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The house is mostly quiet, so I push the door shut, leaving it a little ajar so as not to allow it to squeak again.
Jake stays silent in my ear, and I bring my hair down to cover the gaudy ear piece. I’ve considered everything that could happen, and have different plans for each scenario.
Just as I turn the corner, my heart kicks my chest, and my eyes widen on the barrel of a gun that I wasn’t expecting.
“Shit!” Morgan shouts, dropping the gun to his side, still holding it though, as he looks at me in confusion. “Damn, girl. What the hell are you thinking just walking into a man’s house?”
I swallow down my surprise, realizing just how right Jake might have been, as Morgan looks at me with utter confusion. That gun will be blowing my brains out if he finds out who I am right now.
“Sorry,” I say, squeaking the word intentionally.
Morgan won’t fear a woman, after all. I’m harmless, at least in his mind. It’s his mentality. Women are easily overpowered when he has them under him.
“My car broke down, and this is the first house I saw,” I go on, clutching my heart as though it’s beating too fast.
He eyes my cleavage, and a slow smile spreads across his lips. Yeah, I did that just for you, big guy. I know what you like. I’m sexy, not dangerous. Keep thinking that way and put the damn gun down.
“Oh?” he asks, slowly clicking the safety back into place on his gun.
“Yeah. I saw a light on.” I pull my hair back, and point to the Bluetooth ear piece. “My phone died, so I was hoping to borrow one. Unless you know something about cars.”
He licks his lips, his eyes still on my cleavage.
A fist slams into my face, and I cry out in pain, unable to hold back the tears this time. Warmth spills down the front of my face, and I know it’s blood. Know he just broke something.
“Damn, Morgan, don’t fuck up her face yet!” Kyle hisses. “I still want another piece, and I can’t stare at blood to get off. I’m not like her sick fuck of a dad. And it’s not your turn again, anyway.”
More tears pour from my eyes as Morgan comes down on top of me. “Just worry about her brother’s ass some more. That’s where your dick should be.”
“What did you say?” Kyle growls.
“You heard me. Maybe they like getting their dicks rubbed by anything with a squeeze, but you don’t get to tell me where to put mine. I choose pussy over ass any day. Especially a dude’s ass, faggot.”
Kyle steps closer, but Morgan flashes him a daring grin. Kyle may be running the show, but Morgan is the only one who isn’t suffering from pack mentality. Kyle knows it, and though he might want to kill the sicko on top of me for not knowing his place, he lets it go.
Morgan is only here to fuck me. He’s not here to punish me like the others.
He’s been waiting for a day when he could do this.
His hands knead my breasts, and he releases an appreciative groan. “I’ve always wanted a taste of these,” he says, bringing his lips down on them.
I’m too numb to feel it. At least that is what my mind is telling me. I’m sick of feeling. I want to be numb forever.
Strong hands are grappling my weaker ones, holding me down, but I’ve stopped fighting, so there’s no need to restrain me anymore. The blow to my face has killed most of my fight, dazing me.
“At least I brought lube,” Morgan says against my ear, thrusting in and out, as I try to pretend I’m anywhere else. “I made this feel good, and you fucking bit me?” he hisses acidly against my ear. “I want this to feel good for you, baby. I didn’t have to hit you if you’d just kissed me instead of trying to bite me,” he says, his thrusts building speed. “I want you to come. I want you to know it was me who made you come. I want you to close your eyes for the rest of the night and see me thrusting in and out of you even when it’s not my turn.”
My stomach roils, and I swallow back the vomit.
“You’re going to love every second I’m inside you.” He moves my hair to the side. “Just remember I could have stopped all this if you’d stopped fighting me a long time ago.”
He stills inside me, shuddering his release. I stare blankly at the side as he runs his lips along my neck. I’m drenched from the lube, and the pain is more bearable, but to keep from crying, I picture someone riding in to save us. They’ll start by chopping his head off while he’s inside me.
That way I’ll see him die every time I close my eyes, and I’ll sleep better at night.
“Who’s tapping in?” Morgan asks, laughing as he cups my breasts one last time.
I don’t even fight when I’m flipped over on the concrete so the next one doesn’t have to see my bloody face. I’m tired of seeing. I’m tired of breathing.
