Predator

The first time she felt his blade wasn’t during a scene. They were standing around, talking and he saw his knife on the table. He picked it up and pointed it at her. She didn’t flinch. Taking a step toward her, he pressed it against the side of her arm, near her shoulder.

She barely registered the sensation of cool metal against her soft skin. What she did feel was the pull of submission as her mind was cleared of whatever it had been she was saying.

He cocked his head to the side and moved the blade up to her chest, tracing a light line across it. She held her head back and just maintained eye contact with him.

“Does it scare you?” he asked.

“No,” she responded quietly.

He moved the blade up and pressed the edge two inches below her left earlobe. “This knife against your throat doesn’t scare you?” His eyes were focused on hers.

“You don’t scare me.” She held his gaze, holding very still.

Satisfied, he retrieved the knife and set it back down on the table.

“Interesting,” he said.


She was laying flat on the bed, naked from the waist up. He was crouched over her, with one knee on the mattress, dragging his blade across her breast. Slowly, methodically, he grazed different areas on her arms, chest and neck. Her eyes were closed and her breathing soft and shallow.

With her eyes closed, he could study her face without her seeing his reaction to it. Those lips, full and wet. He pressed the flat of the blade against them.

“Kiss it,” he said. She complied.

Leaning down, he replaced the steel with the gentle warmth of his lips.

Her response was to kiss back, but not in a way he’d experienced before. There was a primal hunger to her now. A yearning he’d not tasted on her lips before that moment. He felt himself being drawn in by it, succumbing to her need.

He pulled back quickly, and held the knife against her throat again. Her were eyes open now, the passion in them ignited.

And as she now held his gaze he realized that a few inches of steel was all he had for protection.

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