Page 11 of Johny B

“I suggest you get the fuck off of me,” I growl out between my teeth, pushing against the floor with everything I have, trying to buck him off of my back. He laughs, squeezing his thighs tighter against my sides, crushing any chance of me gaining the upper hand. He pulls my head back further with force, my hair still fisted in his hand. The sting at the roots has me screaming out once more.

“Jeez girl.” He twists my head, then leans in and licks the side of my face with his putrid-smelling tongue. I shudder with revulsion. “I love it even more when you bitches fight back.” The sound of his manic laugh fills me with the fear of God, which is only intensified by the sound of his belt being unbuckled and the swish of it being pulled from the waistband of his jeans.

He lets go of my hair, giving my sore, burning scalp a reprieve, but before I get the chance to make another attempt to escape, he’s captured both my hands, jarring them behind my back. Holding them tightly together, he wraps the belt around them both, pulling it so tight that the leather cuts into my skin and I grit out in pain. I wriggle against the restraints when hesits up, thinking if I could just move onto my back, I could kick out, fight back, but then his forearm comes around my neck and pulls until my upper body is raised off the floor.

With his free hand, he snatches a handful of the fabric of my blouse and yanks at it, ripping it away from my body. Buttons fly, bra exposed. His grubby fingers pull at the lace cup, bringing it down and freeing one of my breasts.

“Nice tits,” he sneers in my ear while grasping the exposed flesh. I let out a yelp, my body tensing when his ragged fingernails claw at me, breaking the surface of my skin.

Not only is he going to leave his mark on me mentally, but physically, too. He releases his hold. My face slams back to the floor. His hand comes down sharply between my shoulder blades, keeping me firmly in place.

With the sound of ripping fabric, cool air hits my ass cheeks, the thong I’m wearing giving me zero cover now that my skirt has been ripped away. Soon, even that has been snapped and pulled from me. He flings it, hitting the side of my head, and it lands an inch or two from my face. Even with the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, I don’t miss the sound of the zipper as he releases himself, nor the sensation of his cock pushing up against my bare ass.

“You should think twice about what you’re about to do,” I sneer through my building fear.

“Shut your fucking mouth, you little bitch.” He slaps me hard across the back of the head, making my brain rattle inside my skull. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m going to take my time with you then fuck your tight little asshole so hard, it’ll feel like I’m splitting you in two. Then I’m going to choke you out so I can watch the very last breath leave your body.”

He uses one of his knees to push my legs apart. Hooking a hand under my right knee, he pulls up my leg. I try to fight him,but when he bites down on my thigh and I feel the skin split around his teeth, the pain has me conceding.

I’m open to him, giving him full view and access to my pussy, my ass, and my dignity.

No, no, no. Not like this. Not this way. This can’t happen. Reality hits me, and the lack of ability to fight the inevitable spears me with dread. Tears fall freely now, and as his fingers slips into the crack of my ass cheeks, opening them in preparation to assault me, I do the only thing left I can.

I scream like a banshee.

I scream so hard that my lungs and throat burn. It’s enough to distract my attacker and cause him to lean forward to slam a hand over my mouth to deaden the noise. I clamp my teeth down hard. The skin on his hands is calloused, but I bite down on the fleshy skin at the base of his thumb.

Warm, coppery liquid floods my mouth, a chunk of flesh hits the tip of my tongue, held firmly between my teeth.

This motherfucker is not the only one who can bite.

“Argh,” he growls out sitting back, more of his weight lifting from my body.

With all my built-up anger, I manage to twist my body enough so I can turn my head to spit his own blood and flesh into his pain-ridden face. “Yeah, you sick fucking bastard,”

I cackle like a demented witch, happy that if I can’t fight him off at least I will have left my mark on the ugly fucker’s face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growls, raising his hand to strike me, only for it to be forcefully gripped by another before it makes impact.

Chaos erupts.

Chapter

Ten

Scarlett

All the weight is removed from my body; I roll onto my back. Bringing up my legs, I push against the carpeted floor to get away while watching what plays out before me.

I can see the muscles ripple under the sweat-soaked T-shirt that’s stuck to JB’s back as he kneels and rains punch after punch onto the now sprawled-out body of the drunk. Blood flies, and more punches are thrown. JB shows no sign of stopping, even though there’s a lack of movement from his victim.

“JB,” I shout out, but he’s ruthless, like an animal, continuing to beat the crap out of him. “Please!” I scream louder.

JB stills. His muscular arms, flecked with blood, fall to his side. His head drops to his chest, his shoulders rise and fall in rhythm with his rapid breaths, as he takes a moment to calm himself and regain some clarity. With a glance over his shoulder, our eyes meet, his brow is clenched with concern.

The door flies open, and Rush falls into the room, looking dazed. Blood coats his mouth and chin. His nose is clearly broken, a bleeding cut across his forehead.

JB stands up, blocking Rush’s view of me, giving me a chance to pull my tattered blouse across my chest. With one hand, he pulls his soaked T-shirt over his head, and throws it across my lap, giving me back a modicum of decency.

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