ith a pound

ly by the glittering lights of the Las Vegas

he pentho

ankles are tied to the bedposts. Not with r

loods m

om the other side of

n Bla

his eyes glazed over. He' s clearly sti

ding on me. A flicker of recognition,

he slurs, his voice a low g

across the vast bed towards me.

ce now inches from mine. "It was a

the small, spade-shaped birthmark just below my ear.

rk to get my attention," he whispers, his voice

at is he ta

this was all my plan. He thinks

ing to make

not a kiss. It' s a punishment. A b

udgment, but his intent is terrifyingly clear.

' t part