Page 2 of Five Brothers

I hear his door creak open, and I stop, slowly turning and watching him jump out of the cab.

Run.

Leaving his door open, he drops his chin, slowly approaching me as if I were a dog he needs to leash before I get away.

Run, I tell myself.

I take a step back, but he reaches out and catches the lock of hair hanging down my cheek.

He doesn’t look at it, though. He looks in my eyes.

He’s young. Not much older than me, but definitely taller. Broader.

Too close.

I spin around, but before I can take the first step away, he’s grabbing me and hauling me back against his chest. I gasp, feeling one of his hands cover my breast and the other one slide down between my legs.

He exhales in my ear, stroking the slit beneath my underwear. “Oh God, you got something good, don’t you?”

He moans.

I squirm, whimpering, “No …”

He reaches inside my panties, stroking me as he sucks in air between his teeth. “Get in the truck.” He spins me around and releases me, but he pushes me toward his car before I can run. “I’m your man now, honey,” he growls.

I look side to side as he shoves me, his open door blocking my escape to my left and him blocking me on my right. I scramble into the truck, flipping over and crawling backward as far as possible to the other side until my back hits the door.

I grab the handle behind me, but the locks click just before I yank. I pull up and down, trying to get out, but his eyes are on me as he climbs in and slams the door. I can’t move. I clench my thighs.

His gaze travels down my body to my legs and everything he can see with my skirt hiked up. I pull it down.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs, his tongue moving inside his mouth.

He kicks the truck intoDriveand hits the gas.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere I can pay my new girlfriend a little attention,” he replies.

His eyes dance as he watches the road, a trickle of sweat streaming down his chest. I watch it glide over every ripple in his abs.

His dark hair is blacker near his ear where the sweat has matted it, and I watch him bite his bottom lip as he stares ahead. Smooth, young neck. Every muscle flexed as he holds his arm out straight and fists the steering wheel. No tattoos. Just a scar on his eyebrow—a small slit where the hair no longer grows.

I dig my nails into the seat behind me.

I should try harder to get away. Hit him. Kick him.

He pulls off the road, down a gravel path, and then takes a sharp left into a small lot surrounded by woods. It’s where people come to play with their ATVs. The woods are filled with trails.

But the lot is abandoned at night.

It’s just us.

He parks and shuts off the engine, the cab turning nearly pitch black.

I feel hands grip my ankles, and I’m yanked down the seat as he kneels between my legs and hovers over me.

“I want to go home,” I say.

---