“Can’t have all this happening without getting a proper record of it for posterity.” He turns back, crouching before my wide eyes. “But you’re already the expert at those, aren’t you baby?” His grin explodes until it eats up half his face. “Smile, honey. Smile and say cheese.”
I twist my wrists, screaming into his face, screaming out my rage and my fear and my pain until my throat is an empty wrapper, containing nothing more.
Andy laughs, standing and unbuttoning his fly close to my face. “Go on,” he says, pulling his dick free and shoving it towards me. “You’ve been a good girl so have a taste.”
I close my mouth, biting on the inside of my lips to keep them shut fast. Hating my weakness. Hating the restraints. Hating the way the memories claw at the inside of my brain, working free when I’ve spent so much time and effort keeping them locked away from view.
“Open wide.” One hand is on his prick, the other digging at my lips, trying to prise my mouth open.
My range of motion is so limited I can’t even turn aside. The nails draw blood from the thin skin of my lips. Finally, I let my jaw relax, opening, then once his finger is inside my mouth, sickening me, I bite down, hard as I can, feeling the skin split beneath the force, tasting the first hit of blood.
“Fucking cunt.” He yanks his hand free, bashing me with the other. “You’ll pay for that, sweetie.” He drops level, his mouth spitting words straight into my eyes. “Once I’m finished, I’ll get a hammer and knock out all those pretty teeth.”
There’s a scraping sound, the legs of Trent’s heavy chair against the floorboards. A snap.
I can’t see. If he’s free, he’ll need to unbuckle the belt.
“Put your dick in my mouth and I’ll suck it or are you a fucking chicken?” I taunt Andy, trying to keep his attention on me. “If you’re working for my uncle, you must be a fucking idiot so being a coward isn’t much of a stretch.”
He hits me again, most of the blow landing on my ear which throbs, pulsing with heat.
“You’re going to regret that,” he says, pressing his lips against my ear, turning my stomach. “Someone just volunteered her arse and the only lube you’re getting is your own blood.”
The fear levels off. Adrenaline so high it no longer has an effect. I force a laugh. “Do that, and I’ll shit all over your dick. Think that’ll look good on the camera, do you?”
He aims another punch and Trent’s right there, batting his hand out of the way, grabbing his neck and thump, thump, thumping his head on the scroll next to me, blood spatter spraying out like colourful rain.
While Andy sputters, he hauls him back, twisting him and bending his arm against his foreleg like he’s snapping a dry branch for the fire. The sinewy tear as it breaks is almost drowned out by Andy’s piercing shriek.
I lose sight of them, hearing the thuds as further blows land, hearing a scream abruptly cut off in the dull crunch as bone meets the edge of the heavy chair. Somewhere in there, Andy makes a last whimper. The last punch lands with a wet slurp that makes me shudder with disgust.
Trent moves. There’s a new noise.
His bare heel stomping on whatever parts of Andy he finds pleasurable. His breaths are ragged, fast, heavy, and I envy him so much it hurts. Envy him being able to destroy this opponent, tear him apart with nothing more than his hands, his bare feet.
Then Trent returns to my line of sight, collapsing with his back against the bed, resting his head in his battered bloody bruised hands. His harsh inhalations the only sound in the room.
He lets his head fall back, staring into my eyes, and the flood of relief to see he’s okay is massive, all-encompassing.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the sound completely inadequate to what just transpired. “Guess I didn’t vet him as well as I thought.”
Trent reaches out a hand, cups my cheek, twisting around and taking my lower lip into his mouth, sucking the blood from it before slowly drawing away.
“Is he…?”
“Dead.” The flatness in Trent’s voice matches to his eyes. Then something sparks deep inside, flashing out at me, a warning pulse like danger. “He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat because I don’t have the words to say anything else. “Could you untie me? There should be scissors in the cabinet.”
Instead of moving to get them, he touches my face again, leaning forward to take another kiss, this one rougher, deeper. He turns his body while his lips are still pressed against mine, kneeling to get a better angle, using his tongue to thrust my lips apart, to thrust inside.
When he drags his mouth from mine, I take a quick breath, feeling the panic surging forth again, wanting to get free, get out from under it. “Could you untie me, please?”
And my heart beats faster as he cups the back of my skull, pressing his forehead to mine. “No.”
He moves, out of my line of sight. Then his weight is on the bed. So much heavier than Andy. Ten times the muscle. Ten times the man.
His naked body straddles mine, his hard cock digging into my spine as he leans forward, his lips finding my ear, whispering, “No. I don’t think I can.”
