Page 16 of Make Her Bleed
He rams his cock into me, watching my face intently like he did the whole time he held me down for the guys to rape me. The only difference is the pleasure on his face is more intense, like what he really needed was to be inside me.
The pain still radiates through my hips, feeling like he's tearing me in half, ripping my pussy apart thrust by thrust, but even in as much pain as he's putting me in, I feel it building, the pressure.
The ball of tension in my gut that says he's going to get me off.
"No, no, no!" I cry out, hoping someone hears.
I don't want to orgasm. That would give him some sort of validation that I'm enjoying this, that this is okay.
"Don't you dare hold out on me, Aria. Let yourself come," he demands with venom in his voice but I fight him twice as hard as before.
His only response is to slap me across my face.
"No, never!" I scream in denial but it keeps building more and more.
This can't be happening.
His hand squeezes around my throat, cutting off my air. My body heats up, the pressure in my gut growing bigger and bigger. My eyes feel too heavy to stay conscious.
He's going to kill me. I'm going to fucking die.
Then, he releases my throat and pins my arms down. The moment he lets go of my neck, it takes hold of me, shattering every single inhibition I have, every part of my resolve to deny him. It all dissipates the moment an earth-shattering scream leaves my lips, my body bucking against his.
The orgasm I was trying to avoid hits me, and it's the most powerful thing I've ever experienced in my life.
The pain is unrecognizable as I force my eyes shut and allow myself one moment to enjoy the bucket of pleasure dumped on me amidst the most horrifying experience of my life.
"Fuck, yes! You come so fucking good, princess. It's my turn now."
I hear his words but I ignore them as I give up the fight, conceding, knowing there is no use in fighting any longer.
It's almost over, and fighting hasn't done me any good through this whole ordeal.
His hands leave mine, and he grabs my hips moments before I open my eyes. I watch as pleasure plays out on his ridiculously handsome—yet devious—face as he rams into me with no rhythm whatsoever.
He's right on the edge and lost in the sea of his own desire.
Oh, God. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? Why is watching him like this making me want to touch him and let him have his release? This is so fucking sick.
It's almost over. Less than a minute left of this bullshit.
Then, he stills, grunting like a fucking bull, and palms my breasts before giving one final thrust.
It takes him less than a second to recover. He grabs me by the back of the neck, hauling me up against him, and his hard body presses against mine. I stare into his dangerous blue eyes as he glares back at me.
"If you breathe a word to anyone, I'll kill your dad. What I've done to you will look like a walk in the park in comparison. His torture will last for days, and it will all beyourfault."
His threat dissolves every plan I have worked out in my mind. There's no going to the cops, the principal, or my dad. I can't hope he's bluffing. If he hurts my dad, I'll never forgive myself. I'd rather walk these halls in fear of him and his football players and possibly be raped by them again than take the chance of him hurting my dad.
"Do you understand me?" he presses, simultaneously groping my ass to accentuate his point.
"Yes," I whimper in defeat. "You're a selfish, conniving bastard, and I hope you burn in hell," I growl as my drive to defeat him rises once more.
I might not be able to tell anyone but I will wreck his life the first chance I get.
"If I go to hell, I'll drag you down there with me, princess."
Why does he keep calling me that? Even when he's being vicious, he throws in that term of endearment almost as if I mean something to him—but that's impossible. This bastard just raped me. I've never meant anything to him.
