She’s so tight. I push the head of my dick a little deeper and try to sink in, but she’s so fucking tight. I know I must be the only one to have taken her like this. Pride makes my chest swell, thinking I’ll be her first. I’m going to take her just like this. “Your husband never fucked you like this, did he?” I don’t need her to answer, but I still want to hear it. I want to hear I’m her first.
Her back arches and twists, and her body pulls away from me.
I hadn’t even gotten the head in, but maybe I was rushing it. I pull her hips back, and she resists me slightly. “You’re giving me this ass, doll.” I pull her hips to mine and watch as she buries her face in the covers. It doesn’t seem right. Something’s off. I don’t like it. Fuck it; I’ll have to wait for her ass. That’s fine. I got in a finger today, and I know she loved that shit. She just needs to work up to it. My fingers run along her pussy lips before dipping in. “Your greedy cunt wants more, doll?” I fuck my fingers in and out of her swollen, sore pussy, making sure to hit that front wall and stroke her G-spot.
I don’t get the reaction I expect. There’s no moan, her eyes aren’t on the mirror and she pulls away from me. I still, and my chest tightens. Fuck, she’s hurt. What the fuck happened?
I gently place my hands on her hips and try to pull her toward me lightly, but she doesn’t budge. My heart clenches, and adrenaline pumps through my veins. Anxiety floods my system. She didn’t safe word. I know she didn’t. I would’ve heard her. “What’s wrong, doll?” I keep my voice calm and even, but inside I’m freaking the fuck out. I don’t like to see women cry. And sure as fuck not because of me.
“I hate you.” Her breathy words barely register as she lifts her head from the sheets. Her eyes are red-rimmed and glassy from tears. Her chest spasms as she takes in a shuddering breath. She may as well have punched me in the gut. What the fuck happened?
“I hurt you?” I just don’t see how. I don’t know what I did. “I didn’t mean to hurt-”
“Get out!” she screams with tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, and then covers her mouth with her hand. She winces as her son lets out a wail from down the hall.
I don’t know what the fuck happened. I open my mouth to protest, but she moves past me to get off the bed and immediately puts on her robe. She leaves the room without taking a look back.
She hates me? Did it really hurt that bad? It couldn’t have. I didn’t even get the head of my dick in. I slowly climb off the bed as I walk myself through everything that happened. She was loving it.
Your husband never fucked you like this, did he? I close my eyes and let my head fall back. Fuck! I groan out loud and grab my shirt off the floor. Fuck! How could I be so fucking stupid? I lean my forehead against the wall and close my eyes. I’m such a fucking asshole. She’s not some bitch, looking for a night of fun and running around on her husband. She’s a widow, for fuck's sake.
I bend down to put my underwear on, trying to think of a way out of this shit. I need to backpedal fast. As I reach for my pants, I catch a glimpse of something under the bed. I sink to the floor and cover my face with my hands. There are boxes under the bed with his name on them. I look on the dresser and see pictures of them. A cute fucking family photograph catches my eye.
I feel like such a prick. He just fucking died. I shake my head and scowl. She doesn’t need this. She doesn’t need some prick bossing her around and using her like I am. I swallow the lump growing in my throat and pull my pants up. I need to get the fuck out of here.
She deserves better than this. Better than me.
I huff a humorless laugh and push my emotions down. She’s too good for me anyway. And I have no place in my life for her. I start to open her bedroom door, but I can hear her humming a lullaby to her little boy. My heart clenches, and tears prick at my eyes. I don’t fucking cry. She said she hates me. Told me to get the fuck out. That’s fine. I can do that for her.
I take a peek down the hall. The door is only cracked. I clench my fists and walk silently past the door and keep going. I don’t look back or even wince when the floorboards squeak on the stairs. I don’t stop moving until I’m at the front door. I hesitate, but only for enough time to hear her words in my head over again.
She hates me.
I take one last look at the house before opening my car door. Her picture-perfect home that I forced myself into. I climb in my car and leave her behind.
It’s only after I’m halfway home that I realize I forgot my tie. At least she’ll have a piece of me to hold onto. Sadness overwhelms me.
I’m sure she’ll just throw it the fuck out. I would.
Becca
I wake up to the sound of Jax squealing into the monitor. My hands fly to my eyes to rub the tiredness away. They’re so sore. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve cried myself to sleep. Divorce and death will do that to even the strongest women. So I’m not ashamed of that.
