Page 36 of Fetch

Fuck. Stars dot my vision as his fingers dig into the sides of my neck.He knows. I claw at his hand, but it’s no use. I’m at his mercy. Tears stream down my cheeks.

He laps them up with his sinful tongue. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Your obsession brought me back to life. And now you’re mine to do whatever I want with.”

“When did you know?” I rasp.

“Oh, my lovely little fangirl… I knew the second I saw you. And then when those idiots revealed everything about you… You inspired my gamertag.The Jack to your Jill. Isn’t it clever?” He releases my throat only to grab the back of my head and yank me forward till I’m standing between his legs. He smirks as he gazes down at me. “I knew I had to keep you. No one loves me the way you do, pretty girl. And now nothing will ever come between us.”

Fuck. I never thought in a million years that he’d actually notice me. I ball my fists to keep my fingers from trembling. He set the trap and I walked right into it. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long. I should’ve told you that last night… You’re not angry?”

He frees his cock from his sweatpants and rolls his thumb over the tip, coaxing his pre cum out. “How could I be angry with my Jilly girl? The way you worship me at my altar, my obedient little disciple. Mmm, you’ve got me so obsessed. But if you ever try to leave me, I’ll kill you.”

My belly flutters as my juices soak my panties. “Never. I promise, Punk. I won’t leave you.”

He fingers my lips. “Shhh, on your knees.”

I lower myself to the floor in between his legs. “Punish me.”

His eyes light up and that devilish smirk returns. “Oh, I plan to. Open your mouth and relax your throat. Yeah, just like that. My naughty little slut.”

I flinch as he thrusts his thick veiny cock all the way in, hitting the back of my throat with violent force. I gasp for breath as he holds my head and slowly fucks my mouth. I roll my tongue over every ridge, moaning through the tears that spill down my cheeks.

“This isn’t just acrush, Roxy. It’s a holy fucking sacrament. And you will drink every drop of my cum as your penance.”Thrust. “Oh, baby. Fuck.”Thrust. “We’re gonna do really bad fucking things together.”

He punishes my mouth, bruising my lips and the insides of my cheeks. My teeth rake against his shaft, which only makes him moan louder. Over and over, each thrust hits harder than the last as he claims me. I suck and lick, feral for the taste of him.

I gag as his cum bursts in my mouth. My throat convulses as I try to swallow and fight for air at the same time. I dig my nails into his thighs and take slow deep breaths through my nose.

“Thatta girl. Fuck. Drink the nectar from your god.” He wraps his hand around my throat so he can feel it bob in his hand.

I don’t stop until I’ve sucked him clean. Breathless and dizzy, I lean against him. “I love the way you taste.”

He tilts my chin up to look into my eyes. “I loveyou, pretty girl.”

A warm tingling spreads like wildfire in my belly. “I love you too.” He’s mine.Punk Wilder is finally mine.

The broken porch light flaps in the wind. Hanging by a single wire, it flickers, illuminating the chipped, green paint on the siding of my momma’s single-wide trailer. A shiver snakes up my back. All the lights are off inside. But I know he’s here.

“You sure you want to do this? I can go in and take care of it.” Punk stands next to me in the dirt, dressed in all black, his face concealed beneath a glow-in-the-dark mask.

I nod but keep my eyes trained on the front door. “I need to finish what I started. He took so much from me…”

“It’s quiet out here, Roxy. There’s no one around for miles. We can take our time. But you still need to put this on. Just in case.”

A rush of adrenaline courses through my veins when he hands me my doll mask. I put it on without hesitating. It feels like armor. I become the mask. The broken doll who’s had enough.

“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear. “Now we can play.”

Every night, my momma heads into town for her overnight shift at the motel. And my step-father spends that time drinking himself into a blacked-out stupor. When I was a kid, I’d hide in the woods until I saw the headlights of her rusty pickup truck round the final bend of the dirt trail.

I clench my fists as I remember him flying out of the trailer when he’d hear the clank of the truck door slamming shut. I’d creep closer, hiding in the bushes, scared and angry that I was too small to help her. He’d slap her around and then take whatever tips she’d earned that night.

As I got older, my anger turned toward her. Because she wouldn’t helpherself. And when I got tits and curves, his attention turned toward me…

“It will all be over soon, pretty girl. He will pay his penance owed to you.” Punk wraps my hand around the hilt of his serrated hunting knife. “Make him squeal like the pig he is.”

That same terracotta planter still sits on the porch, dead flowers and weeds drooping over its sides. I kick it over to find the spare key right where I left it. I hold my breath as I turn it in the lock. The door creaks open on its rusted hinges, but the monster inside is too drunk to notice.

Punk heads in first, using his body as a protective shield. I draw in a sharp breath as that familiar scent finds its way to my nostrils—cheap beer, cigarette smoke, and dirty laundry. I almost vomit inside my mask.

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