Pain explodes through my side, and I gasp, trying to curl, but his second set of punches lands just as hard on the right side.
After two heartless, thudding impacts that drive deep into my ribcage, the air is completely knocked out of me, and I struggle to breathe. My mouth opens in a silent, wheezing cry as my lungs seize up, refusing to expand.
Law’s hand fists brutally into my hair, yanking my head back so hard I feel strands rip from my scalp. He slams my face down into the mattress, grinding it into the sheets.
My nose and mouth are smothered, and panic explodes through me as he holds me there, suffocating me, and I struggle to get free.
“Go on,” he growls with a hiss. “Fight me.”
I feel his other hand roughly shove my thighs apart, and his thick fingers, slick with spit, press against my asshole without warning. He doesn’t ease in, he forces two fingers inside me immediately, then three, scissoring them wide.
I buck and thrash beneath him, but he only pushes my face harder into the mattress, cutting off what little air I had left.
A fourth finger joins, then his thumb, and his hand twists, pushing and forcing. The pressure is unbearable—burning and tearing, driving his knuckles hard against the tight ring of muscle, fully determined.
“Open up,” he hisses as he forces more of his hand inside. “I’m going elbow-deep whether you like it or not, Blaire. I’mgonna destroy this filthy fucking tunnel until it’s shaped to only take anything but my arm.”
My vision is fading, chest contracting desperately for oxygen as I scream. He keeps pushing, stretching me wider and wider in his savage attempt to get his hand in my ass.
Then, suddenly the doorbell rings through the mansion—loud and completely jarring in the middle of this nightmare.
Law pauses, his hand still buried between my cheeks, and for one terrifying second, he doesn’t move.
I kick and twitch beneath him, legs flailing, trying urgently to throw him off so I can draw in air, but his fingers stay lodged deep inside me.
The doorbell rings again, and with a vicious snarl, he finally yanks his thick fingers out of my sore asshole in one heartless tug, and the sudden emptiness burns worse than when they were inside.
As soon as his hand unravels from my hair, and he climbs off me, I immediately tilt my face upward, gasping like a drowning woman.
I roll onto my back, sweat and tears clinging to my face. And Law stands at the foot of the bed, chest expanding, eyes crazed and pitch-black with unreleased rage and hunger.
His gaze sweeps over my naked, trembling body like he wants to eat me alive.
One of his hands is wrapped tightly around the massive bulge in his pants, squeezing and stroking his cock through the fabric as he licks his lips.
Then, doorbell rings a third time.
My heart slams violently against my battered ribs, and I can see the debate waring behind his eyes—to ignore whoever’s at the door and finish what he started.
And maybe even kill me in the process.
I hope, silently and desperately, that he doesn’t.
Seconds pass into what feel like an unbearable eternity. Until finally, he lets out a frustrated growl, and drags a hand down his face, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping.
“Get fucking ready.” He spits, tone filled with threat.
With that, he turns and stalks out of the bedroom, heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.
The moment he’s gone, I let out a long, shuddering breath, my body melting limply into the sheets, every muscle twitching uncontrollably.
I press a trembling hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the cry that wants escape, fighting to calm my racing pulse.
I can’t let him fucking do that—not tonight—not ever.
After gathering myself as much as I can, I roll onto my side and push myself up.
???
