I pulled back away from him, only exaggerating my torment as he closed his teeth tighter and my nipple was pulled away from me by the motion. “Stop...” I started when he changed his line of attack to dancing the tip of his tounge over the now hypersensitive flesh. I shuddered with pleasure, all thoughts of resistance flying out of my head.
His hands smoothly moved up my ribs to end with one at each armpit. I looked down at him in bewildered bliss before he dug his fingernails into the tender flesh there. I gave a small shriek of alarm and threw myself back out of his grip, his nails leaving long furrows in my skin that were almost deep enough to draw blood. He grinned at me.
“I'm not in the mood,” I snapped, “Not after that.” He took a step towards me and I retreated back a pace. He lifted one hand and made a come hither gesture. His gaze burned with lust and a cruel smile curved his kissable lips. The part of me that was holding to my irritation with the world was beginning to shift to a sudden need to flee as he slowly moved forward. Down beneath that surface thought, things inside me were softening and warming with need.
It had been a bad day. As much as I hated to admit it, I welcomed if not yearned for this sadistic little game of his. As soon as the thought struck me, however, it was mercilessly quelled and I looked away from him for a moment, trying to determine if I had a clear path to the doorway to the next room. That moment was all he needed.
In three swift strides, he crossed the space between us and backed me up against the wall. He took hold of my wrists and pinned them to either side of my head. I tugged at them, trying to break free of his grip. He laughed softly and tightened his hold, making the small bones in my wrist shift slightly. A little yowl of pain escaped me and I tossed my head.
“Come on,” he purred, “Fight me. Or surrender.” As he said the word 'surrender' his grin widened and a hellish light lit his gaze. I gave a little eep of alarm. He laughed and came up so close to me that we were nearly touching. His bearded face rasped against my cheek as he leaned forward. In that husky, tempting voice he said, “Either way, you're going to scream for me.”
My world swam. The rush of arousal that slammed into me would have made me stagger if I wasn't pinned against the wall. The horribly erotic promise laden word 'scream' made it suddenly difficult for me to breath. The warm, musky scent of him filled my nose and brought to mind the taste of his skin.
“Oh god,” I groaned. He laughed. It was like the bliss of the perfect bite of chocolate melting on your tongue, morning sunshine, and my favorite fluffy warm robe all rolled into one. “You're fighting dirty,” I gasped as he slowly breathed on my neck.
“Mmm,” he mused, “Efficent.” I shuddered. He nuzzled where my shoulder met my neck. “So, are you going to fight me?” he asked.
“Can we just say I argued with you?” I offered. He made a sound that was something of a cross between a growl and a chuckle before sinking his teeth into my neck. I gasped and cried out, my eyes opening wide in surprise even as I could feel my genitals growing warm. Continuing to make that terribly erotic, primal sound, he pulled his head back a bit, tugging on where he had bitten me. I tossed my head and kicked him in the shin as I flailed in sudden frustration.
He laughed and abruptly let me go, pushing off to step back a pace. He fixed me with his brilliant gaze and spread his hands wide. I shook my head, sliding my left foot towards the door. His gaze snapped to my ankle and then back to my face. He suddenly reached forward as I moved. His hands just missed me as I bolted for the door.
Again, he laughed. I scrambled around the corner and down the hall, desperate to put enough space between him and I so that I could gather my wits and breathe. I came to a halt before the end of the hallway and I looked back over my shoulder. With a wide, feral smile, he stalked forward. “You know, this isn't a good idea,” I babbled, backing up a pace, “Really. I've had a long day...”
My heart was racing. Torn between blind lust and unreasoning terror, I struggled to find words, coherent thoughts even. He stopped just beyond arm's reach as I was backed up against the wall. “It's about to get longer,” he said, reaching into his pocket. I swallowed past a sudden lump in my throat as he pulled out his pocket knife.
In the half light of the hallway, the edge gleamed silver when he opened it. I stared at the blade like someone entranced. I didn't notice him stepping closer to me, as I couldn't tear my eyes off of it. It glistened with a cold, cold beauty that betrayed it's razor sharp edge. I knew how sharp its edge was, for I had sharpened it just the night before. Slowly, the knife moved up to where it was before his face.
I blinked, surprised to find him so close. “Do you yeild?” he said quietly. I swallowed nervously. Suddenly, I couldn't fathom the meaning of what he was saying. All of my mind was consumed by the thought of the blade and that icy kiss of steel against my skin. Ever so slowly, the knife drifted towards me. He turned it slightly, sending a sharp thrill through me as the light flashed down its length.
“Do you yeild to me?” he said again, all amusement dropping out of his demeanor. For a brief moment, I was struck with clarity. I realized all that was being offered, not only the means to feed my viciously suppressed desires but something more, a way out of the horrible place I was in earlier. Unable to find my voice, I merely nodded.
He moved with the sudden speed of a snake striking. One moment he was standing solemnly before me, the next the unsharpened back of the blade was pressed against my throat and his chest was against mine. That was when I dimly realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. Slowly, the cold, cold steel passed down my throat just over my hammering pulse. Each agonizing inch, I could feel something building within me.
I struggled with the urge to toss my head and writhe as this terrible pressure build up deep within my bones. I bit my lips and shut my eyes as tightly as I could. His dark chuckle only intensified that rising force within me. His moustache rasped against my cheek as he placed a mockingly chaste kiss on it. I gave a strangled, almost pained sound of pleasure as a few tears escaped my tightly shut lids.
The warm, wetness of his tounge caught the salty drops as they fell even as it carressed my skin. I groaned but did not move.