Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lara

My breath pants out of me. Arousal pulses through my body, settling between my legs.

Groggy, it takes me a minute to take stock of what woke me. My earmuffs are gone. Music from the party fills the room obnoxiously loud. The downside of living in college dorms? The floor parties.

I must have slept fitfully because I never sleep on my stomach. My eye mask is gone, too.

Jesus, how long has the party been going?

Blinking, I look at the red numbers glaring at me from the bedside table, 2:47 a.m. I've only slept for a little over two hours? No wonder I feel exhausted.

Still blurry-eyed, I push up onto my elbows and knees, or at least I try to. My forearms are barely near my head when something tugs on my wrists, and large hands settle on my hips, pushing them back down.

My heart stops. It wasn't a dream. Someone's in the room with me!

Everything comes into focus all at once, the way my arms have been laid out above my head, the ribbon is soft but restrictive as it wraps around my wrists. My inner thighs are coated in my arousal.

My scream rips through the air, but it's swallowed by the music. No one outside of this room can hear me. My body shakes, fear and arousal warring when a mouth lowers to my overheated pussy. Big hands spread my legs farther apart until he settles between them. His grip lowers so he can bend my knee, and my back arches, giving him better access.

My body has a mind of its own.

The man behind me does not let up until I'm crying and on the edge. His tongue alternates in its attacks, swirling my nub, then shooting down to stab inside of me as far and deep as he can go. I don't even know who is eating me out, but he's acting like his life depends on it, like his next breath hedges on me coming.

He won't have to wait long.

My mind forgets that this is wrong. My body responds like it wants him more than it wants air. My breath jams in my throat as I climb higher and higher.

This can't be happening. I can't let this happen . . . Can I?

I'm on the edge of doing more than just coming. Swallowing a plea for more, I press my lips together tightly.

Reaching my arms above my head, I feel for the bars of the headboard where the ribbon is tied. My fingers clutch it tightly, giving me leverage to pull myself up the bed and away from him.

Something he doesn't appreciate. His hands are much harsher this time when he pulls me back down the bed, a solid force as it strikes my bare ass.

A warning.

My face heats as the spank makes my pussy spasm. I've never had this reaction with a boyfriend before, not even when we have tried things a bit rougher.

I moan, my hips lifting. His hand strikes me again, his palm hitting the same spot over and over. Harder and harder until I lie there whimpering.

Another warning . . . I'm not supposed to enjoy my punishment.

"I'm sorry," I sniffle.

Something wet and soothing rolls over the heated skin of my ass . . . his tongue.

And I'm moaning again. I need to see him.

"Please," I beg.

The bed shifts beneath me as he crawls up the mattress. His hand is rough, his grip harsh in my hair as he shoves my face into my pillow.

Hot air pants along my cheek, making my body shiver. I've never been this close to an orgasm without sex before .

His hips push into mine, and his cock, thick and hard, grinds against my sore ass cheek. He pulls his hips back, settling between my legs.

This is it. I'm about to let a stranger fuck me in the darkness of my bedroom. A man I've never met before. A man who just gave me the best oral of my life. A man who I wouldn't recognize on the street.

Scream for help . But even as the thought occurs, I brush it off quickly because I don't want to. I want him.

His clothes brush my ass and the back of my thighs . . . he's fully dressed.

Reaching between us, he grips his cock, nudging my entrance.

"Please," I beg again, wanting to see the face of the man about to fuck me.

His chuckle sends shivers down my spine. The hand between his legs moves, and I hear shuffling near my face, like he moved something.

Confused, I wait.

The grip in my hair turns me to face the left, where my full-length, freestanding mirror is. A car passes by my window on the parking lot outside, the lights illuminating the room at the same time I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror.

My face is flushed, arousal obvious. But it's his face that makes me scream. A white mask with red lips hovers over me in the mirror. His head tilts, and I just know that beneath the mask, he's smirking.

Terror fills me at the same time he does .

I buck against him, but it only shoves him in deeper. The force of his thrust knocks the wind out of me.

My orgasm rolls over his shaft.

My hands grapple to steady myself, fearing I'll hit the metal headboard, but his grip on my hair pulls me toward him, arching my back.

The room is filled with the sounds of his moan and my gasp. The bed strains under us, the metal whining in a desperate plea as the ribbons refuses to give way.

