Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FRANCESCA
A terrifying sense of déjà vu sweeps over me as Kincaid uses his body weight to pin me face down to the bed.
My bed. In my home. And I can’t do anything to stop him.
A huge bubble of impotent rage fuels my struggle. I fight to lift my body or wriggle free or kick him in the fucking balls , utterly failing. I gasp for breath as his hand snakes around my throat and his lips press against my ear, warm breath turning to condensation on my cold skin.
“You don’t need to rub against me to turn me on,” he murmurs, the rumble of his laughter vibrating through my ribcage. “I’ve been hard since you were first gagging around me.”
He grinds against my arse in a graphic demonstration.
It feels like his cock stretches halfway up my back, and I resume fighting in earnest, again getting nowhere, just straining my muscles until they ache.
His fingers play along my windpipe, a gentle reminder that he doesn’t care if I can breathe.
The steady thump in my temples from being submerged grows stronger. I clench my jaw, fighting back tears—an irrational response to anger that always leaves me feeling weaker.
“You don’t know how good it feels when you move like that.” He follows the declaration with a long groan in case I was in any doubt he’s enjoying it. “Fight as hard as you want. There’s no way you’re getting free.”
His fingers slide under my sweater and trail down the side of my body, caressing and grabbing and pinching, then soothing away my sore flesh with the circling movements of his large palm. They delve beneath my kilt and inside my panties, stroking against me while my head keeps urging me to fight and my body slumps in exhaustion.
“Please,” I whisper.
“You don’t need to beg me, Francesca.” He presses a row of gentle kisses along the curve of my shoulder, nuzzling into my hair, his front teeth closing on my ear lobe, tugging, then slowly scraping free. “I’m happy to oblige.”
A shiver works across my back, sinking into my shoulder blades as his fingers stop cupping me and press along the seam of my pussy, demanding entry.
I buck my hips back against him, another vain attempt to dislodge his bulk. A disastrous idea because it just helps him gain access, the satisfied hiss of air as he rubs his finger along my inner flesh sounding like a snake in my ear.
“What do you like?” he whispers, then nips at my neck, laving the pain away with his tongue. “Tell me what gets you wet.”
“Being left alone.”
Another rumble of laughter sinks into my bones. The fingers stop playing at my throat and reach under my body, closing over my breast and squeezing. My nipple hardens against his palm, and I bite my cheek until I taste blood.
The self-punishment isn’t enough to stop an avalanche of guilt at my reaction.
“Every part of you feels so good.” His weight shifts, hand lifting my torso so he can pinch my nipple, his cock thrusting against my lower back when I give a cry of protest. “Tell me what your last boyfriend did to turn you on.”
I bury my face in the pillow, wanting to shut out the world until it stops torturing me.
“If you won’t give me a clue, I’ll just have to experiment by myself.”
I force my body to become limp. The only resistance I can think of is to lie still and not give him any satisfaction.
“Fucking hell,” he complains, sitting back on his heels and flipping me onto my back. He shoves his gorgeous face close to mine and his unsettling eyes glow like fiery embers. “This is for your benefit.”
I snort, turning my face to the side to avoid his searching eyes.
And his lips press to my ear again, buzzing as he says, “Do you really want me to shove my cock into you while you’re dry? Most girls find it a struggle even when they’re soaking.”
A burst of white-hot panic sends my pulse racing. “I don’t want you to do anything.”
“But I am.”
I glare, fear and fury stiffening my jaw. “Then go ahead and hurt me.”
His knuckles brush my cheek, gentle as a feather, and he shrugs. “Fine.”
He straddles me, pulling off my jumper and shoving up my skirt. When I push him, hard, he lifts my arms above my head and holds my wrists there with one hand. His knee thrusts between my legs, forcing them apart, and my thin underwear tears as he strips them from me, tossing the pieces over his shoulder to land on the floor.
A finger shoves inside me, scraping against my tender walls. When I wince, he lowers his face to mine. “This is what you wanted, remember? Stop whining when you made your choice.”
I close my eyes and turn my head. Hide in your safe place. But the sheer size of Kincaid makes him hard to ignore.
His teeth close on my neck again, a proper bite this time. Sinking into my flesh until a long groan escapes my throat.
A single tear slips from my eyelid, trailing down my cheek. He swipes it with his thumb, ferrying it to his mouth with a satisfied sigh. “You cry so beautifully.”
He licks the next one from my cheek, then sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, biting until it swells from the abrasion. And all the while, his finger pumps into me, gradually thrusting deeper.
The feeling is invasive. Alien. But the longer he caresses my inner walls, the more my body welcomes the attention.
“Last chance,” he says in a mocking whisper. “You’d better hope the neighbours have the volume on their TVs turned up or they’re going to hear your screams.”
Terror makes it hard to choke out the word, “Wait!”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Wait for what?”
“I could… do the other, instead.”
“The other?”
His playfulness is as distressing as his threats. I scrunch my eyes closed, holding onto the last of my composure.
“Let me blow you again. You said you liked it.” A shudder pulses out from my lower back, and I fight to keep the dismay off my face, opening my eyes again. “I can do that, and you can leave, and I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
He cups my cheek, lips twitching. “It’s a compelling counteroffer but I think I’ll stick with my plan. Maybe we’ll do it your way next time.”
“I have Hepatitis. The bad kind.”
Again, his lips twitch. “What you have is a terrible poker face and no leverage.”
He sits back on his heels, releasing my hands as he forces his other hand into my mouth, thrusting his fingers towards the back of my throat.
“That’s it.” His voice is a low growl. “Get them nice and wet for me.”
When he withdraws, they’re covered in my saliva, and he rubs it along the folds of my pussy. “And again.”
He shoves them farther into my mouth this time, making me gag until my knees rise off the mattress.
