Page 7 of Covert Desires

Fucking pervert!I want to shout, but only an indecipherable mumble passes the dirty dishcloths in my mouth.

How can he be touching himself right here?What the fuck?

His face remain lifeless as he jerks himself off, towering over me like a nefarious god while the shower goes in the background, all the hot water running into the drain.

Nico doesn’t make any sound. His face doesn’t change. There is no visible indication that he’s enjoying any of this. But he keeps stroking, those haunted eyes pinned on mine.

Desperate for a reprieve from this nightmare, I close my eyes. I don’t want to see this.

“Oh-no, you don’t.”

I gasp as a large hand wraps around my throat, trapping the air in my lungs.

My eyes shoot open to find Nico bent over me, choking me as he continues to pleasure himself.

“Keep them open, or this will be theleastfucked-up thing you see tonight,” he threatens, and I believe him.

Despite wanting to throw up at the mere sight, I force myself to watch, swallowing down the bile that pushes up in my throat.

Nico’s pierced tip looks ripe and ready up close, but there is nothing erotic about the scene.

“Hmm, how about someinspiration.” He finally loosens his grip around my throat, and I desperately suck in some air.

My skin shudders as Nico’s rough hand suddenly dips into my bra. Like he has the right to do so, he rolls the hard tip of my nipple between his fingers, and I bite down a moan.

My mind is screaming at me, but my body is painfully aware of the fact that nobody has touched my breasts in years, and definitely not with such possessiveness, such urgency.

“Now, hold still,” Nico says, returning his palm to his cock.

I watch in horror as the unannounced stranger jerks himself to completion with a single grunt, spilling his thick cum on my cheek?unceremoniously.

It’s warm and gross, and the worst part is that there’s nothing I can do to wipe it from my skin.

“Much better,” the fucker proclaims with a creepy grin before returning to the shower, leaving me there to stew.

Shouting into my gag, I struggle against my restraints as rage burns through me.

Who does Nico think he is?

He’ll pay for this!

Game on, asshole.

Chapter three

Shower

(Nico)

Theislanddoesn’tmatchthe memory I have of it.

But then again, it’s been 15 years since my father brought me here as an impressionable teenager.

It’s probably the only good memory I have of that asshole.

The last time we stayed at this inn, there wasn’t some crazy storm. Nor a stubborn innkeeper with an explosive temper and magnetic body.

That woman should be grateful she’s still breathing. I’ve ended people for much less than trying to stab me with my own knife.

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