“Nope,” he hisses and pulls me up before I can wrap my fingers around the hilt. “What were you planning to do with that, pretty girl?”
Pretty girl
Gorgeous.
Beautiful.
All the fucking pet names are enough to make me go mad.
“Baby,” he whispers, his fingers cupping my jaw exactly the same way they did when I was still on my knees and reeling from his assault.
Last fucking straw.
“Don’t.” With all the force I can muster, I push against his chest. “Leave me alone.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
He pulls me against his chest, holding me tighter when I try to fight him. His punishing grip around my back is stronger than he’s ever held me before, and only then do I know that all the other times, I could’ve gotten away from him. Had I actually wanted to leave his arms, he would’ve let me go. The story is a little different now as he holds me tight enough it’s becoming difficult to get an adequate lungful of air.
“Let me go,” I beg, but he only holds me tighter.
I know exactly what this is. Aftercare. He took advantage of me, and some hidden soft spot inside of him is urging him to make sure I’m okay. Deo did the exact same thing. He’d brutalize me, then try to hold me. It only served to ease his guilt. The comforting touches, his fingers rhythmically sifting through my hair were to calm his demons, not make me feel at ease. I fell for it the first time, but then the next night he returned and hurt me even more.
I squeeze my eyes closed, forcing myself to try to calm down, but the embrace is too much. It’s too reminiscent of the past. Not once, not one of the assholes from the party got me as close to that time in my life as I am right now. I’m trembling, part in fear and part in need for him. It’s the latter that renews my strength.
“Get off me!” I roar, so close to his ear, he has no other choice but to loosen his hold.
I’m barreling toward my bathroom, assuring myself that if I can only make it inside and lock him out, I can wait to freak out until he leaves.
“Don’t think so.” He’s grabbing me again, pulling my back against his chest, and I hate the feel of his hot breath on my skin. “I’m not done with you yet.”
I whimper at his threat but stop struggling.
“Please,” I plead.
I repeat the word over and over. At first, I’m begging for him to release me, to let me deal with what happened between us in my own way, but the meaning of the word changes when his rough hand tugs up my shirt and he grips my breast punishingly.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Yes you do,” I argue.
The slap to my breast weakens my knees, but he holds me steady. Fire blooms on my skin, radiating from the sting of his hit. The red flesh tingles before I feel my pulse settle at the injury.
“You liked that.”
“I-I didn’t,” I stammer.
A biting slap hits my other breast, and I moan like a whore. His lips turn up against my neck in a wicked smile.
Arousal isn’t allowed. It’s punished and treated like a sin. Slaves aren’t granted pleasure and showing it only results in harsher treatment.
“Get out of your fucking head, Kaci.” Two successive hits, one to each breast, bring me back to the present. “Where are you?”
Two more hits.
I want to answer him, but the burn from his slaps are just too decadent.
One hand holds my hip with brutal force while his other reaches up and pinches the stinging nipple on my right breast.
“Where. Are. You?” He pinches and releases with each word.
“H-here,” I manage. “I’m here.”
His hand leaves my tits too soon, but his probing fingers begin to trace lower. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from mewling as he sweeps under my panties.
“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he praises as he dips a finger between my folds, no doubt finding me drenched.
Once again, I try to pull away because I’m unable to keep my arousal a secret.
“Don’t fucking move,” he growls.
My panties are ripped from my body. The abrasion left behind on my hip will serve as a memento from tonight. I grow wetter with the mere thought of looking at it tomorrow in the mirror.
“Ah,” he moans before sinking his teeth hard into my earlobe. “Fucking your mouth turned you on.”
It isn’t a question, so I don’t bother to lie. He’s pushing two thick fingers into my core, so there isn’t even a point in lying to him right now. My body tells him everything he needs to know.
“I’ve waited so fucking long to touch you like this.”
I can’t handle the reverence in his voice, or the fact that his hands have transitioned from harsh grabs and slaps to reverent caresses.