Chapter 8
EIGHT
ELISA
“Please tell me you’re not a lightweight,” Hans laughs as he downs another shot.
I’m not a lightweight but this shit is… strong. I heave slightly as the smell of the next shot hits me. Whatever this Norwegian herbal shit is, it’s potent. But after Hans dragged me away from my forest friend earlier, I’ve felt the urge to prove to him that I’m not some meek, weak little thing.
The man in the woods flashes through my mind again as I down the shot and revel in the combination of the cold, herbal liquid on my tongue and the burn it creates as it creeps down my esophagus.
I can’t seem to get him out of my mind—that rough, dark beard and shoulder-length hair made him look wild, like he belonged in the woods.
And those eyes. Fuck, those pale blue eyes that pierced me deeper than the cold.
He was fucking hot. I mean, he was definitely older, probably too old for me.
But when he stripped off his warm coat, I could see the defined muscles of his chest and shoulders bulging against his shirt.
I’m a curvy girl; those little twig guys aren’t for me.
I need a big man, one who can throw me around, and he’d certainly be able to do just that with those damn shoulders of his.
Like, seriously, who has shoulders as wide as I am tall?
I’m pretty inexperienced when it comes to men, but I can’t help but wonder how that big beard would feel nestled between my thighs.
Would the coarse hair scrape my sensitive flesh? I squirm in my seat at the thought.
What is happening to me in these woods? First, I’m dreaming of sucking off double-dicked monsters, and now I’m ready to climb some random mountain man like a damn tree. Is there something about these woods that makes you horny as hell?
My eyes fall back to Hans’ smug smirk. Nope. Looking at him doesn’t fill me with the same, all-consuming, need. I mean, sure, he’s attractive, but he’s still just meh. He looks like he has weak shoulders.
“How are you feeling?” Hans asks me, pulling me from my thoughts.
The room spins slightly and I blink swiftly to clear my mind. Maybe I do need to slow down.
“I—I—uh.” I stumble over my words as I grip the edge of the worn couch, trying desperately to ground myself and find my footing.
“Maybe we should get you to bed,” Hans chuckles as he stands. “Don’t worry, you held your own, American.”
He’s been calling me that all night—American, as if that’s my entire identity.
He’s getting on my nerves more and more as the night wears on.
At first, when we got back inside, he was kind, attentive, and caring.
He’d acted protective as if the man in the woods was a threat to me and he was trying to keep me safe from that threat.
But the more time we spend together, the more abrasive I find him.
“I’m good,” I whisper as I push myself up to stand.
The room shifts and I falter. Hans reaches out, his thin fingers wrapping around my arm to steady me. His touch feels all wrong. I don’t want him touching me. But I’m too focused on not vomiting all over the coffee table to get out any words.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you get comfortable, just relax.” Hans whispers reassurance after reassurance in my ear as we make our way down the hallway.
The walls here are too tight, as if they could close in on us any minute.
The room spins and I feel as though I’m being boxed in.
My chest tightens. I don’t like this. I don’t want to be here.
I don’t want to be with him. This all just feels so wrong.
I want some fresh air. The burn of the cold in my lungs feels like it would immediately clear the haze that’s settled over me, but I can’t seem to make my mouth ask for what my mind is craving.
I never get this drunk this quickly. Something is wrong. I sway again and my shoulder hits the wall. Something is very wrong.
“I just want to get to my room,” I mumble as best as I’m able to. I can feel my body careening towards unconsciousness with every step.
“I got you, baby,” Hans coos in my ear, as if he’s giddy.
We crash through the door to my room. No—it’s not my room. This is a different room. The smell in here is different—sandalwood and sea. It’s some fucking cologne that reeks of desperate perversion.
I need to get out of here.
My mind knows I need to run, and yet my body won’t cooperate.
My limbs feel heavy, as if I’m stuck in quicksand.
Darkness clouds my vision and my eyelids droop.
I force them back open and realize I’m lying down.
I’m on my back. The ceiling must be above me.
I don’t remember getting on the bed. The scent of the cologne is stronger here and my stomach rolls angrily.
“Let’s get you more comfortable,” Hans murmurs as his hands slip up my thighs.
I’m still wearing the blue sweater dress I found earlier, but I also slipped on a pair of fleece-lined leggings I found when we returned to the cabin.
They’re a bit too small but they’re also warm.
Well, they were warm before Hans slid them down my legs.
The cold air chills the exposed flesh of my legs, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin.
“Don’t. Please,” I whimper. My voice is shaking. I sound weak. I fucking hate feeling weak. I’m not a weak woman, but the alcohol has hit me hard. Harder than it should have, actually.
“It’s okay, pretty girl.” His fingers ghost along my thighs, making bile rise and burn my esophagus. “We’re gonna make each other feel real good. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself too.”
My body feels like it’s on fire. As each inch his fingers rise higher, the fury inside me grows.
I try to shove him off but he easily swats me away.
Everything feels slowed down, like I’m swimming through deep water and can barely make out the light above.
A tear slips from the corner of my eye and travels down my cheek.
The saltwater is so warm against my skin.
It’s then that I realize just how cold my body is.
Despite the way my body feels as if it’s aflame, there’s no mistaking the cold that’s overtaking the room around us.
Hans’ fingers slide to where I want them least and my mind shrieks in absolute horror but my body is stiff. I can’t seem to move my limbs. I’m stuck. Helpless and alone, a sob tears out of my chest. All I can do is stare at the tiny ice crystals on the window as he violates me.
“That’s it, baby. Doesn’t it feel good when I rub right there? Gonna get you nice and wet so you can take my fat cock,” he croons as his fingers mash at my clit. I may be inexperienced but I know enough to know that he has no idea how to please a woman.
“I don’t want this,” I mumble between sobs as tears fall freely.
Suddenly, his hands are gone. I let loose a sigh of relief and sink into the mattress.
His weight shifts as if he’s leaving. But then his fingers slip into my hair, using a tight grip on my locks to roughly jerk my head to the side.
The room spins and swirls with the sudden movement.
When my vision clears, I’m met with a disgusting sight.
Hans looms over me, standing on the side of the bed, his cock is out and he’s jerking it roughly in his hand, liquid beading at the tip.
“You gotta get it wet, that way it’ll slide in easier. Be a good girl and open that mouth and suck me,” he says as he brings the angry, red head to my lips.
I desperately try to get away but he holds me firmly by the hair. He shoves the crown against my face, smearing his sticky precum against my lips. I keep my mouth clamped shut with all the strength I have remaining. I will not let him take from me without me putting up a fight.
“Don’t be a fucking bitch,” he snaps at me as he jerks my head roughly.
When I refuse to open, he brings his hand off his cock and to my nose.
He pinches until I can’t breathe. My lungs begin to burn and terror fills me.
I’m so tired but the adrenaline is keeping me coherent enough to fight back, barely.
My chest aches for air, and I know I won’t be able to hold off much longer.
Suddenly, there’s a bang. It sounds like glass shatters. A ripple of frozen air ghosts across my exposed skin. Everything stops and time seems to slow.
“What the hell?” Hans asks as he releases my nose and turns.
I suck in greedy breaths of air. My lungs cease to burn.
I try to clamor away but his fingers hold me still by the hair.
I look up to see my attacker looking pale as a ghost, horror distorting his features.
I can’t turn my head to see what he’s staring at across the room with the way he’s holding me but I don’t need to see.
I’d recognize that deep timbre of the voice that speaks anywhere.
“Get your filthy fucking cock away from my mate.”