Beguile

41 I am a freak

"No," I tried to push him away. But it was too late. His hand was already wrapped around my throat, his grip tight enough to make breathing difficult, but not so much that I couldn't speak.

"I can be good for you," Kay muttered. "but the way you're acting is making it really hard to be." He pushed me down onto the bed, his weight pinned me.

When his fingers reached for me, I flinched instinctively, but he only trailed them slowly down my jawline, almost tender, as if savoring the moment. His touch slid down to my neck, lingering there for a second as if he was testing his restraint. Then his hand moved lower, tracing the edge of my shirt.

"Don't fight me," his fingers slipped beneath the fabric. "It'll be easier if you just... give in."

His eyes gleamed as he gripped my collar, then ripped my shirt open, the fabric tearing away with ease, leaving me exposed beneath him.

"That guy, Rie, is so intent on keeping you without bruises, isn't he?" Kay's voice dripped with malice. "I wonder what his reaction will be if he finds you covered in purple."

I swallowed hard, fear clenching my throat as Kay's words sank in. His hand moved down, and when he pinched my nipple,I bit down on my lip, trying to stifle a moan.

Kay's eyes darkened even more as he continued, his tone turning lethal. "Will he still like you, follow you, after I'm done with you? Though I do hope he leaves on his own."

His fingers dug into my skin.

"Choose," he demanded. "Me, or that bastard Im going to kill."

I flailed a hand in an attempt to push him away, but he grabbed it, forcing it down against the mattress. His grip tightened, savoring my struggle.

"Fine, I won't make you choose," he growled. "But you're going to focus on me. Right here. Right now." He leaned in closer. "And you'll forget anyone else ever existed."

His weight pressing down on me as his fingers slid up, grazing my lips. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "You must already know... I love the feel of your mouth around me."

He pushed down the band of his trousers, and his member slapped against my skin.

"Don't bite," he whispered, a mocking edge to his voice as his hand tightened its hold on mine, forcing me to stay still.

My breath hitched, panic building in my chest, and I turned my head, trying to focus on anything but him.

"Come on," he commanded. "Be good for me."

I pushed him with all the strength I had. For a brief, fleeting second, I broke free, rolling to the side and desperately trying to scramble off the bed. My heart raced as I threw myself toward the edge, legs shaking beneath me. But before I could even set foot on the ground, his hand latched onto my ankle like a vice.

"No!" I screamed, thrashing wildly, trying to kick him away. My heel connected with his arm, but his grip didn't loosen—instead, it only grew tighter. I kicked again but he barely flinched.

"You're not going anywhere," he snarled. He yanked me back hard, but before I could fall, his hand shot up, gripping my jaw, forcing my head to tilt back against his chest. My body was glued to him, trapped, and no amount of struggling could break the tight grip he had on me.

"Stop fighting."

I was heaving, my breaths ragged, chest rising and falling. My eyes squeezed shut as his hand moved down, slipping beneath the band of my pants. His touch was cold, delicate, a shocking contrast to the roughness of his demeanor. I shivered against him, every inch of my skin crawling with unwanted sensation.