With each gasp, I drag air in through my mouth that's so thick with our arousal I can almost taste my own wetness.

His cock, thick and long, makes me feel full. Stretching me in ways I never thought possible. The feel of his open trousers caught between our bodies is erotic and speaks of his need to fill me so quickly he didn't bother to strip.

But it's not the cock that's inside me that bothers me, it's the man attached to it. Everyone who wore a mask tonight flashes through my head. I buck again, trying to dislodge him, but he's buried too deep.

"Please, don't be Darrell."

The man above me freezes, his body turning to stone.

"You ever say another man's name while my cock is inside you, I'll go out and kill everyone with that name, just to make sure I got the right one," he hisses.

The way his body looms over me and the power he exudes, I believe him. His hand comes down on my ass with an unforgiving slap. The force is so hard I shift forward, his cock slipping out a little.

My heart floods with relief despite the threat. It's not Cassie's boyfriend. His voice is mechanical, altered somehow. Just like the masked man at the party, the one who dragged me away when the cops arrived.

The one whose friend brought Stacey back to the dorm and forced her to lock the door, only leaving after she promised not to open it to anyone. No matter what.

I'd been beyond worried when I got home earlier. I had snuck onto her floor, needing to know she was okay. And she was. Terrified but okay. Without breaking her promise, she'd explained through her locked bedroom door how her own mystery man had lectured her the entire way back about the risks of accepting drinks from anyone. Of what could have happened.

I didn't feel much like partying after that. With a quick good night to anyone I crossed paths with, I went straight to my dorm room, crawling into bed even more thankful for my own masked man.

I hoped to see him again. But I hadn't imagined it this way.

"No," I whine as he moves back, pulling his cock out.

Metal clangs, and I think he's undressing more at first, but the feel of the warm leather coming down on my ass extinguishes those thoughts. He rains it down over and over until I lay flat on my bed, sobbing into my pillow.

My ass feels like it's on fire.

"You don't ever say another man's name," he tells me again.

I nod quickly. I lie still, hoping he won't leave. His panted breaths fill the room so loud that even the music's bass doesn't drown them.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, needing him to know. "I won't. I'm sorry."

He doesn't speak, and eventually, his hips settle against my sore ass. I brace myself just in time. The thrust of his cock is quick and hard.

Buried deep, we stay still, just happy to be joined. I'm splayed out, my hands wrapped around the bars of the headboard and my legs spread wide. He leans over me, his left arm bracing him beside my head, his right hand once again buried in my hair. His upper body looms, not touching me, but it somehow makes it feel all that more desperate.

And then he starts to move.

Fuck. Me.

I knew it would be good. Rough and unforgiving like the man himself. But nothing could have prepared me for the way he takes my body. Thrust after thrust, he goes deep, painfully so.

My body grips him for dear life. I'm moaning loudly. The sound of skin hitting skin competes with the wetness of my arousal. Just as I'm about to peak, he stops.

"No." My moan is long and whiny.

I'm practically panting, begging for more, but only when my body calms does he push back in.

By the fourth time of him doing this, I'm physically shaking, tears wetting my face.

"Please," I beg again for the millionth time. "I need it."

His chuckle just makes me cry more, my shoulders sagging.

"What do you need?"

I pause for just a moment, not wanting to say the wrong thing. I can't take him doing it again.

Wrong move.

His movements start again, and I pray he'll let me come. It's painful, the sex, the denial, knowing what I'm doing with him. All of it hurts, yet it's the best sex I've ever had.

His hands bunch my pajama shirt, gripping the top and the bottom together, in the middle of my back. The hold gives him leverage to yank my body back and forth.

I pant, trying to tilt my hips, anything to just push myself over the cliff. He stills again.

"Bad girl."

"Please," I sob into the pillow. "You."

"What?" he demands, pulling my hair to the left of my face.

My neck screams at the angle, but it doesn't matter. Nothing but coming matters. "You," I scream out. "I want you." My words end on a sob.

"That's my girl."

His right hand lands on the mattress, and he pulls almost all the way out. I know this time will be different.

"Yours." I nod.

I feel his body tense and close my eyes in anticipation, my arms lock to take the force of his thrust . . . but it doesn't come.

The doorknob to my room rattles.

"Please, ignore it."

