Hot tears sting the corners of my eyes when I notice he’s wearing a pair of jeans that weren’t on him when I fell asleep.
My gentle monster. He must’ve wanted me to breathe easier, to hold me close after I finally collapsed with his cock in my mouth.
That’s why he moved me off him, pulled his jeans back on to avoid temptation, and folded me into his arms while I was asleep.
So why hasn’t he released my wrists? They won’t budge when I test my binds lightly, so as not to alert Jett that I’m up.
Whether Knox forgot or wanted me to wake up like this for whatever reason, it doesn’t matter. I’m trapped by his rope as much as I’m trapped by Jett’s grip.
Frustration shoots up my spine, locking my jaw tighter.
Dammit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Why can’t I scream? What is this nightmare?
My lungs fill, but the air won’t come out. It’s like my voice dies before it reaches my throat.
My toes hover over the concrete. Hip bruised by Jett’s merciless fingers.
The panic that’s clogging my throat doubles in size the farther I’m being pulled away.
Knox’s soft snore makes the terror cut deeper.
I need my vocal cords to work!
Time distorts, stretches. Seconds feel like hours.
It’ll feel even longer when Jett violates, tortures, or kills me slowly. While I lie there, my throat strangled by fear, my brain pleading for Knox to help me.
If he could just wake up…
Raising my voice, screaming even if it’s into Jett’s palm, it’s the only way to slice into Knox’s dreams.
My lips part and…
Again, no sound comes out.
Don’t give up! Move. Fight. Do something!
I blink helplessly at Knox, crying. Hoping. Wishing.
Jett doesn’t care about my tears. In fact, he thrives on them, smirking as he slams my back on the basement floor.
My body turns against me, crushing my bound hands beneath it. Finally, I gasp, but this bastard silences it. Jett returns to covering my mouth, most of my nostrils, suffocating me.
Stunned, I watch him straddle me. His legs bracket my closed ones.
Maybe he doesn’t mean to rape me.
Or maybe he does, and that idiot has been too eager to climb on top of me to remember to spread my thighs.
In that case, I still have a fighting chance. Hopefully, Knox wakes up before Jett realizes his mistake.
Oh, fuck. It’s not a maybe anymore.
It’s a when.
Danger and hate burn in Jett’s narrowed green eyes while his free hand fumbles with the button of his jeans.
