Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Finally, he wipes my face clean.
I’m hoping he’ll kiss me before heading back to the kitchen, but he doesn’t, just walks away without a word.
There’s an unmistakable sizzling sound as something hits a pan. Meat. Hot, fresh, sizzling meat. I hear the flip, before another sizzle, and I smell a searing steak in the pan. My stomach rumbles afresh, because I love steak – rare and tender. It’s one of my favourites.
I’m nervous when footsteps approach again, because I can still hear the sizzle of the steak in the pan. I lay my palms flat to the tabletop and push down, clenching my stomach muscles.
“Here it comes, curva,” Heath says, and I try to steady my breathing. It’s going to be baking hot. Scorching. And no fucking shit, I get white behind my eyes when it lands on my ribs. It burns so bad I can barely breathe, taking every scrap of my resolve to stay still. I HAVE to stay still.
The steak must be rare, because I feel drizzles of liquid pooling in my bellybutton, and dribbling down my sides. The smell is enough to make my mouth water, despite my screaming skin.
Something pointed jabs my stomach, just a touch, and I flinch – instincts out of control. It’s a knife. A fucking knife.
“Be very still now, Ella,” Heath says. “I’ll be very careful, but any wriggles from you are going to be a hazard.”
He pokes me again, with the very tip of the blade, and I can’t stop myself whimpering. The fear is primal. Impossible to battle.
“I’ll forgive you that one,” Heath says. “And I’ll forgive you a nod or a shake of the head for this one, too. Do you trust me?”
I hesitate just a moment.
“Do you trust me, Ella, or do you wish to call off the proposal? The choice is yours. Yes, or no?”
My blood is pulsing through my ears, my instincts crying out NO, NO, NO, because I’ll be a carving tray. My body will be a carving tray for a knife sharp enough to slice through steak, and slice through me, if he’s not careful.
But do I trust him? Do I trust Heath?
I manage a nod.
Yes. I trust Heath.
I breathe in through my nose, and out through my mouth – slow breaths to take me away from the edge of panic. I’m going to be a carving tray for the Count. He’s going to be cutting a blood-red steak on my body, with a blade sharp enough to slice through my skin.
But once my breathing calms and the panic eases just a touch, something else takes its place. Surrender. That beautiful subspace where I put myself in someone else’s hands.
“Be still now, curva,” Heath says, and I feel the steak moving on top of me. I feel the motion of the blade as Heath slices, so close to my skin. Sweeps of a knife that could make me bleed.
The serrated edge touches me, grazing gently before it’s pulled away again to carve another slice. All my attention is on the way it feels, the sharpness of a metal blade as it lands and sweeps. The subspace consumes me, and in some deep-rooted part of my infatuation for extremity comes the crazy desire that Heath slips, and cuts.
“How about we give our platter some eyes?” Heath says, and his hands slip behind my head to take off my blindfold. I blink as I adjust to the light, then smile at the beautiful man up above me.
“Here, curva,” he says, and the scent of steak wafts close to my face. “Open wide for your dinner.”
My senses are skyrocketed to a whole new level now that I can see. I open my mouth for my reward, and Heath presents a chunk of meat for me. I chew on the piece of rare steak as he resumes slicing, and dare to look down, fascinated by the way Heath cuts. The knife looks so sharp. So dangerous.
I’m craving more of the blade than more of my dinner.
Josh laughs. “You look worse than a Nighttime Whispers victim.” He trails his tongue up my belly, then takes a piece of steak in his mouth straight from my skin, chewing before he licks some more.
Heath feeds me as they eat, and his slicing gets more ferocious when he reaches my tits, where the final bulk of the steak is lying. I smile, wondering if maybe this is the point I get nicked or cut. The blade is crazy close to my nipples, and Heath teases me, flicking them with the side of the knife.
“Does that feel nice, curva?”
I don’t speak. Don’t nod. Just stay still and watch as the blade hovers so close to my stiff nipple.
“How about this?” He places the serrated blade on the very top of my nipple. I know he’s controlling the weight of it when he slides the blade, touching just enough to make it prickle.