Page 90 of The Toy Collector

Piper

“P-please don’t,” I gasp, fear coiling tight in my stomach, rooting me to the spot even as every instinct screams for me to run.

The blade doesn’t move. It lingers—silent, patient—a whisper of cool metal teasing the slickest part of me. My whole body turns to stone, breath caught somewhere between a scream and a moan.

“You’re scared,” he murmurs, voice like dark velvet behind me. “But not of me.”

“Yes, I am,” I cry, even though I’m not sure I believe it.

“No,” he says, smirking at me as he drags the flat of the razor along the curve of my clit with surgical control. “You’re scared because you’re soaking wet for me. Scared because your cunt’s drenching a fucking blade.”

I sob, high and sharp.

“You don’t want to run,” he breathes. “You want to be wrecked. You want me to decide how far we go.”

And I do. I hate that I do. That I’m shaking and crying and so fucking wet I can feel it coating my thighs.

“Look at what I’m doing to you,” he commands, slackening his hold on my hair so I can tip my head down.

I look at the smooth foil head—wide and flat, built for legs or bikini lines—not for being pressed against my clit like Enzo’s doing. Logically, I know it can’t cut me when it’s not switched on. The foil has a protective mesh over the blades. But… logic isn’t what’s driving me right now.

“Enzo,” I gasp. I don’t know if I’m asking him to stop or to keep going.

“Keep watching,” he rasps, pressing the razor harder against my clit.

I whimper at the sensation. I want to look away and to tell him to stop, but I can’t do either. It’s physically impossible for me to tear my gaze away, and I can’t stop the pleasure singing in my veins either.

“Enzo.”

“That’s it, Toy,” he encourages, adding more pressure.

My breathing shatters into ragged gasps, each pass of the blade winding me tighter. “Enzo!” My pussy contracts, and I need… I need… fuck. I don’t know what I need.

“I’ve got you,” he groans. Then he lets go of my neck, sliding his hand to my throat. “Are you ready to come?”

Before I can answer him, he squeezes tighter, making it nearly impossible for me to breathe. In frustration, I turn my head, and when my lips graze his arm, I bite down. The grunt he lets out goes straight to my pussy.

“Oh, God!” I croak, barely able to speak with the pressure on my throat.

A few more swirls is all it takes before I rapture. An orgasm unlike anything I’ve experienced before tears through me. It’s almost painful, making me squeeze my eyes closed.

“No. Look at me in the mirror,” he commands.

My eyes fly open, obeying his command. Our eyes lock, blue on green, and I feel like he’s underneath my skin. That’s how powerful the connection is.

He barely gives me time to recover before I feel him removing the razor from my pussy. But his gaze stays on mine, locking me in place, despite my trembling legs. I’m just about to ask what he’s doing when I feel something thick between my pussy lips.

“Is that…” The words die on my tongue.

But I don’t need to, Enzo knows what I mean. “It is,” he confirms, pushing the razor handle into me.

I try to fire back—something smart, something venomous—but it dies on my tongue the second he thrusts it all the way inside my pussy, pushing me down at the same time.

“Fuck!” My scream is muffled by my own palm as my body jerks forward against the sink. He doesn’t pause.

He just adds pressure to the hand between my shoulder blades, ensuring I’m not going anywhere while he pistons the handle in and out of my drenched sex. Each time he pushes it in, it slams me into the counter, my breasts dragging across the cold marble, my skin burning where it meets the chill.

“Wanted to be a little brat, Toy? Wanted to test me?” he growls, slamming me harder against the counter with each thrust. “Then you get fucked by plastic instead of my hard dick that’s throbbing for you.”

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