CHAPTER SEVEN

BELLA

“Harder,” he says with a hoarse voice.

Harder? He is certifiably insane. That is not a normal reaction to someone pulling a chain against your throat, and trying to kill you to save themself.

The fact that he says it with a damn smile on his face should be even more terrifying, yet I find it intriguing. I’ll admit, I watch a lot of serial killer documentaries. The minds of the corrupt and evil have always interested me. Right now is not the time for curiosity. It’s the time to kill this asshole before he kills me, so I push it all aside and grip the chain on either side and pull harder. His eyes darken, and he wraps both his hands around my throat, and pushes me onto the floor. My hands slipped away from the chain when he moved me, but it still sits around his neck. He grins at me like the psycho he clearly is.

“Change of plans, baby. I’m going to fuck you, and then I’ll kill you.”

He keeps one hand on my throat, my thighs between his legs, and with his free hand, yanks open my shirt while I buck my hips up, trying to throw him off of me.

Chuckling, he says, “Yes. Fucking fight me.”

I place both hands on his chest, and try to push him forcefully, but he’s like a boulder. Unmoveable.

He pulls my bra down, exposing one of my breasts, and leans forward, biting my nipple hard, and causing me to scream in pain.

Using his knee, he separates my legs and pulls my skirt up, before undoing his pants and pulling out his cock.

“Nico! Don’t. Please. ”

I try to hold the tears back, because if anything, my crying will only add to his excitement. I’m not normally much of a crier, so it infuriates me. Suddenly, I know I was right, because he stares at the wetness on my cheeks like it’s a thing of beauty. His smirk turns into a wide grin.

Like anything else, he doesn’t care. Everything I do or say to prevent this only makes him laugh.

I don’t know if it’s lack of experience, or because he wants to hurt me, but he pulls my panties to the side and pushes into me forcefully, in one-single thrust.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“I wondered that night at the graveyard what you would feel like. This is better than I imagined. This pussy feels like life and death. I want you to live, so I can use it again and again. And I would gladly die right here.”

“Please kill me,” I beg him, as he rocks into me.

“Come for me.”

He pulls his hips back and thrusts into me, over and over. Each time I want to die a little more than the time before. Nico, Reaper, whatever he wants to call himself, disgusts me. His sweaty body over mine, ordering me to orgasm while he takes something he has no right to, brings me back to my childhood, and I’d rather be dead than to endure this. And yet, as he leans down and presses his lips to mine, my body obeys him. He groans as my back arches from the floor, and I feel my pussy squeezing his cock. He pulls back from our kiss and stares into my eyes, and I hate myself. I hate myself for giving him everything he wanted. Everything he doesn’t fucking deserve.

“Eyes on mine.”

I do as he says, even though I really want to squeeze my eyes shut, simply to take this one thing away from him.

Slamming into me one final time, he groans as he releases inside me. His eyes get darker, as the pleasure is evident in his expression .

Pressing his hand to my face, his breathing is heavy, as he admits, “That was everything. I’m sorry I didn’t last longer. I promise it’ll get better.”

What? That’s not happening again.

“Kill me, Nico. Please. Take my goddamn eyeballs. Whatever you want. Just end my life.”

He stares at me, with a tilted head and a look of confusion. Pulling out of me, he tucks himself back into his pants.

“You want me to kill you?”

I pull my skirt down and sit up, as I try to cover my exposed breast.

“Yes. I would rather die than experience that ever again.”

His perplexed expression only makes things worse. He appears genuinely confused by my words, like he somehow thought I wanted that.

“That was amazing. I don’t understand.”

I shake my head in disbelief, because it’s ridiculous that he needs this to be explained to him.

“You raped me, Reaper. Congratulations, now you’re a rapist, as well as a murderer.”

Glancing up, I spot the sad look on his face, and instantly hate myself again for feeling an ounce of sympathy for this delusional asshole.

“No. I didn’t rape you. Maybe at first, but you liked it. You had an orgasm.”

Things are bad enough being chained to the damn wall, but now I’m getting a migraine. Nobody is this fucking stupid. He has to know what he did to me.

“Just because my body reacted, against the will of my heart and mind, does not mean I wanted that. I hope you remember losing your virginity for the rest of your life. May you never forget how much you disgust me. I hate spiders, but I’d rather have a thousand of them crawling on me, than to ever have you inside me again. ”

He stands, staring at me for the longest time before he finally speaks.

“I’ll be back later. If I stay here, I’m going to kill you, and I think I might regret it.”

Reaper walks out the door and slams it behind him. I scream at the closed door like a banshee.

“Dick!”

The sound of a motorcycle rumbles outside, and I get up and look through the bars, and watch him as he drives away. Once he disappears from my view, the house is eerily quiet. Since I was a little girl, I couldn’t stand the sound of silence. I always needed the tv or music on for background noise. This creeps me out, and every sound of the wind blowing outside the window causes me to jump. Now, I can’t decide if I’m worse off alone in this house, or with a psychopath in front of me. I glance at the jar on the dresser. A chill runs down my spine at the mere thought of him cutting my eyes out. Chances are good that’s going to be the end result. If I’ve learned anything about Nico Bonetti, it’s that he gets what he wants, and fuck everybody else.