“These are my tits,” he growls.

I open my mouth to argue with him some more but the dark, possessive way he looks at me causes the words to stick in my throat.

“This is my stomach,” he says, his mouth sliding down, his teeth nibbling at my skin. “These are my hips.”

He grabs me hard by the hips and pushes my ass into the bed.

“This is my pussy,” he purrs, shoving down my sleep pants with my panties trapped inside them.

“No,” I protest, sitting up and reaching for the waistband.

“Yes,” he says forcefully, pushing me back down.

He yanks hard on the pants, forcing my ass up and off the bed.

I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know what’s caused this sudden change in him. For a few moments there, while he was sucking on my breasts, I foolishly felt safe.

I even allowed myself to want him.

But I’m not safe. I’ll never be safe with this man.

As my pants reach my feet, I react instinctively, taking a little kick at him. He grabs my ankle, his grip tight, bruising.

“Amy,” he says ominously. “That was a very bad idea.”

I’m already fucked so I think what the hell and kick my other foot at him. I know it’s pointless. I’m completely naked and at his mercy, but I want to hurt him.

Just a little bit.

My little kick gets him in the chest and he growls viciously, causing all the little hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

Grabbing the foot that just kicked him, he roughly shoves my legs apart, spreading me wide open for him.

Desperately, I try to close my legs but I’m no match for his strength. I start to sit up and he yanks on my legs, sending me back down to the bed.

“Stop, please,” I beg, sounding weak and pathetic.

He slides up and glares down at me from between my open thighs, slowly shaking his head. “I tried. God knows I tried to take it slow with you, but that’s not what you want. That’s not what you need, is it?”

He stares down at me and my fear begins to morph into anger again. I wrap the emotion around me like a warm, comforting blanket.

What’s the worse he can do to me? My angry mind rationalizes. Hurt me some more? Or fuck me with that big dick of his?

“You know what I need?” I say, glaring defiantly up at him. “I need my freedom! I need my choices back!”

His fingers begin to loosen around my left leg and I seize upon the opportunity, kicking out at him.

He takes the kick to his thigh and grunts.

I try to ignore the painful tingling in my toes. I don’t want to regret the kick but kicking his thigh felt like kicking a column of bricks.

He grabs my knee, shoving my legs wide open again.

“You had freedom,” he sneers down at me. “And look what you did with it… You fucking squandered it.”

I reel back, feeling like he just slapped me.

“You had choices,” he goes on, his weight coming down on top of me. “And the choices you made brought you here. Your choices put you in my bed.”

I take a swing at him. Wanting to slap that knowing sneer off of his face. Wanting to hurt him because his words hurt me.

This isn’t my fault, it isn’t, I tell myself.

But a part of me feels like it is.

My hand connects with his cheek and I don’t know who’s more shocked, him or me. I stare at him, my eyes widening with horror. He stares down at me, his eyes blackening with anger.

He releases his grip on my legs and I immediately flinch, expecting him to hit me back.

Instead, he grabs my hands and yanks my arms painfully up, pinning them above my head.

“I’m sorry,” I groan, tears blurring my eyes as I arch my back off the bed, even now trying to yank my wrists from his grip.

“Oh, you’re going to be,” he snickers, and my heart lurches with fear. What’s he going to do to me now? How is he going to repay me for that slap?

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I plead as he settles his weight on top of me.

His hard cock digs into my thigh and the weight of his stomach anchors me to the bed.

“To answer your earlier question,” he says, shifting both of my wrists into one of his hands. “I’ve never had to use force before…”

One hand now free, he drags it down my body and pushes it between my legs. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

Self-preservation kicks back in. I twist and pull on my arms as his fingers push through my folds.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re soaking wet.”

Shame blooms inside of me and my face feels like it is on fire. My skin burns with my humiliation.

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