Page 6 of Penny
He smiled, moving my drying strands of hair away from my face. His calloused fingers shocked me. His palm was soft when it wrapped around my throat. Why were the pads of fingers not the same? A glimpse of a circular tattoo with a K under a snarling wolf’s jaw while it ate a raven, caught my eyes. Celtic knots were intertwined with the beast's chest, and its artistic layout made me wonder if it was significant. His arms and neck were covered in tattoos, but this was the only one on his hand.
“Emily.” He rolled my name on his tongue. “My name is Connor.” He rubbed his clothed erection against my center and groaned.
He ground into me, rubbing the seam of my sweatpants up and down my clit. The call to give in to my desire rattled me, but a chill washed over me. I couldn’t let this happen. I rose on my forearms, then bit my lower lip, seemingly surrendering myself to his control. He moaned in appreciation while reaching for the zipper of the jacket I wore.
In a sudden move, I shot my fist forward, hitting him in the balls.
“Fucking bitch!” he cursed, cupping his manhood.
I took advantage of his weakness, leaping to my feet, and sprinted for the door. My bare feet slapped down a tiled hallway, and my heart raced alongside me. Where did he leave my bag? A spiral staircase was at the end of the long hall, and I picked up my pace to get to it. I’d need to be way ahead of him to find my belongings, and a nut punch wouldn’t put him down for long.
My steps down the staircase were loud, and the metal railing wobbled. A door slammed upstairs, forcing me to look up from the bottom floor. Connor’s dark eyes glared down, causing me to falter in my escape. The rage I saw earlier was nothing compared to this, and that made my throat constrict. His wrath awaited me.
Please, universe, don’t make me choose between the only things that bring me comfort and my life. I beg this of you.
My breaths came heavy as I ran into a dining room. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked New York City, brightening the rooms. My gut led the way to the front door while my erratic thoughts implored me to recover what was mine. My bag would be on the other side of the door. It had to be. I twisted the front door’s knob, but it didn’t move. My fists pounded on the wooden door, hoping to stumble upon the lock trapping me in, or for a neighbor to hear me.
Giving up, I turned around and pressed my back against the door. My chest was consumed in flames, and my lungs shrunk. He slowly walked across his expansive living area, unbuttoning his shirt. I expelled a haggard breath, digging deep for my will to survive. My shoulders straightened, and I widened my stance, wanting to accept what was to come. This tormentor would be an acquaintance, and I’d welcome his catastrophe with a cold embrace.
His bare chest radiated heat, and I looked everywhere but at him. I searched for safety inside the depths of my mind, needing a safe place to hide.
“This could have been good for you,” he growled, making an icy shiver run down my spine until my limbs froze with fear.
I nodded absently, wanting to show my submission. If I wanted to be dead, it would have already happened. I’d wanted to be alone, escape to the mountains, live alone with a dog. Now, I would be enslaved by a man.
His hand coiled into my hair and yanked, pulling me across the room. The absence of the music made my whimpers echo in his home. My face slammed against the cold floor-to-ceiling windows. A searing sting radiated through my cheekbone, creating a dull ache. The city lights blurred together from the tears streaming down my face, and my hot breath fogged the window. His belt buckle rattled from behind me, brushing against my lower back.
“If you don’t take off my jacket, I will do it for you, andthatwill hurt,” he hissed into my ear, sending gooseflesh dancing upon my skin.
The backside of a blade slid roughly along my hip and down my leg. I jerked.
“Better not move or I’ll cut you,” he breathed into my ear, slamming my cheek harder into the glass.
His tongue lapped at my neck as I fumbled with the zipper of the stolen jacket. I desperately wanted to despise his touch, but the more his breath warmed my neck, the more I liked it. What was wrong with me? He moved to my other hip, slicing off the sweatpants I’d stolen from him. The sting in my scalp lessened as he released my hair, kneeling. Beard stubble rubbed along my ass cheek, forcing me to count down from five hundred in my head. I needed to distract myself like I always did. If he wasn’t done by the time I was finished, I would start again.
Four hundred and ninety-nine.
“You are wet,” he groaned, making me spread my legs apart with just a tiny slice of his blade.
My inner thigh burned at the tap, and warmth traveled down my leg. His calloused finger swiped at the blood sliding down my leg and brushed it back up and over the stinging cut. I looked down at the city. It was only fitting that it watched me lose my freedom of choice. It had already robbed me of so much at a young age. Connor roughly shoved his bloody finger inside my channel, making me cry out.
Four hundred and twenty-five.
His soft tongue slid between my ass crack, licking around the rim of my ass. A moan accidentally slipped free, filling my stomach with rocks. I didn’t want him to know I liked that. The vibrations of his laughter made me tighten around his single finger. He pulled out of me as fast as he’d pushed into me and shot to his feet. The sound of pants falling to the floor and the ripping of a condom wrapper made the hairs on my nape stand up.
“I would have made you come earlier. Now I’m just going to make it hurt,” he seethed, pressing the head of his cock against my entrance.
Three hundred and eighty-nine.
He shoved inside me and quickly picked up the pace. I bit my lower lip, not wanting to give him the pleasure of my cries. His cock pumping in and out of me quickly became lubricated, and I forced myself to think of all the bad in my life to ignore his sexy grunts. I loved a man who moaned in pleasure. It just so happened that the man groaning in pleasure was raping me.
Two hundred and fifteen.
He snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me from the window and into him. His thrusts deepened with that movement, and my own moan slipped free.
“I know it feels so good,” he grunted, slipping his hand between my folds and rubbing circles around my clit
I snapped my eyes shut, slowly rocking my hips down into his touch. Shame burned at my stomach, but the delicious heat of my impending orgasm spurred me on. He laughed sardonically, breaking my trance.
