Page 70 of Ready Or Not
At first, being down here in the quiet calmed my nerves. Being alone after days of being scared for my life helped regulate me. But now, I want a shower. And something comfortable to sit on. I just want to get out of here.
The door at the top of the stairs bursts open, and after so much silence, I jump. I cross my arms and stand, watching Manson watch me. His gaze is dead. “You have a lot of nerve.”
I stiffen. Manson seems to catch the movement and cocks his head. He takes a slow step down. “Demanding things of me.”
I swallow.
“You’re counting on Riley to keep you alive.”
Another step.
“But you know, there are things worse than death.” Another step.
I don’t move, but I want to. I feel his slow approach with every piece of my body. I want to run. But there’s nowhere to go.
The closer he gets, the more I realize how much stronger he is than I am. Panic kicks in, and my whole body trembles.
Manson’s hand snaps out, and he grabs my neck again. He pins me to the stair supports so hard my breath bursts out of me. In a second, he ducks down and unlocks my ankle, then throws me away from the steps.
“Run.” His voice is soft.
I scramble away. There’s nowhere to go, but I still run. The movement pushes power into my limbs, and everything buzzes. The basement isn’t that big, but I try to get him to chase me far enough that I can double back and get to the stairs.
Manson follows slowly, his face in shadow. “Run faster, little deer.”
The words crawl up my skin. It feels wrong when he calls me that.
I dart around the room to the stairs, but Manson darts after me. He’s fast, and he grabs my arm. I scream, trying to rip it away from him. He shoves me backward, slamming me into the wall. I grit my teeth, expecting my head to slam into the concrete, but it doesn’t. I see him pull his hand away from my head and the wall.
“She wouldn’t want you to hurt me.” The words come out laced with venom.
Manson looks down at me. His eyes are so expressionless they shoot fear through me. “I don’t have to hurt you to make you miserable.”
I scream, clawing my hands out at Manson. He catches my hands, pinning them above my head and pressing his body into mine.
“Atta girl, fight me. Show me how much you hate me.”
“Fuck you!” I try to headbutt him, but I can’t get enough space between the wall and his body to make any impact. I jerk my foot up and try to slam it down on his feet.
Manson chuckles, running his hand up and down my side. It’s gentle and sends a shiver up my body. I hate that I like it.
“No!” I scream, kicking out at him. He just laughs, continuing to touch me. He lightly runs his large, tattooed hands over my breasts. It makes me shiver, and against my will, I feel myself get wet.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Who’s in control here?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Manson’s voice rumbles over me in a delicious growl. I hate that I like it. I hate that it feels good when he’s gentle. It reminds me of Papa. I want to run from it like I have my whole life.
“Rachel,” his tone is warning.
I grit my teeth. I know Manson wants me to cower—to submit to him despite all the things they’ve done to me. But I am not just a toy. This isn’t right. An angry curl of emotion fills me. I look up and meet his gaze. “Fuck off, Manson.”
His eyes bounce between mine, then his chest shakes as he chuckles, running his hand up to trace my neck. It makes goosebumps skitter across my skin. “You’re just like her.”
I hold his gaze until it makes me uncomfortable. An evil grin crawls across his face, then he grips my shorts and rips them down. In a flash, I’m bare, and his own pants are down. I feel his dick pressing against me. He leans into my body, his breath hot on my ear. “I told her I wouldn’t hurt you, little intrigue.” He rocks against me, all muscle and power. Despite myself, I feel the electric shock of his friction in my clit. “So I’m going to make you come, over and over, all over the person you claim to hate.”
He adjusts, and I feel the tip nudging at my entrance. I try to get away, but there’s nowhere for me to go.