Page 97 of Total Obsession

I collapsed onto the floor, but he wasn't finished with me. "Turn over," he demanded, and I didn't have the energy to fight with him, so I did, just as ropes of cum landed across my tits.

thirty-one

ZOEY

As soon as he came, Axe all but collapsed on the floor next to me. It took us both a few minutes to come down from our respective highs, and while I wasn't sure, I thought Axe was slipping in and out of consciousness.

His breath started to become forced, making a wheezing noise with each inhale and exhale. The blood from his shoulder was a deep red and he looked absolutely exhausted.

"What happened to you?" I asked him. I knew I'd stabbed him, but that didn't account for the difficulty breathing and his limp.

"I was ambushed," he said.

"By who?" I asked.

"The people I worked for."

I let out a strangled sigh because I knew what I was about to do, and I hated myself for it. Unfortunately, though, Axe was the difference between me being in a motel room and being homeless right now. Plus, if he died in the middle of this motel room, I'd have to answer for that, too, and the knife that was currently somewhere on his person had my fingerprints all over it.

More than the inconvenience of having to deal with him dying on me, I decided that I really,reallyneeded answers from him.

"What do I need to do?" I asked him.

"What do you mean?" he said, coughing up a bit of blood and closing his eyes.

"So that you live," I clarified.

"Oh," he said. "You don't have to."

"Just shut up and tell me already."

"Wet washcloth from the bathroom," he said through heavy breaths. "Clean the wound, and apply pressure."

I made my way over to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up first and then got a clean cloth and did as he said. He hissed in pain the entire time I worked.

"Are you sure we don't need to put anything in it?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Inside jacket pocket. There's a suture kit."

I looked around for his coat and found it thrown on the floor. I opened up the zipper pocket and just like he said, there was a small, plastic case that looked like a sewing kit, hidden inside along with a few other items.

"I need you to sew up the wound," he said.

"What?" I exclaimed.

"If you don't, I'll bleed out," he said. "It's too deep."

I groaned. I was not good with blood, and I'd already dealt with my fair share of it tonight. "I don't sew," I said to him.

"That's okay. Just do your best," he replied.

By the time we were done, I wanted to vomit. The feeling of running a needle through someone's skin was not something I ever wanted to repeat. Given that I'd just plunged a knife into two different men, the irony was not lost on me.

"Now what?" I asked him.

"Pills, in the same pocket."

I fished them out and handed him the packet before grabbing a plastic cup and filling it with water from the sink. I made my way back over to him, and he downed whatever was in his hand. I assumed it was some sort of antibiotic or painkiller.