Raw (18 page)

As soon as it’s fastened, Twitch wraps the length of the belt around his hand and pulls gently. The pressure on my neck is alarming and uncomfortable.

So why am I dripping wet?

He catches my intake of breath and smirks.
 

He knows. He
always
knows!

The smirk fades, his hooded eyes darken, and he orders, “Make me hard,” then pulls on the belt, forcing me forward into his crotch.

Not wasting a second, I wrap one hand around his hardening dick and guide it to my mouth, careful not to gag from the balls of his piercing. As soon as my tongue touches the sensitive underside, he sighs, “Yeah. That’s it.”

Pulling the belt closer to his side, it forces me closer to him, which in turn pushes him deeper into my mouth. Closing my eyes, I work him with my mouth. Squelching noises echo in the large room. Suddenly, I’m pulled too deep and I gag. My eyes snap open.

His eyes bore into mine as he keeps his length far too deep. “Eyes on me. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Clenching my throat around him, my eyes water and I nod vigorously. Pulling out of my mouth completely, I gasp in a breath, saliva dripping down my chin in a most unattractive way. He cups my cheek affectionately, “Good girl.”

Not giving me a second to get my breathing under control, he drives himself back into my mouth. But I’m slightly freaked. I don’t want to be gagged again.

Twitch must sense this because he states, “You do what I say and that won’t happen again.”

I guess it’s beneficial for me to listen to him then.
 

There’s something about having your choices taken from you that is equally liberating and frightening. Handing over control to a person is a big deal. A showing of trust. And sometimes, I would like to be taken on a ride rather than drive.
 

Blinking rapidly, I look up into his soft brown eyes as he slowly but deeply works my mouth. At this very moment, all I can do is take him in. White shirt, ripped and paint-splattered, mouth parted, eyes hooded in bliss, his filthy face looks almost angelic as he relaxes with every stroke of himself into the wet heat of my mouth. I could watch him all day long. Then his eyes close and he tips his head back in pleasure; the muscles of his neck tense a moment before he swallows hard, the inked artwork there seemingly coming to life with every movement of his throat muscles.
 

He is stunning.

And although he’s no longer watching me, keeping an eye on me to make sure I’m following instructions…I can’t take my eyes off him.

The sounds of leather squeaking softly by my ear alerts me to the fact that he has tightened his grip on the belt once again. Unable to stop myself, I stop my passive posture and give as good as he gets. And I know he’s close. I know this because as I begin to bob my mouth on him, he hisses, “Fuck, Angel. Yeah, baby, suck it good.”

Closing my eyes, I work him in a steady motion. I feel his fingertips slip into the collar that is his belt, and I know what’s coming. And because I know, I’m prepared for it.

Pulling me by my choker, he pants, “I’m ready. Take it.”

Sucking in air through my nose, I’m pulled forward further into his unbelievably hard cock. Relaxing, my throat opens. His hips jerk with the first contraction of his orgasm, and suddenly, I’m deep throating.
 

What’s strange? I don’t feel the discomfort I felt before.

Twitch groans long and low. I feel him jerk fitfully, and the warmth of his release slides down my receptive throat.

And it makes me so wet, makes me so horny, that I know a single touch would set me off.

Stilling, he begins to pull out. My throats reflexes kick in and I gag a little as his piercing knocks the top of my mouth. He finally frees himself. I feel wet warmth slide out of the side of my mouth. His nostrils flare and his eyes flash. Using his thumb, he wipes off the excess stickiness and offers it to me.

Mouth puffy from friction, I slowly extend my tongue and curl it around his thumb. I watch in delight as his almost-flaccid dick jumps. I feel powerful right now. Closing my lips around his thumb, I suck gently and release it with a pop.

Twitch teeters where he stands, and I bite my lip to stop my victorious smirk.

Twitch is not a person to whom you say
I told you so
, so I make sure I do not do that.

As gently as I can, I place him back into his pants and do him up. However, I leave his belt around my neck. I can’t be sure I’m doing the right thing here. The last thing I want to give him is an excuse to punish me.

I like when he’s happy with me. Although, having him be upset with me brings me quite the thrill.

Who knew?

Eyes closed, he visibly shudders before his eyelashes flutter and he looks down at me, his stare full of reverence. His lip curls up, “
Damn
. You sucked the sense out of me.” His hand comes down onto my head and strokes my hair. He mutters, “You did good,
Angel
.”

A small smile graces my lips. The way he just called me angel is as if he actually believes me to be one. Leaning into his touch, the moment is over too soon and his fingers gently undo the belt from around my neck.

A thought crosses me.

I don’t want the belt to go.

My mind ponders this.

Whoa. You are a freak.

Helping me to stand, he possessively wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. Leaning into his chest, I breathe him in and take in his warmth. He guides us out of his room and down the hall. Down the opposite end from where we originally came.
 

That’s when we both hear it.

