Bile rises in my throat at the mention of him having sex with other women while he was with me.
The only thing I can say is that he wrapped up every time.
Shit, I think.
The times I think I was with Bronte, there were no condoms, so I’m banking on being safe, but not now.
Rape isn’t safe.
Bobby’s mental space isn’t safe.
The start of a blood-curdling scream breaks free from my lips, but Bobby’s palm is quick to cover it.
I try to bite any piece I can get from him, but he manages to be out of reach, and I’m starting to lose hope of getting him off me to free myself.
“That money Bronte gave you is mine,” he sneers in my face. His green eyes blazing with fury and that dangerous desperation. “And you’re going to bemywife by Saturday because that’s how I want it. And you’re going to fucking do that for me.”
The tips of his fingers stab between my sensitive flesh as he continues to try to pry my legs open.
“You’re going to take my cock,” he snarls. “And you’re gonna like it. And you’re going to come on it so hard?—”
His words dissipate, and so does his weight, as I blink several times to find myself staring up at my white ceiling and nothing else.
A pained grunt penetrates through the air, but I don’t move because I’mfrozen still.
His words pinning me to my mattress act as a spell that give me no choice but to accept more from Bobby.
His special privileges that are evoked on me something that I have no power over.
It’s something I have to accept because I brought him into my life and agreed to his proposal of marriage.
Gentle hands touch my forearms, and I flinch, pulling them back as my focus flicks to where they came from.
Bronte.
A held exhale breaks from my lips in relief, and my body releases its tension in defense of Bobby’s assault before he begins to shake uncontrollably.
Tears well up thick in my eyes before Bronte slowly sits alongside the edge of the bed and delicately pulls me up to sit, and wraps his arms gingerly around my body.
He doesn’t say a word when I’m pressed up into his warm frame.
But my eyes scan my bedroom and find nothing out of place.
Like Bobby wasn’t even here.
“I need two words from you, Daydream,” I hear Bronte rumble, and I feel the vibration of it against my ear. “I’m okay. Or, he did.”
He did.
He did.
He raped me.
I feel Bronte’s body start to vibrate while he tries to straighten his spine a bit and settle down, but he’s upset.
He’s furious.
He’s probably blaming himself for leaving in the first place and seeing me underneath another man.
