Claimed

James was holding her now in a tight embrace from behind, his arms wrapped around her torso as she sat between his legs, her back against his chest. She felt him begin to shake behind her and a strange sound came from his mouth. It took her a moment to realize it was a stifled sob.

He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck. “Kelsey. Oh god, Kelsey. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t mean it. I swear.” He began to cry in earnest.

Goosebumps prickled Kelsey’s skin. James seemed to genuinely believe that she’d been into him—that they’d been flirting somehow at work and just biding their time until they could be together. The guy was out of his fucking mind. She had to get away from him, and fast.

Think of something, she ordered herself. But her mind remained blank as a white slate.

James pulled himself up, hauling her upright with him as he stood. He was no longer crying, though Kelsey wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Her pussy was bruised and torn, and she felt the bastard’s semen trickle down her leg. Rage bloomed in her brain, making her head throb.

Kelsey tried to twist in his grasp so she could face him. James held her in place, not allowing her to move.

“James,” she tried again, wishing she could make eye contact. “You just had too much to drink. I get it. I just want to go home, okay? We’ll both forget this ever happened,” she lied. “Let’s just put this behind us, all right?”

Far, far behind us, once you’re in jail, you rat bastard.

“I wish we could, baby,” he said, his voice suddenly hard. He pulled one of her arms behind her back and pulled it up hard. Kelsey cried out, wincing with pain. “But you and I both know what’s done is done.” His voice softened. “I’ll make it up to you, Kelsey. I swear I will.”

He kept her arm twisted behind her back, though he eased off a little as he began to propel her through the room. He brought her to the doorway of what she saw must be his bedroom. Flicking on the light, he guided her toward the bed and fell onto the mattress, dragging her down beside him.

He drew her into a tight embrace, curling himself around her as she lay on her back in a shocked stupor. After a few moments, her eyes began to focus on the walls of the room and a chill of horror turned her blood to ice water. Every wall held photographs, some framed, some blown up to poster size, every single one of them of her.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

~*~

Kelsey’s hair had come loose in the struggle and spread now across his pillow in a wild tumult of red, copper and gold, just like in his favorite fantasy, only now it was real! James inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he savored the moment. She smelled so good. A hint of perfume, the clean scent of soap, and beneath it the sharp, erotic tang of fear sweat. He couldn’t deny her fear turned him on. It made him feel powerful in a way that was new to him.

He flashed back to the wild look in her eyes when he’d had his hand clamped over her mouth. He hadn’t expected the fierce, intoxicating rush of power her fear had engendered. He couldn’t deny it—he’d loved the struggle—holding her down while he ripped at her clothing and pulled out his hard, hard cock. It was like an incredibly hot porn video, the kind he’d jerked off to a thousand times, except this one was starring James Bennett and the sexiest, most desirable woman alive.

He had fucked Kelsey Anne Rowan. He had come inside Kelsey’s hot, tight, perfect cunt. His cock stirred. He could fuck her again, right now, if he wanted to. And he wanted to. Oh god, did he ever. He growled and nuzzled his face against Kelsey’s neck, feeling like a caveman, operating off primal lust and basic instinct.

She yelped in fear as he did this and tried to pull away, but that only made him clutch her tighter to him. Again he experienced that perverse, wild rush of power that turned the blood in his veins to fire. She was so small beside him. He could feel her heart beating fast and hard. He reached into her torn blouse, slipping his hand into the cup of her bra. Her breast was so soft. Satin and cream. His heart ached with the sweetness of it as he squeezed.

Though he should feel only remorse and abject shame, instead he felt alive! The tears he’d shed back in the living room would be his last. With those tears, he had washed away any regrets.