Again he twists the end off quickly, careless with the angle. The metal catches as he pulls it free, sending another hot flare of pain through my nipple before it slides out.
He holds both pieces up for a second, turning them between his fingers like he was inspecting them.
He sighs, “shame we’re about to land.”
His hand returns to my chest before the words even finish leaving his mouth. His fingers close around my nipple and twist hard.
Pain rips through me.
My back jerks against the restraints as a muffled sound pushes against the gag. The movement only makes it worse. My breasts had already been swollen for days, heavy and sore from the pregnancy, my nipples tight and painfully sensitive even before he touched them. The pressure of his fingers sends a sharp, nauseating jolt straight through my chest.
Grant watches the reaction closely.
His eyes lift to mine.
A raw scream tears out of my chest, trapped behind the gag. The sound comes out strangled and furious, my body jerking against the restraints as rage surges through me. My teeth bite down hard into the fabric while the jet roars around us.
Grant doesn’t react.
His fingers tighten again, grinding the sensitive skin before finally letting go.
“I could’ve had a lot more fun with you. But Elliot doesn’t like sloppy seconds.” His mouth lifts slightly. “He prefers to ruin them himself.”
He leans back like the moment is over, like none of it matters.
The engine pitch shifts under us. The steady roar dips lower, the vibration changing as the plane starts to descend. My body tilts forward slightly against the restraints, pressure building in my ears. The movement turns uneven, subtle drops and corrections as we cut through the air.
Then the landing hits.
The impact slams up through the seat and into my spine, hard enough to jar my teeth. The wheels screech briefly against the runway before the plane stabilizes, still moving fast but grounded now. The roar fades into a lower rumble as we slow, the vibration easing in waves beneath me.
The engine idles low, steady now. A latch clicks somewhere behind me. Then the cabin door opens and cold air floods in.
I barely get a second to process it before the hood is dragged back over my head, sealing me in darkness again.
Rough hands grab me. They haul me out of the seat and push me forward. My boots hit metal first, then shift to narrow steps. I stumble as they drag me down, the angle steep, their grip the only thing keeping me upright.
Wind cuts through my clothes. I feel gravel under my feet.
They don’t slow. They pull me across uneven ground, stones shifting and crunching with every step.
A car door opens.
I’m shoved forward and forced down onto the floor again, my shoulder slamming into something hard as the door shuts behind me.
The engine starts. The second drive feels shorter but rougher, with fewer turns and longer stretches of silence that press in around me.
When the vehicle finally stops, no one speaks.
The door opens, hands pull me out again. My boots hit the ground, and the air feels different here, colder and heavier.
“Come on.”
They haul me forward. Even through the hood, I feel it before I see it. Then the hood is ripped off.
The building stands in front of me.
Dark stone stretches upward. Rain slicks the walls, turning them black and reflective. Tall pines crowd close on every side, cutting off the horizon and swallowing any sense of escape.
