Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Laura
I wake up in the middle of the night absolutely certain that there is someone in my room. I can’t see anything. My eyes are too accustomed to sleep, but I can feel a presence. There’s no sound, just an intangible knowing that I am no longer alone.
I lie still, freezing in place. I hope that I am wrong, that it is a dream, and that I am having some kind of night terror.
Then I feel the covers being drawn back, and the cool air of my room slides down my body, making goosebumps rise across my skin. I can smell him now. He smells like a very rich kind of cologne. It’s faintly familiar, and puts me in mind of leather and iron. It’s the sort of scent that speaks to privilege, and that only serves to make me more afraid because it is so out of place here.
“Leave me alone,” I whimper.
“Shhh, princess.”
He has a deep voice and oddly, for an intruder, a calming presence. He’s soothing me with his words, and then with his hands. One of them lands on the back of my head and smooths over my hair.
I wait for him to say something that men like this say at times like these, something like ‘do as I say, and I won’t hurt you.’ My fists are balling by my sides. He’s not going to find me as easy a target as he imagines. When I decided to live alone after Dave left, I did take some precautions.
“I don’t have any money!”
“I’m not here for your money, princess,” he says. “I’m here for you.”
I feel the bed sink down as he puts his weight on it, drawing down the covers to my waist. At this point, I grab the flick-knife I have next to the bed. They’re not legal, but neither is being in my fucking bedroom uninvited.
I flick the little switch, and the blade swings out. I turn over as that happens, and jab it right the way up toward his neck and chest. I close my eyes as I swing, not wanting to see what will happen when the blade meets his body.
“Oh, so close, little one,” he says, sounding almost proud as he grabs my wrist and squeezes it hard enough to make me drop the knife. “That was a good try. Very good.”
I let out a yelp of pain and disappointment as I realize I have been easily disarmed and now I have no protection against this intruder who is much larger and much stronger than me. I look up into his face in an effort to see who it is.
I almost hope it’s Dave being an idiot, but I already know it’s not him. He’d be laughing by now, and he’d also be stabbed. Whoever this is moves like a fucking rattlesnake. He’s fast, he’s dangerous. He’s agile. And he’s not at all fazed by being stabbed at.
“What do you want?”
“I want you, Laura.”
That is a fucking terrifying response.
“Why?”
I don’t know what else to say. The question just falls out of my mouth in shock as he pulls the blanket down the rest of the way, depriving me of warmth and comfort, exposing me to his gaze. I went to bed in short shorts and a tank top. It’s not enough.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. “You’re a very sweet little thing, and you are going to be mine, inside and out.”
He is speaking in a clipped, slightly accented voice. The flash of familiarity is back, but it doesn’t rise to the level of true recognition. He looks big and broad above me, and the tight black sweater he is wearing shows that he is quite muscled all the way across his arms and shoulders.
He’s handsome, even though I cannot see his face.
“Breathe,” he says.
“I am breathing.”
“I mean take a breath for me, little one,” he purrs softly, putting a hand on my chest. “I want to feel you.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath.
His hand slides up my chest toward my neck and closes lightly around my throat as his other hand slides between my legs and starts rubbing underneath my shorts. They are loose enough that his fingers can easily find my bare pussy. I saw a reel that told me it was better to sleep without underwear. Right now I wish I was wearing a fucking chastity belt.
His fingers find my clit unerringly, and start to circle lightly. To my immense shame, I feel my hips undulate in response. It feels good.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs. “You’re allowed to enjoy this, even though you think you’re not supposed to. Let yourself relax into being used.”
He is saying the sickest things, but I really cannot help my physical response to his energy and to his touch. He clearly knows how to touch a woman, though usually people say foreplay is necessary, his direct tender touching of my pussy is working for me. I feel a kind of excitement starting to stir in me that I’ve never really felt before, a kind of raw desire that is completely divorced from good sense and reasonable reaction.