Page 55 of Driven by Desire

She whimpered and opened her eyes. A gun lay on the night table next to the bed. If she leaned forward on her hands and knees, it would be within reach. Was it real? Or was it a drug induced hallucination, like the Soloman that had left her in Shank’s greedy hands. She could feel Shank’s hand glide up and down her bare leg. He murmured lover-like Spanish phrases in her ears in an attempt to sooth and seduce her. Vomit rushed up her throat and she had to force it back. She squeezed her eyes closed and then opened them again.

The gun was still there. Shimmering in a pool of fuzzy light. It might still be a figment of her imagination, but it gave her some hope. Eyes flickering down to the hand squeezing her thighs, she forced her exhausted brain to put in an effort. Shank groaned behind her and rocked his hips, thrusting his erection into her fluffy, dress-clad ass. Grimacing in disgust, she moaned back and pushed her ass into the cradle of his thighs.

He stiffened in surprise for a moment. Unwilling to let him overthink her enthusiasm, she continued to moan as much as her torn, parched throat would allow and wiggled her butt against him. She willed herself not to throw up as she felt his penis rise up again the back of her dress. He reached around her and clamped an eager arm against her stomach, dragging her further into the disgusting heat of his body and a few precious inches away from the gun.

“Knew you fucking wanted me as bad as I wanted you, Riles, my sweet, sweet angel,” he moaned in her ear, his breath hot against her throat.

“Yes, Sh-Shank, I’ve wanted you for years…” she forced herself to say through stiff, swollen lips. The effort of speaking and moving her body against him was quickly draining her meagre strength.

“Call me Manuel,” he growled against her.

“M-Manuel,” she whispered.

He groaned and let loose a litany of Spanish that was too fast for her to follow. She’d taken Spanish in high school and lived close enough to the border to understand a fair amount of his language, but not when he spoke like this. She continued to wiggle her ass against him and run her fingers over his arms. Gradually, she started rocking forward and backward, pushing her ass into his erection until he was groaning and thrusting against her.

Finally, he did exactly what she hoped he would, he gripped her around the waist and pushed her forward on her hands and knees. She was so wobbly from ill treatment and lack of food that she immediately collapsed into the bed on her front. With an enormous force of will, she shoved herself back up, arching her back in the process and thrusting her ass out. She knew she had his full attention from the sharp exhale behind her.

He went up onto his knees and looped an arm under her waist, holding her up. He pulled her back against him, slamming her ass into his crotch with a grunt of satisfaction. He ran a hand up her thigh, searching under her dress. She bit her lip to keep herself from screaming a denial at him. He flipped her dress up and onto her back, baring her to him.

“So fucking perfect. My angel,” he moaned.

She felt him fumbling with his pants and knew she only had seconds while he was distracted. She reached out as far as she could. Her fingers grazed the handle of the gun. She tilted forward just a little more, the arm holding her weight up shook with the effort. The room spun in circles around her. Her palm closed around the handle and she yanked it toward her at the same time as her body collapsed into the mattress.

“Riley, what is it?” Shank asked from behind her.

She moaned, as sexily as she could manage under the circumstances and tilted her head to look at him longingly from beneath her dark lashes. She licked her lips. “I’m just so w-weak, Manuel," she whispered. “I… need my big… strong man to help me.”

“Of course, anything for you,” he said instantly, crawling over her body, covering her from behind. She shuddered as she felt his bare, excited dick touch her thigh. He clutched her shoulders and hugged her against him, kissing her angel tattoo.

Terrified that he would see the gun, she kept her arm bent over the side of the bed at an awkward angle. “I w-want to... face you for the first… time… please,” she whispered, feeling the energy drain from her and hoping she had just enough to do what was necessary.

“Yes, we have to make it perfect!” he said in her ear.

Rearing back, he clasped her in his arms and rolled her over. Riley felt the dress slip to her waist, baring her completely. She felt exposed, but there was nothing she could do about that now. She brought the gun up as she rolled onto her back and pressed it under his chin.

He froze and his eyes went wide with shock. He leaned back, crouching over her hips. Slowly, he raised his hands until they were level with his shoulders. A speculative gleam entered his eyes as they flickered over her prone body, taking in her shaking arms, sweeping down until they landed on her bared pussy. His gaze returned to her face and she saw the same psycho Shank in his eyes that she’d known for years but never really saw. He intended to fuck his wife whether she shot him or not. Tears filled her eyes as realization hit. She would either have to let him have his way or shoot him.

He leaned over her, placing a firm hand near her shoulder. He used his knee to kick her legs further apart and reached down between them. His face was grim. He understood now that his angel didn't want him at all. That she’d played him. And if she didn't shoot him he was going to make her pay. Then he would do whatever it took to force her to love him.

“P-please don’t,” Riley begged as he touched her pussy. He would hurt her bad. She wasn’t even remotely wet. He ignored her. She closed her eyes and turned her face away. He guided his cock to her entrance.

She shot him.

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