[There's some kind of sadistic delight that sits in his eyes, both artificial and pure. He's well aware that he might be pushing the envelope of her trust, but at the end of the day, the weapon is in his hand and not her's, so even if she wanted to do something about it...she couldn't.
But he doubts that she really wants to, deep down. And that's all that matters for the moment. She's not an innocent person, there's no guilt for harming her for his own pleasure -- a reminder of exactly who is in charge, and a way to light the angry fire he knows is burning beneath the surface of her skin. If she expected him to trust that she would not kill him with it wrapped around his throat, then surely she could deal with a little retribution.
And if not, then maybe one day he really would reconsider his position on Nisha the Lawbringer.
On his way across the space between them, he peels off his jacket and deposits it in a guest chair. He catches her other arm with his free hand when she's pulled down to him, and he reels in the whip enough to pull the swollen bleeding wrist to his mouth, where he bites her knuckle and bats his eyelashes like an innocent child. He's so pleased with himself that he can't hold down a deep, throaty little giggle.]
You rang, beautiful?
[His eyes sweep downward to her bare thighs, and then back up again. He knows exactly why she coaxed him over before he had turned the tables, after all.]
no subject
But he doubts that she really wants to, deep down. And that's all that matters for the moment. She's not an innocent person, there's no guilt for harming her for his own pleasure -- a reminder of exactly who is in charge, and a way to light the angry fire he knows is burning beneath the surface of her skin. If she expected him to trust that she would not kill him with it wrapped around his throat, then surely she could deal with a little retribution.
And if not, then maybe one day he really would reconsider his position on Nisha the Lawbringer.
On his way across the space between them, he peels off his jacket and deposits it in a guest chair. He catches her other arm with his free hand when she's pulled down to him, and he reels in the whip enough to pull the swollen bleeding wrist to his mouth, where he bites her knuckle and bats his eyelashes like an innocent child. He's so pleased with himself that he can't hold down a deep, throaty little giggle.]
You rang, beautiful?
[His eyes sweep downward to her bare thighs, and then back up again. He knows exactly why she coaxed him over before he had turned the tables, after all.]