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Obviously, I didn’t make it.
I knew I wouldn’t. He was right behind me.
Everything else is foggy. I don’t know how I ended up here. All I know is I’m here with him in his bed, and my clothes are gone.
I feel for them just to be sure. My hand slides over my naked breast and the peak of my nipple. I run it down my stomach, and slide my fingers between my bare legs.
I squeeze my eyes closed when I feel nothing, not a single thread of fabric on my body.
He lied. He told me it wouldn’t do anything for him to rape me while I was unconscious, but the bastard lied.
My heart feels so heavy, and I feel so, so stupid.
I should have known. Ididknow. I knew what would happen if I came here, but I had to come anyway. He had my cat.
Tears well up in my eyes, but they don’t fall. It’s just a little sadness, not a full on, dramatic cry.
I’m almost resigned, even though it has just hit me.
I knew this would happen, and now it has.
What I don’t know is what happens next.
My mouth is so dry, I can’t even focus on anything else. I don’t want to ask him for anything, but I’m desperate. “Do you have water?”
Wordlessly, Calvin reaches for something on his bedside stand. Relief grips me when he uncaps a bottle of water and hands it to me.
“Thank you,” I murmur instinctively, then flinch because Ihaveto stop thanking this asshole for things.
My body feels so much better as I gulp down half of the bottle. Even my head doesn’t seem to hurt as much. I’m irrationally afraid he won’t give it back if I don’t finish the whole thing, so I only stop to come up for air, then I gulp down the rest of it.
He takes the empty bottle and replaces the lid. “I take it you were thirsty.”
I don’t want to talk to him. He’s the only person who knows what happened to me, though, so on the off chance he tells the truth, I ask woodenly, “What did you do to me?”
Some part of me imagines hewilltell me, but not because he’s honest.
Because he enjoys it.
Because he likes confessing perverse things when he knows I’m powerless to leave.
I’m prepared for it, so I don’t flinch when he says, “You passed out, so I picked you up and carried you in to bed.”
He says that like it’s a natural thing to do, like there was any chance I would have ended up in his bed of my own volition.
“Did I lose my clothes along the way?” I ask a bit dryly.
“No, but while the dress I picked out for you looked beautiful on, I figured it wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in. Then, once I peeled that off, you looked so much more comfortable, I thought I’d keep going.”
“How gallant.”
His lips quirk ever so slightly. “Once I got your bra off, your lovely tits were just begging for attention...”
Here it comes…
I swallow.
The bedding rustles as he moves closer to me. I stiffen, but don’t immediately pull away when he peels back the soft blanket that was covering my boobs.
