He doesn’t listen. Instead, he weaves himself between my thighs and bends his legs, locking me in place. “C’mon, El. You made me wait so long.” He slobbers on my neck, rocking his pelvis. “Are you scared it’s gonna hurt?”
My pounding pulse makes my head feel dizzy. I flail my arms, but he catches them in his large hands and tucks them under his knees. I am fighting a battle I can’t possibly win. Troy is trained in MMA. He has been learning how to restrain opponents for years. I’m stuck on my back like a turtle on its shell, and there’s nothing I can do about it. “Let me up.”
“No. Just stay. Stay a little while.”
“Troy.” My firm voice begins to wobble when his hand feels its way between my thighs. Jace’s accusations come rushing back.Pam Mackey, Rhonda Fortnight, Tracy Givens ...the girls he forced himself on, the girls his daddy paid off to keep it quiet. “Don’t.”
“I’ll be quick,” he slurs, fumbling for my panties. “You’re so scared, so fucking scared of everything.”
I wrestle beneath him, yelling for help, but the music beyond the door is so damn loud. Tears spring to my eyes. I resist his advance, burrowing my backside into the seam between the cushions.
“Please,” I beg. “Please don’t do this.”
“Stop fighting me.” He lifts his butt in the air to open his fly. “I did my fucking time. I was a good guy. I deserve something for my efforts.”
The shaft of his erection slips between my folds. Panic rises in my throat followed by a screeching.
“I want your virginity, Ellie. We can do it the hard way or the easy way.”
A peal of laughter rips through my cries. “I don’t have it anymore.”
His palm sinks into the couch as the other hand shoves two fingers inside me. “What the fuck?”
He sways enough to loosen my arm. I pull it free and push him off. He rears back just long enough for me to roll to the floor. Pain jolts through my leg at the contact, but I can't afford to waste any time. I scramble across the floor to put enough distance between us, but Troy’s movement is quicker. A strong hand yanks my ankle; my face hits the floor. “Where ya goin’, huh?”
He drags me back. I sink my elbow in his soft underbelly with all my might. Red rage clouds his face as he stands, clutching his stomach. “I knew it! You just couldn’t wait to wrap those skinny legs around Wilder, could ya?”
His fingers tangle in my hair. He drags me by the scalp and hurls me back onto the couch face-first. One of my shoes lies lost in the pillows. I snatch it up and launch it in his direction. “Whenyou kissed my mouth, I hope you tasted his cum¸ you son of a bitch.”
He jumps back to avoid getting hit, but his long arm sweeps across and takes hold of my wrist. “You teasing little whore.” His fist comes down, and my head snaps back hard. Stars collide beneath my lids. Blinding pain radiates my skull, and I crumple like tissue.
The muffled music grows suddenly clear. “We’re using this room,” Troy barks.
A dark figure stands in the open doorway. I rip myself off the floor and barrel past whoever it is and don’t stop until I’m safely on the street. The tears return as my adrenaline wanes. My face on fire, my muscles trembling. I pluck my phone from my wristlet and dial.
Jace answers on the first ring.
The words are barely out of my mouth before I hear the telltale sounds of his truck starting. He keeps us connected as I weep into the mouthpiece, his deep voice assuring me he’s almost there up until the moment his headlights come into view.
I shuffle to my bare feet as he runs toward me. “You’re okay,” he promises, wrapping me against him for just a moment before holding me out at arm's length. Two fingers catch under my chin. He turns my face toward the light, his concerned gaze morphing into an evil glare. “Did he do this to you?”
The tinny taste of blood dribbles into my mouth as I nod. I snivel it back, rubbing it away with the back of my hand.
Jace trembles with poorly contained feral rage. “Wait here.”
“No, don't. It’s okay.”
“No, it ain’t,” he growls, stomping toward Troy’s house. “Get in the truck.”
Inside the cab, I will my rioting heart to slow. Minutes pass like hours. I want to go in and make sure he’s okay, but my legswon’t let me move. So I wait. Staving off the nausea swirling in my gut and the hammering headache assaulting my brain.
Then like the archangel coming to save my soul, he saunters through the yard angry yet unscathed. The breath I didn’t know I was holding trickles from my lungs. He hops in beside me and slams the door.
“What happened?”
He peers in the rearview before pulling a K-turn in the middle of the road. “It’s handled.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “What did you do?”