But I am filled with shame.
I roll over onto my back and stretch my sore body. My pussy hurts from last night. Evidence of what happened. I let it happen. I wanted it to happen. My throat closes, and my chest feels hollow. I can’t cry over this. I don’t even want to believe it happened. I wish I could just forget him.
What’s even worse though is how sad I was when I heard him leave last night. It fucking hurt listening to him sneaking out and hearing the door close. I held Jax longer than I needed to. Long after he’d fallen asleep in my arms, I just couldn’t let him go.
As if on cue, he screams, “Mommy!” and my room fills with the sound of his little voice. The hint of a smile graces my lips, and I climb out of bed. Time to get ready. I way overslept. But it’s Tuesday, so at least there's no weekend rush. I can get him ready and off to preschool before heading in to the restaurant. Sarah will pick him up, and I’ll make spaghetti. Jax’s favorite. I shake my hands of this numbing anxiety racing through my body.
It’s over. I ended it. My heart pains as it twists into an unforgiving knot in my chest. It shouldn’t hurt this much to do the right thing.
Why does it hurt so much? I’m so tired of being in pain.
I hate the start of the week. There’s always so much shit that needs to be done. I need to make sure everything is correct with inventory first. I’ve got to order everything by two to make sure I'll have it all by lunchtime on Friday. I breathe in deep. I have my checklist on the laptop. I’m supposed to interview managers and another assistant manager today. But I don’t have the time.
I know I should make the time because it would really lighten my load to have the extra help, but there’s just so much to do. And I really try so damn hard to be home every day by five, six at the latest, so I can be there for Jax. Of course, I almost always have to go back to work using my laptop as soon as he’s asleep. But as long as I’m there for him when he’s done with preschool and at soccer practice, that’s what matters.
I can’t miss this time with him. They don't stay kids forever.
I park my car in my spot. The same spot I've parked in every fucking day for the past four years, and a heavy sigh leaves me. I really wish I could take a break. I wish I didn’t have to run myself ragged every damn day. I could sell out. I could take the money and try to invest it so it would last for us. But fucking Rick got us into so much debt digging his way out of financial ruin. And then I was saddled with all the lawyer’s fees from our divorce. And then of course when he died I had to pay his lawyers that tried to take Jax away from me. That bill fucking hurt like hell to pay. I take the key from the ignition. I can’t stop now. Just one day at a time will get me through. And at least I still have my little man. I’ll be strong for him.
Grabbing my laptop bag and my purse, I swing both over my shoulder and get out of the car. I click the button for the alarm and turn toward the restaurant.
A scream tears through my throat as a large hand concealed in a black leather glove covers my mouth and a large body wraps around my frame. No! I scream and flail my arms.
No! This can’t be happening. For a moment, I think it may be Dom. But this isn’t him. I know it’s not him. Tears sting my eyes as my throat burns with a shrill scream. I stumble forward as the man pushes his chest into me and crushes his heavy weight against my body, pinning me to the rough brick. My head bashes against it, and it scrapes my cheek.
The stinging cuts hardly register as he twists my arm. The pain shoots up my shoulder. The black sleeve of the man’s sweater slips up his arm and reveals a dark, detailed tattoo of a green dragon wrapped around a red shield. Another man comes out in front of me with a rag. I struggle in the man’s hold, trying like hell to get away.
But it’s no use.
The rag covers my face, and I try not to breathe.
I hold my breath for as long as I can, but I can’t keep it up much longer. I inhale the chloroform into my lungs.
The last thing that goes through my mind as the darkness takes over is Dom. I wish he were here to save me.
My head feels so heavy. I'm so groggy. My vision swirls, and my chin touches my chest. I groan and lean my head back. “Agh!” That was a mistake. My temples pulse with pain. I try to move my aching shoulders, and then I remember. I struggle against the abrasive rope digging into my arms, wrists, thighs and ankles.
A scream tears through me. My eyes open wide, but all I see is black. I’m tied down to a chair and blindfolded. My heart races, and my breathing comes up short. No. I shake my head frantically. This can’t be happening. “No!”
