Page 8

MARGOT

“F uck!”

The man catapults off the bed, but I don’t think I hit him. Not yet.

I scramble to turn on the lamp, my gun pointed the man’s way, waiting for his head to pop up.

He fucked up. He really fucked up because if he’d done his research, he’d have noticed how often I whip behind me to see if I’m followed, how many times a day I check the security feed on my porch.

He’d have noticed that I’m a woman shaking at the idea of a stranger harming me.

I’m a woman who’s been terrified for years.

For the first two years, I slept with a fire poker beside me. Then I got a gun. I’ve been to the shooting range every other weekend since.

“Show yourself, you fucking coward!” I screech, darting my eyes around like the guy turned into a spider and might crawl up my feet.

My finger is poised on the trigger when the man stands, chocolate eyes hard and hollow. I saw them clearly last night and have tried to recall where I know them from every minute since.

Now they’re attached to that face. And that face is one I could never forget.

“Arseni,” I whisper like his name is cursed. It might very well be.

He walks around the bed toward me, his gait confident, relaxed . His pants are at least pulled up, but he hasn’t bothered to button them, so they sag around checkered boxers that shouldn’t draw my eyes.

My face inflames, but every step he takes toward me presses against the immediacy of the situation, claiming all my attention.

“S-stop,” I say, backing into the nightstand. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

He doesn’t. I don’t know if he knows I won’t pull the trigger or if he just doesn’t care.

I look behind me and sidestep to put distance between us, but he closes it easily and yanks the gun from my hand. I yelp and cringe as he takes my jaw and shoves me into the wall, my back thumping hard.

I try to cower, but his arm pressed against my chest prevents me from shrinking. I’m forced to look at him, to watch his hardened eyes as he tosses the gun on the other side of the room and shrugs his pants over his hips.

No, that’s a lie. I could close my eyes if I wanted, if he’d let me. I just won’t.

“Arseni,” I whimper, my eyes stinging.

His arm easing off my chest, he pulls what’s left of my night shorts down and lifts my foot to guide me out of them. When he stands back up, I flinch, as if him being face to face with me causes pain. In some ways, it does.

He takes hold of my neck, making my eyes widen and hands raise to his wrist. I’m taken back to last night when he choked me.

I feared for my life then, and I should fear for my life now, but it feels like the world has tilted on its axis.

I see everything differently through this angle, through the eyes of this boy I once knew.

I’m not afraid of him killing me. No more than he was afraid of me killing him.

Maybe that’s stupid. Maybe he’s become a murderer since I last saw him, but it feels impossible to separate that boy from this man.

“Say it again,” he commands, his hand firmly wrapped around my neck while he lifts my leg, spreading me for him. He frees himself from his boxers and presses his bare flesh to me yet again, making me gasp.

He squeezes my throat, not to the point of cutting off oxygen but enough to get my attention. As if it could be anywhere else.

“ Say it .”

“S-say what?”

His hand squeezes until I’m uselessly trying to suck in breaths and clawing at his hand.

He brushes his lips against my earlobe, and the gentle act contrasts so sharply with his vicious grip that I have no idea what he’s feeling.

I struggle for air, trying to kick, though my leg is still raised in his hold.

“Say my name,” he whispers, licking my earlobe before he relaxes his grip.

I suck in a gasp and lift my head toward the ceiling. His … cock . It feels so wrong to call it that when it’s on him, but no other word seems to fit in my mind. His cock nudges against my entrance as it did minutes ago when he was a different person, when this was a different world.

His hand lightly squeezes my neck, bringing me back to his command. I lower my head to stare into his eyes and breathe heavily while he rocks against me, swirling his tip inside my heat.

“This is wrong,” I whisper back, almost as a reflex. Again, I’m transported back in time. Again, I feel my face flush at the perverseness of this.

One side of his mouth quirks, a smile I remember well. It always struck me as evil. Always tipped me off to the malevolence going on in his mind.

“I know,” is all he says.

In one forceful thrust, he spears into me, filling me up until my walls clamp around him in protest. It isn’t from lack of arousal.

I turn my head in shame at how smoothly my body tries to make things for him.

He takes my jaw and pulls me back to look at him while he rams me with powerful jerks of his hips.

My lips part in gasps that turn to light moans, moans I promise myself are cries.

This is wrong.

So, so wrong.

His hand smooths over my breasts and down to my neglected clit. I open my mouth to tell him to stop, but all that comes out is a whine. It feels better than it should, better than I wish it did.

I wish he’d choke me some more. That he’d flip me around and fuck me mercilessly with the lights off, that he’d degrade me, spank me, give me all the pain he came to give me. Anything but this.

