Oh geez…
“You must be thirsty. Hungry?” he asked over his shoulder. He was filling up a champagne glass.
“I don’t even know your name,” I replied lamely. He moved toward me, glass outstretched. I couldn’t help noticing how different he was to Umberto. Bert may have been a large man, but he was soft around the middle. This guy was all muscle and sinew. I felt myself recoil.
“Call me John,” he said, pressing the glass into my hand.
John? Right.Like I should believe that. He sounded more like a Yuri, or an Anatoli. Definitely foreign, even to my unskilled ear. My fingers curled around the glass. I made no move to drink from it.
“But come. Sit with me,” he prompted, reaching for my arm and guiding me to the sofa. My slight hint of resistance was met with a tightening of his grasp. There was steel in his grip. The air of civility was purely for show. I seated myself on the couch at the far end from him, perched primly like a bird. With my purse on my knees, I clasped both hands around the champagne flute in front of me. He scooted closer to me, and I shrank back.
If I’d thought he’d be troubled by my obvious anxiety, I was wrong. He stared at me and licked his lips. When he flicked a glance down at my white knuckles, he began to grin.
“Are you afraid of me, little Sasha?” he asked. His face was smooth, symmetrical. Almost too pretty to go with the brawn of his body.
I forced a smile. “Of course not. Should I be?”
“Oh yes,” he whispered. My blood ran cold. “Yes, very much so.”
I shot an alarmed look at the man standing guard at the door. He stared back at me impassively. He’d be no help at all. If anything, he’d known from the start what I was walking into.
“Listen,” I said sharply. “You can’t just—!”
The man’s hand snaked out and grabbed my jaw abruptly. I yelped in alarm. The sound turned to pain as his grip tightened.
“Can’t what, pretty Sasha?” he sneered. I couldn’t reply. He held my jaw too tightly. I simply gazed at him in horror. “Ever since that night, I’ve thought of you,” he said. “Your pretty eyes…so full of contempt.” He chuckled coldly. “Oh, how I’ve wanted to wipe that contempt from your face.”
I tried to shake my head. His hand made it impossible. Then the sound of metal snagged my attention. I dropped my eyes and saw him fumbling with his fly. His hand was reaching into the front of his pants. I wanted to gag at the sight of the throbbing purple head he extracted.
“You’re going to scream, pretty Sasha,” he taunted. “You’re going to tell me that you’re sorry. And then you’re going to scream some more.”
I felt a sob well up my throat. The man was certifiable. All this because I’d stared him down at a nightclub a week ago?
I yanked myself free and managed to put a some space between us. He didn’t seem perturbed. If anything, it gave him an opportunity to get his grasp elsewhere. Namely the soft flesh of my inner thigh. His fingers dug into my skin as he grabbed my knee and hauled my legs apart.
“Ah, pretty slut. So this is what Umberto is so taken with.” My dress had hiked up and he leered between my thighs.
“No! It’s not like that!” I hissed, pressing my knees together. He pulled them apart, then pushed me back on the seat. I knew for sure I’d have bruises after this. I tried to kick out at him, but he roughly knelt on my thighs, using his weight to pin me down.
“Not like what?” he laughed. “Tell me…what is it like when you fuck that piece of shit?” His fist worked along his fat cock while he reached down to fumble between my legs. I cringed as I felt his fingers delve beneath the elastic of my panties.
“I never fuck him! Get off me!” For a moment, I wondered if this was some twisted game. Maybe he’d thought he was booking a different kind of date. Someone who liked rough play. “I don’t do sex stuff!” I said desperately. “You’ve got the wrong girl!”
“Oh, you are absolutely the right girl,” he laughed back at me. I could see moisture glistening on the head of his cock. My terror was turning him on. I had to pull myself together.
Close your eyes, a little voice said in the back of my mind.Just close your eyes and let him get it over with. I knew what that meant. I could be Snow White again. I could imagine I was somewhere else. But then I felt his hand close around my throat and I was gasping for air. This animal wasn’t just going to rape me. He was going to kill me. And he was going to hurt me first. There was no time for Snow White. I had to fight.
For the first time, I took note of the glass still clutched in my hand. I smacked it sharply against the hard edge of the sofa and heard the glass shatter.
He frowned as he looked down, but by then I’d already slashed out at him. The jagged edge of the flute raked across his belly above his pants. The edge of his shirt dulled much of my strike. I still managed to leave a two-inch gash over the taut muscles there, however. He roared with pain and rage.
With the snake-like speed he’d used previously, he swung a fist at me. My head reeled as the back of his hand met my cheek. I couldn’t let it deter me. I jabbed forward with the broken champagne glass and plunged the sharp into his flesh below his ribs.
He screamed and arched back. He clutched a hand over the spot I’d stabbed. I didn’t know what I’d sliced into, but it must have hurt like hell. He was still bellowing like a bull as I leaped to my feet and scrambled over the back of the chair. By now, the guy at the door was barreling across the suite toward us. Thankfully I had surprise on my side. I bolted in the direction of a door on the other side of the room. I slammed it shut and twisted the lock just as the big guy hit the wood paneling.
“Get away from me!” I screamed. Then I screamed some more for good measure. I had to make as much noise as I could. Hopefully someone would hear me and send help. My purse was still slung over my shoulder – I’d never put it down when I sat on the couch. As the oaf banged on the door, I fumbled inside for my phone. There was more yelling and swearing outside, and I guessed “John” was coming for his pound of flesh. A pound he would extract from me.
“You’re going to die, whore!” I heard him shout out. “You’re going to die, and no one is going to miss you! Not a soul!”
