Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Fin

Usually when a two-bit, small-town drug dealer gets out of prison, it doesn't make the national news. When that same drug dealer was from a town that was recently wrapped up in a huge decade-long scandal, and was just connected to America's Sweetheart, one of the biggest triple threats in Hollywood, that changes.

I was thirty miles outside of our hometown when I heard the news report. Bile filled my stomach and rose up to my throat. If Damon was out of jail… At the same time we were going back home… I had a feeling I knew the first place he would go.

I wanted to race to Sabrina, to make sure I got there to give her a heads up, but I couldn't risk catching the attention of any small-town cops along the way. I needed to roll through town as discreetly and uneventfully as I could so as not to risk drawing any attention to myself, and by association, Sabrina.

She didn't need that. We didn't need that. And If I was right about what Damon was going to do and what kind of mood he was going to be in–the mood for revenge–he wouldn't need that either.

So despite all my instincts, I drove through Three Rivers as if I didn't have a care in the world. I forced myself to stick to my plan and stop at the Dutch Diner to pick up burgers, fries and shakes since I knew there would be no food at the cabin, and on a whim, I added a third to the order.

I managed to get out of there without any chit-chat and if anyone recognized me, they didn't say anything. Back in the car, I took backroads all the rest of the way to the shitty shoe-box-style home on the outskirts of town.

With each turn I took, with each mile marker I passed, my heart pounded harder in my chest. My throat felt like sawdust. My palms got clammy. I'd say I hoped I was wrong, but that would be a lie.

Besides, I knew I wasn't wrong, which meant my secret was about to come out.

When I pulled up to the house, the only car there was Sabrina's rental, a nondescript Lincoln Town Car. But that wasn't surprising either.

I held my breath as I stepped up to the front door and pushed it open, stepping inside as quietly as I could. All my senses were on high alert.

As soon as I pushed the door shut behind me, I knew he was here. Slipping my boots off, I made my way across the carpet in my stocking feet, careful to not make a sound. Careful to not even breathe.

And finally I heard them. Well, I heard Damon anyway. His voice rose with an anger that made goosebumps rise all over my arms. At the same time, I knew it was justified.

"You think that's what I'm mad about Sabrina? That you couldn't stop me from going to jail for crimes I committed, when the whole thing was a set-up against me from the start?" Something hit a wall, and I wondered what he'd thrown.

"Fuck, you know this town is so corrupt all the fucking people that were in charge back then ended up next to me in jail. There was nothing you could have done about it. You were a fucking kid. We both were."

I heard soft murmurs in response that I assumed were Sabrina, but I couldn't make out what she said.

I took a step closer to the room they were in–Sabrina's old room–and sucked in a breath when Damon continued.

"Why am I mad? Why am I mad? I gave up everything for you. I would have done anything. I wasn't selling drugs for the fucking fun of it. I was doing it so we'd have a fucking shot of surviving on our own. So we could have a fucking shot at a life together. So you could get away from your POS dad forever. And I went to jail for it. And that's on me. But all I fucking asked of you was one thing. One fucking thing. That you waited for me. That you kept your promise. I was fucking miserable in jail. And fucking lonely. And scared. I was a fucking kid." There was another crash, and this time I could tell he'd kicked a piece of furniture.

Then there was more soft murmuring, but whatever she said seemed to only fuel his rage.

"You said forever. You said it, but you didn't mean it, not even for a second, did you?" There was a slapping sound that had me wincing before Damon continued, his vitriol growing more violent. "Lying little bitch. Forever and Always. You didn't even wait until the cell door was locked, did you?"

I sucked in a breath and padded to the door. Did he know about us? About me and Sabrina? Somehow the media had never connected us romantically, even though we'd been together for years, but now that her past had been revealed, it wouldn't take long. There was another slapping sound, then, "You belong to me, babygirl. Always and forever. I promised too, and I keep my promises."

There was a muffled scream, and I knew he was touching her, against her will, hurting her out of some bizarre sense of entitlement coupled with a sick need for revenge.

That was how Damon was. Strong. Steadfast. Loyal to a fault. But woe to the person who didn't show the same loyalty in return.

They got to see an entirely different side of him. The side Sabrina was seeing now.

I inhaled deeply as I prepared to announce my presence. Sabrina didn't know it, but I was about to turn some shit on its head. In a way no one could have ever seen coming.

* * *

Sabrina

Salty tears burned my eyes, falling down my stinging cheeks and wetting the edges of the duct tape Damon had used to tape my mouth shut.

To shut me the fuck up so I'd stop arguing with him, stop reasoning with him, stop trying to delay the inevitable.

I couldn't help myself. This entitled rage-filled monster was not the Damon I knew.

To make matters worse there was still a hint of the Damon I knew underneath. There had to be, right? Otherwise, why was my pussy wet when he dragged a hand beneath my skirt and roughly fondled me? Why did I part my legs for him when he shoved his fingers up inside me? Why didn't I fight harder when he pulled the bottle from his bag, drained the liquid inside and began fucking me with it?

If there wasn't a hint of my Damon left, why was I just letting him do these things?

Realistically, I couldn't really have stopped him anyway. My hands were bound above my head, secured to my old brass headboard with industrial strength zip ties and Damon's thick body was straddling mine.

"Do you know what happens to bad girls?"

His gaze was locked on my face, tracking every tear, challenging me to fight him.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Willing myself to stop crying, I met his challenging gaze with one of my own. Because, fuck him. I wasn't going to give in to his stupid game anymore.

