Chapter 4 - Briella
Briella
IF PLAYING MEANS CHOKING ME TO DEATH, I DOUBT HE’LL HAVE MUCH FUN.
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Rock Bottom”
Pain howls through my scalp as the crazy redhead drags me back. Shitshitshit!
From the frying pan into the fire.
Joah was unhinged. This guy is straight-up demented.
I’m still kicking and punching and scratching when he takes me down, rolling my body onto the ground until he’s holding me with his weight…and all his hot muscle. Seriously, one look at these guys, and I wondered if they were made in some body-building lab in hell.
But I have worse things to worry about right now. Like when deranged lunatic Red grips my throat, cutting off my air. Blood splatters have dried on his face, but it makes him no less menacing. Especially when he’s still wearing the half-skull mask. It still can’t disguise his vivid blue eyes.
“Stop your nonsense, Firecracker,” he chuckles darkly in that accent. “Ye will wear yourself out before we get t’play.”
My flailing hands are helpless, fingers barely brushing his chest I know he’s leaving bruises on my throat. My vision begins to blur from the lack of breath. If playing means choking me to death, I doubt he’ll have much fun.
“Rory,” a deeper voice bellows from behind him.
Red loosens his grip, and I cough, lungs on fire.
“Mmm.” He smiles cruelly and gives me a shake. “Such a tiny throat. Can’t wait till it’s wrapped around my dick.”
I rear up and hurl a projectile of spit at him. Horror curdles my blood when he rips off his mask and cocks his head with a sinister smirk. “Hmm… let’s see how sweet ye really taste, Lass.”
“Fu—no!” I yell, but he dives down and crushes his mouth on mine.
His lips are violent, hungry, relentless, forcing mine open. His beard chafes my face. The heat of him consumes me as his tongue breaches my lips, stabbing inside with a demand, devouring me.
The worst part? It’s a damn good kiss. The kind that burns through every ounce of resistance I have left. Hot and maddening, each stroke of his tongue sends an electric jolt straight through my body, igniting every nerve.
He grinds against me, and I gasp inside his mouth because I just got a sense of how big Red is down there.
God, that ungodly thing feels like it belongs in its own zip code.
Pulses of heat surge low in my belly, and for a fleeting moment, I almost forget I should be fighting him.
His touch leaves trails of fire, and it’s as if the whole world narrows to this single, desperate kiss.
I want to shove him away. I should shove him away. But his heat, his raw need, it pulls me under, and damn it, I can’t seem to escape.
When he tilts his head, holding me here with the force of his jaw, the deep groan he unleashes sinks into my lungs and scrambles my brain. I can’t help it. A moan escapes my throat.
He freezes. Red breaks the kiss and grins down at me. Bastard heard that moan, felt that moan. I narrow my eyes, burning them against his. It should be a crime for him to look so crazy and hot. A rugged, gamy kind of hot.
“Well, well, now,” he remarks, licking his lips, licking my taste. “Sounds like my little Firecracker enjoyed that. And I’ll say…” he taps his chin with the hand that is not gripping my throat. “I wasn’t disappointed. I predicted cinnamon. But the caramel was a nice touch. How was it for you?”
“Rot in hell!” I snarl.
“Oh, I’m bringing it to ye, little Firecracker.”
The big guy, like a tattooed tank, just leans casually against a tree, but I can tell his muscles are tense. He’s watching us, everything.
Red made a mistake, leaving my hands free. Even as he brings his mouth down in another searing kiss, I grip as much mud and sand as possible, wrench my mouth free, then bring my fist up in a hard knock. His jaw snaps back.
“Eat dirt, asshole!” I shove the mud at his mouth.
Terror rips through me when he does not get mad. No, worse. He tips his head back with a maniacal laugh before lowering his head to lock eyes with mine. A soul-leveling grin of utter power and fury.
“Wanna play in the mud, Briella? I’ll get ye filthy.”
With that, he grips my corset and rips it right down the middle, tearing it off, spilling my breasts.
I shriek and scream, bucking and bucking, but it’s no use.
The next thing I know, he’s rolled me over, holding me down by the back of my neck, grinding me into the mud, and wrenching off my skirts.
Practically claws them away, leaving me naked, except for my underwear.
“Aww, look at that. Pretty and pink.” He slips a finger beneath the line, and I try to rear up, but he shoves me back down. My mouth drags through the mud. Acid scalds my throat when he yanks my panties clean off, chucking them away before rubbing my ass, rubbing dirt along my cheeks.
