Chapter 3 #2
I’m not sure what I expected, but with a name like The Rose Garden, I thought the rooms would be nicer. This is very bare bones, just a bed and a side table with a lamp on it, but I guess you don’t really need much more than that for what’s about to happen in here.
I shove my coat under the bed, then pace the floor a bit, unable to stay still as my body pulses with adrenaline and anxiety.
But that’s probably not a good first impression for whatever man is going to come through the door, so I make myself sit down on the bed instead, fidgeting and trying to stop.
After a few minutes that seem to both drag and rush by, the door opens again.
A man steps inside the room, and my breath catches.
The first thing I notice is that he’s huge.
The bouncers at Sapphire are big, but this man is massive.
Everything about him looks brutal and harsh, and my heart rate kicks up another notch as his dark eyes meet mine.
He has a square jaw and a thick neck, and his dark hair is cropped close to his head.
He takes in the sight of me on the bed and strides over to get a better look, doing the same up and down thing that Giselle did before.
When his attention lands on my scars, I can see his lips twitch into a sneer.
“Where did you get those?” he asks, and his voice comes out deep and thickly accented. He sounds Russian, which I guess explains more things than it doesn’t.
My stomach flips over at the question, and my mouth is suddenly dry as a bone. Talking about my scars with this terrifying man somehow seems worse than having sex with him, and even if I wanted to, I can’t find my voice. So I just don’t answer.
He narrows his eyes at my silence and leans down, his thick fingers grabbing my chin in a tight grip that makes me wince.
“When I ask you a question, you better answer me,” he growls. “When I tell you to do something, you’d better do it.”
He pauses like he’s waiting for me to say something, but I’m not sure how he expects me to get any words out with him looming over me like this.
“If you are not big on talking,” he grunts out, “then maybe I should put your mouth to use in a different way.”
Even if I could find my voice, he’s on me before I’d be able to get a word in edgewise. One of his huge hands grips my shoulder, pulling me off the bed and shoving me down so I’m on my knees in front of him.
My heart crashes into overdrive, pounding heavily against my ribs as he undoes his pants with one hand, drawing out his cock and pressing it toward me.
It’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen, which I guess isn’t really saying much, since I’ve only ever seen one up close before. But his erection looks like a fucking monster, and I can’t see how there’s any way it’s going to fit into my mouth.
I freeze, feeling sick to my stomach, and the guy gives an impatient growl. When I don’t immediately jump to suck him off, he rubs the head of his cock against my lips.
“Open,” he demands, his voice deep and gravelly.
“I—”
I start to tell him that I don’t know how, but he just takes the opportunity to shove his cock past my lips and into my mouth.
I immediately choke, gasping for air around the intrusion.
I’ve only done this once before, and I have no idea what I’m doing, but that doesn’t stop him.
He just grunts and drags his cock against my tongue, the thickness of it making me drool around him.
Spit drips down my chin, and my eyes well with tears.
“Wider. Watch your fucking teeth.”
He grabs a fistful of my hair and uses it like a handle to jerk my head back and forth, forcing me to take more and more of his cock. Each time it hits the back of my throat, I gag, sputtering and coughing.
After a few moments, he mutters something under his breath in Russian, probably a curse word.
“Little bitch,” he grunts. “So fucking bad at this.”
He uses his hold on my hair to drag me back again, yanking me off his cock. I gasp for air as he drags me up from the floor.
“You’ll clearly only be good for one thing.” He chuckles darkly. “And that’s your tight little pussy.”
He deposits me on the bed as he speaks, tossing me around like I weigh nothing. Then he grabs my ankles and yanks my legs open, forcing them to spread for him as he settles himself between my thighs, taking up so much space.
His eyes are dark with anger and impatience, his breath coming faster. When he grabs my wrists with one hand, pinning them over my head, I struggle against his grip, fighting back on pure instinct.
“Be still,” he snarls.
I know I should do what he says. I know I agreed to this, know I need the money. But still, I can’t help the way I squirm under him, my breath coming in choppy gasps.
His free hand comes down and grabs the front of my nightie, yanking roughly.
The silky fabric rips, exposing my breasts and stomach to him, and a dark hunger flares in his eyes. He looks down my body and when he sees the simple black panties I put on, he shakes his head and goes to rip those off as well.
My breathing turns almost frantic, and I squeeze my eyes shut, nausea churning in my stomach.
Outside the room, I hear a faint sound. I’m not sure what it is, but I try to focus on that instead of the muscled Russian pinning me down with his large body. He slides a hand between my legs, bracing himself above me.
“You’re ugly as fuck, but at least you’ll be tight enough to make up for—”
The door bursts open, cutting him off mid-word.
There are two soft pops, and the man jerks, grunting as he collapses on top of me.
His weight is heavy and suffocating, and something warm and wet begins to spread over my body, soaking through my torn nightie.
Blood.