Page 29 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

“I’m engaged,” I blurt out.

Apparently, I just don’t know when to quit.

A look I can’t quite interpret flashes over his face before he clears his throat. “Congratu-fucking-lations.” He forces a grin. “Now, tell me about this asshole and how we’re going to finally nab him.”

I think about the moments just before now, when I was reliving Benny stealing my virginity.

That was the gentlest he had ever been with me. After that first time, he became greedy for my body and his monster let off its leash was ruthless. He liked to constantly tell me how he wasn’t a pervert and my body was fully developed—he was obsessed with convincing not just me, but I think himself. His issues ran deep.

Dillon wants to know about that asshole. Just like Bo wanted to know all the details about him.

But they can’t handle the reality of what happened to me.

Hell, I can barely handle it.

I cower as I remember what Benny made of me in the end. If they knew everything about him, then they’d learn everything about me.

Shame drenches me.

They can’t know.

“Please…” My plea fades into a whisper when his hand continues to travel south, “I’m on my period.”

He chuckles and the vibrations shake my very soul. “I know. You’ve been leaking down your thighs all week. But you’re nearly done bleeding, dirty little doll.”

“I don’t want—” My words die in my throat the moment he touches me between my legs. I squirm to get away, but he rubs me in a place that jolts electricity through me.

He knew my body better than I did now, and at times, it didn’t even feel like my own. It was like my own body was betraying me and craved to feel the release he offered. It’s my only escape out of this place.

“Lie back and let me love you,” he murmurs, his fingers massaging circles below the thatch of my pubic hair. With each swirl of his strong fingers, I get swept up into this sick nightmare further and further.

Pleasure pulsates through me, numbing my cuts and bruises from an outburst he had earlier when I called his latest porcelain doll ugly.

Foreign sensations still the constant roar of hate inside my head. I’m caught up in his wicked web, left for him to devour in some way I can’t even comprehend or anticipate.

Before I even realize it, I’m lying on my back on the mattress. My thighs have fallen apart as he continues his assault on me, and I don’t fight it off one bit.

I’m usually the fighter.

I normally claw at him and hiss and scream when he hurts me.

But he’s done something to my mind by being gentle, by transitioning what we shared before to this new thing he does with my body.

He finally broke me.

And I’m letting him do things I never knew were possible.

“Oh…” I whine, every muscle in my body tightening with the need for release.

Release of what?

“That’s it, pretty little doll. Show me you love me.”

Tears well in my eyes. I’m weak—so darn weak for not pushing him away. I should kick him in the face. Run while I can. Yet, I don’t. It’s futile anyway. He’s too strong,

“Oh!”

“Relax,” he states, “let it happen.”

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