“Stop,” I say, breathless as he rolls his hips into me in a delicious rhythm that has me following it like a he’s a twisted snake charmer. “Please stop.”

“Say my name and maybe I will,” he replies. It’s an obvious lie, but I tell myself it’s my only option. I need him to stop. I’ll hate myself if he doesn’t. It’s a bitter injustice that I can be an unwilling participant and yet so damn guilty.

“Arseni,” I say, lust swirling in each syllable like it’s the dirty word he wants it to be.

His mouth opens against my ear, hot breaths pelting me between his kisses as he rubs me faster. I throw my head back as his thrusts come quicker, the force of them knocking my ass against the wall.

“ Arseni ,” I moan, my hands wrapping around his neck. I’m not even lying to myself this time. His name slips off my tongue in a needy plea, and I don’t even know what I’m asking for anymore.

He grips my ass and lifts me into his arms, his lips devouring my neck while he carries me to the bed. I feel light in his arms, feel strength that reminds me he’s a man. And that I should fear him.

He drops me on the bed then flips me over before hauling me up onto my knees. There’s no caress when he impales me, only a cold, brutal plunge of his hips that makes me grip the comforter.

I cry out as his hand connects with my backside in a slap that ends with a squeeze. His hand finds my breasts next, pawing at me while he fucks me with an intensity I’ve never felt. An intensity I somehow knew I was lacking. If another man was inside me, it would be nice. Great , even.

But not now. Not like this and certainly not with him.

“Stop,” I grind with far more conviction than before when he spanks me, my body cringing at the sting his palm leaves. I try to crawl forward, but he holds my hips steady to lock me in place.

“Arseni, stop, please . I don’t want this.”

His fingers weave through my hair to yank me upright. He pulls my back against his chest while his cock grinds inside of me.

“I want you to listen carefully, Margot. Try to pay attention.” I close my eyes as he pinches my nipple. He lets go of my hair to wrap his arm around my throat, pinning me to him. When he speaks next, he does so with such a lack of compassion that I wince at his tone.

“I do not give a fuck what you want. This cunt…” His hand burns its way down until it’s between my legs.

He spreads my hood to tap his finger directly against my clit.

I arch my hips, trying to get away but wind up increasing the pressure.

“This cunt is mine . From this moment forward, every time your striped-suit wearing pussy of a boyfriend touches you, you’re going to think of me.

Every time you close your eyes in this bed, you’re going to wonder if I’ll wake you up with my finger inside you.

” His teeth graze my ear, sending a shiver across my neck. My shoulders bunch in response.

“One day you might forget about me, but just know… That’s the day I’ll be back.” His teeth bite down on my earlobe, pain mixing with the unwanted pleasure. His words are such an ominous promise spoken with enough certainty that I believe them.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” I say just before he shoves me forward. I land on my elbows and moan as he yanks my hips into him.

“Yeah.” His words are breathy as he fucks me faster. “But your pussy doesn’t care.”

I clamp my mouth and eyes shut while pulling the comforter into tight fists, not quite wound with anger, but with the tension in my core.

Arseni’s finger continues its assault on my clit while his cock strokes my G spot, and it all becomes too much.

Pressure builds until I come undone around his length, my back arching while I cry out like the whore he wants to make me.

His erratic breathing halts with a single groan as he gives one last hard thrust that opens a valve to my shame. I feel his cum spill out of me as he pulls away, the sound of his zipper somehow degrading.

I crawl forward on the bed before sitting up and pulling the comforter over my chest. I don’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me. I don’t want to imagine what he’s thinking.

When the doorbell rings, I tense but don’t dare get up. I wait for the air in the room to shift, for fearful tension to spoil his victory. The thought of it gives me strength to peek up at him. He doesn’t appear phased.

“That’ll be the cops,” he says, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

He plucks one in his mouth while staring at me.

“They’ll ask about gunfire one of your nosy neighbors called in, and you’ll tell them the volume on your TV may have been too loud.

Otherwise, you don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. ”

He flicks his lighter and puts the flame to the end of the cigarette. When it’s lit, he takes an inhale and blows it toward me. He plucks another smoke from the pack and tosses it on the bed.

“See you around, Mommy.” My mouth opens in horror while I just gape at him, but all he does is smirk and go to the window. He disappears without another word.

The doorbell rings again, and while I pull on my robe, my face burns so hot I consider splashing cold water on it. But there’s no time. I go downstairs to find two police officers at my door, neither looking especially concerned.

I tell them exactly what Arseni directed me to. Even if I was brave enough to admit what he’d done, the police would be the last people I’d confide in. Maybe Arseni knows that, but my shame is only part of the reason.

Arseni isn’t the only predator watching. And if he knew what went on…

He’d make sure to remind me I was already claimed.