The Twist Of A Knife Novels & Stories

It was easy to remove my dick. It easily found its way into her, she was hot and tight. I wish I had more time. Thrusting slowly into her but I wasn't pleased. I turned her over, facing me. I could see her vagina clearly. It was wet. I pulled down my trousers, I let my dick out through the hole. Before now, it wasn't free. I, thrusted hardly into Lupita. She was moaning lightly, maybe because Torillio was there. "It's time, boss", Torillio said, trying to pull me off Lupita.

Adrian asked like a possessed man. “You know how to get rid of the pain. We have done it so many times. And it works so well. Doesn't it?” The voice in his head said, smirking. He finally had Adrian where he wanted. "You... you're right. Let me just..." Adrian fumbled between his words as he ran again near the drawer and searched frantically for something. "Got it." A smile made its way to his face as he picked up the knife. "Great! You know what you need to do now, don't you? Hurt yourself. Come on. Do it. You deserve it. Do it right now!" The voice in his head got louder and louder until he took the action.

That was their moment. Nikolai moved. He glided like a shadow, knife clenched between his teeth. One swift motion, a snapped neck, silence fell. Alessia watched him and felt that familiar mix of pride and a new, hollow ache — love braided with violence. She positioned herself next to Luca, fingers working at the knots binding him. Her hands moved slower than she wished; her throat felt thick with the taste of vengeance. “Alessia!” Luca croaked. His voice was so small. “You came.”

He made a small gesture, and just like that, the tall one opened the back door and practically shoved me in. My long, curly hair flew into my face from the motion. They finally let go of me, and I sat up, brushing my messy hair away with my fingers. I adjusted myself, trying to sit properly trying to see him. But there was a thick pane of black glass separating the back from the front seats. I couldn’t see a thing.

She walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and stared at the contents like they owed her an apology. Eggs. Tomatoes. Ground pork. Leftover rice. A half-used bottle of oyster sauce. “Okay,” she said aloud. “Let’s do this.” She tied on an apron, pulled out a pan, and started chopping like she was mad at the cutting board. Garlic? Minced with vengeance. Onions? Sliced like betrayal. She sautéed everything with fire — literally and emotionally. The smell of giniling filled the air. It was her therapy.

I push it in until the entire blade disappears. Maxim has a look of surprise on his face. His eyes are big and his mouth is open in an ‘o’ shape. He slowly slips to his knees, and his hands are trying to reach the knife. Twist it! I follow Clover’s directions. I twist the knife a few times, each movement eliciting a groan from Maxim. I’m able to pull the blade upward, while still in his body, determined to shred whatever it’s hooked into. Maxim gasps as blood falls from the corner of his mouth. His hands, which were just reaching up a minute ago, are now falling to his sides. His body is falling fast as I try to pull the blade out. Leave it.

A small twist leaves their arms dislocated and earns a yelp from them. Two others came after me brandishing their weapons. I wrapped my arms around the torso of one. I carried him above my shoulders and flung him across the wall. He rolled down the wall with a groan. The other threw a scissors kick. A little tilt of my head away from his leg, I caught his leg mid air. I gave it a twist. I heard a snap and then he yelled in pain loudly. I took his knife and drove it right through his neck. His blood splattered around and on my face and body.

“See, a normal knife can’t do this.” He twirls it around again, “Alright, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself.” “Why you worried?” He jokes chuckling at me, twirling the knife around again. Fueled by a force inside me, I took a step towards him and pulled on his arm. A somewhat stupid idea because I felt how the blade was so close that it ended up cutting a few strands of my hair. Yohan steps backward, quickly letting go of the knife to grab my face and turn it all over. Assessing if he ended up wounding me.

Gage’s words came back to her. “If you’re taken, let that knife do what it’s designed for—killing the enemy.” Hoping not to break the knife, Chantal inserted the tip in the link and twisted it with all her might. The blade slipped, and she swore, trying over and over. Please, Gage. Help me.

It was like it was burned into the old wooden floor. As I looked at the twisted handle that was on the knife, I furrowed my brows. I knew I had never seen it before, yet it looked oddly familiar. I reached down and took hold of the twisted handle. As soon as I picked it up, a blindingly bright light filled the room.