Page 8 of Sacrificing Zoriah

“You need to be hard if you’re going to fuck me,” I say simply.

“I know,” he sighs. “I don’t know how to fix that.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to help you do this, but… just work your way up to it,” I say. “If I’m relaxed, you’ll relax.”

“Right. You’re right,” he says as he steps away from me and goes to the giant wall of toys. “This is so fucked up.”

“Just don’t cause me pain,” I say.

“Just don’t cry,” he says. “Serious boner killer.”

I can’t help but laugh at his lame attempt at a joke. “My back hurts. You can’t make me laugh.”

“I cleaned and covered it while you were out,” he says as he gently drags his fingers up my inner thigh. I flinch and close my eyes to try and relax. I don’t want to make things more difficult for him.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“When I get you out of here, you’ll need to get it checked. I’ll try to find a way before Tuesday because that's when he's going to legally marry you,” he says.

“Rome will look for me,” I say. “I never miss work.”

“They don’t know you have a job. Haley never told them,” he says. “Make them think you have no one to run to, and they’ll give you more freedom.”

“Okay. Stop stalling, Huxley,” I say.

“Fuck. Right. Okay. I can do this,” he sighs.

“Does it help if I say I trust you?” I ask.

“Yes,” he admits.

“You are not a rapist, Huxley. I trust you to get me out of here,” I say. “Just do what you need to do. I’m not blaming you.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. I can’t see a way out of this, but I don’t want him to die because he won’t fuck me. He needs to at least be able to get hard. Huxley starts to gently rub my clit, and I’m immediately tense again. I am starting to cry again, and I can’t stop it. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Please stop going slow,” I say tearfully. “I’ll panic.”

“Alright,” he says. I hear the vibrations, and before I can panic, he presses it against my clit. I gasp as I arch off the table as the feeling cuts through me. “There ya go. Relax.”

“That,” I groan. “Keep talking to me.”

“Imagine we are in your apartment,” he says.

“Somewhere else,” I moan.

“My apartment,” he says. “It’s my bed you’re tied to.”

“Fuck,” I groan. “Your mattress sucks.”

“So picky,” he chuckles. I open my eyes and see that his are closed. He is desperately trying to create a world that is anywhere but here. This pretend talk is just as much for him as it is for me. Focusing on him helps me relax, and I see relief sweep over his body. He slowly pushes his fingers inside of me and starts to fuck me with his hand.

“Oh shit, Huxley,” I moan. His eyes open, and that does it. Moaning his name without crying for him was what he needed to hear. I smile softly at him, and he sighs.

“No thinking, Huxley. We are in your apartment,” I say before closing my eyes. I am trying my best to fend off an orgasm.

“God, forgive me,” Huxley prays before slowly pushing into me.

“Oh, dear God,” I gasp as he stretches me. The feeling is so different from when Doug raped me. My reaction makes Huxley stop before completely filling me.

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