“Nice one we got here, Vincent,” he comments to the tank nearby. “Nice, fine, and ripe.” He brings his hand down in a solid slap. A flashback from Easthaven scorches my mind, the pain…on my back, my ass…everywhere. But it was electric shocks back there.
Not this.
Slap, slap, slap, grip.
“Fuck, girl’s got curves. Look at these sweet hips.”
God! Why is this turning me on so much? I hate how the praise sinks into my blood, heating me and tingling my skin.
“Naugh—ty—litt—le—Lass!” he punctuates the syllables in time to his strikes.
Red rains down blows on my ass, burning my cheeks until welts form.
I claw at the ground while the fire spreads like molten liquid to my pussy.
It’s just my fucked up body overruling my useless mind and responding to the trauma, the abuse, tricking me into thinking I like this.
I can’t like this.
Rory flips me over. The second I try to punch him, he catches my wrists and slams them down on each side of my head. The muscles scream.
“Well, well, look at this pretty Lass we have, Vincent,” he croons, giving me a once-over before palming my breast, kneading the flesh. “Look at the size of these beauties!” He slaps my left breast cruelly, knocking it against the other.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I scream and writhe, but he plants his weight down harder and lowers his head to me. “God!” I cry when he sinks his teeth into the side of my neck while gripping my breast harder, pinching and twisting the nipple.
Out of the corner of my eye, Vincent watches the display, and I can see his cock tenting his pants. Fuck, do they all have such big dicks?
Rory sucks my breast, leaving red marks before closing his lips around the hard nipple and sucking hard. My nerves light up, my pussy throbs.
“Fuck me,” he groans against my breast. “I’m going to love marking up these pretty pink tits.”
As he roams down my body, leaving teeth marks everywhere, adrenaline and endorphins take over until I’m sinking into the mud.
It doesn’t stop hurting. Feels like he’s cutting little flares of hell all over me.
But then he licks every little hurt. Something breaks inside me.
Not my dignity. That was gone a long time ago, along with my innocence and modesty.
But he’s stealing my pride, making me love the pain.
How long have we been here? Minutes? An hour?
When Red puts his mouth on me, he bites my labia. I screech fiercely, but he freezes. Then laughs deeply against my pussy before dipping his tongue inside my pubic lips with a mad lick, tasting my fluids. He’s got my wrists locked with one of his hands in a powerful grip on my stomach.
“Bloody Christ, she’s wet, Vincent. Fuck that, she’s soaked!” He buries his face deeper, rasping his tongue and beard against my center.
“Fuck you, you pathetic piece of dogshi—ahh!”
He hits me right between the legs, burning my folds with the heat of his palm. “I’m gonna get this pretty, pink cunt red as my hair, Firecracker.”
He makes good on his promise. Pain explodes there. I open my mouth, but any savage scream gets lodged in my throat. Slamming his palm down again and again, I get a glimpse of the unholy devil in Rory’s eyes. I’ve seen demons before. Felt them. Hell, I took them with me when I left Easthaven.
But I’ve never seen or felt anything like this. Nothing like the agony and pleasure attacking my center. Deep pulsations flutter in my core, and I hold my breath, refusing to let myself climax to this torture. Especially when he’s grinding his erection against the side of my leg.
By now, Vincent isn’t hiding it. He’s taken out his cock, and he’s stroking it, fisting it. Not just long but thick. I’m too distracted by the sight, the fingers stabbing inside my center, shock me.
“For fuck’s sake, stop, you miserable dick!” I shriek as Rory pumps his fingers in and out while leering down at me. No matter how hard I writhe and squirm, his hand on my wrists is like iron.
“Why would I stop when you’re gagging for it?” He smirks and presses his thumb to my clit.
“Nonono—oh, you mother fucking sonofa—ahh!” I can’t turn it off. Can’t stop it. He rubs my burning, swollen nub something fierce while pressing down on my G-spot. The pressure grows and grows.
And snaps.
He throws me over the edge. I slam my eyes shut.
I clench my teeth around a scream from the orgasm exploding in me.
Little eruptions surge through my pussy and send shockwaves through my body.
Heat blazes through my system. Destructive heat.
Bringing hell to me just like he swore. I arch my back, lift my hips, and ride his fingers through the last torrential bursts of the climax.
