Chapter 5 #2
“What? No! You’re not understanding me—stop stripping!”
She stands frozen, staring at him in horror. It feels like pleading with a wall that’s slowly closing in.
When he rises from the bed, her heart rate spikes, and she instinctively steps back again. His deliberate approach sends a chill down her spine, and she retreats further, her gaze never wavering.
“Are you done?” she snaps. “I can’t believe I ever thought, even for a second, that you were kind of cute!”
“You think of me as cute?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone as he halts mid-step. A slight smile twists across his face, and her stomach churns with revulsion at her own na?veté.
“I thought—past tense,” she snaps, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, hoping the gesture conveys indignation instead of the fear gripping her. “I don’t anymore. You look awful to me now, you pig.”
“Good,” he says coolly, taking another step forward.
“Everyone has a price, Lila,” he adds, punctuating the words with a sardonic smile that never reaches his eyes. “Here’s a tip: if you don’t come up with one for yourself, someone else will.”
“Oh yeah? What’s yours?” she blurts out, the words tumbling from her lips before she can stop them. She knows she shouldn’t be engaging with someone so clearly unhinged, but she needs to stall, to distract him—to keep him from coming any closer.
“Something you could never afford.”
Before she can react, he closes the distance between them.
His sudden movement catches her off guard as he grabs her wrist, yanking her toward him hard enough that she stumbles into his chest. One arm wraps tightly around her waist while the other coils into her ponytail, pulling it taut until pain flares across her scalp.
She freezes in his grip, terror rendering her helpless.
“Last chance, sweetheart.”
Desperation floods her as she tries to twist away, but his iron hold keeps her head in place. With a sharp, relentless tug, he pulls out her hair tie, and her updo unravels, dark strands cascading down her back. The elastic falls soundlessly to the floor at their feet.
He lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Name your price.”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Her refusal, on top of the name-calling, infuriates him.
A jolt of shock tears through her as he throws her onto the bed, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs and leaving her momentarily stunned.
He climbs on top of her immediately, his weight pressing down and trapping her body between his legs.
With one powerful hand, he forces her wrists together in a tight grip, pinning them above her head.
She begins to struggle, rocking and bucking beneath him.
But it’s already too late.
Every attempt to dislodge him is met with futility. He is an immovable force, and she finds herself trapped beneath him, powerless to break free.
In that moment, she realizes she was never meant to leave this room without something happening. The thought hits her like a brutal punch to the gut. He has planned this all along, giving her the illusion of choice when, in reality, his mind was already made up.
“Bit of a potty mouth we have here. I kinda like that,” he says before crashing his lips against hers.
He cups one of her breasts, roughly molding and kneading it in his hand.
The thin fabric of her clothes does little to shield her from his touch.
For a few seconds, she remains completely rigid beneath him, but his torturous manipulation of her sensitive flesh begins to take effect.
She strains against his grip, trying to free her wrists pinned above her head, but it’s no use.
He finally lets go long enough to yank her top and bra up over her breasts in one smooth motion, fully exposing them.
Hot trails of tears streak down her face and pool in her ears as she watches him take her bare breasts in his large hands and hot mouth.
He bites, sucks, and pulls at her nipples until she cries out.
Despite everything, her body begins to betray her. A slow clench tightens between her legs, her lower abdomen throbbing with unwanted need.
At the tender age of thirteen, she had stopped believing in a higher power.
That faith was shattered when her mother succumbed to alcohol poisoning, leaving Lila in the care of a grandmother she had never met.
As the years passed and she endured the trials and tribulations of life, any remaining fragments of belief slowly faded despite being raised in an overtly religious community.
Yet now she finds herself praying, screaming for someone to come in and stop the monster on top of her.
She has never been with anyone but her ex, Jake.
A part of her still clings to the hope that someday he will reach out, apologize, and ask for forgiveness for leaving her behind.
She imagines, foolishly, that like a hero in the romance novels she reads for comfort and escape, he has somehow sensed her distress and will come bursting through the door to save her.
But unlike the heroes in her books, he doesn’t.
He never does.
Max finally pulls himself off her, and she takes that moment to scramble free, slipping out from beneath him and running toward the large, heavy door, the only barrier between her and the rest of the world. The door that is trapping her in this hell.
Only it won’t open.
She pounds at the door, each impact sending pain up her arms as she begs to be released.
“Get me out of here! Help!” she sobs, her voice cracking as she pleads with the stranger just beyond the door. “I know you’re still out there! Help!”
“No one is coming, Lila.”
She spins around at the proximity of his voice. A gasp escapes her as she tries to avert her eyes. He has stripped out of his clothing, standing confident and unabashed at his own nakedness.
His cock points straight up, looking massive and long with a slight curve. The width seems wider than her wrist. Jake isn’t a small guy by any means, but his manhood couldn’t even compare to what this guy is sporting.
“Stop,” she says firmly, extending her arms with her palms facing outward as she sees him take a step towards her.
But he just takes another step… and another… and another.
“Please just stop!” she cries out, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. “You’ll break me.” She means it in both the most literal and figurative sense as she stares at the veiny, monstrous thing protruding from him.
He finally pauses right in front of her, her palms pressing against his hard chest. A rough thumb brushes along each cheek, wiping away her tears.
“I won’t have to.”
She looks up at him, confusion flickering across her face, a small glimmer of hope bubbling inside.
“It can be a very enjoyable experience for both of us.”
And just like that, the glimmer of hope vanishes.
“Fuck you,” she spits out with as much venom as she can muster.