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Page 13


A slap across my face brought me back to the present. “Look at me, Val.”

“My name isn’t Val, Gina. My name is Valentine.”

“But I’ve always called you Val.”

“You don’t get to do that anymore.” I lifted my chin and let her see the depth of my revulsion and derision. “You can keep me tied up here as long as you want. You can drug me and cut me and threaten me all you wish. You can take whatever you want from me. None of that will change a thing. Not a thing. I won’t love you. I won’t be attracted to you. I won’t want you. I won’t even like you.”

She wasn’t wearing any underwear. Whether she’d shed them while I was spaced out thinking of Kyrie or whether she’d never been wearing them, I couldn’t remember. She was shaved bare—there was not a single hair anywhere on her body below her neck.

“You’re lying. You want this. You’re trying not to want it, but you do.”

I didn’t bother arguing with her. I just kept my eyes focused on hers, refusing to give her the satisfaction of my gaze on her body. She sashayed closer to me, putting a sway in her hips, a bounce to her cleavage. Her black eyes watched mine, and I saw them narrow at my lack of reaction. She didn’t falter in her runway walk, though it was obvious she was aware of the sun shining through the window behind her, outlining her, the wind skirling through the room, tossing her hair.

Finally, she was at the bed. Leaning over me, staring down at me. Climbing onto the bed. Straddling me. She put her hands on my chest, curled her long red fingernails into my skin and muscle, gouging deep. That had always been her thing, digging in with her nails. Establishing dominance, maybe? Or maybe it was supposed to be erotic? I never liked it, and had told her so on more than one occasion. If she got lost in the heat and throes of ecstasy, Kyrie would occasionally scratch me or grab my shoulders hard enough to leave indents. With Gina…it was intentional. It was meant to cause pain and to remind me that she could draw blood if she wanted.

There was nothing I could do to stop her. Try to buck her off, maybe. That’d work once maybe, if that. Eventually she’d just tie me down and do what she wanted anyway. And, aside from that, the struggle was half the fun for her, I think. Seeing me fight it, seeing me reduced to this, tied up and at her mercy? That was the fun for her. Or at least part of it.

She slid her body along mine, writhing her core against my pained, imprisoned member. Shudders of revulsion shook through me.

“Don’t do this, Gina.” I couldn’t help it—I had to try. “Please. This isn’t how you want this.”

“Oh, no?” She ground herself against me, teasing. I slid through the creases of her flesh. She was wet with desire. “Feel that? That says otherwise. This is exactly how I want it. You are mine, my dearest Valentine. I want you at my mercy. I want you squirming and begging. So beg, Valentine. Beg me to stop. It’ll only make my cunt that much wetter for you.”

Such a vulgar woman. Putrid. “This is rape, you know.” I sounded cool and calm, as if rage and horror weren’t rifling through me.

She smiled, a wicked curve of her lips, her tongue dragging along her upper lip, slowly, deliberately, cloyingly. “Exactly. That’s exactly what this is.”

She arched her spine out, fingernails gouging into my skin, drawing blood. She tilted her head back on her shoulders, hair hanging and waving and tickling and draping over one shoulder in a blue-black cascade, sliding her core against me, pressing the tip of me to her entrance. I gripped the cool brass of the headboard, shook it, strained against it, felt my stomach revolting, my mind whirling and my soul protesting. I thrashed until my wrists bled, and Gina held on and let me buck as if she was riding a wild bronco. Shame seared me. I was helpless. For all my money, all my power, all my physical strength, I was totally helpless. Emotional agony blazed within me. I was betraying Kyrie by allowing this to happen. Helpless or not, there had to be some way for me to stop what Gina was doing to me.

“Last time I’ll say this, Gina. Stop now. Let me go. I’ll forget this happened, and we can go our separate ways.”

“Or?”

“You’ll have to kill me when you’re finished with me. If I get free, I will stop at nothing to destroy you, your father, and everything you hold dear.”

“Here’s an interesting fact, Valentine.” She braced herself with one hand on my chest, reached down between us, and gripped me in her fist. “I don’t hold anything dear. Do what you wish to my father. I’d thank you for doing it, and I’d even help you do it. You know nothing of me. Nothing of what I’ve endured since you escaped me the last time.”

I’m sorry, Kyrie. I love you. The thoughts blew through me, attached to my mind, and hung there like burrs, repeating and repeating and repeating as Gina lowered her hips with agonizing slowness, penetrating herself with me. I focused on the ceiling, and then tried closing my eyes. I focused on anything, everything, except her. Except what was happening to me. Stroke after stroke, her body arching and writhing and rising and falling above me, Gina brought herself to climax, screaming like a banshee in my ear. I felt nothing. The burn of the need to release was nothing but pain, nothing but a raw physical reaction to stimulus, as natural and unstoppable as breathing or eating or excreting.

She came—or pretended to—twice more, and then slid off me, leaving me aching and painfully hardened. “Mmmmm. That was good. Thank you, Val.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you. Fuck you very much. I just did, and I’m going to again.” She licked her lips and caressed my length, arranging herself on a chair in the corner. “I just needed a quick break before we continue.”

I closed my eyes and focused on each breath in, each breath out. I counted my breaths….one, two, three…forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight…one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four….

I’d reached three hundred and nineteen when I felt the bed dip and her cool hands on my thighs, then the wet warmth of her mouth on my cock. “Mmmm. Yum. You taste like me.”

I remained motionless, ignoring the pain, the feel of her mouth, and the weight of her body as she straddled me once more. I ignored the burn, the agonizing pressure welling up inside me. Ignored the hate, the shame, the fury. Ignored it all. Pushed it all down.

Feel nothing. Feel nothing. Feel nothing.

Gina brought herself to thrashing, ululating orgasm three times, and there was nothing I could do, no way to stop it, no way to do anything but endure it.


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