Iswallow hard as his thumb brushes over the scrapes on my knee. His touch is tender, the complete opposite of the dark look in his eyes. He's eye level with my p***y, and I don't know how I feel about that. It's dark, so I can't tell if he's actually looking at me. Why spread me open if he's not going to look?
"What do you want?" I ask again. "Why me?"
Ihate the fragileness in my voice, but he seems to revel in it. Whenever I make even the smallest noise, he closes his eyes as if savoring the sound.
He takes so long to answer that I don’t think he will answer me at all.
"I'll be honest. I'm not sure. There's just something...different about you. I'm going to see it through."
"Until...?"
"Until I'm finished."
Igulp. "Finished, like you're going to use me up and throw me away, finishe
