Page 102 of Brick

“You’re ruining it.” He hit her again, and she tasted blood on her lip.

“Go ahead. Get it over with.”

He’d already pulled back his hand for another strike when he froze, then dropped it to his side. “You know what we need here? A little drama. A little…anticipation.” He tipped up her chin with a crooked forefinger. “Nobody likes when a party ends too soon. How about we make it a little more interesting? Build in a little foreplay, heh?”

Her eyes widened. Oh God, was he talking about sex? Her arm ached as he curled his fingers around her bicep again and dragged her toward his apartment. She cursed herself for the hundredth time for ever coming here in the first place. Tre pushed her inside, then leaned against the front door. She stood frozen in front of him.

“We’re gonna do exactly like we did last time. I’m gonna give you a head start to run. Then I’m gonna chase you. And when I catch you,” he laughed low. “Well, there won’t be a single part of your body that doesn’t know it’s been conquered.”

He stepped away from the door. “Last time, I gave you three minutes, and you escaped me, but this time I know you better. It won’t happen again.” He stroked his hardening dick through his pants with the heel of his hand. “You ready, baby? Three minutes. On your mark. Get set. Go.”

Unwilling to waste a second, she ran out of the door like a shot, making a beeline to the burned-out building. It was probably the first place he’d check, but she’d be a sitting duck if she stayed out in the open.

She went in through the same blackened doorframe as last time. At least she knew some of the terrain. Her heart beat in her ears as she hoisted herself through the hole in the ceiling of the back bathroom. Thanks to Eduardo’s punishing calisthenics, this time, she could climb up on her own.

There was no source of light except for the few places illuminated by the setting sun’s rays trickling in from the charred patches in the structure. She’d lost her phone around the time someone snatched her from her apartment. Her eyes were slowly adjusting, but she saw little more than large shadows. It would have to be enough.

She stepped carefully, all too aware the floor beneath her could be unsound. Digging deep in her memory, she searched for Jonathan’s warning.

The third floor, he’d told her. The center of the hallway was bad.

She needed a way up there.

Her eyes picked up more of her surroundings. Now she could make out the location of the doors and the scurrying movement of the rodents at her feet. She had no time to be squeamish.

The ceiling above her appeared to be intact, so she left the room behind, searching for a way up. She found it in the fourth room she tried, climbing up from a countertop still covered with dishes and trash, which crunched under her feet.

Part of the wood broke away in her hands as she tried to hoist herself up, but eventually she found a beam solid enough to support her weight. Finally, she made it to the third floor. And now she could hear Tre moving below her, whistling the same slow melody as before. If she ever made it out of here, she’d never listen to the Rolling Stones again.

Squinting down the long hallway, she could see a few holes in the flooring, maybe two doors away; she needed to get Tre to walk on the bad stretch. But how? The only way he would charge through would be if he was chasing her, but that would put her in the danger zone first. Unless…

She eyed the ceiling speculatively.

If she could get to the fourth floor, she could come back down on the other side of the hallway. Use herself as bait. She had to move quickly. It would only work if she made it into place by the time Tre got to the third floor.

She needed a place to climb.

Praying for a miracle, she hurried into the apartment directly across from her.

***

Tre

Tre congratulated himself on the idea to let the pretty teacher run. It was so much more fun when they ran. He could imagine how quickly her heart beat, how the fear overwhelmed her.

He was hard as a rock right now; his cocked throbbed in his pants. The first thing he would do when he caught her was fuck her senseless. No doubt he’d fuck her again when he got through with her. Anticipation zipped through his veins.

He had no doubt Miss Turner returned to the same hiding place as last time. He could hear her movements echoing in the walls. She scurried above him.

He used his phone as a flashlight, trying to find a way up. There. In the bathroom.

Goddamn this place was nasty. It smelled like an old campfire and a sewer combined. There was shit in the toilet, most likely from squatters. Probably the same idiots who left their needles on the floor.

This girlie would to pay extra for making him get his hands dirty. The only mess he liked was the kind he made himself. He wiped his palms on his pants once he was firmly on the second floor, then ran the beam of his flashlight across the room. No sign of her, except an unmistakable trail left behind on the sooty floor.

She’d been here.

He cringed when he got to the kitchen where she’d hiked herself up to the third floor. Roaches covered the old dishes on the counter, and he refused to look any closer at what else was there.

The wood broke apart in his hands when he started to climb. It took longer than he wanted to make it to the next level, but he wouldn’t give up on his prey. He’d punish her for making him do all this work.

Going still, he listened for a sign of her location, but he heard only silence. Maybe she was hiding. No, the trail was still there, moving out the door.

A thump jerked his attention away from the floor to the end of the hall, where the teacher cowered. She dashed into the open door next to her, and he picked up speed in pursuit.

It only took three long strides before his boots broke through the fragile floor. His body hit the ground before he had a chance to scream.

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