Page 19 of The Author

“Now, that was a good fuck. More cum for your cup, you lucky girl,” he said with a snigger.

I feel more tears seep out of my closed eyes.

“Aww. What's wrong?” he said with a mocking tone in his voice.

I hated this man with a vengeance. I clenched my jaw tightly and grind my teeth together.

His hands left my legs, and I felt the pain from where his fingers had dug into my skin. He pulled out of me, and I felt his cum slowly run out of me. I couldn't look at his face right now, so I kept my eyes closed.

I felt him move off the bed before I felt something cold against my pussy. I opened my eyes, and he was leaning over me.

“I need to get everything into your cup,” he said with a relaxed smile and a wink.

All the anger and hatred seemed to have vanished in his post-orgasmic glow.

I blinked at him in surprise.

His moods were going to give me whiplash.

“How’s your cheek?”

I hesitantly move my fingertips to my cheek. It felt tender, but I felt the split in my skin. The cut was deep.

“I glued it shut.”

My eyes returned to his, and I nodded.

“Do you need painkillers in your smoothie?”

I nodded again, relieved that he was willing to give me something for the pain.

He sits on the bed and shoves my leg upwards.

“Hold your leg up while I clean you up,”

I held my leg towards my chest and leaned my head to see what he was doing. He was using the cup and his fingers to scoop his cum into the black cup. I let my head fall back onto the pillow, ignoring the pain in my cheek.

This man was a very sick individual.

???

By the time he returned upstairs, I had covered myself up using the only sheet on the bed. He was still unashamedly naked, with his limp dick swinging about between his thighs. I winced and looked away from his dick, but the smug look on his face wasn't any better.

“I can't decide which hole I loved fucking more. Your tiny virgin asshole or your lovely wet cunt that came all over me.”

I tried to look away from him, but he sat on the bed and gripped my jaw.

“You're going to finish this drink, and then you will show me your book and type out exactly how you got my manuscript.”

I felt the fear bubble up in my stomach. He pushed the black cup, which had a lid on it, with a straw poking out of it. I breathed a few times before I realised this could be a good thing if I told him I didn't have a fucking clue who he was or how he thought I could have got a hold of his manuscript.

I was so hungry he could have put antifreeze in the smoothie, and I would have drank it.

I carefully pushed the straw between my lips, avoiding the stitches, and began to suck the liquid. It tasted of pineapple and something else. I had around half of it when I noticed that there was a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. I grimaced at the taste.

“I crushed some painkillers in the drink.”

I glared at him and sucked harder on the straw. Between the hunger and rage, it made me forget my fear.

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