Page 74 of Into the Blue

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Then he adds circles to my clit and the sound of my wetness grows louder in the room.

“Who is your Pa?”

I cannot tell him that.

No way in hell can I tell him that.

I wished he would drop that line of questioning and move to something different, but I should have known that he was smarter than that.

Sure, I may have fooled him so far with my tits and helplessness, appealing to his baser needs. Then falling into something more because he needed someone.

That someone could have been me if we had met in another life.

But we didn’t.

We met in this life.

And for better or worse, our paths crossed.

This can’t be where my story ends.

I told him before and I still mean it now.

Deeper the handle goes.

Deeper.

Deeper.

“Milo,” I gasp. “No,” I say, unsure if I mean the knife or to the question he’s asked me.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

I clench and clench, each contraction of that muscle going against the logical response of my circumstance.

But, fuck.

It feels so good.

“Tell me,” he says, pressing the knife until the full length of the handle is inside me.

My head falls back to the bed. I can’t watch what he’s doing to me anymore. My head is foggy and conflicted.

I don’t know how long he can keep this up.

I’m so close to coming on his knife. Again.

I should be ashamed.

Tears fall from my eyes, rolling down my face to my ears.

I can’t tell him.

He stops, removing the knife from me entirely. Using it to cut the rope from one of my legs.

I think that he will move to the other leg but he doesn’t.

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