When the knife was ripped from his side, it wasn't a relief. The wound burned against the open air, and he could feel blood spewing down his hip. Thankfully, Trenton couldn't see the red beginning to soak the pale carpet, he was beginning to feel sick.
Blue eyes met blue eyes and Trenton shrank against the chair when that knife's tip waved up near his face again Denial? You bet. "Ask her, you fucking ask her." Why couldn't he stop shaking? His muscles shivered and shuddered and Trenton swallowed convulsively around the sickening fear in the back of his throat. Jay Z still jammed on.
"SHE took her clothes off, SHE got in my lap. I didn't force her into fucking anything!" Get serious, did Trenton look like he needed to assault women for sex? He wanted to make that point, but wasn't feeling quite so cocky with his numerous knife wounds.
When the knife ventured near his neck, Trenton shouted, "What do you want?!" What was he supposed to say? What was the goddamn safe word?