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“You can take them off, or I’ll cut them off,” he said.
Rachel didn’t move.
Sonny frowned. Her face was flushed and her eyes were glassy. He grabbed the blanket and yanked it from her body, and when he did, he saw the festering wound at her neck.
Shit. She’s sick.
But he’d been thinking about her all day and wouldn’t be denied. He dropped down on his knees beside her and started yanking off her clothes, expecting resistance. But there was none. This was disappointing, and he was beginning to lose his arousal, so he poked at the bruises as they were revealed, expecting a reaction. Her nostrils flared slightly, but that was all.
“Come on, bitch. You know what I like,” Sonny mumbled, and pinched both her breasts.
It took everything Rachel had not to react. Not to fight. She was still biding her time, watching for an opening—for him to look away, even if for a moment.
Sonny wasn’t expecting the severity of bruising on her body. She was dark blue and purple everywhere. Maybe he’d been a little rough the first time around. He sure didn’t want her disabled. Not yet. They’d just begun their little affair.
“Hey. Snap out of it,” he said and slapped her, crushing her mouth against her teeth.
When the blood gushed, he grinned. That was more like it.
“Did you miss me, baby?” he crooned. “I missed you. We’re going to have a real good time tonight.”
When he rolled Rachel over onto her back, and shoved his knee between her legs, she flopped lifelessly. He frowned, and looked around for his knife. A little pain would sharpen her senses.
It was the moment Rachel had been waiting for. She grabbed his dick with one hand, squeezing and digging in her nails with every ounce of strength she had left, and then twisted it.
Before he could react, she reached toward him with her other hand and stabbed her fingernails into his chest, scratching him all the way down to his belly button.
Sonny was in shock. The pain was excruciating.
He began screaming and cursing, hitting her and grabbing at her hand, begging her to let go. The harder he hit her, the more she twisted.
Finally, in a last ditch effort, he doubled up his fist and hit her hard enough to knock her out. The moment he was free, he rolled over onto his side, sobbing and holding himself...afraid to look for fear his dick would come off in his own hands.
He wanted to kill her. Right then. Right where she lay. But he was paralyzed by the pain. When he finally got to his feet, he made it as far as the sink when nausea hit. He spun and threw up in the commode until his sides were aching.
He didn’t know Rachel had regained consciousness, or that she was crawling toward his knife until he her heard her moving. By the time he looked over his shoulder, she had the knife in her hand and was on her hands and knees.
He couldn’t fight her like this. She’d almost unmanned him. All he could think to do was get out of her reach. With every ounce of strength he had left, he grabbed his clothes and made a run for the door, then fumbled with the keypad trying to unlock it. His heart was pounding, his fingers shaking.
She was only feet away and coming at him when he fell through the doorway, slamming it shut, automatically locking the door behind him.
He was bleeding, and swollen and as naked as the day he’d been born. It felt like she’d broken his dick. He needed to get home and get ice on it, ASAP. No way could he go to the ER with all these scratches, and an injury like this. He would be arrested for rape, and they’d start looking for a victim.
It took every ounce of strength he had left to get dressed and get home, sobbing with every step that he took. He’d go back to her again, but this time he’d take a gun and put a hole in her head.
When the door slammed shut in Rachel’s face, she collapsed in despair. Her jaw was throbbing, her mouth was swelling and now so was her eye. She’d been close. So close. But she had a weapon now. She had his knife.
It was a good thing, and a bad thing.
He’d come back. But now that she had his knife, he couldn’t afford to come back without a gun.
She needed to even the playing field a little, and the only way she could think was to put out the light. If she could break the bulb, then he couldn’t see her. He wouldn’t be expecting darkness, or for her to be right at the door. If she was lucky, she could stab him as he entered and make a run for it. After what she’d done to him tonight, it would be her only chance.
She got her clothes back on, all except for one shoe, then pulled the mattress to the corner nearest the door. By now her eye was almost shut, and she kept sluicing water over her face, hoping to deter some of the swelling.
Finally, she was as clean as she was going to get, and thought about the food that he’d brought. The mere idea of eating made her sick to her stomach, and it was going to hurt her jaw to chew, but she had to keep up her strength.
With every cold, greasy bite she took, she looked up through her one good eye, staring intently at the single bulb in the center of the ceiling, gauging how high it was as she chewed, and planning how hard she would have to throw her shoe to break it.