Lips On The Tips Of A Knife Novels & Stories

The knife inside had a weighted handle and a blade that held heat well. I lit the burner beside the case and held the blade over it until the metal began to glow at the tip. The man's eyes moved to the knife and back to my face. "Who sent you," I said again using the same tone I used in faculty meetings, in negotiations, across dining tables. He said nothing. The knife touched the skin on the inside of his forearm, just below the wrist. Not a slash. A press, carving a line of heat into the flesh in a way that left him fully conscious and fully present for every second of it.

sorry he touched. Today determined to study, Luxstay took the knife, actively embraced the chopping of vegetables, Emma stood beside him, nervously staring at his hand. "Careful, the knife you just sharpened, it's sharp!" Luxstay was slicing potatoes, a thick piece of potato followed the knife line lying on the cutting board, Luxstay himself felt satisfied, replied: "Don't worry, it's okay." As soon as the result finished speaking, the peeled potato left only a little bit of skin as if it was growing out of legs, from Luxstay's hand rolled out, the sharp blade fell on his fingertips.

The fear in their eyes always sends a indefinable thrill through him. "I have better idea," he chriped and raised the knife. He slipped the weapon past his parted lips, forcing him to widen his mouth. Walter was horror-struck. Sweat trickled down his temple. He trembled as the sharp edge of knife scraped against the tongue and roof of his mouth. "I might have let you off with an easy death if you had come after me," he sounded vicious as he rotated the knife inside his open mouth. The blade tore his lips. Blood spilled.

It hung dangerously over the edge, perfectly within Lila's sister's reach and seemed to almost begging to be grabbed by the blade, judging from the light that glinted off of it, adding some sort of mystical quality of charm and allure to the thing that could end lives without nary a care. There was a deep scratch mark, gouging out the tables edge on the path towards the knife, with the beginning point of the indent looking the deepest of it all, the line gradually becoming shallower and shallower until it was invisible, and leading to where the knife had dropped. A few drops of dark red blood sat at the side, and looking even closer, Lila could see a thin coating of crimson liquid that lined

Mike realized that he had been staring a the knife for some time. "Yeah." Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, he gave it an experimental tug, expecting some resistance. The blade slid free, its dark edges glinting dangerously in the light. Holding the knife, he realized he had nowhere to put it. Shoving it casually in a pocket would end in disaster at best, and Mike didn't want to trip and impale himself.

Luckily I am human or the knife would poison my blood. "Let me help," Thumas offers while hastily taking the knife from my hands. I winch as he makes a tiny cut across the tip of my forefinger and a little blood oozes out. It's surprisingly red in colour like normal blood. I cannot spot anything special about it. It would be really embarrassing if I put it in Lior's mouth and nothing changes.

Her fingers traced the edges of a small, sharp knife she had placed on her desk. And in that dim light, her eyes gleamed with a manic intensity, filled with thoughts only she could understand. She lifted the knife, holding it to her lips like a secret, and whispered, "They won't see me coming. None of them will." The candle flame flickers again, nearly going out. And then the room was plunged into darkness.

I bit down on my lip when I saw something glinting in the light. A dagger. Despite the fear spreading through my body like cancer, I cautiously slid myself off the bed, careful not to make any noise. Her head snapped in my direction the moment my feet touched the floor. Her grin widened. She was the picture of viciousness and cruelty. She turned around, holding up the dagger in front of her face. She brought the sharp blade close to her lips, her tongue snaked out and she flicked the tip of her tongue over the sharp blade. My eyes were wide as I watched her, my face set into a grimace. Blood appeared on her tongue, drop after drop. She flicked her tongue over her lips and grinned at me, her

I cried in pleasure as he kept finger fucking me through it all paying no heed to my messy moans. He spun me around so I was facing the table and he picked the butter knife on the table and brought it closer to my face as my eyes bulged. Would he kill me? He licks the blunt part of the knife and flattens it across my skin as the cold steel makes my skin tingle with his saliva.

Pursing my lips and biting my bottom lip lightly, I pull at rawhide stripe, tugging at it till it comes loose. Then I open the box, my eyes lighting up instantly when I see what's inside. Inside the box, wrapped in a brown wool, is a knife. A real knife, not a wooden one like I used for practice. Reaching my right hand to it, I pull the knife out of the box, running my gaze over blade's edges. It's narrow, and short yet a little bit long. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but it feels perfect... Gently, I wave the blade, testing my grip on it just like Fenric showed me at the training yard.