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A desperate whimper leaves me as he gets me onto my back again. I try to kick at him, but he just continues coming up my body until he's sitting on my hips, all but making my legs useless behind him. His cock is against my stomach, poking into me, making it all too clear exactly what he intends to do.
"No, no, no," I cry out. This can't be happening. This is not going to happen.
I sit up as much as I can and scratch at his face, pulling on what I can now see is a ski mask. He shouts before lunging forward and shoving me by my shoulders back to the bed.
"You bitch," he growls in my face.
The moment the thought crosses my mind to bring my forehead to his nose, I thrust my head forward. He moves back too quickly, so I reach for his neck, but my hands never make it there. He grabs my wrists and slams them to the bed, taking me down with them. I strain against where he has them pinned on the sides of my head as he begins leaning in again. He brings his face within inches of mine, and I shrink back in fear, staring into his eyes. Wait, those eyes. I know those eyes.Those gray eyes. I inhale deep, smell the sandalwood on him that allows my heart to beat just a little slower. Not too much, but enough for heat to rush through me. Enough for excitement to fill me that he's here again, finally. But his fingers digging into my wrists bring me right back to the moment, back to the fear of it, the terror of what he came to do.
"Please. If you leave now, I'll never say a word."
"Oh, it's too late for that." His lips curve up into a grin. "Besides, we haven't even had any fun yet."
"Help!" I scream, but his gloved hand is clamped over my mouth in a second, his other hand holding onto both my wrists, squeezing them painfully together.
"Oh no, no. We don't want any uninvited visitors, do we? It's just me and you here." He leans down more, his mouth coming to my ear. "For as long as I want you."
"Please, don't. I'll give you anything you want."
He snickers. "Why would you need to give it to me when I'm already taking it?"
Then the sounds of us both moving fills the darkness of my bedroom. My muffled cries from behind his hand mixing with his grunts. He fights to keep hold of my wrists with his one hand while I try like hell to throw him off my body. He's heavy, and each time I buck, it seems like he puts even more of his weight on me, but I won't give up. Not when the struggle is making me want him more and more with each second. Not when it means I get to feel his cock rubbing against my stomach, making my body remember what it felt like when it was inside of me days, too many days, ago. Not when his filthy words are making me picture all the possibilities of what he's about to do.
I bite at his hand, and he snatches it away with a hiss as the taste of leather fills my mouth.
"I'm gonna make you pay for that," he promises.
I scream out, cry out. He doesn't bother to try and quiet me now. His hands are busy; one holding both of my wrists tightly, and the other in his hoodie pocket. I stare with wide eyes as he pulls a rope from it. Then he's leaning over, lifting my hands toward my headboard.
"No!" I scream. "No. no."
I pull my arms down with all the energy I have and manage to wretch one hand free. I reach for something, anything on my nightstand. All I'm able to grab is a fucking book. Good enough. I try to slam it into his head, but he grips my hand again, squeezing my knuckles together so tightly, it feels like the bones might snap. I cry out in pain and drop it.
"Please," I pant as he crawls up my chest.
He settles over my neck, hovering there, just inches above where I can feel my pulse pounding against my skin. The rope is in his mouth now, both his hands free. He brings one of my hands over my head and puts the other under his knee, crushing it into the mattress.
"Don't do this. Please," I plead.
I try to jerk my hand away, fighting to prevent him from using the rope he's wrapping around it. It doesn't do anything. He ties my hand to the headboard, the coarse rope biting into my skin as he tightens it far too much. Then he lifts his knee to take hold of my other hand.
"I'm begging you. Please."
My voice goes higher with my need, but not for him to stop. For him to fuck me, choke me, whatever the hell he wants to do with me. But I need him to do it right now.
He goes utterly still, leaning over me, my hand in his grip. "You like begging?"
My lips quiver, but no words pass. I know I've put myself into a trap now, my own words condemning me. I slowly raise my eyes to his. I find a manic lust staring back at me. I want it all. I want every bit of it. Even if I do have to beg for it.
"Go on, beg," he urges.
"I- I..."
"Beg!" he shouts, and I flinch.
"Please leave. Please just go. I will pretend none of this happened."
He leans down until his face is right over mine, lips almost against mine. "Why would I want to pretend none of this hashappened when I came here to give you a night you'll never forget?"
