I sucked in a breath, my skin crawling as if a thousand insects had been unleashed. His warm breath skidded across my neck as his lips slithered across my jaw.
“Oakley,” I choked out. “Please untie me. I want to touch you. I want to be with you the way we used to.”
He sucked my earlobe, and his greedy hand slipped between us to cup my sex.
“Oakley,” I exclaimed. “Please.”
“I have a better idea.”
Abruptly, he pushed himself and grabbed the rope that held my wrists together, yanking me to my feet.
“Oakley, what are you—”
“I want you the way he had you, Sienna.”
“What? No.”
Grabbing my shoulders, he turned me around roughly, and I could barely keep my balance with my ankles tied together.
I choked on my sobs, his cruel hands touching and prodding, tainting my body with the cruel intentions that hissed through his dark lust that would destroy me at any moment.
“That’s right, firefly. Fight me,” he challenged, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me up, carrying me to the window and forcing me to bend, slamming my face into the windowsill.
Stars exploded through my vision, and for a brief time, I wasn’t there. I wasn’t in that room with Oakley. I wasn’t the girl whose panties he just tore through before sliding his vile fingers through her sex.
It was the sound of his zipper that went off like a gunshot behind me that pulled me back, anchoring the reality deep inside my soul—the reality that this was really happening. That I was only a few breaths away from becoming a victim, a fucking statistic of the most horrendous, the vilest and abominable crime that could ever be done to a woman.
I won’t survive this.
God, please…I won’t. Survive.
“This is what you like, isn’t it? Hard. Rough. Forced.”
“No,” I whispered. “No. Stop. Please…stop.”
“You motherfucker!” A loud, firm voice boomed through the room—the anger reverberating up my spine.
Oakley was gone, his panting breaths no longer filling my ears.
My legs gave way, and I collapsed to the floor, tears ripping through my soul as I sobbed.
“Sienna! Jesus Christ. Oh my God.”
“Spencer?” I whispered as two arms wrapped around me.
“Yeah. It’s me. You’re okay.”
Exhausted and incapable of moving, I opened my eyes and watched as Noah slammed Oakley’s head against the wall—screaming, shouting, cursing.
“Noah.” My voice cracked. “Noah.”