Page 35 of Run Little Fawn

With a trembling hand, I reach for my knife, the one I keep sheathed at my thigh. The handle is smooth under my fingers, the metal cold and familiar. The blade glints in the low light, reflecting the fire in her eyes as she watches me.

For a moment, I see wariness there, a flash of fear as she takes in the weapon. But then I smile, slow and predatory, and she understands. This is not a threat. It's a promise.

The knife is sharp, the edge glimmering silver. With a gentle touch, I bring the tip to the edge of her panties on her left hip, slipping it underneath. The sound of tearing cotton fills the room, followed by her sharp intake of breath.

"Don't worry, little fawn," I murmur, my lips brushing her ear. "I won't hurt you. Not like that."

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, the soft mounds of her breasts tantalizingly close to my mouth. I want to taste her there, to hear her moan my name as I bring her pleasure. But not yet.

I force myself to focus, sliding the knife along the edge of her underwear on her other hip until it too snaps under the razor sharp blade.

I waste no time, my hands urgently pushing the scraps of fabric away, baring her to me. She's perfect, her skin luminous in the soft light. I want to worship her, to memorize every inch.

Lowering my head, I press open-mouthed kisses along her stomach, delighting in the way her muscles clench at the touch.

Her eyes, wide and dark, reflect the fire in my own as I drag the dull edge of the blade across her skin, teasing, tempting.

The knife leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake, a path of anticipation. I revel in her reaction, the way her breath catches, the way her body arches slightly toward me, seeking more.

Aria is a canvas, and I want to paint her with pleasure. With each stroke of the knife, I explore her, mapping the contours of her body for the first time.

I trace the delicate outline of her collarbone, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts. The knife hovers, tantalizingly close to her peaks, but I don't touch them.

Not yet.

She squirms beneath me, a mix of excitement and apprehension. "What are you doing?" Her voice is a whisper, thick with desire.

"Just enjoying the view, little fawn." My lips curve in a dangerous smile. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

It's true. I've fantasized about this moment, about having her at my mercy, willing and wanting.

She's a temptation I can't resist, an addiction I don't want to cure.

The blade skates lower, across her ribs, and I pause, letting the flat of the knife rest against the rapid beat of her heart. Her pulse flutters like a captive butterfly against my palm.

I could crush her so easily, but instead, I run the tip of the knife over the smooth, lush curve of her hip.

Her scent surrounds me, filling my head with the perfume of her arousal as I get closer to her pussy. The heady musk sends a rush of blood coursing through my veins.

Aria is a drug, and I'm already addicted.

She's art, a masterpiece, and I can't help but admire what I have exposed. I press a kiss to her inner thigh, relishing the taste of her skin, the feel of her softness against my lips.

I want to devour her, to taste every inch of her body, but I force myself to be patient, to draw out this delicious torture.

Teasingly, I drag the dull edge of the knife up her leg, relishing the way her muscles tense and relax with each passing caress. Her skin is a roadmap of sensations, each touch a new discovery.

Her breath quickens, her hands threading through my hair, guiding me where she wants me. "Please," she whispers, the word both a plea and a demand.

I chuckle darkly, my lips brushing the delicate skin of her hip. "I told you that you'd be begging for it before the night was through, didn't I?"

"Fine, you win," she admits, her voice shaking. "Touch me. Now."

Her demand sends a thrill through me. This fawn of mine is a delight, a treasure.

My lips find her hip once more, tasting the salt of her skin. Slowly, I kiss a path back up her body.

Her scent, a mix of desire and fear, fills my lungs. I want to inhale her sweet cunt, brand her scent into my memory forever. She stirs beneath me, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. I pause, looking up at her. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with need. Lips parted, cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

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