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Before I know it, he turns me onto my stomach, tugging his own pants to his knees. I push back against him, feeling his hard cock pressing against my entrance.
“Rone,” I plead, but he pulls my legs farther apart so my ass is sticking in the air. He rubs the hard, wet head of his cock over my butt crack and to my pussy.
“Yeah, baby. Fuck you’re beautiful,” he drawls, slurring his words. Forcing up my legs, he stretches me wide open, making it easier for him to enter. He kisses a trail up my spine.
“Fuck, I’m getting lost in you,” he says, his full weight on top of me.
The sensation of his length pressing into me makes me gasp. He turns my face and kisses me frantically. His eyes go hazy and he sucks in a breath. I’m not going to let him fuck me like this. The son of a bitch is out of his mind if he thinks I’m going to have sex with his spaced out ass. I don’t give a shit if he thinks I’m beautiful, or how hard his dick is. The only thing I want to do is sleep, I’ve had enough of his drunken antics.
“Rone!” I growl, pushing against him. “Drunken asshole, get the hell off me!”
It only spurs him on. Turning me on my back, he intertwines our hands above my head again. He is out of it. I try to get free but he is too strong. His pupils seem darker, his head swaying from side to side.
I try to wiggle out from under his grasp, but he just buries his nose in my hair, saying my name over and over again, making me shiver.
I don’t like the man staring at me, like his psychopathic twin is holding me captive. His pupils are black and dilated like I’ve never seen them before.
Holding his hard cock in his hand, he pumps up and down. His head falls back and his eyes close. Frantically, I look around while he holds me in place. He needs to stop. This isn’t right. This isn’t him. He lets go of his dick and kisses me hard, freeing my hands. I push against his chest; he doesn’t budge.
“You like it rough, do you, babe?” he purrs against my mouth.
I bite on his lip, tasting blood. “Fuck you!” I shout.
“Damn,” he says, tracing his lip with his thumb. When he smiles, there is blood between his white teeth.
“Get off me,” I yell at him to stop.
“Oh, I’ll get you off,” he says, smiling a wolfish grin and grabbing my chin, tilting it up and kissing me again. His tongue plunges in deep.
Tasting his blood makes me sick to my stomach. “Navarone, get the hell off me!”
It is like his mind is somewhere else. The head of his cock is nudging my entrance, not going in yet.
I shiver from the cold, from the feeling of his sweat-soaked, trembling body against mine. What if he OD’d? He is out of it, his eyes darting all over me.
He holds his head to the side, his hair falling in loose strands around his face. The hard lines of his jaw and cheekbones stand out against his shaven cheek. My eyes search the room for something solid to make him stop. He pushes my legs open with his knee and his thumb finds my clit. He pinches it a little and I gasp, bucking on the bed from the sensation.
“Stop it,” I plead. My voice quivers, the tears streaming over.
He glares into my eyes, not seeing me as he uses my juices to rub his shaft. The vein on the side of his hard cock is throbbing.
I frantically look around again. There is nothing except a beer bottle standing on the bedside table. He grabs my right hand firm in his. His legs are between my own, making it impossible for me to move. I reach up, trying to grab the bottle, but the movement seems to encourage him. I bite on my lip, stretching, trying to get hold of the neck. “Damn it,” I say, lifting my leg up before kneeing him in the groin.
He swears, falling on top of me, crushing me. Chuckling, he kisses the side of my neck, his dick twitching against my thigh. He laughs like the drunken son of a bitch he is.
Grabbing my face between his big hands, he slams his mouth down on mine. Rolling his hips against me, his heat is hot between us. Rising up, I grab the cold surface of the bottle firmly between my shaking fingers.
“Fuck, let me feel how tight you are,” he moans, his nose in my hair.
“Rone, stop!” I yell, but he doesn’t react.
“Let’s see how hard I can make you come,” he says in a different voice. His nose is still in my hair, his warm breath and wet lips against my earlobe while he nudges my knees apart.
This isn’t the Rone I know. I whimper when he pushes his tongue in the shell of my ear, his cock prodding against my slick entrance. With full force I smash the beer bottle against his face.
He lets out a roar, clutching his cheek and pulling away from me. The shards cover my naked chest.
“Fuck!” He touches the right side of his face. Blood spurts out onto his white shirt while he slurs his words, his eyes rolling back. He passes out right on top of me, forcing the broken pieces to dig into my flesh.
