Page 53 of Saving Grace

My chest rose and fell along with my labored breathing, but I managed to remain quiet.

“I don’t care if you don’t speak, Grace. I don’t need you to participate with me or talk to me to be able to fill your snatch with cum, until you are heavy with my baby.”

He was so vulgar.

I couldn’t help my body’s reaction to his words, my pussy clenched dripping fresh cream.

To prove he really didn’t care or need my participation. He rubbed the broad head of his dick against my slickness, coating himself in my juices. He lined himself up with my opening then took his time pushing into me, stretching me, mashing our bodies together.

He put power behind the first long languid stroke he gave me, causing my body to arch from the bed. I clawed at his back as punishment and because he felt so good. The entire time all that be heard was our heavy breathing. Not a word slipped from between either of our lips as he rode me hard.

His hand slid under my shirt. The tips of his rough fingers circled my areola. I tried my best to stay unattached and unaffected by what he was doing to me. But then he trailed his tongue up my neck, heightening the sensation of his stroke. My body began to tighten with building tension. I was so close. He pinched and plucked at my painfully hard nipples until I was ready to beg him to suck them. I knew could cum if he just sucked them. I thought his next move would be to. He didn’t. I felt him throbbing, then the heat of his cum filling me. Without even catching his breath, he pulled out, he climbed off me and walked out of the room, purposely leaving me filled with his seed and needy.

I wanted to be mad but couldn’t. Ridding myself of the dull ache between my thighs was more important. I slid my hand under the waistband of my shorts. I used two fingers to rub my engorged clit. I licked two fingers on my other hand and slid under my shirt, I teased my pebbled nipples until I lost it. My body went stiff then spasmed. I came hard, saturating my fingers and my already wet shorts even more. I don’t spare Atticus second thought after that. My eyes grew heavy. I let sleep pull me under.

Grace

On the fourth day of living in Atticus house of horrors —my phone began ringing, vibrating, and buzzing on the nightstand next to my bed. Sounding louder than any phone I could remember or maybe I was just that tired. I’d been spending a lot of time with AJ and his sister. They were both so smart and full of energy, they liked going places like the park and museums. I couldn’t help but be enamored with Tori. She was so sweet and caring; it was hard to believe that her parents were who they were.

To further add to my exhaustion Atticus was really expecting me to have his do over baby. He was making nightly visits to my room after long days.

And on top of being fucked to sleep every night. Atticus’s wife was making it known that she knew he was creeping into my room every night.

I was physically and mentally exhausted. I just wanted to sleep.

I tried to ignore the ringing, but it would stop then immediately start ringing again. I lifted my head from the pillow and squinted, opening my tired eyes only enough to look at the caller ID. Unknown flashed across the screen. That was odd. The phone was new. Atticus had brought it for me, only programming four numbers into it — His, Ms. Joyce, Tank’s, and AJ’s. As if I was a child.

Nobody but them should have the number and if it was one of them calling me their name should have shown up on the ID, or maybe they were calling from a different number.

Curious as to why I was getting incessant back-to-back calls had me sitting up. With my back to the headboard, I reached out, picked it up from the nightstand and answered it.

“Hello.” I mumbled into the speaker. Still groggy.

Silence.

I tried again. Slightly raising my voice.

“Hello?” I waited for a few seconds. Just as I was about to hang up, he spoke.

“I see you made yourself at home.”

My hands began shaking at the sound of the voice on the other end.

I parted my lips to speak but no words came out. I knew I would see or hear from him sooner or later and I thought I had worked out how I would respond in my head. But now I could not find the words. Not for the man that had sexually assaulted and threatened to kill me. I suddenly felt like I was back in my mother’s house. Hatred and fear churned inside of me. I wanted to scream, I hated feeling weak again.

“It’s ok, you don’t need to talk, just listen. Don’t try to leave with my grandson, keep your Strega mouth closed and answer when I call and we won’t have any problems. I'll allow you to live only under those terms, capisci.”

Questions burned the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t make myself ask them.

I nodded as if he could see me.

He responded as if he could. “Goodbye.”

In my head I heard the dial tone, loud and menacing, even though I was on my cell. And there was no dial tone at all. The urge to scream clawed at my throat. Now the old racist, rapist wanted me there. I tried to work it all out in my head but all I did was give myself a headache.

Finally realizing I was still holding my phone I set it next to me on the nightstand. I swung my feet over the side of the bed, dropped my head into my hands and rubbed my temples that had begun to throb.

“Who was that?”