Page 7 of X's and O's

He got up off the armchair and wandered over to me, trailing his fingers over my bare leg.

I tried to kick him away but found there were ropes around my ankles too.

My brain wanted to spiral into panic, but I knew I couldn’t. There was no escaping this if I couldn’t think clearly.

I had no idea what to do though, and his touch was repulsive. It skated up my thighs, dipping between them to trace over my pink underwear.

Anger swept in, washing away some of the fear. A feral snarl ripped from somewhere deep inside me, coming out muffled but rumbling through my chest, nonetheless.

It gave Paul a moment of pause, and then he laughed with surprise. “Didn’t pick you for a fighter. Or was that a purr because you liked me touching your pussy?”

Disgust rolled through me, and I twisted, fighting to keep his fingers off my skin.

But he pinned me down, his heavy weight crushing my wrists, my chest, my legs. I couldn’t breathe properly with him on top of me, and the panic took over. I lashed out, bucking and trying to throw him off, but he only grinned and held me down harder.

“That’s it. Fight me.”

His dick was hard beneath his pants, pressing against my core.

I wanted to die. Check out. Get sucked down intosome sort of deep, dark abyss where this wasn’t happening.

I was supposed to be cleaning a house and then buying some coffee. Going home to eat dinner and play Monopoly with Toby. That was supposed to be my day.

Not this.

Paul licked his way up my neck, and I cringed away, wishing the couch beneath me would swallow me up. His fingers reached for the button on his fly, and I stopped trying to fight the terror.

It wanted to consume me.

I wanted to let it.

The overly chirpy ding-dong of a doorbell broke through the hole, rapidly sucking me down.

Paul and I both snapped our heads to the side. I couldn’t see the entranceway. He’d dragged me to a smaller sitting room away from it. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try screaming my damn head off to get the attention of whoever had just pressed that bell.

I sucked in a breath as best I could.

Paul slapped a hand over my mouth. “Shut up. The person at that door isn’t going to help you. Keep your fucking mouth shut or everything I was going to do to you, I’ll do to your gay boyfriend as well. Don’t piss me off, Violet.”

I froze. He knew about Toby.

He’d been watching me.

The thought of someone hurting Toby sent chills down my spine. We’d been best friends since high school, and I still remembered the way I’d felt when I’d found him beaten to within an inch of his life, a week after he’d come out of the closet. He’d had a broken jaw, brokenribs, and had spent weeks in the hospital recovering from a surgery to fix an internal bleed.

I’d sat by his side as the police had questioned him, then done nothing to punish his attackers. I’d held his hand as he’d healed through the painful breaks and incisions, and while he’d eaten through a straw so his jaw could mend itself.

I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone ever laying a finger on him again, just because of who he loved.

That high school attack had been because he’d dared to love a boy.

This one would be because he loved me.

But I couldn’t just lie here in fear either. I could practically hear Toby’s sass in my head, telling me I better get my ass up and run like there was a bear chasing me. We both knew that was the only way either of us were moving faster than a walk. Neither of us were the gym type.

The doorbell rang again. And again. They clearly weren’t going away.

Paul gave me a silent glare, his eyes full of threats should I try to get help. I nodded, trying to be the obedient lamb he wanted me to be while my brain whirred a million miles a minute, trying to come up with a plan.