He doesn't. A soft pat to my ass, with a quick and serious, "Quiet," is all I get as my masked man climbs off me, then the bed.

I lie helpless and needy.

The doorknob jiggles again. Panicked, I tug at my restraints, pulling left and right. I only work myself up more when the ribbons don't release.

A hand settles on my right ankle, startling me. His forefinger wiggles across the sole of my foot.

"Shh."

Can I trust him? Something tells me that I can, probably the same part of me that says to let a stranger fuck me. But right now, I don't have much of a choice.

Sucking in a deep breath, I try to calm my racing heart and start to close my legs.

He huffs, tapping my foot sharply .

He can't be serious? The handle wiggles again, and male laughter floats in.

Someone is about to come in here. I'm spread out and bound to the headboard. Humiliation floods me . . . along with a fresh course of arousal.

I'm beyond wet.

Someone is breaking into my room for the second time tonight, and I'm so wet anyone in the room can see how much the thought excites me.

"Shhh," a male voice whispers. "Don't wake her."

"Not until he has her where he wants her." Another laughs.

How many of them are there? The door cracks open.

Where's my masked man?

I squeeze my eyes closed.

"Look, just bring the party down this hall and set up outside so no one hears."

My breath catches, and I recognize that voice. Darrell.

Stretching my neck, I peer over my left shoulder at the door. His large form slips inside. Light spills in for just a second, but it only shines into the bathroom, leaving me and the rest of the room in darkness.

He turns, his back facing me, and fist-bumps his friend through the gap in the door. My eyes fill with tears.

Quietly, he closes and locks the door. Stepping out of his sneakers, his hands drop to his pants button.

I whimper at the sight .

Darrell's head shoots up, his eyes widening at the image of me spread-eagle on the bed.

My mouth opens in a silent scream, seeing the white mask appearing behind him. Slowly, the dark form of the taller man creeps forward. Dressed in all black, the mask seems to float, stopping right behind Darrell.

Oblivious to the danger, Darrell's eyes drop to my bare pussy the same minute a baseball bat passes over his face, quickly pressing against his throat from behind. The masked man holds the bat on either end, using the leverage to keep Darrell in a chokehold, the wood unrelenting against his neck.

The two men grapple, but my man is bigger.

They stagger to the left toward the door. The masked man tucks one end of the bat into the crook of his elbow, his other hand pulls the opposite end toward himself, pressing the bat tighter and tighter on Darrell's neck.

Darrell's face is growing redder the more he's robbed of air. His eyes bulge, his hands clawing, desperate to live.

My eyes are glued to them, unable to look away. Darrell can't win this; he didn't come in here for a good reason.

Did your man?

Did he? Is waking up with him eating me out any better than Darrell sneaking in here? I shove the thought away. What we've done tonight, I've wanted that. Even as I screamed and thrashed, I griped and pleaded for more.

The two men fight a foot away from my bed, yet my legs stay splayed apart because he told me to. He hasn't forced me to do anything.

The two fall into the door. Shit, will his friends hear? But only banging and cheers come from the other side.

Assholes.

Darrell and my man stumble away from the entrance farther into the room. That's when I see it. The playful way he moves.

My man's not worried. While Darrell gasps for air, he's toying.

That knowledge settles something in me, a peace I don't think I should have while two grown men fight in my bedroom as I lay helpless.

Tackling Darrell to the ground, my man forces him to his knees. "You see that?" the mechanical voice asks, his finger pointing at where I am. "That woman, that pussy is mine."

I both cringe and flush at his words.

"What did you come in here for? Hmm?"

Darrell doesn't answer. A gurgle escapes his throat. His head is ripped backward by his short brown hair.

My man really has a thing for pulling hair.

"Were you going to crawl into bed with her? Force your disgusting dick inside her?"

My eyes fill with tears at his questions. It's true. Darrell has no other reason to sneak in here and need his friends to cover for him.

"Baby, are you watching?" he calls out to me.

I strain to see over my shoulder more. I can only stare helplessly as the larger man steps back and flicks the bat off the floor with his foot, catching it in his right hand.

He twirls the wood once, twice, his eyes meeting mine in the darkness. Light coming in through the thin curtains shows me his blue eyes, our gazes locking across the small room. Then he raises the bat and turns to a bleeding and breathless Darrell before bringing it down. Over and over, the wood hits its mark.

