Page 22 of CurVy 13

“For the next four days, you’re going to let me defile this body. Every inch will have been fucked red and raw. All your skin, covered in my sweat and cum. Bitten,”—he can barely finish his filthy promises— “Marked.” A groan tears through his throat, and cum spurts across my chin and lips.

His hips pump hard.

I struggle to stay upright, but he guides me with utter control by his hold on my neck and hair.

“God, yes.” He sways with his head back while I try to collect the fragments of my sanity.

When his head lifts again, he says, “Now, clean me up.” He releases my throat. I inhale sharply.

Dropping my breasts, I let him drag me by my hair to his cock. I breathe in his scent—potent and masculine and not at all unpleasant. His hold tightens, and a warning crawls along my scalp, pulling a hiss from me. “Now!”

I lap my tongue out and clean the long length, hollowing my mouth to take him deep. Over and over again. I concentrate, a misguided need for praise spurring me on, wanting to show him how skilled I am. This is where I shine. Oliver always wanted blow jobs, never much else.

His hips churn, his flaccid monster cock growing within my suction and kneading.

“Fuck,” he hisses, then tugs my hair and rips my mouth from him. Two eyes narrow through the eye holes, focused on my face. “You suck cock like you’re starving. But I just fed you, Pup. No more until tomorrow. Now, bedtime.”

CHAPTER 8

VALLIE

I hardly slept.

Donnie sat in the chair opposite my bed, watching me in his quiet contemplation as I tossed, turned, and ached until slumber grabbed me, and I leapt into its oblivion.

The next morning, he drives me into the city.

Did yesterday actually happen?

It’s too surreal, yet as the sound of horns filter through the windows of Donnie’s black SUV, this crazy reality hits hard.

The sun makes me squint.

I’m a hostage in broad daylight.

I was raped last night.

I don’t know why I feel the need to repeat these things in my mind over and over. I was raped. You were raped. I feel strange… It’s as though my body has already forgotten or am I in a kind of perpetual shock, or am I fooling myself, or, fuck me, am I actually… okay? I shouldn’t be.

We park a street away from the courthouse.

Wearing a nice black dress with straightened hair and make-up, I appear as typical as any other day.

I squint through the passenger window as we pull over, a stream of suits and blouses passing by, followed by easy chatter. I want to scream at them, but I don’t.

I’ll play my part in this.

“Hey!” A girl raps her knuckles on the window, and I clutch my heart to stop it from beating through my ribcage. Fearful, I look over at her. No. I recognise her from yesterday, she’s one of the other jurors.

The presence of Donnie at my side is like a knife scoring my skin, wanting attention. My eyes widen with a message for her; a silent warning to run.

She looks past me, her expression slipping to ungodly doom. She is staring at Donnie; his hoodie is tugged over the metallic mask, but the sad mouth and chin are still visible.

Her face washes to ice. A blue vein rises to the surface of her forehead and pulses with fear.

She knows him…

Without looking away, she steps backwards before staring at the ground and heading toward the court.

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