“You’re so hard that I need two hands to get your zipper open. Will you behave if I set the knife down?”

Uh…would I? I wasn’t sure. We were moving out of the city proper and closer to the suburbs where Aly lived. It would be all too easy to find an empty parking lot and tackle her into the backseat.

She turned the knife over and ran the blade up my side, so close she probably shaved off some peach fuzz.

“I won’t do it if you don’t promise to be a good boy,” she crooned.

Praise kink: unlocked.

I nodded several times in quick succession, and she chuckled and set the knife, tip down, into one of the cup holders between us. Then those nimble nurse fingers were on me, one set tugging my jeans away from my straining cock while the other carefully eased my zipper open. She pulled the sides of my pants wide and went still. A glance showed her staring at the bulge in my boxers with a hungry look on her face.

Do not come in your shorts, do not come in your shorts, I started chanting in my head.

I kept my eyes trained on the road and slowed the car. Movement in my periphery was all the warning I had before Aly tugged the band of my boxers open and pulled out my dick. Silence reigned absolute between us. We must have both been holding our breath. Then Aly let out a ragged exhale and wrapped her fingers around my shaft, and I nearly came on contact.

“Don’t misconstrue this,” she said, picking the knife back up.

Terror slammed into me. A woman had one hand on my dick and the other on a knife. This could get so bad, so fast. My cock should be shriveling up in fear, but I only got harder at the thought, the danger pushing my arousal to an almost uncomfortable level.

Aly noticed, squeezing my shaft and running her thumb over the head of it to smear a drop of precum over my skin. “I see the knife kink goes both ways.”

I guess it fucking did.

“I’m still mad,” she said. “This isn’t for you.”

Okay, but it felt a little like it was for me. Her hand was stroking up my dick, after all.

“This is something I’ve dreamed about for months, and I’m not going to deny myself a chance to touch you just because we’re in a fight.”

Awww. Our first official fight.

I was absolutely going to mark this in my calendar so a year from now, we could celebrate the day she acknowledged there was something between us. Was I getting ahead of myself? Probably, but I couldn’t help it. Aly was going to be mine. The end. I’d just have to find some way to make her think it happened organically, and she wasn’t falling for my dastardly plan to brainwash her into loving me by spoiling her rotten and playing into every desire she’d ever had.

The blunted edge of the knife slid up my side in idle threat as Aly worked her way back down my cock. Her touch was gentle because both her hand and my dick were so dry that there wasn’t enough lubrication between us for her to really go after it. She paused when she got to the bottom, squeezed my base, and then reached into the band of my boxers and tugged on my balls.

I let out a shaky breath and gripped the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasized about doing this,” she said as she started to lean forward. She paused halfway to my dick, and I nearly groaned. “Are you STD free?”

I nodded. I’d gotten tested a few weeks ago and hadn’t been with anyone since.

“You wouldn’t lie to me about something like that, would you?” she asked, starting to rotate the knife against my side, the sharp edge heading toward my skin.

I shook my head, horrified at the thought of someone doing that to a partner.

“Good, because I can’t hold out any longer,” she said.

And then she clamped her lips around the head of my dick and swirled her tongue over it.

My vision tunneled. Oh, fuck, I was going to come like a fire hydrant if she kept this up.

It was somehow even better than I’d imagined, and I’d done an unhealthy amount of daydreaming the past several days. Was it because I was off the drugs that had dulled my emotions and sensations for so long? Or because it was Aly, and having feelings about the person I hooked up with elevated my pleasure?

Maybe it was both of those things combined, paired with the fact that I had my mask on, and this was the first time I was living out a fantasy I’d had for years.

That realization fled from my mind when she squeezed the base of my shaft again and lowered her head, taking more of me into the wet heat of her mouth. The urge to thrust my hips upward was strong, but she said this was for her, so I held myself still with monumental effort and let her play with me.

She moved lower, lower, widening her jaw as she took me all the way to the back of her throat. I groaned as her tongue swirled over me again, coating my shaft in saliva as she pulled up. Would it ruin my scary masked stalker image if I came too early? Didn’t badasses hold out for a long time?

Her hand wrapped around my now-lubricated shaft and started to pump, rotating on the way down just like I liked.

I prayed to the gods of longevity and then started naming baseball teams in my head.

She drew back up to my head and lapped at my slit with a moan. “God, you taste good.”

Nope. I wasn’t going to make it. I would blow like a two-pump-chump, and my badass reputation would be ruined entirely.

I tried to drum up some regret about that, but Aly tunneled her cheeks as she bobbed back down, and the suction had me seeing stars.

I took a wrong turn down a dark street and slowed the car to an absolute crawl.

“Make a U-turn at the next stoplight,” the British woman told me.

Aly froze.

Uh-oh.

Her lips popped free – no, no, no – and she sat up, knife fully rotated now, blade hovering over my skin.

“Did you just deviate from the directions?” she asked.

I whimpered in response.

I fucking whimpered.

In my defense, my dick was cold and lonely and pulsing with need, and the mouth that had so recently brought it pleasure was now several feet away. Who could blame me?

“Bad boys don’t get rewarded,” she said.

No. Goddamnit. I did not need a brat kink on top of my newly awakened praise kink. The two were supposed to cancel each other out, not act as amplifiers.

Or maybe I just had an Aly kink, and everything she said triggered this kind of response in me. Maybe being together meant that all her desires were about to become mine, too.

Please, God. Don’t let her have a fisting kink, I thought. Being used like a puppet was not something I wanted to experience.

I put my blinker on and turned the car around at the lights. She sat watching me in the dark, knife running up and down my side until we got back on the road my map wanted us on. Another torturous moment passed that made me worry Aly was going to leave me like this before she pulled the knife away and leaned forward again. This time, she started on my stomach, planting hot, drugging kisses on my abs before she parted her lips and nipped at my skin hard enough to pinch.

Was a biting kink a thing? It must be because I was rock-hard for it.

The snow picked up outside, and the car lights made it look like I’d just launched us into hyperdrive, even though we were barely moving, flakes flashing past us like stars as we raced through space. It made me feel like we were in our own little world as Aly’s lips wrapped around the head of my dick again.

“If we weren’t in this car,” she whispered against me, breath heating my skin while her hand worked my shaft, “I would deep throat you until I choked. But this angle is wrong, so I’ll have to do this instead.”

She laved at the head of my dick, tonguing my frenulum and then my slit before she did that delicious swirling motion again, all while her hand pumped my shaft.