"That's it, baby," he continues, his tone almost soothing, despite the filth spilling from his lips. "Take my cock. Take all of it."
Baby.
My belly flutters, my heart soaring like a fool even though I know it's a runaway utterance. A thoughtless spi...
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I instantly go bug-eyed, and all the muscles in my eye sockets stretch themselves as far as they can go. I try to stay composed, but I'm unable to mask the copious amounts of shock transcending my face, and I hate that I know he can clearly see my elk-in-the headlights reaction in spite of the barrier of my glasses.
Do it, then?
For a split second, I'm positive I heard wrong...and then I remember who I'm dealing with.
Still, I'm completely caught off guard by the statement.
I'm beyond baffled, and words refuse to leave my lips after hearing what he just said.
He can't be serious. He...he has to be bluffing.
I push my folded arms tighter against my chest, a defensive gesture, but also maybe a subconscious effort to brace myself for what comes next.
"I'm not kidding," I insist, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum. The only thing I need to do is pout and stomp my foot. "I will piss in here if you don't show me where the fucking bathroom is—"
My words immediately die in their tracks, and they sharply transition into a quipped, surprised yelp when I feel his hand abruptly on my throat again, but this time, the action is far more intense.
Far more intentional.
My arms impulsively swing forward in my defense, my fingers clutching at his forearm like a vice as shock and panic propel me to scratch at him and dig my nails into his skin. But my frantic, knee-jerk reaction only seems to spur him on. He swiftly pushes me back against the elevator wall, pinning my hands painfully high above my head and trapping me with his big body.
I struggle to free myself from his grasp again, fighting him harder this time, but the more I resist, the more pressure he puts on my neck.
It's a very strange sensation; a weird, uncanny combination of thrill, pain, exhilaration...and something I can't quite put a name to.
Scratch that.
Something I'm afraid to put a name to.
My heart sprints inside my chest, the shock of the unexpected action making my head spin and my spine go rigid. Fear paralyzes me, rendering me speechless as I look into his serial killer eyes, my chest heaving frantically as an army of goosebumps scatter all over my skin.
He pushes his knee between my thighs, parting my legs against my will. I squeeze as tightly as I can, resisting him, reflexively squeezing my eyes shut as well, but then I feel his hand in my hair, pulling harshly and my scalp is on fire.
