Page 19 of No, You Hang Up

Except this time, it’s my throat his fingers close around.

“Want me to be your wolf, little bunny? I’ll gladly close my jaws around this pretty throat and remind you that you’re prey. Oh,fuck—” He thrusts hard into me again. “We’re into some dark shit, aren’t we, Kai?”

I can’t answer. I’m barely even awake. All I can feel is his cock sliding into me, stretching me perfectly, and the way his fingers dig into my throat.

“You little fucked up thing. Drugged out of your mind and you still want this. Youwantme to be your predator. To ruin you, to tear out your throat with my teeth.” He leans down to click his teeth together near my face. “That’s it. Your greedy pussy grips me so good when I do that.”

“Can’t…” My head is spinning, and dark spots swim in my vision. “Huxley, I’m…”

“I know, lovely girl, I know,” Huxley coos, though he doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t stop fucking me and his grip doesn’t loosen. “Go on and let go. Let me fuck your perfect pussy. Let me be the one to decide how you end this night. And don’t worry, Kai.” He lunges toward my face, licking a line from my jaw up to my cheek.

“I’ll make it so good for you.”

nine

There’s something stuck to my face.

I can feel it with every exhale; the way the light material flutters over my nose and comes to rest on my skin when I inhale. My nose twitches, and I scrunch my face to get it to fall off.

But it doesn’t go anywhere, and I feel it stick against my skin, just above my eyebrows.

Opening my eyes with a groan, I feel myself going cross-eyed to look at whatever’s blocking half of my vision. My hand comes up, and I immediately snatch the small Post-It note off my face as I sit up.

Only to discover that the Post-It note is the least of my concern.

“What thefuck?!” I snarl, looking down at myself. I’m completely naked, and as soon as I realize what’s dried on the curves of my hips and my inner thighs, the ache in my lower body sets in, a soreness I know all too well.

“Fuck,” I grumble, falling back onto the bed. “This is so fucked up.” Closing my eyes, I crunch up the Post-It note in my hand without looking at it, and let out an exhale.

Well, at least I’m not dead. Which was exactly how I’d expected to wake up, or…not wake up, as the case may be. The sticky note in my fingers finally makes me look over at it, and I pull it apart, separating the paper from itself so it’s legible.

I’m not sorry about the mess. See you soon, little bunny

P.S. I’ll kill your neighbor if she knocks on your damn door one more time.

P.P.S. Mi-da-zo-lam

I snort at the postscript, and wad up the note once more to chuck it across the room. The cloudiness in my head is fading, replaced with a disgusting clarity of the night before. Specifically, of Huxley terrorizing me in my house for the better part of an hour that ended in him drugging me.

And fucking me.

Apparently, he hadn’t stopped, even after I passed out. I don’t remember him finishing, and by the looks of me…he did so more than once.

The jolt in my stomach is definitely revulsion and distaste, I tell myself as I shove to my knees. My face curls in disgust at the feeling of his dried cum on my thighs, and I’m quick to walk into my ensuite bathroom and turn on the shower without looking in the mirror. I really,reallydon’t need to see what I look like right now. Especially not when I’m still unsure of how I feel about this.

Well, okay, I’m grateful he didn’t murder me. Pretty thrilled, in fact, that I get to spend another day on this earth that I share with Patrice.

But the rest of it?

I should feel revolted, I tell myself as I get into the shower. Normally I wash my hair first, but today I grab my sponge and dump way more soap on it than I could ever need.

I should feel disgusted. That’s my thought as I scrub my skin until it’s covered in a soapy lather. I’m not quite as much of a mess as I originally thought, though I definitely scrub more than once before moving to my hair and doing it all again.

I shouldnotremember his stupid humor, or his lack of a temper, even though I tried my best to get away from him and cracked him in the face at one point. I shouldn’t remember the rough dominance of his first kiss, or the honey sweet taste of the second.

“You’ve got to get a boyfriend, Kai,” I tell myself as I scrub conditioner out of my hair. “Seriously, this is getting pretty pathetic. He’s a murderer.” My words echo back to me in the shower, and I glare up at the porcelain wall in front of me as hot water streams down my body.

One of my hands splays over my stomach, fingers outstretched, as I press lightly with my palm. I’m sore, but not in a damaged way. More like in a well-fucked way.

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