“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he’s saying, voice full of harsh sandpaper grit. “Always knew I’d make you mine. Been watching you for so long, baby.”
I make a tight, disgusted sound against his mouth, and I can’t even help it then. I push at his shoulders, desperate to get him off. I’ve spent the last year surrounded by creeps, maniacs, and lurkers. Who even knows which one this guy is? None of them are good.
He responds by grabbing my wrists, which settles all of his weight on my chest, stealing the last of my breath. He pins them high above my head, but it works.
He lets me turn away, jaw flying open as I gasp in wild gulps of blood-scented air.
It’s easier then. When he accepts it. When he lets me lie here limp and breathless as he uses me. When he holds my wrists down and rests his mouth against my jaw, panting as the bed creaks with the force of his hips. He never really pulls out. He keeps his dick so far inside that he has to drive me into the mattress for any sense of friction. Each excruciating thrust makes my chest swell, like something is growing inside of me and I don’t have room for it.
And then he’s the one who starts swelling.
If I didn’t feel it—his dick getting harder, bigger—then I’d be able to hear it in the short, ragged grunts that are tearing from his chest.
Suddenly, it occurs to me what’s going to happen.
“No,” I gasp, planting my heels against the bed. I push and buck, trying to free my wrists with useless tugs. “Don’t! Please don’t!”
His response is immediate. “Hold her,” he grunts.
Maniac rushes over, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of my head as he wrenches my arms up.
“I’ll scream!” I warn, heart hammering just as hard as his dick. “I’ll scream, I’ll cut your goddamn throat, you motherfucking—！” My words get caught in my throat when my neck snaps up, and I actually see it. His body moving between my legs. His black jeans have worked their way down his hips, giving me a clear view of the upper muscles in his ass, working, flexing, to force his body into mine. The sight of it is briefly mesmerizing, as if I’ve just fallen head first into an experience I’m somehow shocked by.
When he slams into me with a deep, agonized rumble, I know I’m too late.
He wraps his fingers around my throat, slamming me back to the bed as he comes with a gnarled growl. I can feel it inside, a pulsating rush of warmth that makes every cell of my being recoil. The thought of him leaving a piece of himself inside me is so repulsive that a wave of nausea rushes through me.
“You son of a bitch,” I croak, his fingers still pressing against my throat. I try to get my feet under him for a kick, but all I can manage are weak, useless thuds against his legs.
He hovers above me, panting like a dog as he rears up, head tipped back. “Fuck, I needed that.”
“Get off!” I thrash and buck, but even though he looks boneless from the orgasm, he easily wrestles my legs down, sliding back to let his dick slip free.
“You ready?” He glances over his shoulder at Lurker, who’s still holding the phone. “Come closer.”
Lurker gets on the bed, edging close as Creep yanks my thighs wide, a palm shoving each side open. Lurker’s eyes pinch with whatever expression he’s making under that mask. “Fucking disgusting,” he says.
My veins erupt with wildfire as I watch them inspect my pussy, Creep shoving my knees up for a better angle. There’s a long silence, and then Lurker’s muttered curse. “Isn’t there supposed to be blood?”
Creep digs a finger into my hole, his voice a mixture of incredulous and annoyed. “You saw how hard I fucked her. She should be fucking gushing! Goddamn it.”
They’re so caught up in their own disappointment that they don’t even realize my legs are free. It gives me the opportunity to slam my foot right into Creep’s collarbone, sending him snapping back.
Before the pained sound can even escape his throat, I yell, “Because I’m not a virgin, you fucking morons!”
Lurker drops his phone to wrestle my legs down, a snarl ripping from his chest. “Getting real sick of your shit.” His grip is savage, bruising, and forces a whimper from me.
“What the fuck,” Creep growls, holding his shoulder, “are you talking about?”
“My virginity,” I answer, glaring daggers into his blue eyes. “I haven’t been a virgin since junior year of high school.”
“Bullshit,” Maniac says, tightening his grip on my wrists. “The Kings were keeping you here because—”