Page 21 of Sinister

“You know I can’t.” He rubs his hands over his face and breathes out a heavy sigh. Grabbing out a joint from his pocket, he lights it, ignoring me as I stand there in post rejection defeat.

“Fuck you, Rome. I’m going to get more champagne.” My eyes connect with Saskia’s and I can see she wants to hug me but I stop her with a stare. I’ll cry if anyone touches me right now.

“Get two, please! Chaser will drink a whole one on his own. He hates to share with me.” Sass tries to lighten the mood. Bless her cotton socks.

I storm across the green lawn in my Valentino’s with my heart in my throat and my heels sinking into the soft ground. My anger is almost overshadowed by the deep hurt I always allow myself to be subjected to. I know his answer will always be no, so I don’t know why I like to torture myself and allow my vulnerable side to get crapped on constantly. Taking a deep breath I try to calm myself as I make it into the house. There are more people in here than before and I weave through the drunk crowd, making a beeline toward the hot guy in his football jersey. He sees me approaching, his eyes alight with excitement. Without saying anything to him, I grip his hand and haul him after me. He comes willingly and I know this is not how I wanted this to happen but fuck Rome and fuck our pact.

I find a set of stairs decorated with fairy lights and drag football jersey after me. He still doesn’t protest and it makes my wounded ego come alive. Maybe there isn’t something wrong with me after all. We stalk down the darkened hallway until I find an unlocked door.

Football jersey pulls me back into him and snakes his arm around my stomach. “I’m going to grab a rubber. Make sure that pussy is bare and ready for me,” he breathes into my neck.

I want to cringe at his words as they whisper across my skin and I’m glad he disappears and I’ll be able to pretend it’s not him in the dark room when he returns. Taking in a shaking breath, I turn the door handle with my heart beat thumping inside my head, and enter the cool room veiled in darkness.

Chapter eleven

Monroe

Skirting the wall next to the closed door, I search for a light switch but all I can feel is textured wallpaper. I keep moving until I bump into a piece of furniture of some sort. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the pitch black in here and it’s disorienting. Just as I’m about to reach into my corset and retrieve my phone, the door creaks open allowing in a sliver of light before it shuts loudly plunging the room into complete darkness again.

Standing still for a moment, a shiver of fear prickles my spine, the ominous feeling so foreign yet so familiar. I can’t sense anyone else in here with me, surely if I had entered a room that was in use to the party guests, someone would have said something by now.

Turning ever so slowly and hoping the opening and closing of the door was just my imagination, I pivot on my heels when a dull flash of light illuminates the far corner of the room. A split second vision of a balaclava flashes before my eyes and I suck in a shaky breath.

“Is that you, football jersey? This isn’t funny,” I say into the dark void.

Heart thrumming in my chest and hands shaking in fear, I place my palms against the wall behind me. Stepping back into it, I turn around ready to find the door handle and flee. I’m too afraid to move straight away, worrying I’ll alert the asshole in here with me of what I’m up to. Stepping to the right ever so slowly, my hand grips the door handle and I turn it, hoping to all that is holy that it doesn’t squeak like in every fucking horror movie I’ve ever watched.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck as I pull the door open but just as I’m about to step through the threshold and run for my life, I’m hauled backward by my Rosary beads. Losing my footing I stumble back, my hands instantly grabbing at my throat clawing at the beads strangling me. A ghastly choked noise escapes my constricted throat, something resembling a tortured dying racoon. My fingers try to grip the fucking Rosary beads that I now wish I never wore.

I’m saved from falling on my ass as I slam into a muscled body. It’s like hitting a solid brick wall. The Rosary beads loosen and I gasp for air but before I can muster up the brain power to scream, his large hand clamps down over my mouth rendering me speechless. Struggling against him to try to free myself, I manage to get restrained even more when his free arm circles around my midsection and pins both my arms against my stomach.

“Hello, Sunshine.” His barely whispered words make my skin crawl.

It’s him. I know it’s him. Ice cold dread floods my bloodstream.

Whimpering against his hand, I struggle in his grip losing my footing, but he holds me tight against his front, not allowing me to fall. My eyes dart around pointlessly as the whole room is as dark as the shades of hell and I can’t see shit.

With me firmly pressed against him, he walks us to the edge of the bed and I can feel the soft material of the blanket brush against my legs. A vast contrast to the scratchy material of my tutu.

Without warning he spins me to face him, gripping my wrists behind my back and pulling my head back with the Rosary beads which feel like they’re about to cut my airway off. Before I can mutter a single noise his warm lips crash against my mouth. His tongue dances against mine and I almost forget who he is as the kiss is rough, raw and all sorts of fucking wrong. Somehow, I can’t help but kiss him back.

Arousal stirs somewhere deep within my soul, heightened by my desperate need for air. His mouth doesn’t let up, punishing my lips with his vicious need to consume me. Blinking rapidly, white flecks dance across my eyes as the beads around my throat tighten and his lips work their depraved magic on mine. My senses are on overload from his brutality and sensual touch. My fear coils around my sudden desire for the need to be eaten alive by this man, a stranger that has been watching me and following me for months. He’s evoking unease and terror from me while also scratching at the dormant part of me that needs to be cherished and feel like I belong, like I’m wanted. Something I have been craving my whole life.

Before I pass out from lack of oxygen, his lips are gone as fast as they appeared, and he throws me hard against the bed making me bounce and gasp desperately for air. He’s on top of me at once and I press my palms into his chest in an attempt to push him off.

“Help!” I scream before I’m rendered speechless again from his large hand covering my mouth. His fingers flex against my skin.

His full weight rests on top of me as I wriggle against him and kick at his legs, hoping my pointy heels do some damage.

“Shhh,” he whispers against my ear. “Scream again and I’ll have to hurt you.” His gruff voice vibrates against my skin and sounds as though he has a device to change the tone. It comes though almost scratchy and mechanical, reminding me of Bane from The Dark Knight Rises.

Tears well in my eyes as the enormity of the situation settles on me. Scratching at his back, I feel his skin under my fingernails and I hope I make him bleed. I hope I scar his back for all to see. I want to mark him like he’s about to mark my entire existence.

He hisses, chuckling against my neck and it pisses me off. “Stop. Please, stop,” I mumble into his hand and try to shake my head from side to side. His firm hold keeps my head still as the rough material from his balaclava irritates the delicate skin on my neck.

Slapping at his face, I try to fight him off but all that does is make him breathe out the sexiest sounding groan I’ve ever heard. His hand over my mouth disappears, grabbing both my wrists in his strong grip, he wraps the Rosary beads around my wrists, binding them tightly together.

“Fuck off, get off me!” I shriek into the void. I doubt anyone can hear me screaming over the loud music from the party.