Page 24 of On the Rocks
His other hand balls into a fist. Ready to dole out a punishment I don’t understand. Or deserve. I have to calm down. I have to calm him down. “I’m sorry. I was just looking for clothes since we have company.”
“She’s not company. She’s the housekeeper.”
He rolls his eyes. A superior attitude toward her and me. But at least he relaxes a bit. Accepting my subservience to him. I offer a small smile. Peaceful and soothing. Calm and cool. Nothing to anger him. Anything to keep him from blowing up again. “I still need something to wear.”
“Fine. Put it on.”
“Thank you.” Pitiful that I have to act so grateful to him for allowing me to wear clothes. But I can do this. I’ll get dressed. Figure out what’s going on. Understand what’s really happening.
My fingers brush the hem of my top as he watches. Waiting for me to be completely naked. My confidence wanes. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know how to do this.
The answer is out of my hands. He advances on me. Evil turned to lust. Caging me against the door frame. The rough edges of the decorative coral fingerlings dig into my back.
"I love you and want to take care of you, baby girl. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
I've never felt dirtier than with his hand caressing my cheek. Filthy from his fingers trailing down my arm, circling my wrist to yank me against him. I should be eager for my husband. Not repulsed from his lips on my mouth. Disgusted by his erection grinding into my belly.
Adrenaline burns through my taut muscles, and I push against his chest. Wrenching my face away from his. “Please! Stop!”
“Never.”
I gag from his whisper in my ear. His fists rip at my hair as he walks us backwards, pushing me onto the bed once my calves bump the mattress. I twist away when he bends over to slide off his jeans, but he’s too quick. Catching my ankle. Dragging me backward. Flipping me over.
Both of our chests heave in the stand-off. If he’s not going to do anything, I will. I fly up again, kicking at his thighs with the bottom of my feet. Trying to topple him. Utterly useless. He’s too big. Too strong. Too determined.
Huge hands palm my thighs, opening my legs to him, and I cry out. The bones so close to snapping under his grip. With my fight muted for a second, he yanks up my shirt. Powerless to stop him from pulling my top over my head. Unable to keep him from shoving the fabric, damp from my sweat, into my mouth.
He kneels between my knees. “God you really are fucking beautiful.”
Only a whimper escapes from behind the material balled between my teeth. He covers my body with his. Kissing across my stomach before biting my nipple. I arch up from the torment radiating out from the sensitive skin. Which makes a gleeful grin darken his face, and he rips his teeth across my other breast.
I attempt one last escape. Pummeling him with all my strength. My fists raining down on his slick back. With absolutely no effect. He catches my wrists and holds them above my head with one hand while the other moves to my neck. Squeezing my wind pipe closed.
"Damn it Cat. Fucking relax. You’re going to enjoy this."
His grip tightens around my throat. Suffocating my final gasp of oxygen. Dimness stealing my vision. He's going to take me whether I'm conscious or not. Whether I say yes or not.
I have to protect myself from further abuse. But why does being strong feel so weak? Why do I feel like I'm giving up instead of getting by? Why does surviving feel like dying?
With all my energy spent, I stop struggling and let my legs fall open. Forcing myself not to cry out when he pushes inside me. The tears on my cheeks the only wetness he generates. The rest of me raw and dry and empty. Ripped apart by his penis and his brutality.
"Fuck, you feel amazing. Just like I knew you would."
I can't stop the sob in my chest. Proof we've never made love before. He's not my husband. I'm not his wife. I have no idea who I am, but I know I'm nothing to him but a conquest. He's nothing to me but a monster.
My head falls to the side. Grateful he doesn't notice when I jerk the cloth out of my mouth. Just pumps into me over and over.
"You like that cock, don't you baby girl? You love me fucking you with my huge cock."
He's not even talking to me. Stroking his own ego. I'm just a hole to him.
A blue water bottle sits on the nightstand. Seems so familiar yet I can’t remember why. Condensation rolls down the plastic. Two droplets escaping before they pool onto the white wood. Glistening when the sunshine peeks through the curtains billowing from the force of him shaking the bed. The headboard vibrating as he slams into me again and again.
More beads slide off, so lucky to be free from what holds them.
“Fuck your pussy is amazing.”
Another drop.
