Page 72 of Into the Blue
I nod, not ready to tell him what I know he won’t want to hear.
Swiping the blade along his sleeve to clean it. He returns it to the sheath and begins looking for something under the bed that I can’t see.
A small box is in his hands and he opens it to pull out… a bandage.
My hand stings immediately with whatever he’s cleaning it with. “Don’t want you to bleed out,” he explains as he applies a bandage over my hand.
Saying nothing, I wait for him to finish tending to the damage he caused. Milo makes no attempt to free me from where I’m restrained on the bed, but he does remove the snakes at least. He carries one in his hands while the other has worked its way up his arm.
I breathe a sigh of relief that I’m the only snake on this bed again.
He returns to the bed, sitting between my legs still spread wide with only the thin cotton material of my sleep shorts between us. They do nothing to disguise the wet spot that only grows with his proximity. He doesn’t comment on it, just runs a finger over the dampness.
I can’t close my legs to keep him from making it worse and he knows it.
He rubs a slow circle around my clit. It’s too slow to truly make me come, but it’s more than enough to tease me.
“Milo, I—”
“That’s enough talking for now.”
Rocky, you have to give him what he wants.
You have no other choice.
“That feel good?” He asks, the same slow, teasing pace setting my nerves on fire.
Time he spends with his gloved finger exploring the dip and swell of my lips to the hood of my clit. Over and over. Moments that become minutes of his ministrations. My brain gets fuzzy as lust rises in his focus on my body.
I start to speak, but snap my mouth closed. He said no talking. I nod my head.
“Can you take more?”
I nod my head again.
He reaches for his hip and the knife is back out. Lifting the leg of my shorts, he cuts them open from one side to the other so my pussy is completely exposed to him.
Milo makes quick work of cutting the top flap of my shorts so that it isn’t in his way. For too long, he just looks at the knife against my thigh. The flat of the blade rests along the crease with the sharp serrated edge closest to my sensitive flesh.
Oh, fuck.
Please, I beg emphatically in his direction.
He doesn’t hear me, but he smiles anyway, taking a moment to readjust the glove on his hand.
With some maneuver, he flips the knife so that he holds the wide blade in his hand.
“Been here before,” he says, somewhat distantly as he recalls our first night together. “This handle’s a little bigger, a little rougher.” His eyes flick up to mine, where I’m already breathing harder and faster. “Can you take it?”
I don’t know if I can take anything right now. My nerves are on fire while I’m trying to stay sane and resist what I know he’s doing.
This is torture.
And it’s just the beginning.
He notches it at my entrance without my response. He wasn’t lying. It is bigger. It is much rougher too. The callous texture is already uncomfortable against my skin. But I have no choice. I can’t go anywhere without hurting myself. I have no plan for this.
Milo doesn’t shove the knife inside me.
