5
SUMMER
Iwake up warm, that's the first wrong thing. The second is the arm around my waist, heavy and possessive, fingers spread across my stomach. The third is that I'm naked, completely naked, no sheet, no dress, nothing between my skin and his except heat and the smell of cedar and sex.
My eyes snap open.
I’m in his bedroom, his bed. The curtains are cracked and thin morning light cuts a line across the marble floor, and I can feel him behind me, his chest against my back, his breath slow and steady against my neck. He's still asleep even though his arm tightens around me like a reflex, pulling me closer, and I feel his cock hard against my ass.
My stomach drops, remembering last night, the dinner table, the wax, the way I launched myself at him, the way I said yes to him fucking me.
What was I thinking?
He came inside me.
We didn’t use a condom.
Shit!
Panic hits me so fast my vision blurs. I can't get pregnant, not here, not by him, not by this man, he’s a monster. He cuffed me to a chair, put a dildo inside me, and told me he was going to take me apart piece by piece. He took me as collateral for my father’s debt as if I were worth nothing.Apparently, you’re worth fifty million.I shake that thought from my mind. I gave in to him last night. What was I thinking? I kissed him first. I chose it, and that's worse than anything he could have forced because at least if I was being forced, I could blame him.
I need to get out of this bed, as a panic attack starts to take over. I lift his arm carefully, holding my breath. He shifts but doesn't wake, and I slide out from under him. My feet hit the floor and I'm moving before I can think. His closet is open, and I grab the first things I see, a black T-shirt that hangs to my thighs, and a pair of his shorts that I have to roll at the waist three times. His shoes are too big, so I forget about them.
I'm out of the bedroom and down the corridor in seconds. The villa is quiet, the staff aren't up yet or they're somewhere I can't see. The glass doors to the pool deck are closed but not locked. I slide one open and the morning heat is already building, thick and damp, the sun barely above the tree line. I scan the area, not the beach, I need to try another exit, he’ll expect me to go there again. I cut left this time, past the garden, past the edge of the property where the manicured lawn turns to wild grass and then jungle. The vegetation is thick and dark, and I push into it without stopping, branches scratching my arms and legs, vines catching at the oversized shirt. I can't believe I let him touch me and that I touched him back. I can't believe I came on his thigh, on his dinner chair, and on his table. I kissed him, and I let him come inside me without a condom like some desperate idiot who forgot every rule she ever made for herself.
The jungle swallows me. It's dense and loud, with birds screaming in the canopy and insects humming in theundergrowth. The ground is soft and damp under my bare feet. I don't know where I'm going, I just need to not be in that bed, in that room, in his arms where I fit too well and slept too soundly. I make it maybe ten minutes before I hear him.
Not footsteps, nothing that obvious, but a branch snaps somewhere behind me, then silence, then another snap, this time closer. He's not hurrying, he's tracking me, giving me a lead, letting me burn off my own energy while he walks. I keep moving, keep pushing. My feet are cut on rocks or roots, and sweat is already soaking through his shirt. The jungle gets thicker, and I push through walls of green, my arms out in front of me, my breathing ragged.
"You went left this time," his voice comes from somewhere behind me, calm, almost conversational. "That's an improvement."
I don't answer as I push harder into the undergrowth.
"There's a waterfall about two hundred meters ahead." He's closer now. "The drop won't kill you, but you'll probably break both ankles or drown."
I stop.
My chest is heaving and my legs shake. The cuts on my feet are stinging, and I can hear him right behind me now, but I don’t realize how close he actually is until his hand closes around the back of my neck.
“Got you,” he growls, voice low and dark.
I fight like hell, twisting, kicking, clawing at his arms. He spins me around so my chest is against a tree. He then pins my wrists above my head with one brutal hand and yanks the shorts down my legs with the other, they catch around my ankles, and he doesn’t bother removing them. I try to kick him, which makes him laugh darkly. I can’t get him from this angle. He spits loudly, and then I feel his fingers slide over my folds as he rubs his spit roughly over my bare pussy, spreading the saliva messily.Without another word, he’s pushing the head of his cock against my entrance.
Shit.
I’m still sore, still swollen from last night.
He doesn’t care. He thrusts in hard, forcing every inch inside me in one long, brutal stroke. I scream at the fullness, the stretch burns, he’s so deep it feels like he’s in my stomach. He groans against my neck, hips pressed flush against my ass.
“Still so fucking tight,” he rasps. “Even after being stretched at dinner.”
He starts moving, slow at first, deep, grinding strokes that make me feel every thick inch. The bark scrapes against my tits with every thrust. My feet barely touch the ground, I’m pinned, impaled, and completely at his mercy.
“Please …” I hear myself begging, the shame sits heavy in my chest.
“Please, what?” He bites my shoulder hard. “Please stop? Or please fuck you harder like the dirty little slut you are?”
I’m not sure, but both sound good right now.
