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“You’ll earn one with time. Now step away from the fucking door.”
He burst through the door, and my body bounced off. I flew across the bathroom and smashed my hip against the sink. I slipped and fell to the floor.
“I told you to put on the clothes I brought.”
He stepped toward me, and I pushed my feet into the floor, sliding backward on my ass until my back hit the wall. He grabbed a fist full of hair near my scalp and pulled me to my feet.
“Ouch,” I cried, grabbing his hand with both of mine, but he didn’t budge. I followed him to the bedroom. He held firm until I ended up back on the bed, still in my stained dress.
The smell of grilling steak and something else brought nausea to my gut. I hurled over the bed and onto the floor, spilling my insides. He strode to the dresser, brought the glass of water, and passed it my way.
“Rinse. I don’t want your vomit all over my cock.”
I took the glass from his hand, filled my mouth and spat everything in his face. His hand flew to my cheek, stinging.
“You cunt.”
I pushed my feet into the mattress until my back pressed against the wall, watching him remove the switchblade from his pocket. He hopped on the bed and pressed it against my throat.
“We were going to eat, but it looks like you’re not starved enough.” A cocky grin painted his face. “I am, though.”
He opened a dresser drawer, grabbed two new zip ties and a rope.
“No, no… Please, they hurt.”
“Hands over your head.”
Snot ran freely down my nose. I wiped it with the back of my arm before lifting both arms to the railing above my head. He fastened my wrists to the frame and moved on to my legs.
“You kick me, and I’ll kill you.”
Light reflected on the switchblade as he spun it between his fingers. He tied rope around each ankle and stretched my legs apart, tying each end to a bedpost.
“Chad, I’m… I’m not going to run, I promise.” My gasped plea stuck in my chest. I couldn’t let him go through with it. I couldn’t let him hurt my baby.
He flicked open the top button of his jeans and lowered the zipper.
“My father wanted a pure heir. Denying him a dying wish would be wrong.”
“Wrong? What about what you’re doing? Isn’t that wrong? He’s already dead, and he doesn’t care about a stupid wish. I’m your sister, for God’s sake!”
He held my stare for what felt like forever, but once that smirk lifted the corner of his face; I knew I had lost.
“He may not care, but I do.”
I writhed on the bed, desperate for a miracle, or a heart attack for Chad.
“Please, Chad, you can’t do this to me.”
“Don’t worry, Gracie. I’ll give you everything you want and need. I’ll make you my queen.”
“You don’t get to call me your queen.” I pulled in a sniffle.
My dress rose between my legs. He grabbed the switchblade and swung his arm forward, piercing the fabric between my thighs.
I screamed.
“Fine.Whorewill do as well.”
