I don’t have time to wonder how often that room is occupied or why. He grips my neckline, ripping the flimsy t-shirt I’m wearing down the front to expose my bare stomach and breasts covered by a bra.
They’re not covered for long. He rips it off, then quickly moves lower to the zipper of my jeans.
“Fine! I’ll do it myself!” I shove his hands away.
His eyes turn darker when he zeroes in on my boobs. I can’t keep them covered while I’m trying to save my last shreds of dignity by not letting him undress me further.
“You had your chance. Now it’s my turn.” He grips my wrists and pins them to my stomach, staring at my chest while he makes quick work of shoving my jeans down my legs.
He doesn’t do the same with my panties. Instead, he tears them at my hip like he did with my bra, and I’m naked, my skin heating despite the ice-cold water.
I shut my eyes, diving deep into my calm, happy place: early morning at Lakeside in Nash’s bed. His arms around me, cradling me close, his lips on my head, kissing me awake, the warmth of his body, the scent of his skin.
“Morning, pretty girl. Sleep well?”
“You’re coming out at my end,” Darius grunts, shattering my artificial calm. He snaps me out of the happy place and I’m back in the bathroom, shivering, scared, and silent while his calloused fingers toy with my nipples.
I close my eyes, desperately clinging to Nash, but our lazy morning can’t be summoned, my happy memory forever tainted by the truth: Nash isn’t real. Nothing we had was real. The memory is suddenly out of reach and I feel Darius’s touch like a bare electrical cable.
I thrash against his hold, but my struggle is useless. He’s much stronger, his grip on my wrists like a vice. I can’t kick him while my jeans are pooling around my ankles.
Humiliation floods my system as the scent of vanilla assaults my nose. He squirts cold shower gel over my boobs, letting it drip down my stomach. Gritting my teeth, I block the feel of his hands kneading my breasts under the guise of washing me.
Every inch of my body is covered in goosebumps. Bile burns a hot path up my throat, but I summon my acting skills and ward off the overpowering helplessness.
I won’t break down.
I can’t fight him while his hand travels lower, along my waist, then to the other side, getting closer to where I never want him to touch me. I’m assaulted on all fronts. My mind replays the hell Alex put me through, amplifying the most horrific moments, and past fear mixes with present.
Without warning, Darius swipes his fingers along my pussy. “Make sure you’re wet later or it’ll hurt, little princess.”
A pained whimper tears from my chest. I bite my lip, copper pennies dancing on my tongue. Every muscle in my body knots so hard it hurts. I’d welcome the pain if it distracted me, but it can’t compare to my mental anguish and only fuels my misery.
“Almost done,” he pants, his breathing heavy, charged with primitive desire. “Let’s see how tight you are.”
He shoves two fingers inside me, opening the floodgates that hold my tears at bay. A filthy groan vibrates the air, the warmth of his foul breath fanning my cheek.
“So fucking tight. Now I definitely want you. I’ll ruin that little cunt as soon as you’re done choking on my cock.”
His words barely register, my body a drawn string when he wiggles his fingers, pumping in and out of me for what feels like centuries before he retreats, dipping his head to take my nipple between his teeth. He clamps down hard, making me cry out and writhe against him.
“Turn around. I’m not done here.”
He doesn’t give me time to obey.
Not that I would.
Cuffing my wrists in one hand, he spins me to face the other way and plants my hands on the tiles above my head. He washes my back and ass, shoving his bulky fingers between my cheeks to briefly toy with the other hole.
“I bet you never had a cock here, did you?” He heaves a dark laugh. “You will.” He grabs the showerhead, streaming ice-coldwater down my back. “I’ll let go of your hands now. You’ll keep them where they are so I can wash your hair... unless you want me to call my friends over and have them fuck you in every hole you have. Your choice.”
All I can do is nod, my cheek plastered against the wall, eyes leaking tears, legs quivering from fear, cold, and humiliation.
Mimicking the roughness of his fingers in my pussy, he’s just as brutal with my hair, almost tearing out the tangled mess I haven’t brushed in days. He works fast, probably because my hair isn’t as interesting as my tits, ass, and pussy. Shoving me against the tiles, he turns the water off and stalks away.
“I trust you’ll do the rest?” He throws a towel at my feet. “I’ll come back in ten minutes. If you’re not dressed, or there’s one fucking crumb left of your breakfast, I’ll make sure your cunt’s bleeding and you’re too sore to sit for days.” He exits the bathroom, his heavy steps stalking away.
I slide down the wall, hugging my knees close to my chest, and cry like I haven’t in years.
