Not here. Not like this.
Shame detonates. Hot and suffocating. I clamp down on it, on the humiliation, on the fear, and something inside me snaps.
My back arches. A wanton sound tears from my throat.
I hate myself for it.
I hate them for seeing it.
“Yes! Yes! Right there!”
Apollo doesn’t change rhythm or slow down. He just holds me through my release, solid as stone, until my muscles give out.
I’m tingling. Pussy pulsing rapidly. I slump onto the mattress, back bowing and thighs quaking.
“Shit. Shit!” From far away, I hear Ayan yell, then creep closer and toss his load onto the front of my shirt with the others. The ribbons of cum hit me like water from a hose left baking in the sun.
But I’m giggling. So amused at myself for getting off inthisplace. Inthisway.
Then Apollo stops. Just stops.
He pulls away, stuffs himself back into his jeans, still hard, still controlled. Then he hauls me upright against his chest. The men left begin shouting.
“What the fuck, man?”
“Put her down!”
“Nah. I got her,” he says, all casual. As if we’re just at a party.
He tosses my limp figure over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all, then manages to elbow one guy clear across his jaw until his mask flies off.
Ayan makes a leap, but I donkey kick when he gets near, and he goes down, cursing and spitting.
Apollo takes off in a run, faster than I would have expected had I not sneaked peeks at him playing soccer across the field.
The world turns into motion and smoke and jolting impact. Every step jars my ribs. I’m half-naked, dizzy, choking on the chemical fog that now blankets the lower floors. I can’t even think, just hold on.
He ducks into an alcove, crouches, and sets me down. His hands are careful now. Measured. Without hesitation, he rips his mask free and presses it hard against my face.
He coughs into the crook of his elbow, then points above us. “Straight up. I’ll take you there.”
“What about you?” I rasp. “Your mask?—”
He shakes his head, already turning. “I’ll find another. Follow. Stay close to me.”
I’m finally able to suck in some air that doesn’t suffocate me. Still, my heart pounds fast as we slide up the staircase carefully, attempting to avoid anyone nearby.
Apollo’s hand reaches for mine, and I plant my fist in his grasp. His hold is firm. He leads me down some rickety halls. Like he knows exactly where to go. The floor creaks beneath our feet. Walls swell and shrink with every door slam. I shudder and flinch at a distant scream.
Finally, we find a skinny staircase hidden behind a door.
“This will lead you right up to the attic. Go!” He gives me a shove, but I pause, then rip off the mask.
When I hand it to him, I ask again… “Why?”
Serious eyes greet me, and I’m struck once again by how handsome he is. Dark hair plastered with sweat to his forehead. A pleading look on his face. Grimace coating his lips. He spits out, “Run.”
So I do…
