Page 79 of Has-Been
He wore the helmet again so I couldn’t recognise him, which gave me the tiniest glimmer of hope. Did he really think that I might escape? Or was he planning to mess me up, then release me to suffer? Either way, he was worried about being identified, so that suggested he expected me to get away from him somehow, right?
“Bet you’re hungry by now, huh, scared little kitty?” His voice was too muffled under the helmet for me to recognise it, and from his large build, he could be any one of the club members I didn’t know well. I swallowed hard and watched him, as he approached me steadily, but slowly enough to drag out the fear for me.
“I’m not feeding ya, just so you know. You’re not a guest, or a visitor, you’re a pet, and not one I intend to keep alive and well.” I started trembling at his words, because didn’t that just make it clear? He wasn’t planning to keep me alive, so why feed me.
He chuckled then. “I mean, I might feed ya something, but only if you understand that biting it would be a great way to ensure your death is agonisingly painful.”
Oh god. He reached for the zip on his jeans, rocking his hips slightly as he stood in front of me. Again he wore gloves to hide his hands, but this time they were like surgical gloves rather than the thicker leather ones. They were black so they hid his skin colour, but I’d know it if he got out the part of him that he was now stroking as he watched me.
“My little kitty is so afraid she can’t even speak… I mean, that’s cool with me. You women all talk too fucking much. Like anyone gives a shit what you want, or feel, or need. You’re good for one thing; taking cock. After that, who gives a fuck what happens to you.”
I drew back into my corner as he stepped closer. He tucked one booted foot right up between my legs as I hugged my knees, and towered over me, still stroking himself.
“You waited so fucking long to put out that you’re way overdue for a lot of fucking. By your age, most girls have taken dozens of cocks, so I’ll help you push up that number, out of the goodness of my fucking heart.”
He grabbed my hair and shoved my face against the crotch of his jeans, rubbing my face against the hard cock trapped beneath the denim. He let out a low pleasured groan as I pushed against his legs with both hands, and sobbed out my panic and fear and despair.
Both hands trapped my face against his groin as he rocked his hips at me and groaned with pleasure. My fighting was doing nothing to stop him, and his movements were getting more erratic as he started thrusting at my face.
He suddenly let out a curse and used that grip on my head to push me down to the floor, leaning on my shoulders so my face was pressed against the dirty concrete, and I couldn’t turn my head. The helmet was suddenly on the floor too, just in my eyeline, but his grip on my hair was keeping me facing away from him.
“Yeah.” I didn’t know what he was saying yes to, and then I realised I could hear a tinny voice. He was on his phone.
“Yeah, Pres. Just heading out of the hospital now. No, no change. Anything you need before I head back?”
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air so I could scream, and he put more of his weight on my shoulders, sliding his hand from my hair to cover my mouth, before I could let out even a whimper. Bastard. I could have warned Reacher that he was talking to the killer right then, and I wasted the opportunity.
“Yeah, that’s cool. I’ll be maybe half an hour tops. Hey, any news on the VP’s sister yet?”
His hand tightened on my mouth, as I realised he was pretending to care about me, and my safety, to Reacher.
“Fuck. Okay, yeah. I get it. I’ll be quick. Later.” He kept that hand over my mouth and moved to kneel over my head, trapping my face between the floor and his crotch as he picked up the helmet and put it back on.
“I kinda like your face right by my dick like this, scared kitty. I think I’m gonna enjoy riding your face as hard as I ride my bike.”
He pushed away from me, and dragged me back up into my corner by my hair.
“Sorry I gotta leave you again. You almost got me off then, but it’ll have to wait… or… actually…”
He unzipped himself and pulled his cock free, still hard and unnervingly long and thick. The bit that struck me dumb though? It was tattooed. There was a dark pattern over his dick, but who the fuck gets his dick tattooed?
He chuckled as he started stroking it while he stared at me, and thank god he didn’t try making me touch it or worse, but when he came mere moments later, he made sure that his cum landed on my face and hair, dragging me closer to make sure. He was groaning in this disturbing guttural way, but the warm splashes of his cum on my face, and the smell of his seed, were enough to shock me into doing something crazy that pissed him off even more.
I waited until he released my hair and was doing up his jeans, and then I leaned forward and grabbed his leg, wiping my face against the denim, as he cursed me and shoved me back.
“Fuck’s sake! You stupid little slut!” He slapped me hard, my face whipping to the side and my temple cracking against the stone wall, and I crumpled on the floor, weeping quietly as pain bloomed in the side of my head, and he offered a kick at my stomach as further retribution.
I curled up in a ball and cried harder, and he turned to leave the room, swiping angrily at his jeans.
Has-Been
Iwaslosingmyfuckingmind. She’d been gone nearly twenty four hours so far, and we had nothing. Not a single fucking lead. Not a single member of the club we could definitively pin it on, because everyone was accounted for, and visible, and the two who hadn’t been were now in the clear.
Torch was still unconscious after his surgery, but he’d survived, and despite the lockdown, we had a rota of people spending time at the hospital, just in case our killer decided he wanted to finish the job. Had Torch seen him? Was that why he was stabbed? If he woke up, would he instantly be able to name the bastard who did it? Would he know where they took my fucking woman?
I ran both hands over my smooth head, and it still felt alien to me. I’d always had hair and I’d had dreads for fucking years, and now it was all gone, and they’d had to shave right to the scalp to get rid of the paint that had practically glued my locs together.
“Hey, heads up.” I was hit in the face by something soft and woollen; a beanie with the club colours on it. I stared at the bastard who threw it. Stitch. He looked about as fucked up and desperate as I felt, and he was the only person who understood my fear right now.
