Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I’ll tell Maria.”
“You see the way she looks at me with her doe-eyed desperation. Who do you think she’s going to believe? The import or the husband who’s stood by her side for the past twenty years, giving her everything she’s ever desired? Besides, you know her values in life. You’re a woman and you were placed here to satisfy a man’s desires, his pleasure, and needs.”
I shake my head.
He walks around the side of the bed and my eyes flash toward the door. I just need to get past him. I can throw down with bitches at school, but this is a whole new playing field.
I run.
Lucien’s arm snaps out and catches me around the waist, winding me. I suck in a deep breath which instantly leaves me as I’m thrown down on the bed. I scream out, desperate for help but his big hand comes down over my mouth as he drops his weight over me.
I feel his erection through his pants and cry out as he grinds painfully down into me. His hand pushes down between us and tears at my pants, forcing them and my underwear down my legs as I frantically try to kick him away.
My face is slapped and the stinging does nothing to stop my panicked desperation to escape. I keep trying and trying but my strength is no match for Lucien’s and as he forces himself inside of me, I’m left with nothing to do but to stare up at the ceiling as the tears stream down my face.
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I rush out of my bedroom and down the hall as I feel the Lucien’s dirtiness rolling down my leg. I burst into the bathroom while the tears stream down my face and drop onto my bruised body.
I lean into the shower and turn the taps, desperate to get the feel of him off my skin. The water is scalding but does nothing to help. My body may be clean, but I don’t feel clean. I’ll never feel clean again.
I have to get out of here.
I look down at my body. My breasts are bruised. There are bite marks on my skin, my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach and between my legs. I have bruises in the shape of his hands on my waist and thighs, marks all over my body from where he hit me, and my vagina…
I’ve never been so sore in my life.
I feel as though I’ve been torn apart from the inside out. How could anyone possibly find that exciting? How could that be classified as pleasurable? It was horrendous, disgusting, sickening.
Another wave of tears take over and I find myself sitting on the shower floor with my head on my knees as the hot water reddens my skin. I need to leave and I need to do it now.
I stand up on shaky legs and wrap my towel around myself, pissed off that I didn’t think to bring clothes with me. The last thing I want is to walk down the hall nude, but I have no choice.
I run.
Slamming the door behind me, I dive into my room and instantly start throwing clothes around. I dress in sweats and an old hoodie of Blake’s that he grew out of two years ago. That kid is growing into a beast. I need to stop feeding him.
I throw clothes in a bag and tie my hair up into a messy bun. I put my sneakers on and rush out the door, more than prepared to leave this life behind. I don’t care if I have to leave all of my possessions behind. I have nothing valuable to lose, only the memory of my parents and no one can touch that.
I rush into Blake’s room, throwing the light on as I go. His hand flies over his face and he groans in irritation. “Sky, what are you doing? Get the hell out of here. I’m trying to sleep.”
I ignore every damn word and beeline for his closet, jumping up as I try to reach the bag at the top. “Come on, we have to be quick. Get up and help.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why are you packing my clothes?”
“I’m serious, Blake. We’re leaving. We have to get out of here. It’s not good here.”
“Sky,” he demands, sitting up in bed. “Would you calm down? Why are you freaking out so bad?”
“Blake. Please. Just help me, okay. We need to go.”
Blake trudges out of bed and crosses the room. He pulls the bag out of my hands and throws it to the floor. “What’s going on?” he questions, searching my face and surely seeing the red marks across my skin. “Who did this to you? Marcus? Lucien?”
“Please don’t make me talk about it,” I beg. “I just have to get out of here. Are you with me or not?”