Page 60 of Breaking Rosalind
“You like that?” he says, his voice whispery with excitement.
I want to call him a sick fuck, but I can’t even form the syllables.
As the knife makes its slow ascent toward my pussy, my breath quickens, and the pulse between my legs pounds hard enough to burst my eardrums.
“You’re wondering if I’ll lose control and slice your labia into sashimi,” he murmurs.
My adrenaline spikes. That image hadn’t crossed my mind until he opened his perverted mouth. Cesare won’t cut me there, will he? He might have dropped out of medical school, but he should know the dangers of lacerating women in the wrong places.
When he sets down his knife to trace his fingers over the elastic of my panties’ leg opening, my fear morphs into arousal.
“You’re so beautiful when you can’t speak or fight back.” His lashes are lowered, with his gaze fixed between my spread legs.
He circles my clit with the pad of his thumb, making it swell. “Did you want to know what happens to the female genitals during sexual arousal?”
“No.” I try to say, but it sounds like a moan.
“Vasocongestion. It’s when the vessels in the pelvic area dilate, allowing more blood to flow into the clitoris, labia, and vaginal walls. This contributes to sensitivity, lubrication, and readiness for my cock. But do you also know what else?”
I know I want to stab this man in the throat.
He continues rubbing my clit with maddening precision, each glide of that hateful thumb infusing me with shocks of ecstasy.
“One slip of the knife could be fatal,” he says.
Shivers run down my spine. Cesare had better kill me before this drug wears off. If anyone’s genitals end up as sashimi, it’ll be his.
He continues caressing me with those infernal strokes, his full lips parting to reveal a peek of his tongue. The muscles of my pussy tighten in anticipation as he leans closer, his hot breath warming my skin.
Just when I think he’s going to push the cotton fabric to one side and expose my pussy, he picks up the knife and moves its blade past my zipper, slicing the fabric up to the waist.
Relief escapes my lungs, but only for the few moments it takes for him to remove my boots, socks, and the rest of my pants and toss the scraps into a corner.
He looms over me, straddling my hips and brandishing his gleaming knife. With precise cuts, he slices through the upper half of my jumpsuit, each slash grazing my flesh and drawing panicked gasps but no blood.
The fabric falls away in tatters, exposing my skin. Dread pounds through my veins, seizing my heart in its cold grip. This wouldn’t be so terrifying if I could scream or cower or flinch. Cesare has me completely at his mercy, bound and unable to resist.
Despite the fear coursing through my nervous system, the assassin in me notes that he expresses his madness with control and grace. It’s almost as though he’s practiced undressing women with sharp objects.
In moments, I’m stripped to my regulation sports bra and panties, and lying several feet away from my shredded clothes.
“Better,” he says, his gaze roving my skin. “But there are more places where a clever little assassin like you could be hiding weapons or tracking devices.”
All the air escapes my lungs.
Cesare cuts through the middle of my sports bra, exposing my breasts. My pulse quickens as his gaze drops to my nipples, and he squeezes both between his fingers.
Sparks of pleasure zip across my skin and settle around my needy clit. Thank fuck I didn’t stick the tracker there. His digits slide down toward my belly button, causing my stomach to coil with anxiety.
GPS devices emit electromagnetic signals that are easy to detect with the right equipment. If Cesare is as well-versed in electronics as he is in the human body, I’m screwed.
The air thickens, and tension builds until the weight of my dread is crushing my lungs. The sensation eases when he glides past the hidden tracker and stops at the waistband of my panties.
He brings his face so close to mine that we’re breathing the same air. “I’m going to perform a full-cavity search to make sure you’re not bringing in any contraband.” He smirks. “Although in your case, it would be cuntraband.”
Fury heats my blood, carrying hot rage to the outer layers of my skin. One day, it will be Cesare lying helpless beneath me. I’ll pay him back for every moment of this humiliation.
He slices through my panties, brings them to his nostrils, and takes a deep sniff. “Delicious, but I want more.”