Page 119 of Destined To Fall

I’m shoved into a dark room, the smells so intense and overwhelming I can’t pinpoint any of them. The door clicking and locking behind me shoots fear up from my toes to settle against my spine. It’s heavy and sharp and makes me want to curl in on myself. Giving myself an internal slap, I remind myself who I am. I never cower; that has never been me. I stand taller instead.

“You smell so fucking good. I’m already hard.”

He punctuates his statement by gripping my jaw with a bruising, vise-like intensity, shoving his face and nose into my hair and along my neck. His tongue darts out and licks the side of my face from the end of my chin to the top of my hairline. It takes everything I have not to shudder, not to show how repulsed I am and vomit all over him.

“And how do I taste?” I purr, gagging on the inside.

“Like I am going to enjoy destroying your body.”

He shoves me in the chest, and I fall back on something bed-like, hard. I bounce a few times before he practically jumps on top of me, clapping his hands to illuminate the room with enough of a glow that I can make out his sleazy face. I want to clap and turn it off.

With a knee on either side of my hips, he leers down at me, then rips the bodice of my dress open. The fastenings go flying and ping off the floor. My eyes close without permission, and a vision of Max’s distressed face flashes behind my closed lids. I bite the insides of my cheeks and force my eyes back open.

I’ve known types like this before—they’re a dime a dozen—and if they see how much they get to you, it only makes them do it more, only eggs them on further.

He squeezes a breast so hard a squeak slips through my teeth.

“You like that, huh? You dirty, dirty little slut.”

“I believe the correct term is whore, but whatever.”

Slap.

Before I can blink, my cheek and lip are stinging, and my head is ringing with the sound of his palm cracking across my face. I can’t hide the rage blossoming in my eyes as the blood blooms in my face when I look back at him. The desire that ignites on his face is sickening and disturbing. I want to spit the blood pooling in my mouth in his eyes.

But I have to keep my head. I can’t lose my shit, or I could end up losing a lot more.

Douche lunges forward, and my entire body spasms in response. His mouth latches on to my left breast, and he bites hard enough through the thin silk bra that he draws blood. A watered-down moan is all I can offer in return, and he repeats the action on the right, blessedly with less force.

My head is spinning, thinking in a million different directions on how best to play this, how best to get out of it, but I’m so damn rusty.

My instinct is to steal control, to roll him over and take the lead, speed this up, and get the fuck out of here, but I know in my gut he won’t take it.

Women to him are disposable, cheap, to be used, abused, and discarded.

He’s going to do whatever the fuck he wants with me,whether I fight back or not.

So I lay limp and take it while I scream inside.

“Get naked.”

He gets off me and stands, the tent in his pants repugnant and very unimpressive. I guess that’s a blessing for once. I get to my knees,not fast enoughfor him, and he pulls me forward by the gaping fabric of my bodice. I wobble but regain my composure and remove the ruined top first.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he huffs.“High-class escort, my ass. I’ve picked up better on the streets. Put on a fucking show.”

“Shall I dance as well?”Like a little fucking monkey…

“Do you even know how to?”

Lie…lie…“No.”

“Just take it off.”

Item by item, with a little more speed than I usually sport, I fling each one at his feet, wearing as flirty a smile as I can manage. I’m down to my thong when he stops me.

Pulling me forward by the band so I stumble off the bed, he pulls it so tight, so hard, trying to rip the fabric off my body, torturing me in the process. He fails miserably, pushes me back onto the bed, and wrenches them down my legs in a white rage.

“Your turn.” I plaster on a saucy grin, desperate to hide behind it.

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