"Well, I guess you're about to find out." With a huge evil grin, he pulled the bottle out of my pussy one last time. I almost wept with relief, but something in his eyes warned me not to get ahead of myself. I didn't know what was more shameful, the bottle or his fingers. Actually having Damon touch me, to feel my wetness and know for sure that there was some tiny part of me that was actually not hating this, that was the worst.

Worse still was when he smugly grinned. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. I knew exactly what he was thinking as he pushed one finger, then two up inside me.

"Such a tight little pussy," he taunted. "I'm going to have far too much fun ruining this tight little pussy, tearing you open for my cock, making you take me."

I shook my head from side to side, wishing he would stop, wishing for some glimpse of the boy I'd known.

But at this moment, there wasn't one. He added another finger, strumming me, stretching me, and then another. I wished my hands weren't tied so I could bite my fist as the pain tore through me when he added a third, a fourth, and then his thumb.

When every digit was inside me, that's when the really torture started.

The width of his hand burned as it opened inside me. I felt every millimeter of stretching my body did to accommodate him.

The pain, the excruciating humiliation was awful, but it was almost nothing compared to the smug, evil grin on Damon's face. I gritted my teeth together, trying not to cry, determined not to give him the satisfaction of breaking me, all while lamenting how terribly broken he must be to have become this person, and realizing that I was at least a little bit responsible for his brokenness. I didn't bother asking him to stop, or cry out. I didn't beg for mercy. I held myself stiff and rigid, and just prayed it would be over soon. Either because he came to his senses or because Fin finally arrived.

Swallowing a fresh wave of tears, I looked over his head at the clock on the wall. It was old and broken, and probably had not kept time in years, but I let it serve as a reminder that Fin would be here soon.

Fin would be here soon.

He'll be here soon. Soon.

I repeated the mantra even as Damon caressed my cheek with his free hand, even as he fucked me brutally with his fist, burning my insides.

He smirked when he caught a stray tear on the crook of his pointer finger, brought it to his lips and let his tongue savor the salty evidence of his cruelty.

I repeated it still as Damon stood, dragging his fist from my pussy, leaving me raw and gaping, bereft.

Even as he walked to the far corner of the room and worked the buckle on his belt, even as he undid the fly on his jeans, even as he s?oved layers of fabric over his hips, revealing his thick erection.

Even as he stared at me and wrapped his hand around his shaft.

"That sweet pretty pussy belongs to me, baby girl. You promised. Forever and always. I've waited six years. To touch you again. To taste you again, to fuck you again."

No. No. No!

I shook my head back and forth, as hard as I could, letting him know exactly how I felt about that now. Earlier, before the bottle, before his fist, I would have accepted it, I would have just taken it and been thankful it wasn't worse. But not now.

He was going to do whatever he wanted; I got that, there was nothing I could do about it, but I wasn't about to let him pretend I was into it. I wasn't going to let him fool himself into thinking I was enjoying it.

To tell myself I wanted it.

I went stiff as a board as he stalked toward me with his cock in his hand.

As he climbed back over me, straddling my hips. As his hard cock pressed between my thighs. As he teased my pussy with his cockhead.

I held my breath as he pushed the tip between my lips, searching to breach my entrance. To put himself inside of me. Without my consent. Was it rape because I couldn't consent? Would I have said no if I was able?

I honestly didn't know. Earlier in the day, I wouldn't have.

Where was Fin?

Damon looked down at me, catching my gaze, with his cockhead still nestled just between my pussy lips, not quite inside me yet. "God, babygirl. How I've missed this sweet, tight pussy."

I gulped hard, my eyes widening as he continued.

"But that's not all I've missed. I've missed your pretty little mouth, and your pretty little ass. Just dreaming of you kept me going all those years, and it's time, babygirl, for those dreams to become reality."

I shook my head, even as my pussy wept for him. Why was my body betraying me?

A shadow came into view, and for once I was glad for the tape on my mouth as Fin stepped into the room. I worked hard to keep my body's response neutral, to not tip off Damon to his presence.

I tried to beg him with my eyes to be careful, to not get hurt, while still rescuing me from whatever Damon was planning. But Fin barely looked at me. His eyes swept over me once, assessing the situation. From then on, his gaze was locked on Damon's back.

Damon seemed oblivious to Fin's arrival, all his attention still on me as he listed the horrible, humiliating things he wanted to do to me.

"Daddy missed you, babygirl. I can't wait to take you in every hole you have. To teach you every lesson you seem to have forgotten. To remind you what always and forever means. I'm going to teach you to never abandon me again."

Each word he spoke made the harsh reality of the situation I was in clear. I tried to get Fin's attention. I was thinking about what he could do, how he could fight Damon without getting hurt or really hurting him. Whether there was a way to rescue me without getting the police involved. I wondered if the old cast iron skillet was still in the kitchen somewhere and if he could use it to knock Damon out without hurting him too badly. And why wasn't he doing anything? Why wasn't he saying anything?

"Daddy's going to make you mine, babygirl. And you can fight me, and you can try to run, but I will break you down. I will do whatever it takes to make you scream my name when you come. To make you cry out for me, to make you come back to me." He stroked my cheek. "Not that you have a choice."

Finally, finally, Fin stepped forward. Finally, he opened his mouth.

My shoulders tensed and I braced myself for him to clock Damon in the face. For them to fall to the ground fighting until one of them won.

"Go ahead. Do whatever you want to her. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel better about the fact that you let each other down. But just keep in mind, babyboy, that whatever you do to her, I will do to you in return."

At the sound of Fin's voice, Damon went still. His eyes dilated. His breathing grew labored. His cock, hard and poised at my entrance, deflated. He jerked away and slowly turned.

"Daddy?" he whispered shakily, like he'd seen a ghost. "What are you doing here?"

Daddy? What the fuck was happening?