And it terrified me.
The chair creaked behind me, and my ears pricked at the sound. He’d showered, like usual, and wore his shorts and sweatshirt—but that had never meant safety. A soft clicking noise followed before he pressed his knee between my thighs. I clamped them together instinctively.
A low, slow growl rolled out of him, and I gasped.
“Sorry,” I blurted.
The growling stopped.
I dragged in a few shaky breaths and forced my muscles to loosen.
“I won’t harm you,” he murmured as he pried my thighs apart.“Not yet.”
My eyes widened.
For him, that could mean anything.
He’d stripped me of everything I loved, and still he took more. Now he was after what little dignity I had left.
Something cold and wet landed on me as his soft chuckle echoed behind me.
“You might even enjoy it.”
I stared across the bed, fixing on the bathroom door. The thought had never crossed my mind.
I wouldn’t give this to him.
No. I couldn’t.
What if you do?
The doubt slipped in anyway, quiet and insidious.
What if—?
His gloved fingers slid through the wet substance, and my stomach clenched as memories of all those temperature checks surfaced unbidden.
Then his fingers moved lower.
I blinked back the tears as his fingers slid up and down—slow at first—before shifting into small, circular motions. Calculated. Deliberate.
He began to sniff. Not once or twice, but repeatedly, until a strange rumble sounded in his chest. It wasn’t his warning growl. It was something else. Approval.
“You disrupted my life,” he murmured.
How? I wanted to ask—but my mind went blank.
He pushed his thick fingers inside me. I gasped at the intrusion.
“Noooo,” I whispered.
The word didn’t stop him. My mind recoiled, but my body betrayed me, responding despite itself.
“Oh dear,” he said softly, mockery lacing his voice.“I could’ve saved myself some lube.”
The soft fabric of his shorts pressed against my thighs as his fingers pushed back and forth, increasing the friction—accelerating the rhythm.
Spreading me open as he added another finger.
