She had lost one nipple to the other, the Knife, as he called himself. He had pulled her hair out in rage, spittle flying in her face from his screams...and threats. He had lost himself to that fury, his fists flying in blows that broke bones and tore flesh.She had thought that she would die that day and had faced disappointment greater than anything she had ever felt when she hadn't. She had tried to push him into killing her that day, had tried to fuel the rage that the knife brought despite. Oh, the feeling of being so free with her sexuality, feeling his body, all of it, running her fingers down his neck, her breasts pushed up against his chest, the sun beating down. Glorious. It felt so freeing.It was a surprise to her to feel him rising against her. She had just been relaxing but there was no mistaking his interest in the feel of her breasts, the curves of her hips as she straddled him, those legs winding around him. As he ran his hand from her foot, up her sculpted calf, over. More

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