She sat with her long legs crossed and draped over the desk’s edge. J.D. was late again. It was his personal game to keep her waiting on him. He loved to push every button to see how much she would take before going ballistic. Well, he was in for a major shock this Thursday evening, she thought looking at her watch. Her fuse was startlingly short.
“Son of a bitch,” she grumbled sliding off the desk and heading to the wet bar.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of movement. She did not halt the progress of making her drink. She swigged the expensive scotch as if it were rotgut and continued the game of innocent and oblivious. Slowly she lowered her glass, feeling his eyes all over her. Rory hiked her skirt up, adjusted the snap on her garter belt, and smoothed the black stocking. Now she could feel him close behind her.
“Don’t you dare touch me. I’ve had enough of the penny-anti bullshit games,” she growled as his presence drew closer.
She could feel his breath on her neck. Then there was the cold barrel of a gun pressed to her temple. A rough hand grasped her neck and pulled her back. She could smell fear and aggression emanating from the person behind her. It was not J.D.; he would never stoop to use a gun for intimidation.
“Take your stockings off,” the voice snarled.
Rory bent and slowly undid the garter snaps. She removed each with slow grace and calculated sensuality. She started to turn to hand them over her shoulder and was rewarded with a sharp slap from the intruder.
“Over the shoulder bitch.”
She passed them calmly over her shoulder. Forceful hands wound the smooth nylon around her wrists and bound them tightly. She glanced up at the mirror over the mantle. The man behind her was the image of her lover only taller and with longer hair. He looked up and caught her reflected gaze. The butt of his pistol caught her in the shoulder blade. She winced and brought her foot down cruelly on his boot-covered foot.
“Stupid cunt,” he grated pulling the hammer back on the gun, “that was fucking stupid!”
“No more so than you trying to hurt me,” she whispered.
He shoved her forward onto the couch. Rory fell forward with no grace. She glared up at him through the mass of red hair that had fallen free of her topknot. He leered at her milky thighs and the narrow strip of pink pussy that showed beneath her skirt. She did not struggle to cover herself. Instead, while his eyes were occupied, she swung one lithe leg in a well-aimed kick. The toe of her foot connected solidly with his jaw while the heel crashed into his lower lip.. He stumbled back, fumbling for his gun. Blood running from his lip he threw himself on top of her. She could smell his metallic breath and feel droplets of blood splattering her porcelain skin. He said nothing as he glowered hatefully into her eyes.
She knew she was risking her life, but oddly, this situation only served to turn her on and fire her spirit. His hand slid over her angrily heaving breast. Part of her hated the fact that her nipples were stone points. He gave one mad yank and the zipper on her shirt gave up its tenuous hold. She noticed a distinct difference between J.D. and this man that looked so similar. His eyes were set wider and they were not dark but a complex mixture of blues and greens.
“Get off of me,” she hissed.
“I don’t think you’re in the position to be giving orders,” he responded before lowering his mouth to hers in a brutish kiss. He bit savagely at her full lower lip causing their blood to mingle in the mockery of a kiss. Her protests were muffled under his demanding lips. The hand on her breast worked the tender flesh with no care for pain or the bruises that would be left. He cruelly twisted the tender pink tip until she cried out a muted scream. She felt the cold steel of the gun fall between her thighs as his hand slid beneath her skirt. His fingers parted her pussy’s lips and none to gently explored the soft folds.
She raised her head up and bit into his shoulder with the intention of drawing blood. Her teeth sank into the hard muscle of his shoulder. The hand that had been abusing her breast moved to her throat and pushed her down onto the pillow. His thumb pressed dangerously into the hollow of her throat and a familiar mocking threat appeared in his eyes. He looked too much like J.D. as he held her motionless. The hand between her legs maliciously rubbed the swollen flesh and reveled in how dripping wet she was. Rory cursed her body for its betrayal and struggled against him.
The hand at her throat moved to her hair, taking a fistful and holding her thrashing head still. Her feral eyes spoke volumes of threats and tomes of evil promises as he lowered his mouth to her neck. She felt his teeth sink into the pale, sensitive skin. She gasped and bucked against him as the pain from his bite mounted. Her movements sent the hand at her pussy down further and she felt him force three fingers inside her hole. Fury and a strange sense of humiliation filled her as she felt him force his pinkie finger in as well. He grinned evilly as he used her juices to his advantage. Then she felt the tip of his thumb and gasped at the realization. He was going to fist her. He worked his thumb further in. Tears sprang to her eyes as the last joint on his hand was forced into her.
“God damn you, get your fucking hand out of me!” she shrieked as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Ah poor little slut, what’s the matter? Do you only like it when J.D. does it?”
He began moving his fingers inside of her and she stilled, willing the pain away. It was not hard as a strange and different pleasure began to radiate from the curious movements of his hand.
He inhaled deeply and licked the curve of her neck.
