I’m cheating with the next installment you say? I’m late? Despite what you might think, not posting isn’t my form of punishment for any of you. Well, N, but hell, me not being here is more punishment than me not posting.

Eh. I’ve barely had time to do anything other than glance at my favorite blogs myself, without even considering slipping into a place I could write. Some of this was done not long after I posted 1.5, and some of it was finished as I am posting it this evening. The end isn’t far away assuming no one else has a forest fire to put out.

It’s been a vicious set of days strung together - numerous flights, hotel rooms and dining out on the road. Is it possible to get a healthy meal that isn’t mostly iceberg lettuce and dry fish? I’m home now, somewhat situated, and about to eat a whole lot of veggies that don’t belong to the lettuce family.

Thanks for your…patience.

With that, I flicked the blade open and brought it to her throat. The edge slid along her skin as she struggled to contain her breathing as not to test the sharpness of it. She knew I kept it sharp. I took the tip of the knife and pushed it against her skin, turning it slightly to one side and then back, fascinated by the fluttering pulse at her neck and the way the light caught the edge of the blade. This knife, she knew, had no facets, no jagged edges to get caught. It slides into skin and tissue like a coin into a slot. Sometimes it terrifies her, other days, it excites her.

I knew her to be more than she presented. I could feel the desires of her body, hear her quickened pulse in my head. She wanted to fuck and I wanted to fuck her, and would, after I was done with my fun. I used my new position to push against her, sliding the crotch of my pants against the folds of her sex, rolling my body against her in a fluid motion that stirred the blade in my hand. I heard her suck in a breath and from her unbroken skin, I knew I had lay bare her secret. I moved the knife and recaptured her hands, pressing them back against the bed, one set of our joined hands palming the blade between them. I took her mouth, kissed her and she met it with equal passion, her tongue fighting with mine until I pulled back, dragging her bottom lip between my teeth.

Her legs slid against mine and I pushed against her still. Another kiss and we distracted ourselves with parted lips and measured breathing. My hands released hers and moved down to hold her wrists, her open palm cradling the blade. I broke the fusion of our mouths and rolled my hips, driving the hard line of my cock against her through my pants in a steady rhythm that was sending electrical signals down my back. Her legs tightened around me, I heard her breath come in jagged bursts, sucked into over-heated lungs. I felt the sensation of fabric and heat massage my shaft where we were pressed against one another. Faster, her breath came. I stroked the slender, muscled length of her forearms. She moaned loudly, an unmistakable sound of pleasure and I smiled. I didn’t still for a moment even as the smile faded and my thumbs pressed into the soft, colored bruises forming on her skin. I pushed until she cried and then screamed out in pain, the clotted marks oozing small traces of blood and my nails making fresh marks to join them.

Small, reluctant tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and the grip from her legs had slackened on mine. I bent my head and kissed her neck, my fingers sliding down her arms, along the sides of her body to cup her ass and pull her up against me as I pushed into her. She didn’t move, except at my guidance. I tugged on her earlobe, whispered in hear ear, ‘You look so pretty when you cry.’

A shudder worked its way down her body and I felt her nipples pebble as goosebumps followed the same path. She squeezed me with her thighs. I could feel the pulse in my cock throbbing, pouring its insistence into my blood stream. ‘I’m going to fuck you, my dirty little…’ I paused, searching for the right word and then I uttered it into her ear, her mind, just before I bit the skin at the base of her earlobe ‘…beast.’

I reached between our bodies and flicked open the buttons at my waist; shoved down the black boxers she brought me only weeks ago. I felt relief as I pulled my cock from its confines and placed the head just at the weeping slit of her cunt. One of her hands, ran down over the tense cords of muscle in my neck, her nails scratched lightly over my skin. I moved my hips and slid just the tip along the seam of her sex, over the smooth, hard bump of her clit. She groaned, I groaned and when I looked at her, she smiled. It was then I felt the edge of my knife against my neck.

I mentally cursed at myself for losing focus, but simply stilled, poised as we were in the midst of a lewd and yet profoundly intimate act, and regarded her. She sat up slightly, one elbow serving to lift her from her back and bring her closer to me. I dropped my gaze to her breasts, which tightened further from my gaze, and then slowly slid my gaze up to her face. The words, said with a soft voice, oozed out of me and I felt my skin shift under the blade as I spoke. ‘Woman is a temple built over a sewer.’

She twisted the blade’s point into my neck and I moved away from it before forcing myself to remain still. ‘That makes you the sewer, love.’

Desire and anger twisted in my gut along with a wry sort of amusement - at her gall? - at my stupidity? It was with a smile that didn’t finds its roots in amusement that I started my next statement. ‘You’ll regret-’

‘Don’t, D.’ She pushed the edge against my skin and I felt its sharpness, wondered if it had broken my flesh. ‘Now move. It’s my turn.’

‘You think you can control me with that?’

She answered that question with a firmer press of the blade. It was then I felt the sting and knew I bled. My eyes narrowed. I leaned into the hand that held the knife and felt an anewed sense of outrage that trickled through me just as I felt my blood start to bead. Her eyes moved to the mark on my neck that she had made. It would show above the collar of my dress shirts, I thought, and knew she’d pay on more than one day for this foolishness. I wanted to strike her, I entertained the idea of breaking her treasonous fingers, but settled on a more satisfying idea for victory.