Lips On The Tips Of A Knife Mga Nobela at Kwento

I brought the knife to her lips. She watched herself in the blade’s reflection—eyes wide, terror and pleasure tangled so deeply she could no longer tell them apart. “Taste it,” I rumbled, letting the tip grazing the bow of her mouth, just enough that she felt the steel’s cool breath against her lips. “Taste yourself, Vesper. And be careful… I don’t want to cut that pretty tongue of yours.” She trembled so violently I thought she might shatter. Her tongue flicked out—shamed, obedient—and licked the blade clean. I watched her swallow, her throat working under the pressure of my gaze. The metal gleamed wet in the dim light.

Lucain, taken aback by her audacity, instinctively recoiled, withdrawing the knife from her proximity. “And also You don’t hold a knife like this!”. He said, pointing the knife straight to demonstrate. “You hold it like this!”. He said, demonstrating the correct grip as he wrapped his fingers firmly around the hilt, allowing the blade's edge to rest against his arm. “That way it’s easy to spit your enemy!.” “Do you realize that you're inadvertently teaching me the skills of a serial killer?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of shock and disbelief.

But she tried her level best to plead to him. "Shhhhhh... I hate loud people." The very next moment he placed the tip of the knife on her lips. The cold metal sent shivers through her spine. Dragging it slowly towards her throat he made its way to the cleave section. Iris could feel her heart drumming loudly inside her ribcage. The knife rested on the middle of the bra she was wearing. With a small tug, the material was torn and her breasts were freed. Embarrassment engulfed her like anything. She hid her face on her shoulder. The trail of tears kept on disappearing in her hairline and Leonard couldn't shift his eyes from her round-shaped mass that was more like some tempting dish to him.

My breathing quickens more as I feel the moisture building between my legs. "Kitty, you are getting rather hot and flustered there and I am not even touching you. I wonder." Placing the knife down so I can see it he goes, a moment later he returns, a smile on his face, his hands playing with another knife. A moan escapes my mouth, it is beautiful. Red and black entwined leather handle, with perfect details. My head falls back.

His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. As I moved, Leon's length filling me completely, I was quick to reach my climax once again. My nails dug into his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over me, my body quivering with the intensity of it. Leon's lips gently sucked on my neck, his arms wrapping tight around me as he held me close, forcing me to ride out my orgasm. As I let out a shaky breath, he rolled us over, still inside me. He wrapped my legs around him, pushing deeper, his lips lowering once again to mine. But as his lips met mine, I reached under the pillow, my fingers closing around the cold handle of a knife.

It was packed with all kinds of knives. Small paring blades with wicked curves. Longer serrated ones for sawing. Thin filleting knives that could split skin like paper. A heavy cleaver at the end, more for weight than precision. “What… what are you gonna do with those?”He asked. I pulled on the black nitrile gloves. “You Stupid piece of horse sh!t,” I said, almost conversationally. “You should know too well by now. Billie isn’t to be touched. Isn’t to be taken. Not by anyone other than us.”

His words and his actions snatched the living life out of her body until she felt him to delicately wipe the tip of the knife over her lower lip which made her swallow hard. And then him to trailed the knife from her lips to her jaw and then to her exposed neck and finally stopped at the string of her bra which was attached to her shoulder and her eyes got bewildered when he cutted that string with the knife which made the string to hang and her breast to get almost uncovered which was hiding just because her body was pressing against his..

She, too, held out something. “What is it?” Stefanie picked up the slender object made out of some strange material. About the length and width of her finger with a clip on the end, it fit into the palm of her hand. “A knife you can hide practically anywhere. I thread it through my hair like an oriental stick. Squeeze the buttons on both sides at the bottom and the blade will eject from the top. But as Prescott said at Bunker Hill, ‘Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes.’ Literally.”

The flat side of the blade kissed her oiled skin, dragging coldly down her chest, over the swell of her breasts, grazing her ribs. Her chest tightened, as he pressed the blunt end against her lips. “Kiss it.” Her lips parted softly, obeying him. He dragged the dagger lower, sliding down her stomach, and pausing just above her pussy, where she ached desperately for him, for anything he’d do to her. “You’ll open when I tell you,” He set the blade aside, then stretched his hand out towards the array of instruments displayed across the polished glass, from whips to ropes and restraints.

“Close.” I followed his orders and felt a weird cold metal inside of it. It was the knife. “If you drop the knife, while I eat you out, I’m not letting you come,” he warned as if he hadn’t made me come a few times already tonight. But I just nodded and submitted. In the next second, his tongue found itself on top of my clit, and he flicked it. I shuddered and squeezed the knife in my mouth. I felt the sharp edges of the blade and the coldness it emitted.