Page 96 of Split You Open

“There,” she steps back, a pleased smile blossoming across her face. “I think we’re ready to begin.”

Unease coils in my gut.

There might be a first aid kit open on the folding chair next to us, but it doesn’t bode well for me that she gagged and tied me down.

With a sigh, Blair reaches down and grabs the hem of the shirt she’s wearing. To my surprise, she lifts it up and pulls the shirt up and over her head. It’s forgotten instantly, as I stare at Blair’s body before me. Holy hell… She’s beautiful. My eyes trail up her lean stomach, marred with a few old scars here and there, to her breasts.

Fucking gorgeous.

It doesn’t matter that I’m busted up or tied down, my dick stirs to life. I grow hard in seconds and there’s no hiding it.

“I found your phone and saw the texts to Dad,” she informs me. “You were telling the truth.”

Of course I was.

My eyes narrow on her face.

“Which leads me to believe that at least some of the other shit you said was probably true as well,” she continues. A small smile pulls up half her mouth. “You know, Santi thinks you did this because you love me. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

I blink in surprise.

Love?

Curiously, I turn over the word in my head.

I’m pretty sure after all I’ve been through I’m incapable of such an emotion. It's such a soft, sweet thing. What I feel for Blair is coarse, ugly, poisonous, and damning—all opposite of love.

But maybe… maybe this started out as love?

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s love either,” Blair admits, watching my face carefully. “But I figured that maybe if I rip away your autonomy, we can then both check our notes and decide on it together at the end. Is this love? Or simply control?”

Without waiting for a response, Blair moves but not in the way I expect.

She steps forward, straddles my legs and then lowers herself into my lap so that she’s sitting there facing me. I stiffen, taken off guard by the intimate position. Blair smiles.

While beautiful, it’s twisted with something dark.

Blair reaches down between us. I’m not sure what she’s doing until her fingers jerk down the zipper of my fly. I suck in a sharp breath through my nose. My heart skips a beat. What the fuck? I flinch when her fingers wrap around my hard cock—her palm so soft and warm—and pulls it free from its confines.

I choke on a moan as her grip tightens and she gives me a few long strokes.

Holy fuck.

What the hell is going on?

Her hand feels so goddamn good.

Why am I not fighting this?

The creature I’ve been trying to rein in all these years after Blair’s initial kiss rears its ugly head and fights for supremacy. This fucked-up side of me is alive and well. Hadn’t I warned her of this? I told Blair I would corrupt her if I touched her. The sentiment goes both ways. This dark, oily feeling that’s coated my soul vibrates with delight as her hand slides up and down me once more.

My hold on my sanity slips.

I never had a strong grip on it to begin with, but it was enough to hold back this malicious, darker version of myself.

“Stop.” The word, the command, is muffled by the gag.

Blair’s eyes light up with amusement.