Page 112 of Vows of Silence

He stepped closer, forcing me back until my spine hit the rough bark of a tree. The impact knocked a breath from me, and his hand moved from the back of my neck to the front, his fingers curling around my throat with enough pressure to keep me still but not enough to hurt. My pulse hammered wildly beneath his palm, betraying every scrap of fear I had tried to hide from him.

“Fuck you,” I spat.

Literally spat.

Silas didn’t even flinch as my spit hit his masked cheek. His breathing didn’t change. His head didn’t cock to the side.

It was almost as though he hadn’t registered my action at all.

And then his grip on my throat tightened. His body pressed closer to mine, pinning me to the tree, and I felt the unmistakable imprint of his hard cock against my thigh.

I panicked.

I flung my body left and right. I tried to headbutt him. I clawed, bit, spat, kicked, scratched—any movement I could think of to punish him, to let him know I didn’t want this, to tell him to back the fuck off.

But he anticipated every one of my movements. I heard him laugh softly before he smothered my mouth with his hand so I couldn’t bite him anymore. He pushed his thigh between my legs so I couldn’t kick him as well.

Somehow we both ended up on the floor, and he was on top of me, gathering my hands by the wrists and holding them above my head. He straddled my waist, his body weight keeping me pinned to the ground.

With one hand over my mouth, the other pinning my arms, and his body trapping mine, I realised I was stuck. There was no way for me to get out from underneath him.

I looked up at him with wild eyes, trying to shake my head, trying to silently tell him no, but he paid me no attention. He let go of my wrists and trailed a hand down my body, the backs of his fingers brushing over my neck, over my shoulders, along the side of my breast and down my ribs.

I sobbed behind his hand, tears springing to my eyes. I could hear my stuttered breathing, hear the muffled cries, but they had no effect on Silas.

His hand slipped below my top, and then he was squeezing my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. I closed my eyes, tears spilling down my cheeks as arousal tingled through me, making Silas laugh again.

That laugh broke me out of my fear induced trance, and once again I lashed back out at him, slapping, scratching, clawing, but he didn’t care.

The more I focused on slapping him, he focused on my clothing. As I punched his chest, he was pulling my trousers down my hips and over the curve of my ass. When I tried to stop him, it only seemed to give him better access.

Before I knew it, I was naked from the waist down, the sharp sticks beneath me digging into my bare skin.

And then his fingers were between my legs, seeking out my clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles that had me writhing for a completely different reason.

I hated myself. I fucking hated myself.

Why was I responding to this? Why was my body betraying me when my mind was screaming against it?

I slapped him again, this time right across the face. He removed his hand from between my legs and slapped me back, my head snapping to the side with the force of it. His hand left my mouth, only to grab both of my cheeks, squeezing tightly as he forced my head back to look at him.

His mask was so close to me. I could see my own terrified reflection staring back at me, mixed with the blood that was still staining the silver.

“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t do this.”

He shook his head at me.

No.

No, what? Stop fighting? He’s going to do it regardless of what I say? What did he mean?

My question was answered a second later when his hand returned to where it was, his long fingers stroking my clit.

“Please, Silas. Please. I don’t want this. I—oh, fuck,” I moaned as he slid his fingers inside me. My pussy clamped around them in an involuntary action that had me crying harder.

He continued pumping in and out of my pussy, even though my body was trembling beneath him, even though my teeth were chattering with fear.

Because he was spurred on by how wet his fingers were, how much my pussy seemed to welcome the intrusion. He continued massaging my clit with his thumb, grunting in satisfaction when he felt me clamp around his fingers, drawing him in deeper, silently encouraging him.