His fingers twitched. She thought of a corpse's hand, jolted by an electric shock. He began squeezing her breast with a slow, mechanical motion that was not a caress.
"I want you, Go Ara," he breathed, his voice blurred.
The scream tugged at her vocal cords, fighting for release. She let out a long shuddering breath and tried to stay in control. Somehow she had to stay in control.
His hand went on contracting rhythmically, the fingers digging in, then relaxing, then digging in again. A farmer milking a cow.
'I told you we'd be lovers. Now we will be. And it will be good. So good."
Say something, she ordered herself. Say something now, dammit, or else he's going to do it — oh, my God— he's really going to do it.
When she spoke, her voice was flat and almost normal.
"Before we.... go any further, don't you think we ought to.... get to know each other better?"
"I already know everything I need to know about you."
