I exhale impatiently, the sound of his voice and the command capsuled in it mounting the already unbearable pressure I feel.
Yeah…you’re not helping.
Just as I’m about to continue, the temperature almost seems to drop and, suddenly, I feel my nipples bunching up on themselves, until I can feel sheer tautness and an underlying, subdued prickling sensation in the pair. I struggle to swallow, feeling the rest of my chest incinerate in response, afraid to look down at it and confirm what I feel—what I know Frost can so easily see.
I truly, truly can’t even begin to describe just how tense I am; my entire body a big, jittery pile of super active nerves, fighting and clashing with each other.
My eyes practically bore through the kit even as my throat constricts painfully. Forcing myself to focus only on reading generic instructions is all I can do to keep myself from diving under the covers and calling this whole thing quits.
METHOD TWO: BLOOD SERUM
Step One (1): Take out the USB stick. The screen should be blank.
I spot the object in question, sliding it out of its casing much more eagerly than before—only because I find myself actually happy at the thought of making him bleed, even if only a little.
Step Two (2): Place lancet firmly over the finger and press the release button. Continue to press firmly until skin is broken and a blood droplet appears.
I look to his hand with anticipation, but I’m momentarily distracted by both the sight and feel of his fingers, unable to stop myself from admiring their length and shape, their structure…and remembering how they dug into my skin unapologetically.
How they gripped my thighs.
How they dipped between them…
I realize it’s the first time I’m seeing them so up close. Every other time my hands have come into contact with his, it’s because he was grabbing or holding them. But now, for the very first time since I met him, it’s the other way around, and I wish I could ignore the weird, nagging disappointment in my stomach that I can only do so with gloves on, the latex barrier impeding my ability to feel the full warmth and sensation of his skin.
Ugh, what the fuck is wrong with you, you moron?! the voice in my head snaps.
I quickly catch myself, suddenly aware of just how stupid my sentiments are.
Jesus, I seriously want to bitch-slap the hell out of myself for feeling like this.
After all, our “relationship” is void of all emotion—save for hatred, perhaps, at least on my part—and, in this instance, quite literally clinical.
It’s much better this way, I think to myself.
And the gold band on his finger only makes it that much more convincing, visually reiterating the thought and reminding me of actual reality all over again. And, for once, the sight of it is a hundred percent welcome.
I frown as I continue to regard his fingers resting in mine, selective memory quickly giving way to the full story of this demon’s hands—including how they pumped me until I pissed all over myself.
How they chained and hoisted me to his torturous device.
How they curled around that fucking crop…
Without thinking, I drive the lancet into the tip of his index finger, pushing insistently, much harder than I probably should, but I can’t help myself.
A massive prick for a massive prick.
It’s only fitting.
I jab him as hard as I can, clenching my teeth against the memory of the beating and torture he inflicted on me last night, wanting like hell to hurt him just as badly. Frankly, I wish I could use this thing to stab his balls, too.
My anger surges when he doesn’t even flinch at the sharp sensation, and I can only wonder if it’s because he’s really a soulless robot bastard…or because he’s done this a million times before—with other women.
The thought makes me sick, and I find myself getting slightly aggravated and upset even though I know I shouldn’t be.
Step Three (3): Collect 1 – 2 drops of blood in each pocket of USB stick.
My eyes linger on the emphasis briefly, and I have to try really, really hard not to imagine the word “gallons” in its place.
Step Four (4): Wait 20 minutes for results.
*Reading interpretations are as follows:
One bar (Negative).
Two bars (Positive).
No bars (Undetermined / Damaged USB stick).
I place the blood-stained stick on the counter next to the swab, grudgingly moving on to the third and final compartment of the first kit.
METHOD THREE: URINE SAMPLE
I scan the manual, thankful that this is relatively simpler and more straightforward than the other two methods.
Step One (1): Wash hands thoroughly or use sterile gloves to avoid contamination of sample.
Step Two (2): Collect urine (at least 50 mL / 1.69 fl oz) in plastic cup.
“Here,” I mutter, handing Frost the cup awkwardly and feeling more than a little sheepish.
Without thinking, my eyes drift to his package as he takes it from me.
My ears burn with embarrassment when I catch myself, and the heat continues to spread to the rest of my face at the memory of his naked cock.
I try desperately not to look at the bulge in his pants, swallowing several times as I avert my gaze, trying to push the thought from my mind and waiting for him to head to the bathroom.
My eyes dart back to him impulsively when I hear him set the cup down…and they nearly pop out of their sockets when he starts untying his drawstrings right there in front of me.