Page 29 of Silver

“Arms behind your back, whore,” he demands in a deep, gravelly voice.

I’m scared out of my head. I shouldn’t have parked so far away from civilization. No one is going to see me here.

What time is it? I assume it’s the middle of the night. I hate that I’m so scantily dressed, too. It gets too hot in my car when I sleep, so I’m wearing a thin tank top and tiny cotton shorts.

“Clasp your hands together, whore,” he orders. “Pull your shoulders back. I want to see those fantastic tits.” Something sharp touches my breast. It scares the hell out of me. A knife?

Tears run out of my eyes. I don’t fight him. There’s no way I could escape. I’m barefoot. I’m chilled from fear and the air. Based on his grip on my shoulder, I’d say he’s significantly larger than me.

Why the fuck didn’t I spring for a motel room? Oh, right. Because I don’t have that much money.

“If you move, I’ll cut you, whore. I suggest you obey me.”

I nod slightly, my fear escalating. If he’s going to assault or kill me, why is he toying with me first?

“What the fuck are you doing sleeping in your car, whore? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

I do now.

“I have to assume you’re a whore since you didn’t even have the doors locked. You must have wanted someone to come along and fuck you. Yeah?”

I shake my head. I’m quivering so badly it’s a wonder I don’t fall on my face. I’m surprised he hasn’t accidentally cut me with the blade he reminds me of by pressing the tip against my chest every few seconds. I feel dizzy, probably from the ski mask. It’s making me unbalanced.

“Fuck, you have a nice body. No wonder you’re a whore,” he chastises.

His breath hits my bare shoulders. I think I might pass out as he squats in front of me.

“Fuck, those really are nice tits.” He touches one of them before pinching my nipple through the thin T-shirt. Did he set the knife down?

I try to scream behind the tape, but the only sound is a muffled whimper. Instead, I pee myself. Urine runs down my inner thighs. Good. Maybe that will turn him off.

Ignoring my accident, he keeps talking. “I need to see them. I need to know how big your nipples are and what color.” He yanks my shirt up to my neck.

My boobs pop free.

His breath hitches. “Fucking nice rack, whore.”

Goosebumps rise all over my body. He’s going to assault me. That much is clear. But maybe he won’t kill me if I can’t see him. I’d never be able to identify him.

I cringe when he touches my nipples, one at a time. His other hand has a firm grip on my shoulder, keeping me from swaying.

“You like that, whore? You like it when I fondle your pert tits?”

I shake my head. Ironically, I was reading one of my favorite dark romances before I went to sleep, where the girl is kidnapped. She likes it. By the time he puts his cock in her, she’s begging him to fuck her.

And here I am, living the inside of the book, except this is reality, not fiction. It’s not going to have a happily ever after.

“Do you lie in your car at night, waiting for men to come fuck these tits, whore?”

I shake my head again, but it’s making me so dizzy.

“Do you know how dangerous it is to sleep in your car? Someone could come along and take advantage of you.”

Is he serious? I bite the inside of my cheek. I need to feel the pain, something to ground me. I’m going to fight this man with everything I’ve got. I won’t let him assault me without hurting him.

I’m plotting how I might knee him in the balls or gouge his eyes out when he pinches one of my nipples so hard it takes my breath away.

When he releases it, he leans closer, poking one of my breasts with the knife again. “You need to find a place to live, whore. It’s not safe to sleep in your car. Lucky for you, I’m the one who found you tonight. Next time, you might not be so lucky. Next time, a fucked-up person might do terrible things to you. Nod if you understand me.”