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Dammit. No.
I was caught in his trap, his web not letting me go, not until he shot forward and grabbed me. He moved me around like I weighed next to nothing and slammed me down onto the leather booth seat. I squealed at how fast he’d moved me, but I didn’t fight him. Not like I had with Mr. Pozzi.
Shock was holding me captive, not believing what he’d done and how quickly he’d done it. My head spun, my thoughts trying to catch up with me. Maybe I should have fought like I did with Mr. Pozzi at the beginning.
Look where that got you…
Blinking, I resigned myself to the fact that there was no point in fighting, not here, not now. It wouldn’t stop what was happening to me, the guy who had brought me over here would make sure of that because he was still standing close by. Just like the two men had when we were in the room with Mr. Pozzi. I wasn’t sure whether he used the men as backup or just to show them what he can do.
I was so caught in my own head that I didn’t notice he’d come closer until movement between my legs snapped my attention up. The man pushed between my thighs, and even with all the noise around us, I heard the sound of his zipper being pulled down.
No. Not again. I couldn’t do this again, not so soon after…
I was paralyzed, not able to move. It was as if someone had just injected me with the same drugs they give to women in labor, and I couldn’t jerk a single muscle. I screamed at my body to listen, shouted at my muscles to start moving. But nothing…I was stuck.
I gazed up at him, hoping he could see my eyes and know the amount of torment I was in. Maybe that would put him off. Maybe seeing the reality of the situation would make him back off.
Who was I kidding? He didn’t care that I was in pain. He didn’t care that he was about to rape me—the second time in only a couple of days—all he cared about was getting his rocks off.
He ran his hand down my stomach and over my pussy, spreading my lips, then I felt pressure again. Only this time, it was somewhere I was saving. It wasn’t like I’d never had the opportunity growing up, but I wanted it to be with someone special. I wanted the person who took my virginity to love on me and show me what I meant to them.
This…this was the complete opposite.
He was showing me exactly how he viewed a woman’s body: as a piece of meat to satisfy himself.
The man pushed himself inside me, causing me to wince and grind my teeth together.
“It hurts,” I whispered, my body tensing. I regretted saying the words as soon as they’d come out of my mouth, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself.
I braced myself for some kind of impact from him, but all that came was his murmured, “It’s okay.”
Confused, I stared up at him. He was stealing my innocence from me, and there was no regret shining in his eyes, but there was something else about him—something that I couldn’t put my finger on.
His hand ran along my thigh, and as it did, he frowned, pulling back. “A scar.”
My breath picked up at his words and I tried my hardest to slam my legs closed, but it was impossible with him between them. I didn’t want him to look at my scar, I didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that I had no mom and dad on this earth.
He didn’t stop looking between my legs, but with the way he focused, I knew he was looking at nothing but the gnarly scar I’d been left with the night my mom and dad had died. More than once I’d wished that I’d been taken that night along with them. At least then I wouldn’t have had to deal with the agony over the years—and I wouldn’t be here either.
My breaths picked up as he growled, “No,” and grabbed my thighs, then spread them even farther apart.
He suddenly snapped his head up and stared me square in the eyes. I couldn’t make out his entire face because of the dim light, and I knew he couldn’t see me clearly either. Mr. Pozzi made it this way. But the woodsy musk smell that coated him would never leave my senses. It was imprinted of my mind, refusing to leave my memory for as long as I lived.
I shifted, feeling uncomfortable under his serious gaze, but it was a mistake, because the moment I squirmed, I remembered that he was inside me, taking my virginity from me without my permission.
There was an indecision shining in his eyes, and something swirled low in my stomach. Was he about to pull out and forget about the whole thing? Had he come to his senses by looking at my scar? Maybe this was my way out?
I closed my eyes, cursing at myself in my head. There was no way he was going to help. He was just as bad as Mr. Pozzi. He was taking from me, not giving a shit what pain or trauma it caused.
I felt him moving, his body coming down on top of me as he thrust in and out of me. It burned because of how dry I was, but the more he moved, the slicker it got, and I goddamn hated to admit that I moaned. Fuck. He was raping me and I was moaning. What was wrong with me? Was this what my life had come to?
Tears streamed down my cheeks, unstoppable in their path. Pain bleeding from my body in more than one way. Nothing felt right, yet everything felt right. It didn’t make any sense, none of this did.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I gasped out, hoping to God that he would listen, but knowing he wouldn’t. The men who frequented this place were sick and twisted, that was evident with just a quick glance around the room.
“Bailey,” he whispered. I froze, having not heard my name for months. It didn’t even occur to me how he knew my name until he placed his lips near my ear and said, “Your uncle sent me.”
It took a second for his words to register; to realize what he’d just said. He’d spoken so low that there was no way anyone else would have been able to hear him.
