Page 60 of Submit
“Yes. I need to be able to see it in my mind.”
“Alright.” I sigh, kissing her ear, then her neck, and then I lean over to the night stand next to the bed and open the top drawer. Pulling out the knife Max had handed me, I flip it open and show it to her. “I slit his throat, ear to ear with this.”
The now clean blade glimmers in the light of the room, and she stares at it for moments that feel like an eternity, not moving and barely breathing. I can hear her thick swallows, and her heart beating wildly in her chest.
“May I touch it?”
“Yes.”
I hold the knife in my open palm, letting it balance over the edges of my hand, and she reaches out and pokes at it, like it’s going to jump up and bite her. When it doesn’t move, and nothing has happened, she tilts her head and stares at it some more and I can almost hear the thoughts racing through her head.
“Show me.”
“Show you?” I ask, looking at her in disbelief. “Baby, I’m not putting a knife to your throat.”
“How did my sister die?”
“Oh baby. No. You don’t…”
“Tell me.” She practically yells at me, staring me down, the anger and hurt over her sister written all over her face.
“She was stabbed.” I tell her, not wanting to share any details of the woman’s bruises and wounds other than the fatal one in her chest.
“So a knife. A knife killed them both.”
“Yes.”
“Then I want to feel a knife too, from you.”
Dropping my head down, I rest it against her shoulder. “Baby, why?”
“I don’t know. But I need to. Maybe to get over it, to face fears, to heal, I have no clue, but I need it.”
“Then I’m doing it as me and not him.” I say, yanking off the ski mask and handing it to her. “You take it. Do what you want with it.”
“Show me what you did to him.”
Against every fiber in my being that tells me this is wrong, I do as she asks. With as steady of a hand as I can muster I bring the very sharp blade up to her throat.
“Don’t move, don’t even swallow. I do not want to cut you.” I say, holding her hair in my hand just like I did to Tyler, pulling her head back and elongating her throat under the blade.
With my cock still in her I can feel a burst of wetness as the cold metal touches her skin. She’s turned on by the thought of me killing him. She’s getting wetter and wetter, until her juices are flowing out from around my dick and dripping on the bed.
“Mmmm.” She moans, her eyes rolling back, her body relaxing under me.
“You like this. The image of me doing this to him while I’m inside you. You filthy little thing. I love you.”
“Yes, Sir.” She whines, trying to press forward, but I keep her back by the handful of her hair in my fist.
“Stay baby. Don’t move.” With a hand as steady as a surgeon’s, I hold the knife in place and start moving my hips back and forth.
“Yes, Daddy.” She begs, moving her ass even though I told her not to move, but at least she’s going away from the weapon and not onto it.
“Fuck.” I growl, thrusting faster but not harder.
I don’t want to push her body forward at all.
“Fuck yes.” She cries out, her pussy clamping down on me, her channel tightening with her impending climax.
