hot. He pushed the hilt until it was flush with my body. I held still, the cutting edge starting millimetres from my skin.

“When I next stab this into someone’s throat or heart, ending their life, I’ll have this image in my head. Your cunt powering it up to deliver the killer blow.”

He loomed over me. Kissed me. Kept the knife in place with his hand.

I pulsed around it unexpectedly and whimpered into the kiss.

Arran settled back on the bed and stared at the place his weapon speared me. “I want to do this with everything I own. If it’s dick-shaped, I want to fuck you with it.”

I threw my arm over my eyes, trying to control my racing heart and perverted brain. “Don’t you own any regular sex toys?”

“I own a fucking brothel, Genevieve.”

My lips curved. “Got any here?”

“No. I told you I didn’t use women before you.”

There was so much to unpack in that sentence, but not now. “Then what else do you have to try out besides the knife?”

He watched me for a moment then pulled the knife from me, dropping it to the mattress. Then he pressed a kiss to my belly and left the room. A short while later, after a search and the sound of running water, Arran came back with an armful of items, though it was too dark for me to see what. Most, he set on the bed behind him and out of my sight, but one he handed over.

A skeleton mask.

“Put it on.”

So he could do this without me seeing? God. “Show me what you’ve got first.”

“No. I won’t hurt you. Purposefully.”

It was a trust exercise, then. Or a challenge. Damn him.

“From now on, I want to have items around me that have all been in your cunt. I want to pick up each and remember. I want other people to use them and not know.”

“You’re perverted.”

But so was I. I slid the mask on and stretched my arms back, settling them behind my head, wriggling my ass to get comfortable for what he wanted to do. It was oddly safer with darkness surrounding me. In this room, with the city lights.

“You can guess each, or I’ll tell you.”