Page 53 of Unbalanced

He steps inside the house, kicks the door closed, and drags me upstairs.

“No! Please don’t do this!”

He doesn’t listen. No one listens. No one ever listens.

I can’t see where we are going, but the moment he puts me down—I run.

I run straight into a giant bed. Sliding to a stop, I spin around and watch as he locks the door and drops the key into his pants pocket with a smirk.

This is the first time I’ve gotten a good look at him. There is darkness in his eyes. An amusement at my effort to escape.

My lower lip trembles and my eyes dart around for a weapon. There is nothing in this room but a bed. No dresser or nightstand with a lamp. No desk with scissors, not even another door to run through. It’s completely barren.

“You’re certainly feisty, aren’t you?”

“Stay the hell away from me,” I say, taking a step back.

“Don’t be like that. We’re going to have a little fun. That’s what your mother promised me,” he says with a smirk, and bile rises in my throat.

He walks toward me, and I punch at his face, wishing I knew how to fight. He smacks my hand away, grabs me roughly, and spins me around so my back is pressed against his chest.

Tears fall as I struggle, but he doesn’t let go.

“I used to fuck her, you know,” he says while kissing my neck.

Trembling, I close my eyes and flinch away from his disgusting touch.

“But then she got too old. You…you’re even younger than she was the first time. My tastes have refined over the years.”

It’s like he’s talking about food or wine, but I know he’s not, and my body turns ice cold.

I scream when he forces me around the bed.

“I do love your spirit, but you’re being very uncooperative, and it’s annoying me.”

His arm snakes around my throat and I gasp for air. Black dots dance across my vision, and then there is nothing.

My eyes snap open, and when I see the canopy, it all comes racing back. I try to leap off the bed, but my limbs won’t move. It’s only then I realize that I’m naked with my wrists and ankles tied down.

No, no, no. This is not happening. I need to get out of here.

The man walks toward me from the far end of the room.

His shirt is off, and his pants are undone.

“Stay away from me,” I bite out when he touches my face.

“Your mother assures me you’re a virgin. Are you a virgin?”

I press my lips together and turn away from his probing stare. He grabs my jaw and forces me to look at him.

“Answer the question. I paid for a virgin. Is that what I am getting?”

“Please, I’ll do anything if you don’t do this. I can cook, clean, and do laundry. Anything, name it,” I beg, hating how terrified I am.

But I am—right to my core.

He laughs.