The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(118)
She worked in The Tower, she slept in The Tower, and unless her friends begged her to go out, she never left. And, lately, even that was a rare occurrence.
“You’re pathetic,” she growled and lifted the wineglass. Empty. With a sigh, she pushed herself off the couch and wandered back into the kitchen to refill. The stack of papers she’d printed out lurked underneath her laptop on the crisp dining table, tempting her to just bury herself in work.
To be just like Daddy.
It was what she’d always wanted. It was one of the few things that made him smile with pride. It was why she’d killed herself to get the business degree and the art history degree. Something she needed and something she loved, but only one of them was ever going to matter. After all, how was she going to shake off the dumb blonde perception of the board if she couldn’t speak their language? If she didn’t start showing them, she knew how the company was actually fucking doing?
The memory of how she’d looked on the news flashed behind her eyes. The form-fitting royal blue dress, the tasteful jewelry, her long pale hair falling to her waist, that perfect Sinclair smile – she’d looked more like she was trying out for Miss America, not preparing to be the heir to one of the most successful companies on the East Coast. Fuck, she wouldn’t even take a girl like that seriously if they said they wanted to run Monarch Systems.
Damn it all.
“Let’s just drink until we can’t think. How does that sound, Rebecca?” Talking to herself, again, she grabbed the whole bottle of wine and headed back to the couch. Glass refilled, cold and biting as she swallowed, she zoned out on the newscast. Something about a shooting, police looking, blah blah blah. So much chaos in the world, so many angry people. As she took another sip, she heard the click of the door behind her and she smiled to herself.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
“Hey Dad,” she called over her shoulder. “I want to show you something, come in here before you run off to your office!” Pressing the rewind button on the remote so she could show him the news report, she set the wine down. The stupid DVR went too fast and she had to stop it and fast-forward, cursing under her breath. “They were just talking about the facility on the news. I looked like a complete idiot, but you did great. Hold on, I’ll show you. Did Patricia tell you this was airing tonight?”
He didn’t answer her, but she clicked pause as soon as the image of the new building filled the screen. Was he on the phone and ignoring her again? Asshole.
Turning to find her father, she caught a dark shape in her vision, too close, and then the sharp pull of someone’s fist in her hair made her gasp. Panic flooded her with an overdose of adrenaline and she kicked out, her foot colliding painfully with the coffee table, but she was caught. Her struggles only sent her wine crashing to the floor, and an instant later she was hauled over the back of the couch. Rebecca landed hard on the tile, but the adrenaline was now a live wire in her veins and she made it onto her knees, planning to run, when the hand returned to her hair. Air hissed between her teeth, a whimper rising up as the man tightened his grip and then forced her flat. A knee behind her shoulder blades pinning her painfully against the cold tile.
“Let me go!” she screamed as soon as she caught a breath, her voice breaking, but there was no one to hear her in the empty building. No one is coming. Fight. Reaching back, she dug her nails into gloved hands, trying in vain to tear his grip free. A growl rumbled above her just before he cracked her forehead against the floor. Pain flashed like a firework behind her eyes, turning her stomach while she tried to protect her face. Her ears were ringing, and for a moment she was so stunned that she didn’t notice the jerking motions at her waist until she felt the cool tile on her lower belly.
Oh God, he was taking off her pants.
“NO!” Rebecca tried to push up from the tile, but he moved instantly and dropped his knee into her back again, crushing her until her ribs creaked. He was so heavy, too strong, and her fingers slid over the smooth tile finding no traction. Tears blurred her eyes as she whimpered, the sensation of his gloves brushing her thighs as he pushed the soft pajamas down making his motives all too clear.
This couldn’t be happening. There was no way this was happening.
It was a nightmare.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
When he grabbed for her ankle to pull off the pants, she kicked her legs, and his knee dug harder into her back, pain radiating up her spine as it became almost impossible to breathe. “You want to fight me?” The rough voice preceded a hard spank across her ass, and then there was another, and another. Merciless, hot, and stinging. “Go on then. Let’s see what you can do. Try and run, whore.”
With a sharp tug, her pants were free of her legs, but then he was off her. Rebecca ripped air into her lungs, her ribs aching as she eased up onto her elbows. When he didn’t grab for her, she lunged forward, scrambling to her feet to run for the security system by the front door.
Panic button.
She needed to hit the panic button so someone would come. So someone would know what was happening. Six-minute response time, she could make it six minutes.
Wait, why hadn’t it gone off?
The red light was blinking on the front of the security panel, glowing confidently as if it were still armed, and she was barely five feet away when the full weight of the man slammed into her. The hard hit sent them both to the floor, bruising her knees as she caught herself on her hands. No! His arm wrapped across her throat, blood pounding behind her eyes as he began dragging her backwards—away from the panic button, away from the front door, away from escape. “That was pathetic,” he hissed against her ear. “All of you rich bitches are the same.”