Head On (Strength And Love)(4)
Suddenly some primitive instinct kicks in and I bite his hand as I kick up off the bed with all my strength.
“Fuck!” He explodes. “What the hell? I know you like rough, but biting’s right out, sweetheart. You do that again, and I’ll show you fucking rough.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about. I open my mouth and begin to scream, but he puts his hand over it once again, but so tight this time I can’t breathe easy, never mind bite him. His other hand grabs both of my wrists in his, pulling them up over my head.
Something hits me then, and it terrifies me. His moves are smooth, choreographed. Practiced!
Oh, my God. He’s either some sort of serial rapist…or worse. He doesn’t seem to be breathing hard, or panicking at all. I can’t make him out clearly but his whole-body language screams calm and in control, and now I’m terrified.
Fear like I’ve never known hits me. I think once more that I’m going to puke, and then I’ll die because of his hand over my mouth. I can’t breathe and my heart is beating a zillion miles an hour. This can’t be happening to me. It just can’t. First time left all alone in my life and this happens. The irony is astonishing.
I’ve been babied all my life, because of the accident, and then getting sick, and the first time I’m left to fend for myself as a grown up this happens. I wanted adventure, and to start living, and now I’m going to die before my time.
“Now, Isla. I’m going to fuck you. And I’m going to do it hard.”
I twist my head from side to side, and tears begin to fall out of my eyes, blurring my vision and making my nose stream too.
I’m going to die tonight. I just know it.
Chapter Three
Ethan
The bitch has hurt my hand and now she’s struggling like crazy. I wonder if I should tie her up and gag her. She likes it rough, so why not? My dick likes the idea. Hell, my dick likes everything about this. She’s a fucking wet dream, and a total break from my usual clientele. Long, soft hair. Cotton white nightie. Seriously, cotton white nightie. I can see her breasts through it though, where the hallway light falls on her chest, making the cotton as insubstantial as gauze. Nice tits. Full, natural. My mouth nearly waters.
They jiggle as she struggles and I decide I am going to tie and gag her, then I can have my hands free to roam that gorgeous body, when something wet runs over my fingers at her mouth. I look up at her face, focus, and freeze.
There’s something seriously wrong. Her eyes are wide and full of terror. Real terror. The kind I know because I’ve seen it far too many times in my life. She’s crying, too. Genuine tears, and tons of them. This isn’t acting. What the fuck is this?
I pull my hand from her mouth. “Don’t fucking scream, okay?” I instruct her, my heart pounding like crazy. Shit, shit, shit.
Something has gone horribly wrong. I’m all about listening to my instincts. If you don’t in a war zone you’ll get yourself killed. Now those old, weird senses all humans carry deep within are screaming on red alert.
The girl’s shaking now, some serious tremors wracking her body and she nods, her teeth clacking. I reach over her and she flinches. I click the bedside lamp on and my breath stalls in my lungs. The light is dim, more like a night light than a proper lamp, but it lets me see enough of her to panic. Twenty-five? No fucking way. She’s, maybe, nineteen, if I’m lucky. Christ, just what I need. Some stupid little girl booking me wanting to play all dirty and then freaking out at the first move I make.
“Why the hell are you crying when you requested this?”
Stupid bitch! We went back and forth a lot last night. I made sure she wanted it this way. Hard and rough. I always go overboard with new clients to protect myself. Not only do they sign a form waiving them of any right to privately sue me, but I know that form will stand up in court, too. An e-signature is binding these days. I get their FB profiles, their bank details, and the emails. And save them all. She even paid me upfront. A lot. So, she regrets it. Fair enough. All she needed to do was safe word out when I first came into the room. She’d picked Sadie as her safe word, the name of her dog, no way would she forget it.
“Why didn’t you use your safe word?”
She just stares at me, but at least the tears are drying up now.
“Shit. You’ve mauled my fucking hand. I’ll probably need a tetanus shot, and you’re the one shaking and crying. You contacted me. You asked for this.” I’m fuming, but at myself more than her. This is a special service, and one I normally only offer regular clients. But I’d been drawn in by how turned on her picture got me, and I let my usual guard down. Normally, I wouldn’t do something like this until I’ve seen a client a few times. Shit, I didn’t even ask Selina about her, not having the opportunity to before the date Isla requested me. I should have said no, should have told her to wait until I’d talked to Selina. I grit my teeth and swallow my anger.
To be honest, I don’t even like this gig that much. I always get a cut up back, and sore eardrums from the fake screams. I much prefer a good old fashioned hard vanilla fuck, but the client’s the one that’s paying. They’ve never reacted like this though.
She shakes her head and for the first time she speaks, her voice shaky and weak. “I dddiddn’t ask for anything. Please, I’m begging you don’t hurt me. I won’t call the police or anything, but just leave. Pppplease. Go.”