Lips On The Tips Of A Knife นิยาย & เรื่องราว

With a keen that sounds like fun. Holland’s eyes sharpen. She heard something too. The knife is small but it’s a fact in her hand. She breathes in through her nose like Todd taught her, and the blue at the edges of her lips has shifted pink. She’s not ready to die on my floor, not even with the Wolf crawling all over the narrative.

Probably some sort of knife. “You’ve got some explaining to do.” I said to break the silence. He then turned to me with his eyes looking unstable and lips twitching. I looked at his hands and saw knives on each one. The knives looked like karambit knives, a fixed and folding knife with curved blades often used for close quarter combat. Blood flowed on his arms as it dripped on the edge of his knives. He then grinned as he ran towards me and I immediately slid away to avoid him. As he passed by, I could smell a putrid smell, smell of decaying flesh and extremely rotted eggs.

*Lilith POV* My lips curled up in a devilish smile, hipwalking to meet with Thierry, who was busy grinning at me, still holding a tray, outstretched. I scanned the stainless tray that was holding the items requested, which was a heated knife. The knife was so hot to the extent that you could see the blazing fire coming off of it. "Any last words you wish to say to each other?" I pry, picking the hot knife from the tray after whispering an appreciation to Thierry.

She was absorbing. I stepped to the right side of the room. “This wall is knives. Every type you can think of. Combat blades, switchblades, karambits, trench knives, double-edged, spring-loaded, throwing knives. Most people don’t realize how often these end up being the backup when guns fail. Knife throw is an art in itself.” Gianna glanced over them, her eyes narrowing as she took in the polished blades and serrated edges. She reached out to touch one but paused, hesitant. The thing looks weird in her soft, delicate hands, not gonna lie.

To see if he’d run screaming or if that twisted part of him—the one that gets hard when I pin him down—would wake up and watch? I turn back to the table. My fingers trail over the row of knives laid out on black velvet. Different lengths, different curves. Some for precision, some for pain. I pick up the one made specifically for skinning—thin, razor-sharp, slightly hooked at the tip. Knives have always been my favorite weapon, there’s so much you can do with it.

I yell, as the blinding cold surface of the knife touches my clit, sending jolts to my brain. My legs slam close, or at least that's what I try to do, but his knees stop my legs from closing even a bit. ... And I can't even clench my pussy muscles to get some relief because he's holding my pussy lips apart with his fingers. Fuck! What's----- wha----- What's----- what did he put on that knife? "Did you just swear at me?" He asks, and I mewl, not answering him and instead try shifting my hips but his hands don't let me.

I stared at her in awe. “No,” she said. “That wouldn’t be right, would it?” With those words, she flipped the knife again, grasped the top of her penis with her free hand, and in one efficient stroke sliced the member off at the base. Bringing it up to her face, she coupled its bloody end with her nose and cried like an elephant before casting the strange trunk aside, then turning the knife on the belly before her.

I can feel the blood trickling down the column of my throat, down my chest, and beads of blood rolling beneath my shirt. I refuse to call out at the small pain and instead glare at the evil man. He brings the knife up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the blood that coats the tip of the dagger. His eyes turn from the deep lifeless black, glazing over into a smoky grey as he licks the blade clean. I have no idea what’s going on, but I look to my side and see Twenty-Nine licking his lips watching his master with greedy mustard color eyes. As if he too wants a taste of my blood.

The day before our wedding, my fiance, Brandon Foster, and his girl bestie pulled out their wedding certificate at the casino. Brandon shrugged as he said, "It's just a joke—we'll be divorced tomorrow, and everyone knows that Wanda and I are strictly platonic." Wanda Stiles, however, was smiling provokingly. "Come on—they say marriage is sacred, so you guys can quit gawking already and hand us our wedding presents!" Everyone around the table laughed, with someone saying, "Alright! I own a business in the West End, and you can have it for your wedding… if you beat me at the dice game. Table rules." I didn't argue and merely sat at the table, smiling faintly as I met Brandon's frown. "The