“Good girl,” he purrs, then tugs down his waistband to stroke his wet fingers along his cock, stopping to spit in his palm for added lubrication.
The sight stirs something inside me, the first hint of arousal growing into a pulse as his fingers move, spreading the saliva along his shaft, fingertips bumping over the protruding veins, wiping across the tip, collecting the beads of precum and spreading that along his length, too.
I can’t look away, even when he pushes my thighs even farther apart, the desire a stronger pulse now, splitting me into two people with different agendas. One whose hips buck towards him, wanting the press of him against my sensitive flesh, craving the friction. The other with hands that tear at his hair and push at his shoulders, slapping his face, clawing at his eyes.
“Steady,” he warns, recapturing them to pin above my head. “You don’t want to ruin the nice time we’re having.”
He notches himself at my entrance, eyes gazing into mine as he slowly pushes into me, the stretch immediate and overwhelming.
I suck in a breath and twist, clenching my inner muscles like that will expel him.
“Holy shit, you’re tight,” he says, and his voice sounds close to awe, though I don’t know why it surprises him.
With his gigantic cock, the entire world must be tight.
Another inch squeezes inside me, like a coke can shoved between my legs. “Stop,” I gasp. “Please stop.”
He lays still on top of me, not moving further, not withdrawing.
When I whimper, he puts a hand over my mouth, his breath hot in my ear. “No need to cry, Freckles. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.” He withdraws, relieving the discomfort, then pushes inside again. “But we need to sort this. I don’t want your dry arse pussy scraping my dick to shreds.
The comment plunges me straight into hysteria; laughing and gulping great lungfuls of breath until I’m hiccupping.
“You’ve had a boyfriend, haven’t you?”
I shake my head, too breathless to speak.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his voice sharp.
“I haven’t.”
“Sure, you have. A pretty girl like you.”
I expect mocking laughter, but he withdraws, sliding his cock along my folds instead, bumping across my clit and igniting a shudder of pleasure.
He pauses at my sharp intake of breath, sliding himself down and back up again, the overload of sensation making everything more intense.
A finger presses inside me again, this time gliding smoothly. When he curls his knuckle to increase the friction, his tip nudges my clit again. My muscles tense and my hips thrust, even as I fight to lie still.
“That’s one thing,” he murmurs, repeating the movements again and again, finding a slow, steady rhythm that makes my skin pulse with energy. “Give me something else. Should I play with your tits? Do you like it when I suck your nipples into my mouth? You want me to finger your arse?”
I don’t have answers. I wouldn’t have a clue.
But Kincaid doesn’t mind my lack of input, lowering his head to claim my breast with his tongue, circling my nipple and gently drawing it into his mouth. Teasing at first, then sucking harder, his cock still sliding against my clit, both touches shooting lightning bolts of arousal through me, heat pooling in my lower belly.
He releases my hands, playing with my other nipple, teasing, pinching, grabbing a handful of my breast and squeezing, then using such a featherlight touch it barely registers.
When his mouth comes off me with a pop, he switches sides, and my hand cups the back of his head before I can stop it, fingers plunging into his hair.
“See, you’ll have a much better time when you stop being so stubborn.”
I clench my fingers and twist, trying to hurt him, but he just laughs.
“That’s good. Do it harder. Grab my arse and rub against me.” His finger moves deeper, and I yelp at the sudden pinch of pain. “Oh, Freckles. If that’s too much for you, I’ve got bad news.”
Despite his words, he withdraws to the former position, his thumb moving in the opposite rhythm to his cock, stimulating me in both directions until a soft groan escapes my throat.
Pleasure washes across me until I can’t think, responding mindlessly to his caressing touch, chasing the sensation until my bones melt.
What are you doing?
Panic follows the thought, engulfing me until I twist away, pushing at him, tugging his hair, slapping his face, trying anything to get free while adrenaline rages in my bloodstream.
But even my struggles feel good—the possessive growl as he pins me ignites a tranche of new sensations, building and building until my fight to get free turns into a game with his show of strength the reward I hadn’t known my body was craving.
He pushes his full weight onto my wrists, mouth at my ear. “No more hitting.”
“You could stop. You could prove to me you’re a better person than I think.”
“But I don’t want to stop.” He retreats, eyes searching my face like he’s committing every freckle to memory. “I want to sink so deep inside you’re ruined for any other man.”
I jut my chin. “Then I’ll tell everyone what you did.”
“Threatening the police again, are you?” His eyes dance with mockery.
“Why shouldn’t I threaten you?” I ask. “Jail is where you belong.”
“Because this is the real world, not some movie where everyone’s rooting for the underdog. My uncle will buy me out of trouble. The police budget will balloon with untraceable cash, and the local station will get upgraded equipment, new weapons, new cars.” His laugh is as soft as velvet. “And he’ll never let me forget every cent it costs.”
“Your rich uncle ragging on you is the least you deserve.”
“And what do you think you deserve?”
I can’t answer.
I barely understand the question.
Kincaid’s voice is low and sympathetic and utterly implacable. “Because he’ll kill you, Francesca. At the first sign of trouble, he’ll kill you and he won’t even care. You’d be nothing more than a cost benefit analysis on his spreadsheet and that will never work in your favour.”
My breathing is so laboured that stars dance in front of my eyes.
His head nuzzles into the curve of my neck, pressing a string of kisses until he reaches my ear. “You think I’m awful and maybe you’re right but believe me when I say my uncle is so much worse.”
“Stop this, then,” I say, my voice cracked and raw. “Go home and leave me alone.”
He sits back, and his sigh twists me inside out. A sound as forlorn as an animal dying, its leg caught in a trap.
“I can’t leave you alone, Freckles. You’re mine.”