A lady shrieks, “Help! No! No! Stop!” Sobs. “Please don’t. I don’t want you to! Please!”

My blood runs cold.

My body tenses and my eyes round. I look up at Twitch who watches me carefully, regret in his eyes. What shocks me is his lack of attempt to investigate or help. When the woman screeches at the top of her lungs, Twitch sighs, as if this woman isn’t being attacked, but more of a pain in his ass.
 

Blood roars in my ears. I lose it.

Face bunched in disgust, I snatch my arm away from him, and gritting my teeth, I push at his shoulders before taking off down the hall, looking for the source of the cries for help.

“Lexi! Do
not
go in there! Wait, dammit!”

But I don’t. I run. Frantically looking for the woman who obviously needs help.

Her moans, groans, and sobs appear closer and closer until finally, I stand just outside the door, afraid to peer in. Afraid of what I’ll find.

My heart beats out of my chest.

Eyes wide, my shaking hand reaches for the doorknob. Turning it slowly, the latch clicks over and the door opens an inch, when I’m pulled back into a hard body. A hand tightens over my mouth and I struggle. Breathing heavily through my nose, I fight only a moment before Twitch says directly into my ear, “Stop. Watch. It’s okay, Lex.”

Still struggling, his hand tightens over my mouth. Tears form in my eyes and my body shakes. Pulling the side of my face into his cheek, he sways with me, gently rocking me from side to side. “Ssssh. Just watch.”

Closing my eyes a long moment, I realize I’m not getting out of this until I do as he says. So sniffling, I open my eyes and take in the sight through the crack in the door.

My heart skips a beat. Anger surges through my veins like liquid lava singeing my insides. I’m appalled. And heartbroken.

I need to call the police.

Lexi’s rigid body shakes with soundless cries as we watch through the crack in the door. Wrapping my arm around her, I rock her in what I hope is an attempt at soothing her.
 

I’m not very good at things like that.

It’s not a pretty sight. And part of me hopes to God that she’ll see this through with me.

Regardless of what she thinks, she is strong.
 

She is perfect.
 

I knew she would be.

It’s a lot to take in. But she will find a way to cope. I know it.

And I’ll be there, guiding her all the while.

Closing my eyes, I try to block out the image now burned into my brain. Unable to hold it back, I cry in complete silence, my body shaking against the tall man who I suddenly hate.

I feel ill. And helpless. And morose.

But above any of those feelings, I
hate
Twitch.

Covering my mouth with one hand, he reaches across my chest to hold my shoulder while he gently rocks me, cooing. “Ssssh, Angel. I know it’s hard. I just need you to watch a little longer.”

I cry harder.

Who is this beast?

I know Twitch has issues. Deep seeded issues. But I never imagined how far those roots stem.

I should’ve listened to Nikki when she told me not to make this man a project.

His lips touch the shell of my ear and he whispers, “You gotta trust me, Lex.” His voice pleads. “Open your eyes.”

I want to screech ‘
Fuck you
!’…but something in his voice tells me to do as he says. So I do.
 

And my throat thickens. So thick that I can’t swallow.

The scene before me is horrific.
 

Ling lies on her stomach in the middle of the king-sized bed held in the pristine room. Her little black dress is ripped and left in tatters on her mostly-naked body. One long silken glove has come off, the other hanging off her straining fingers. Her pretty face is distorted by the distress and anguish she is experiencing at this moment.

My heart breaks for her.

My eyes refuse to blink, and tears trail down my cheeks.

I want to call out. I want her to know she isn’t alone. I want to yell for help. But above all, I want to kick the shit out of the brute of a man holding her arm twisted behind her back as he drives into her brutally.
 

No, strike that. I want to
kill
that man.

I’m positive that if I had a gun at this moment, I would use it. Not to defend. Not to maim. But to kill.

My gaze drifts over her body a moment before it settles back on her face. Silently sobbing, her voice strained and weak, she pleads, “Please. Please stop. Don’t do this.”

As if Twitch can sense my resolve breaking, his hand tightens over my mouth and he whispers, “Just a little longer. Then we can walk away.”

But I can’t stop my body from reacting. Wrenching my arms as hard as I can, I struggle with the strong man. To no avail. So when he nips my ear hard, a muffled cry escapes me. That’s when he growls, “She wants it.
Watch
!”

Oh God! He’s one of those psycho stalker guys who rapes women then says they wanted it!
 

The man holding Ling down is more than twice her petite size; there’s no way she could fight him, even if she wanted to. A sinking in my gut takes me back to those weeks ago when Twitch saved me from that…that...fucking
monster
who attacked me.

So why won’t he help now?

The man holds her arm twisted awkwardly behind her back as he thrusts into her. And with every thrust, a look of pain covers her mascara stained face. Her lipstick smeared down her chin, she has a fat lip. The man has visible scratch marks on his chest; dark red covers those scratches and I feel a little satisfaction in knowing that she marked him.