Page 31 of Heal Me

Her blue eyes fill with disbelief and grief as she blinks up at me, struggling to keep them open.

“I—” She opens her mouth to speak again, but her words are slow and staggered. “I fucking…”

I spit on two fingers and position them at her opening. I had decided not to touch her, not wanting to ruin her, but someone else did that, so what does it matter now? If that wasn’t enough, her pleas for me to take her life infuriate me more than I understand, making me want to punish her.

“I fucking hate y—”

Slamming my fingers inside her, I cut off her pathetic attempt at throwing vehemence at me. “You hate me? Is that it?”

She makes a weak nod, her eyes going round at the sudden intrusion.

“Are you sure?” I pump my fingers in and out at a fast pace, making her twitch on the mattress. She feebly tries to push at my arms, but I simply slap her hands away.

Nodding, she lets out a whimper that sounds like more pain than pleasure. I’ll remedy that in a second, but first, I want her to suffer for hating me so damn much—or thinking that she does.

Leaning over her, I grab her throat and squeeze until her breaths come in wheezes. “If I leave, I can’t kill you,” I say, tilting my head as I stare at her.

“P-please,” she manages.

“Please what?” I mock. “Leave or kill you?” I press my thumb to her clit, relishing the tiny mewl of pleasure coming out of her throat.

Her eyes flicker between mine, uncertainty filling the dazed blue of her gaze along with pleasure.

Her mewls grow longer and more frequent as I keep pumping and dragging my thumb over her clit. Her juices coat my fingers, creating a slick sound, and her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. She gets so easily turned on for me. I love the sight and the sound of it.

Leaning in, I drag the tip of my tongue across the side of her mouth, a featherlight touch that sends an unmistakable moan up her throat. I repeat at the other side of her mouth, and her bodystarts to convulse as she nears the edge. I pull my head back to watch her lips part and her gaze go cloudy from more than the drugs.

Her eyelids flutter, and her hips press up, seeking more of my touch. A long moan that comes from deep within her gut tells me she’s just about to fall over, and that’s when I pull out.

“No,” she gasps, staring at me with shock written deep in those dazed eyes.

“Do you still want me to leave?” I flex my hand around her throat. “Or kill you?” I blow an exhale on the corner of her mouth, smiling to myself at the shudder that rolls through her. “It would be so easy. I could just snap your neck.” I squeeze a little harder, and her feeble hands once again come up to mine, trying to push it away. “Or choke you. There’s nothing you can do about it, flapping your weak hands like that.”

Her staggered inhale sends a cool breeze across my lips as I slacken my grip a bit. The caress of her breath compels me to lean in and connect our mouths. Just barely. I press the slightest kiss to her lips as I stare into her terrified, turned-on eyes. I lift my hand, which is glistening from her moisture, and snap her nose closed.

“Or I could simply steal your life with a kiss. Seems poetic, doesn’t it?” I’ve never cared for poetry or the finer things in life, but this girl makes me want to lose some of my calloused crudeness and seek out something more. So I lean down and seal her lips with mine as I invade her mouth with my tongue.

I’m not sure if this qualifies as a kiss. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed a girl—never wanted to. But my tongue roams over hers, exploring her intimate space, taking and tasting her sweet delicacy. Her helplessness.

She gives a tiny jerk, a minuscule struggle, but her tongue starts moving, nonetheless.Withmine. She wants this even though part of her doesn’t—both the kiss and the death itcould bring. I indulge the latter idea for a moment, relishing her staggered attempts at breaking the connection when her air grows scarce. She jerks against me, trying to turn her head, clawing weakly at my hands and my face, but it doesn’t change a thing. I have her right where I want her, and there’s nothing she can do to stop me.

My cock grows achingly hard in my pants. I want to free it and come inside her while I snuff her out—or at least while she thinks I do. But there’s no time. And I want to see her come even more. So I release her throat and move my hand between her legs. My grip on her nose and my tongue in her mouth are more than enough to keep her weak head in place, the seal blocking her airways tight. I slam my fingers into her again, and her walls clasp onto them like they could grant her the air she desperately needs.

Her jerking grows more desperate, and she manages to put more strength into her clawing hands as her survival instinct kicks in. Her chest shakes as she tries to breathe in fresh air, but all she gets is what little residual oxygen I’m breathing into her. Her survival instinct isn’t the only thing making her jerk, though. I feel the orgasm building in her like a brewing storm. Her hips jerk, and little moans stutter in her throat, desperate for air to give them life.

Her strength weakens again as the lack of air drains the energy from her system. Her struggling hands hold on to mine instead of fighting, and her movements turn to tiny spasms. In ten seconds, she’ll lose consciousness; in thirty seconds, she’ll die.

A rush of power unlike any shoots through me, and I damn near come in my pants. I want to prolong this moment and bask in it forever. But five more seconds tick by, and I don’t want to lose her. I want something else. Just as I break the seal and let her drag in new air, I get it.

The sweetest moan I’ve ever heard forms in her open mouth as her entire body tightens, making her buck up over the mattress. It’s not a loud or long moan; the sound is full of sweet innocence and helplessness, freer than any sound I’ve ever heard. There’s no force or control, trying to push or pull. It’s just an instinctive, bodily reaction—like when the girls scream beneath my baton. Only this is so much better.

The orgasm rolls through her like a tiny storm, and then she’s out.

I remain on top of her, staring at her, mesmerized, as she breathes soft slow breaths through slightly parted lips. It’s tempting to stay here for the rest of the night, but I need more sleep, and I’m not sure she’ll stay like this for long—I only gave her half of the syringe.

I inject the rest of the sedative into her neck to make sure she won’t wake for the next part. Then I disinfect and bandage the self-inflicted wound on her wrist, cursing myself as I go. Finally, I carefully slip the straitjacket on her. I’m not risking anything with this girl again.

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