Page 69 of His Good Girl
“Stop,” I manage to get out before my throat closes in fear. Bringing my hand up to push him away; he’s stronger than he looks. He grabs my wrist, pinning it to my side as his other hand grabs my breast through the dress.
“Shh, little girl,” he murmurs. “I know you want John to touch you.”
“No,” I whisper, frozen to the spot.
Move, Serena. Move, for fuck’s sake.
But it’s like telling myself to spread wings and fly. It’s impossible. I can’t do it.
“Please stop,” I whimper when he lets go of my wrist and grabs my other breast, pushing them up so they pop out of the top of the dress, showing him my nipples.
He licks his lips. “Mm. So well-endowed for a little girl.”
“Eww,” I mutter and try to push him away. “Get off me.”
He roughly pinches my nipples, and it’s an automatic reaction then to struggle, trying to get away from him.
Before I get free, he pulls me closer, his grip tightening. He tugs my dress, ripping the delicate fabric with his aggression. My breasts are completely exposed now.
My mind races, but my body is rooted to the spot, my limbs paralyzed by fear. I can't move; I can't scream. All I can do is stand there, my heart hammering in my chest. Fear and panic make it difficult to breathe. My lungs close, and I go lightheaded. It’s exactly how it was when I was younger, when I was once again helpless in the face of danger. I remember the fear, the terror, and the feeling of being completely powerless.
Knowing I have to fight, to resist, is one thing; doing it is something else.
I try to push him away, but he’s too strong. He grabs my wrists and pulls me closer, his grip tightening, his breath hot on my face. It’s the stench of booze and poor hygiene. I gag, turning my head as far away from him as I can. He licks my throat, making me shudder. My dress slips lower, the air cold against my sweating skin.
I am exposed, embarrassed, and violated.
Yet, I can’t stop it.
Panicking, my mind racing, I have to figure out a way to escape, but I’m too scared to move. I am trapped in my own fear.
When his mouth closes over my nipple, I cry softly, squirming to get out of his grip, but I can’t go anywhere. My floor-length dress has tangled around my legs, trapping them. Trying to bring my leg up to knee him is impossible, impeded by the black silk.
“Help!” I cry out as he bites my nipple roughly. He lets go of one of my wrists to ram his hand roughly between my legs. I buck against him, thrashing, clawing him with my free hand, but it’s no use. He snatches my wrist and squeezes, shoving his knee between my thighs, panting over me, practically drooling on me.
I’m just not strong enough to get away.
So, I stop fighting.
Closing my eyes and willing it to be over with quickly, tears seep out of my eyes. Falling back into the recesses of my mind, I hear a commotion and then feel the pressure ease up on my body.
“Serena! Serena!”
“Logan,” I murmur, forcing myself to open my eyes, hoping I’m not imagining it. “Ahhh!”
My soft exclamation is followed up with my hand to my mouth. The only movement I seem capable of right now. Logan punches John, his hand wrapped around the other man’s throat. Blood is spraying out everywhere, hitting the harsh, white-painted walls.
“Logan!”
The scream is loud in my ears, making me realize it’s coming from me. “Logan!”
“Dammit, Serena,” he grits out. “What the fuck is this?”
“I—I—don’t—” I stammer, unable to form a complete sentence.
“Cover yourself up, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, smashing John in the face one more time before he goes down, his face an absolute mess.
“Logan…”