My eyes are still closed when I feel the warm gush of liquid. Pleasenonono. I don’t want to look. But I know what it is. Red’s cum.
Rory’s fingers are still buried in me, and I moan and buck, “Get the fuck out!”
“Fekking gorgeous, little Lass,” the monster laughs and circles his fingers once inside me before pulling them out.
When I open my eyes, he’s stretched his still-wet fingers toward Vincent. “Want a taste?”
“Pass.” He shakes his head.
Rory shrugs. “Your loss.” Tears burn my eyes, and bile swirls in my stomach from him tasting me. But more from the feeling of his semen all over my legs and pussy.
“I’m not quite done with ye yet.” Rory bobs his brows.
I look at the trees, focus on the smell of the pines and redwoods as he does what he said. Get me filthy. He rubs mud all over my body. Mud in the teeth marks, mud on my reddened ass, on my breasts, and mud on my wet pussy lips.
“Want another round, Lass?” he taunts while stroking me.
Burning my eyes against his, I grit my teeth around my words. “Let me go, you crazy fucker.”
My breath is ripped from my lungs. One second, I’m on the ground. The next, he’s forced me onto his lap, legs straddling his with my wrists locked at the base of my spine. My breasts are pushed against his chest.
“Aye, that’s right. Crazy as fuck,” he says, his breath hot against my lips. “And you’re my pretty little birthday present. We’re just getting started. I’m going to have so much fun with ye tonight. All night long.”
I won’t deny the fear chilling my blood. I shiver. But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know who I am, where I’ve come from. So when he scrapes his teeth along my neck, I lean down to whisper in his ear, “Want to know a secret, Red?”
He flicks his eyes up with a sinful grin. “What’s that, Lass?”
“Maybe I’m…” I lick a devilish tease along the curve of his ear, reveling in how he flexes beneath me, “…even crazier than you.”
With that, I sink my teeth into his earlobe.
I bite hard. Hard as a vice, hard as a steel cage.
He howls in pain. But when I pull harder, when I yank my mouth back, tearing the flesh, tasting blood, and feeling flesh in my mouth, he doesn’t just howl.
He roars, breaking his hold to grip his ruined ear.
Enough for me to scramble away and get to my feet.
“Fecking bitch!” he snarls and lunges as I spit out the fleshy lobe. I gag, but the adrenaline keeps me from retching.
I smell freedom for two seconds before a great fortress of muscle surrounds me, seizing my arms, chaining them behind my back. I don’t even bother trying to move out of Vincent’s hold. I wouldn’t get a flinch.
Rory marches toward me, fire in his eyes, blood streaming down the side of his neck. The same blood coating my mouth and dripping down my chin.
He brings his hand down in a solid strike to my cheek. I feel the blow, the pain of the slap. He’s all feral ferocity. But I seethe and hiss at him, grinning from ear to ear before wagging my tongue wet with his blood.
“Big mistake, Firecracker.” He shows me his teeth.
“Want another round, Red?” I mock him.
The moment he reaches for me, Vincent backs up with me, and Rory’s hand gets nothing but air.
“Back off, Rory,” Vincent says.
“No.”
This time, Vincent shoves him hard. Hard enough for Rory to stumble and land in the mud. Yeah, that’s where he belongs.
“I said back the fuck off. Raphael will decide what happens. We don’t want her dead.”
“I don’t either.” Rory charges to his feet. “Just broken. Every bone in her pretty fucking body.”
“Bring it, you bastard,” I threaten, lurching my neck. “I’ll bite your dick off next.”
“Fuck!”
Vincent swings his hand, his solid, rock-like fist connecting with Rory’s jaw. “Try again, Rory, and I will fuck you up. Now come on, we’re wasting time. Raphael gets the final say. Not you. Move, Girly.” He shoves me forward.
“Briella,” I hiss.
“Can I call you Bri?”
I glare because I’m not a goddamn cheese. And no, no one will ever call me Bri again. “Can I call you Vinny?”
“Girly, it is.”
I roll my eyes. Neanderthals, the whole lot of them. Except maybe Raphael. It’s painfully obvious he’s the furthest thing from a Neanderthal. And maybe Jude.
I’m covered in dirt, semen, and blood. But I don’t care. Rory is still clutching his ailing ear.
And no matter what he does to me, I’ll look up at that wretched ear every time, knowing I took something away he can never get back.