Once he secures each of my hands to the bedposts, he situates himself in between my legs, which are too weak for me to even try to close them in protest. He fucks me raw, using my hips as leverage to drive into me. Each time he pulls on them, the metal of the handcuffs bites into my skin. Everything I feel is swelling inside of me, the pressure to release with a cry or a groan almost intolerable. But my throat is so sore and his threat looms over me so I hold back the impending screams. His hand closes tight around my throat and my breathing becomes erratic.
"I own you. Always remember this."
He forces himself into me with a groan and I bite the inside of my cheek, praying that it will be over quick. Once he finishes inside me again, he climbs off. My hands hang limp in their shackles, pins and needles gnawing at my fingertips. As he walks out of the room, he calls over his shoulder, "You can stay there and think about how to fix this shit storm you fucking created."
I would do that if it had not been for two things:
I still have no idea what I did.
I'm starting to lose consciousness . . .
He told me later that my constant mistakes and shortcomings had distracted him at work. That's why they'd had to let him go.
I slip on the heels that I'd left by the door and return to the kitchen, my feet aching with each step. Placing the food on the plate and arranging it so it doesn't look messy, I place everything on the table-one plate, a knife, and a fork, his water at two o'clock to his plate.
I look at the clock. I only have five minutes to get the dishes washed and put away. I scrub at the pans as fast as I can, cleaning and drying them before placing them back in the cabinet. When I hear the screen door open, I quickly shut the cabinet door and hurry to stand next to Dylan's chair at the table.
The food smells delicious. My stomach grumbles from just standing close to it, and I run my tongue over my lower lip as I remember what I think steak tastes like. My mouth waters as I imagine being able to eat it, but I know what my dinner will be. It's the same as always: peanut butter and jelly.
When the door slams, all hope I had of this night being peaceful and quiet are gone.
Chapter Four
Cutter
Fucking asshole.
There is a reason we have rules. During a private dance, one guy started to get a little too hands-on and Melanie called out for help, meaning one of the brothers had to step in. Tracie got wind of it, though, and launched into the guy. Needless to say he didn't take kindly to being put in his place by a woman. When he lunged at her, one of the brothers came to get me.
Entitled asshole thinks he can come in here and treat our women however he wants? Well, I'm gonna teach him a fucking lesson.
I walk up to him and he looks over at me. He is entirely overdressed in his button-up shirt and dress pants. His perfectly styled hair and smug look as I approach him only increases the anger running through me.
Before he knows what I'm doing, his face is pressed so hard against the wall, there's a chance we might have to re-plaster. Or leave the dent there so every other fucker who thinks the rules don't apply to them can see it. Come to think of it, we should frame the motherfucking thing. My forearm pushes against the back of his neck and he tenses against me. "You're going to listen to me and listen good, fucker. I don't know who you are and I don't give a shit. You hurt one of my girls again and I will rip off your dick and shove it so far down your throat, the only blow job you'll ever get is from yourself. You hear me?"
"Fuck you. You can't do shit," is what I think he says. The sound is muffled on account of his face eating Sheetrock.
I grip his hair, pull his head back and reintroduce it to the wall. If there wasn't before, there is definitely a hole now.
He cries out like the pussy that he is, and I move closer, smelling the fear coming off him in waves. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size next time? Give yourself a real challenge."
He laughs, but the sound is hollow. "And why would I do that?"
I pause at his words. Huh. So he likes a little power play? He only preys on girls because he feels like he can control them.
"'Cause if I see you touching one of my girls- if I even hear of it-you'll wish you never set foot in my club."
He laughs. "Dude, I was only playing." He nods at Melanie with a cocky look on his face. "She liked it."
I twist his arm behind his back tempted to just snap it. "You're lucky that I'm deciding to let you walk the fuck out of here. I don't want to see you in here again." I shove him toward the door, Brick stretches his foot out and trips him sending the asshole to the floor.