𝐭𝐞𝐧, the past

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tw!! rape, sexual assault

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tw!! rape, sexual assault

CHAPTER TEN — the past

' Get out, Thomas! '

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Charlotte has had so many bad experiences with men, like most women. Being a barmaid in Birmingham does that to you, and it's fair to say she's kind of traumatised from it. There's too many moments to count when she's being grabbed in appropriately or nearly forced to do something she never agreed to. But, it's a lot easier to push a man away when he's just a filthy scum in a pub. It's a completely different ball game when it's Billy Kimber.

Staring out of the window of Billy Kimber's billiard room window, Charlotte begins to rethink her entire life. Listening to him ramble on during the car journey to his home was enough to make her what to jump out of the moving vehicle, and now as he began to play the most drowning music, she turns around with a small convincing smile.

"You showed me up back there at the races," He makes his way over to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her tight to his chest, "Why don't you teach me how to dance properly?"

"This music is too slow," She attempts to pull her body slightly further away from his but he keeps his grip tight, "Don't you want somet a bit quicker?"

"Then we would have to be far away," He tightens the hold on her waist, "I want to dance like this." He places his forehead against the side of her head, and her back straightens, "Come on, Charlotte. You weren't so stiff at the races, were you?"

Breathing in a deep breath, she takes a step away and his hands drop to his sides. His expression doesn't change much, clearly not bothered that she moved away.

"You ever been in a house this big?" He tilts his head, picking up one of her hands and holding it, "Hm?"

She stares at him, the anger practically radiated off her body, but he's too stupid to recognise the emotion.

"Look at you," He hums quietly, moving his hand up to hold the back of her neck, "You look like a bloody film star." Quickly, he snaps forward, roughly sucking on her neck.

With a grunt, she shoves him away harshly and she rolls her shoulders back, trying her hardest to keep her breathing steady. He flattens his suit out, wiping a hand over his face.

"I'd like a drink," She states.

He nods silently, stepping over to his small drinks table and picking up a single glass before turning around again, holding his arm straight in front of him, and releasing the glass, letting it shatter on the wooden floor boards.

𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄, thomas shelbyWhere stories live. Discover now