My stomach roils, and I gag. I'm grateful when Darrell falls back with the first blow, taking his body out of my view.

But there's no escaping the sound. Wet and blunt, the bat hits him over and over. Not being able to take anymore, I bury my face into the pillow.

"Look at him," the voice behind me roars.

Crying, I shake my head. I can't.

Something wet splashes over my back, causing me to sob harder. I don't need to see to know what it is. The smell of copper replaces the smell of sex.

Finally, the blows stop.

I try to see what he's doing, but when I look back, I only see how his mask lights up from the light coming off his cell phone, splashes of red covering the white. A drop of blood drips down onto the already red-painted lips, the color blending like it belongs there.

His tapping fingers makes me frown.

Who the fuck could he be texting?

My face falls onto my pillow again, the cotton wet from my tears and snot. Hot breath pushes back into my face with every shudder that falls from me.

My crying continues, never stopping even as a gloved hand snatches the pillow beside me. A nudge to my hip encourages me to lift so he can put it beneath me. The pillow is thick enough that my back arches. My ass sits slightly higher, my knees steadying my lower body.

My body shakes as sobs roll out of me, and he lines his cock up. We moan together as he eases back inside me.

The movements that follow are just as forceful and unrelenting as before, maybe even more so.

I cry because Darrell is dead, I cry because the man who killed him is fucking me, but mostly, I cry because I don't want him to stop.

My muscles clench tighter than before. Still sensitive from his earlier teasing, my body is eager to return to where we left off.

His hip movements don't stop. He sneaks his hand beneath me, seeking out my trigger button.

And when he finds it . . . I fly.

A scream rips out of me, and heat floods my nethers, liquid gushing out. And pleasure consumes me .

"Holy fuck," he pants as his cock leaves me.

His hands tap my ass. "Let me back in, baby," he groans. The broad head nudges me, but I'm too tight. I've never come like this before. My leg muscles lock, and my body shakes uncontrollably.

Heat keeps pouring out of my pussy.

He tries to push into me again, but I'm still coming.

"Shit, I'm nearly there." His knuckles graze my ass as he beats off, trying to find his own ending. "My cum's going nowhere but inside you. One way or another."

His meaning doesn't register, not until his hands spread my cheeks. The head of his cock breaches my virgin hole before I can even say no.

His cry mixes with mine, my pain with his pleasure.

My head is yanked back, his hand around my throat, the other in the crease between my thigh and my hip.

"Look at us, my cock in your ass, my cum inside you," he taunts. His blood-splattered mask rests next to my flustered, sweaty face in the mirror.

My empty channel squeezes, searching for him. Our eyes locked in the mirror. I stare open-mouthed as my body takes him over and over.

The crown rubs something inside me just right as it moves back and forth. His cock slips deeper as his cum eases the way. He's not even halfway in back there, and it feels so full, too full .

It only takes a few more motions to send me flying again.

Coming down from the best high I've ever felt, I give a final cry as his body leaves mine.

I lie panting as he climbs from the bed, moving about the room.

Sound to my left makes me turn my head, a smile on my face. But it's not him, it's not my masked man. Instead, it's another.

A huge man, even bigger than my own, stands beside my bed. His face is hidden by a hood-like mask made of burlap.

I scream, short and sharp.

How long has he been here?

His head tilts, like he's taking in the scene on the bed, then he gives one strong nod, and a deep mechanical voice says, "Shower, clean yourself and her. I'll sort out here."

My man replies, "Start with the bed and the wall behind. We haven't finished for the night. I've missed the thrill of killing. No more skipping our hunt nights."

How had I forgotten that the man whose essence drips out of me killed a man not twenty minutes ago?

The new guy nods his agreement.

Hands touch my shoulders, rolling me onto my back. The mask that excited me so much earlier now looms over me in a terrifying way.

"Let's get you in the shower, princess."

Princess .

The word rattles around in my head, my wrists dropping free one at a time until I just lie there with my hands on either side of my head, unsure what to do.

Princess.

It can't be.

Confident fingers move down the front of me, opening one button, then two, then three, all the way to the bottom.

