Page 26 of Jagger
"Do you have any restraints?" Jagger asks Lawson, looking behind him as his fingers dig into my wrists.
Lawson appears with the handcuffs, and my vision sways.
Jagger snaps them around one of my wrists, dragging my other hand beside it before snapping the other on. He grips my hands with one hand and finally meets my gaze.
"Listen to me. I don't care what you say, what you do, or what you think. I don't care. I'm going to fuck you, then I'm leaving. Fight me if you want because I like that. Do you understand?"
My throat feels like it's on fire, but I shake my head, refusing to believe this is real.
"We kissed! I know you felt something!" I am desperate. I need to see the version of the man who told me I'd wear diamonds. I need?—
"I felt nothing," Jagger replies, his eyes darkening. "This is the first time I've paid for a pussy. It better be worth it."
He rises to his feet, and I try to throw myself off the bed, but the cuffs hold me in place. Jagger closes his eyes like he doesn't want to look at me as he whispers, "Please make this easy, Molly. Relax for me."
I sob, having no option but to watch him open his zipper.
"Condoms are—" Lawson begins, but Jagger laughs and positions himself between my legs.
"I don't wear condoms."
I brace myself as best as I can as he lines himself against my entrance, his eyes meeting mine with what looks like an apology.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, closing his eyes tightly.
What the hell?!
But then he enters me, taking my breath before I can even scream.
"Fuck!" he hisses, and Lawson chuckles from behind him.
"Still tight, huh? Who knew? Maybe she was telling the truth about not fucking anyone."
"Shut the fuck up," Jagger growls at Lawson, one hand on my wrists, the other on my hip. "I'm so sorry," he whispers the latter part to me.
I can't look at him. I avert my gaze and stare at the wall. Pain sears through me as he pounds into me again and again.
I thought I hated Jagger before. I hated him before this—but a tiny part of me had wanted him to touch me then. I'd played his stupid games. But this?
"Think of anywhere but here." Then, in a lower whisper, "Escape from this, Molly."
Tears sting my eyes.
"I'm so fucking sorry."
Then why is he doing this?
I grit my teeth and refuse to look at him.
His mouth falls to my nipples, his tongue swirling around them as I try to fight him, to try to stop him from attempting to pleasure me.
"God, you're so pretty like this, Molly." Jagger yanks my hair back, slamming his full weight into me. I can barely breathe but see Lawson filming us over his shoulder.
Why is Jagger apologizing and then doing this to me?!
Agonizing sobs leave my lungs. There's nothing I can do to stop him. Nothing.
I think of Aphrodite. I think of Spain.
