I close my fingers around it, looking at the cruel edge of the blade, thinner and sharper than any knife.
Cole kneels before me. He squeezes a puff of shaving cream onto his palm, then gently massages it over my bikini line. His cheek is only inches from the razor, his neck exposed as he tilts his head for a better view.
I could cut his throat right now.
Cole spreads the shaving cream all across my pussy and upper thighs. It feels thick and cool after the heat of the water.
“Are you wondering what it would feel like?” he says in his smooth, low voice.
I grip the handle so hard that it bites into my palm.
“You’re wondering if you could do it quick enough to surprise me. Could you cut me deep enough that I couldn’t fight back? If you got me in the right place, one slash would be enough …”
I shake my head so vigorously that it bumps against the stone wall.
“No. I wasn’t thinking that.”
Cole closes his hand over mine again, but this time he’s forcing me to grip the razor instead of a showerhead. Forcing me to brandish it between us. He looks up into my face, his dark eyes locked on mine.
“When the time comes … don’t hesitate. You’re never going to be the biggest or the strongest in the fight. You have to be the most ruthless. You’ll only get one cut, so make it count.”
Who does he imagine I’m going to be fighting?
Shaw … or him?
I twist my wrist away from Cole, dropping the razor on the shower floor.
“I told you—I’m not going to hurt anyone.”
Cole ignores the razor, only looking at me.
“Oh really? And what do you plan to do about Shaw, then?”
“I don’t know,” I say through gritted teeth. “Find some evidence. Get his ass tossed in jail where he belongs.”
Cole makes a contemptuous sound that hits me worse than a slap.
“You’re not going to find evidence. You go near Shaw without me right next to you, and all you’ll find is your head on a beach.”
I glare at him. “You want me to think there’s only one way this can end.”
“No. There’s two ways: Shaw dies, or we do.”
Cole is trying to drag me down this path I don’t want to travel. At the same time, I can’t help feeling perversely comforted that he said “we” instead of “you.” Cole thinks we’re in this together. And honestly, nothing terrifies me more than the thought of facing Shaw alone.
I want Cole right next to me. But I can’t see how we’ll ever agree on what we should do.
Plucking up the razor, Cole makes a tsking sound.
“Now I have to sharpen this again.”
He returns to the counter to bring out his leather strop. He moves swiftly, aggressively. Snapping the leather taught and drawing the blade down the grain with a vicious purr. The steam ebbs out of the shower. A chill runs down my spine instead.
Cole returns, kneeling before me, the blade gleaming bright in his hand.
He looks up at me, full lips curved in a smile. “Hold still. Don’t make me cut you.”
The touch of the blade is colder than ice. It slides over my skin like a whisper—cutting so close that my flesh looks strangely pale, stripped of shaving cream and every trace of hair.
Every place he bares becomes instantly sensitized. I feel the cool air on my pussy lips, and his warm breath.
His fingertips press against my flesh, spreading my lips apart so he can shave even the most difficult and delicate areas.
I keep expecting the bite of the blade, some slip of his hand, but he’s too careful. It doesn’t even scratch me.
He shaves down, then in, then up, touching me with his exquisitely sensitive fingertips, re-shaving any area that doesn’t meet his standard of perfection.
He’s intensely focused on the work, his face inches from my pussy, examining every part of me, inside and out.
Maybe I should be embarrassed. Maybe it should feel clinical.
It doesn’t.
Instead, I find myself shivering under his touch. Hardly able to hold still when I’m dying to press my clit against his palm, aching for him to rub the ball of his thumb across it. I want his fingers inside me. His cock inside me.
Cole lifts the showerhead once more, rinsing the last remnants of shaving cream off my skin.
My pussy gleams, as smooth and soft as a fresh spring peach.
Cole can’t take his eyes off it.
“Feel that,” he says, taking my hand and placing it on the silky soft mound.
My fingers glide over the skin, ten times as sensitive as it’s ever been. It feels like I was made this morning. Like nothing bad has ever happened to me. Venus, rising from the sea-foam.
Putting his hands on my knees, Cole pushes them all the way apart.
He leans forward and trails the tip of his tongue across my pussy—tracing the path of the razor back and forth, up and down. Testing his work with the most perceptive part of himself.
I let out a groan, thrusting my hand in his hair, pushing his face into my cunt. I grind that smooth little pussy all over his face, shivering with the sensation of his soft lips, wet tongue, and the barest trace of stubble. I feel it all like I’ve never felt it before, and I melt into his mouth, starting to cum before I even realize what’s happening.
I ride his tongue, the softest part of him against the softest part of me. The warmth, the bliss, is intensely intimate. I’ve never had oral from a man who wants it more than I do. He’s tasting me, smelling me, lapping me up. So hungry that I could never satisfy him, even while he’s gorging me with pleasure.
When the second climax passes, I almost feel guilty. I reach for him, wanting to return the favor.
“Let me suck your cock.”
“No.” He pushes me back down on the bench, still holding the razor in his left hand. “I don’t want a blowjob.”
“What do you want, then?”
His right hand rests on my thigh, holding me in place.
“I want to taste you.”
That’s what he just did—my wetness is all over his mouth.
Then Cole lifts the razor over my thigh, and I understand.
My heart skips. Every time we cross another line, the edge of what I used to know retreats in the distance.