Eliza must have heard the commotion, or at least a larger commotion than she usually drowned out with her music and descended the stairs. "Daddy? Oh g...d! What did mom do to you?" "I'm a-alright-" "No you aren't. Don't you feel it?" "Feel what?" "She broke the skin dad. You're bleeding. I don't think she shocked you, that's a knife wound." Eliza had whispered the entire time, seeing her mother cleaning the knife she used of its blood. A demented smile decorated her face, more so than her. It sounded foreign and beautiful at the same time. He made a vain attempt to ignore the supple thigh extending across his view.“Like this afternoon?” she teased. “Is that why you didn’t get up from your desk? So the poor, innocent coed wouldn’t see the professor’s big, bad hard on?”A brief tsunami of paranoia suddenly washed over Stone.“Look ... uhh ... about this afternoon...”“Shhh,” she hushed him, briefly looking away. “It happened because we let it. Right?”Only now did she look back at his. More

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