I can't get out of his hold, and I can't breathe. If I thought I was panicking before, it was nothing as compared to now. My legs start to kick out at anything, not because I'm trying to fight him, but on instinct because Icannot breathe.
I need air. There's none coming into my lungs, and, as sparks fill my vision, my eyes roll shut.
The pressure of his hand against my throat is suddenly gone, and I bend forward, coughing and choking as I suck in great, big, beautiful, sweet breaths of air. He’s moved back to give me a little space and, as I glance up through watery eyes, his smirk makes me sick. Still, I can breathe, and I have room to maneuver.
My moment of relief is short-lived, however. He grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head back violently. Severe pain burns through my scalp, and I scream. He holds my head in place, tipped up so my eyes meet his.
“Now, my pretty little thing, let me play.” With his free hand, he pulls a knife from a belt sheath and taps it against my cheek.“Try one more thing, and I’ll cut you the fuck up. I don’t like doing that. Beauty shouldn’t be destroyed, so please, Ivani, don’t make me.”
The way he says the complete version of my name, as if heknowsme, terrifies me.
He puts the knife away, for now, tucked back into his belt holder, and turns his attention to my breasts. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lower lip in a habit he seems to have, and he rubs both hands together as though warming them up. He takes hold of both my breasts, one in each hand, and squeezes them together in my bra, pushing them up. I scream again and batter at his arms and hands and shoulders, but he’s like a mountain, and everything I do is ineffectual. He grips the edge of my bra, and I know he’s going to pull it down, exposing me.
Shit, shit, shit.
I didn’t tell the twins, or Zane, but while I was getting ready, I sneaked up to the sex room, and used the pump on my nipples, and the other one on my pussy. It had taken all my resolve not to masturbate, but I didn’t. I wanted to be all swollen for my men when we got home and let them give me an incredible orgasm. It means I’m swollen, and also wet—not for this fucker, but for my men.
The neanderthal who has me cornered pulls the satin of my bra down with surprising gentleness. I’d worn one with a little padding to hide the nipple situation, and as he exposes them, his eyes widen.
“Fucking hell.” He stares at them and groans before pressing his other palm to his crotch. “Holy shit, girl. These tits.”
I glance down, and a whimper escapes me. My nipples have gone down a little bit, but they’re still excessively red and swollen.
“You want these sucked so bad, don’t you?” he growls. “Don’t tell me you don’t. What the fuck did you do, have one of those prancing idiots suck them for you before you came out?”
He rubs his thumb over one of my nipples, and I close my eyes in horror and revulsion. They’re so sensitive from what I did that even though I hate this man, and he disgusts me in every way, it sends a bolt of arousal to my core. I whimper and turn my face, shame dousing me.
He laughs. “You fuckinglikethat.”
He flicks them again, and again, making my clit throb against my will. A hot tear trickles from between my closed eyelids and down my cheek. Where are my men? What’s happening to them? If this asshole has me cornered in here, does it mean something terrible is going on with them?
He ducks his head and draws one of my swollen nipples into his mouth. I scream again and batter at the top of his head and shoulders with my fists, but he barely notices. He keeps me pinned to the wall with his huge body. He bites, lightly at first, then harder, and my scream turns from one of fear into pain. I grab his stupid Santa hat, ripping it off his head, revealing a thinning hairline.
He lets my nipple pop from his mouth and swipes his thumb over the top again, circling it with his saliva. I think I’m going to vomit.
He stares at them admiringly. “Are these natural? The nipples, I mean, or do you take a supplement? I’ll have to get it for my wife.”
“You’re married?” I swallow, hard, and cling to a thread of hope. “Please, don’t do this. What would your wife think?”
His sardonic smile is twisted and cruel. “Oh, she’d take one look at you and join in the fun.” His expression turns contemplative. “Look, I’ve got to fuck you, okay? It’s my role here. The woman gets fucked. The men get killed.”
Killed? The twins and Zane? Dead.No.
Those words galvanize me in a way the threat to my own safety hadn’t. I slam my knee up into his crotch with as much strength as I can muster. He grunts, bending over, and I take my chance.
I run. But I don’t get halfway to the door before he’s on me. He lifts me with one arm, twists me around, and slams me down onto my back.
Weirdly, though, he protects me by putting the hand of his free arm under my spine at the last minute to stop the hard floor from slamming against my upper back.
He looms over me, gripping me tight as I wriggle and try to escape. It’s futile, but I won’t give up.
“Listen, stop fucking fighting, girlie. I won’t hurt you. I promise. You’ll get to live, and I’ll make it feel good.”
Make it feel good?This oaf? As if I could think of that, anyway, when my men are out there being slaughtered.
He goes back to ripping my dress again, kneeling over me now, his legs pressing in against my thighs. He tears my outfit from me like tissue paper, until nothing but a few tatters remain, and, as he moves down my body, I sob. Soon his big hands are on my panties. They rip too, and I’m exposed to him.
“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, what is it with you? You’re like a porno version of a normal woman. This pussy. Fuuuuuck.”
