Page 109 of Whistleblower

“Keep going,” I demand. “I can take it.”

I clench my fists underneath the pillow, so Linc can’t see. If he could see my strained expression, it’d ruin everything.

Twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six…

“Oh fuck, Eden,” Linc groans as he pushes in deeper. “Your ass is… oh God.” His groans of delight are almost enough to keep me going. I love the sound of his pleasure. It’s comforting and motivating—all I want to do is make him feel good. And maybe I could’ve made it…except I shut my eyes.

Against the back of my lids, all I see is that black ski mask. The pliers. The hammer. The zip ties. I can still feel the cool metal of the gun pressed against my head. The tears begin to rush down my face, absorbing into the pillow when I think about the shock and disappointment I felt when I pushed my panic button and nothing happened. I really thought I was going to die. I thought I’d see my mom, my dad, Linc…all the people in my life I treasured, but my mind blanked.

I saw nothing except the malice in his eyes.

Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen…

I’m in agony as Linc fills me way too full. The pain isn’t alleviating, only compounding. I feel so invaded. My mind, my heart, body… I’m well past overwhelmed. It’s too fucking much.

“I’m all the way in. Are you okay? I won’t move until you’re ready.”

Three, two, one…

But there’s no pleasure… Just the searing hot, rageful pain.

I can’t. I give up.

“Stop,” I sob. “Please stop. No more.”

Linc rips out of me, causing the painful sensation to spike, then dispel. Grabbing me by my hips, he flips me around and winces when he sees my tear-drenched face.

“Oh, Eden,” he says so somberly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I reluctantly meet his panicked stare before my lip begins to tremble, thinking about how much I’ve lied over the past few days.

I’m. Not. Fine.

I can barely choke out one word before I completely lose it.

“Whistleblower.”

* * *

The warm water soothes all the ache. The tension in my neck slowly loosens as the pain in my rear dissipates as well. I slosh the water back and forth in Linc’s deep claw-foot tub, feeling relieved, embarrassed, and relaxed but also anxious like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. All in all, I’m feeling way too much.

“Sensitive,” I mumble quietly to myself. “So freaking sensitive.”

I smash my lips together, making a popping sound when Linc returns to the bathroom holding a glass of bubbly white wine.

He hands me the glass before dragging a teak wood stool to the side of the tub and taking a seat. Dipping his finger in the water, he asks, “Is it getting cold? You’ve been in here a while.”

“No, it’s still warm. Thank you,” I say as I take a little sip of the crisp, sweet wine. “Oh, what is this?”

“A Moscato d’Asti.”

“Ah, a drink and dessert all in one.” I take another big sip.

“Do you like it?” Linc gives me a questioning look.

“Very much.”

He slants his eyes. “Are you sure you like it? Or are you just saying that to appease me?” He pumps his eyebrows twice.

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