The sides of my pajama top are pushed wide. The memory of him doing the same to my legs earlier makes my body heat, and my nipples bud as air hits them. His finger brushes over one, then moves to enclose my other breast in a large hand, squeezing and rubbing.

"Shower." He nods to the connecting room.

I shake my head quickly. He needs to leave, and I need to call the police.

A sound clangs on the other side of the bed, and the other man freezes. Shit, I said that aloud.

My man's hands brush the side of my breasts, his grip on the open top enough to pull me until I'm sitting up.

"Princess, we're going to take a shower where I'll wash your body, then mine, before bending you over and taking your pussy again. Then we'll come out here back to bed, where I'll fuck you at least three more times. However many it takes for you to know that you're mine and for me to know that you'll feel me inside you all day tomorrow. "

Princess.

"Michael," I whisper.

His hands brush the hair away from my face, his mask inches from my lips.

The smell of copper and sweat makes me lightheaded.

"That's the only name you say in bed from now on. Until death do us part." The words start harsh, the mechanical voice rough and scary, turning to a soft whisper, spoken into my mouth as his lips touch mine, the mask falling discarded onto the bed.

Wet with my tears, our lips mold together. He's forceful, taking everything I have to give.

My lip quivers after he frees me, but he quickly sucks it into his mouth. A reminder that I'll never be free, not now.

There is no denying, no forgetting what happened here tonight.

Across the room, Darrell sits on the floor. If I hadn't witnessed what happened in this room, I'd never know who it was. He's wrapped in plastic like he's been fastened up with a giant roll of cling wrap.

His body is propped against the wall, facing the bed. Had he been put there like that before or after Michael climbed back onto the bed? Had he posed his body to watch us?

My stomach roils, and I double over as I gag.

Encouraging me to the edge of the bed, Michael pushes my head low. "Take some deep breaths. It'll pass. "

The other man, Daniel by the size of him, sprays something onto my wall. The smell of bleach burns my nose.

Michael's brother stands on the bed, scrubbing the wall behind it.

The bedroom light flicks on, leaving me naked and bare to their eyes, my top left on the bed while I stand.

My steps are shaky, a mixture of shock, horror, adrenaline, and the remains of the best orgasms I've ever had.

Michael's words of what will happen now somehow heat me. Even now, walking past a dead body, wrapped like a giant fucking present, with his older brother in the room, I crave this man.

He's a killer, and I want him.

I eye the bedroom door, and the party is still booming on the other side. A gentle kiss lands on my shoulder, then another. My feet stop, and I stand between the two doors.

Blunt teeth sink into my left shoulder, painfully pinching the skin.

Pivoting to the left, I enter the bathroom.

I can do nothing but stand and watch as Michael opens the shower door and turns the water on. Steam fills the room quickly.

My hiccuped cries are interrupted by the rustling of his clothes as he strips. Carelessly, he leaves everything in a pile at his feet.

The smell of copper is stronger in here. His clothes are black, the blood soaked into the dark material remaining hidden from the naked eye.

A hand that killed a man not too long ago is now held out in front of me. I ignore it.

I hate him. I hate myself.

But I need to wash off the blood that I can feel dried on my back and the cum that drips out of my ass.

His ignored hand spanks my ass as I pass.

"Don't be disrespectful, Lara. This is happening. You have all night to accept it."

I'm crying again, not that I ever really stopped.

Michael joins me in the small shower stall but makes sure his body doesn't touch mine.

How had tonight gone so wrong? It was supposed to be just a silly party. A night to have fun.

Happy fucking Halloween.

His fingers scrub and scrub. His hands turning me this way and that. I don't fight him because I want nothing more than this night to be washed away.

I glance down at the plug hole. The water is rose red, almost pink as it swirls down the drain. Michael didn't have blood on him since his clothes protected his skin.

My shoulders shake.

Me, the blood is coming off me. Seeing it is so much worse.

Forceful hands tilt my head back, one under my chin, the other holding the back of my head steady as he moves me back under the spray .

The water quickly washes away my tears. Together they mix, leaving me along with any remaining fight.

I'm exhausted, physically and emotionally.

I let Michael maneuver me some more, willing to just let him take charge. By the time he's done, I have my hands braced against the tiled wall, my body folded at the hips, my legs shoulder width apart, ready to accept him for the second time tonight.

With a scream, I take him into my body, knowing that he's right.

I am his.