My shirt, raised just below my breasts, revealing my bare white skin. His rough fingers slid from my stomach, all the way up towards my ribs and then circled back down, making me shudder in the process.
His light grazes repeated, tracing circles, figure eights, lines... all of the above and left me there helpless. His other hand, restraining my wrists above my head, making me immobile to his touch.
"Are you doing this on purpose Jane?" He whispered, tightening his hold on my wrists. He was mad. The angriest I've ever seen him in a long time.
He watched me as we laid in a pool of our own blood. The fight that just took place here just moments ago seemed almost nonexistent now. Like it never happened.
His fingers traced up my ribs and guided towards the crevices of my breasts. His cold touch felt as if it were piercing my skin, making me gasp in reaction.
"Was it like this..." He asked as he lifted my shirt a bit higher, revealing my black, lacy undergarment. "When he touched you?"
Suddenly, I felt a cool wind brush against my skin. It was chilly out that night. The cool air pressed against my chest, making my breath slightly irregular.
"Disgusting." He spat as his hand slid down towards my thigh. "I don't like it when others touch my things."
His fingers trickled up my leg, riding my skirt in the process. It was no secret. Everyone who knew Jeff knew he was possessive over his things. Food, objects, toys... people. He was like a child, greedy and selfish to keep his things to himself.
"I'm not yours Jeff." I let out with a slight wince. Our eyes locked with each other, his scorched rimmed orbs to my dark voids. A moment of silence before he smiled wickedly.
"Oh, Jane..." he cooed as his hand reached the point of no return.
"... but you are."