Smack! A hand lands hard across my face and whips my head to the side. The sound echoes through the room. I cry out in pain. My shoulders burn from the harsh movement. How long have I been here? Jax. Tears stream down my face. I bite my tongue. I don’t know if they have him, whoever they are. I don’t know if they even know he exists. I keep my mouth shut. Who the fuck took me? What do they want?
Dom. The air stills in my lungs. Did he do this? My body shudders in agony, and my chest aches with betrayal. I shake my head. He wouldn’t do this. But how the fuck would I know? I don’t know him. I should’ve never talked to him like that. My shoulders try to turn inward; I try to close myself in, but I can’t. I’m stuck like this.
“Is she finally awake?” My head lifts and turns toward a distant voice on my right. I don’t recognize the thick Italian accent.
“Yeah, boss.” A very deep voice sounds like it's right in front of me, and I instinctively try to get away. My feet scrape against the floor. Bare feet. It’s to no avail. Two large, cold hands settle on my shoulders and squeeze. It fucking hurts.
A deep, menacing chuckle is followed by the stench of foul breath and cigarette smoke. “You’re not going anywhere… doll.” My stomach drops, and my chest hollows. Dom.
“That’s right. We know all about your boyfriend.” The large hands try to pull me forward, which only causes the searing pain to shoot up my shoulders and make me wince.
The other voice that sounded so distant before rings out very clear and very close, “Just answer our questions and we’ll let you go.” A hand reaches out and cups my face. I flinch from the sudden touch, and I’m rewarded with another hard slap. I scream out again, against my will.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I barely get the words out. They have the wrong person. I don’t know him. I only know where his office is, and his first name. Shame floods me again. I feel like a fucking whore. A stupid slut about to get murdered because some asshole made me hot and I gave into temptation. This is what happens when you’re bad. This is where you end up.
I try to keel over as a solid fist lands hard in my gut. The need to vomit floods my system, and pain radiates from my stomach to my back. Holy fuck that hurt.
“Don’t fucking lie to us!” The other man, Distant Man yells at me. Tears fall freely as I gasp for air.
“Be a good doll, we need to know where Dom keeps the files for his daddy.”
My head shakes vigorously. “I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.” My heart hammers in my chest, beating furiously as if trying to escape. I wait in the silence for something, for anything.
A hard punch lands on my jaw. My bones crunch, and I swear something cracks. I sob uncontrollably from the pain.
“You do know. There’s no reason to keep it from us. Just be a good doll. We saw you bring him the money. When he took it, where did he put it and where did he write down the drop? Where does he keep that pad?”
A loud ringing noise sounds in my head. White noise. It’s so loud it nearly drowns out their words. I don’t fucking know. I swear to God I don’t know. I think back to what happened. I try to remember. There was no pad. I think he just tossed the money on the table. I don’t remember. I open my mouth to plead with them, but it burns with pain. I shake my head and plead with them, “I don’t know. Please. Please let me go.”
I whimper through the pain and prepare for another blow. And it comes almost immediately, landing hard in my gut again. I try to crumple over from the agonizing pain, but I can’t. Blood spills from my mouth as I cough it up.
They’re going to kill me. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to save myself.
Tears burn my eyes as my head starts to sway. Dom. Dom, please save me.
My head hangs low as my breathing comes in ragged pulls. He’s not going to save me. Knights in shining armor don’t exist. And even if they did, he wouldn’t be one of them.
Dom
I wake up to my fucking phone going off. I feel like hell. I drank a bottle of Jack last night, and I’m really feeling it. But I don’t even fucking care. I feel like shit. Maybe if I drink enough I’ll convince myself the hangover is why my chest aches and the fucking scowl won’t leave my face.
I swallow hard. I don’t give a shit about Becca. I just wanted to fuck that sweet ass of hers. I probably only wanted her because she was such a challenge. I shake my head, slowly so I don’t make myself any dizzier than I am. That’s all it was. She was just a bit harder to get. That’s the only reason I wanted her. The only reason she got under my skin.
“This better be good.” I answer the phone with a pissed off tone clear in my voice. I don’t feel like doing shit today. I half hope that someone comes without their money. No, fuck that. I’ll just go to the gym. It’s been a while since I’ve really pushed myself with the punching bags.
“Boss.” I jackknife off the bed at Johnny’s tone and wait silently. Something’s wrong. I don’t like how long he pauses. I can hear him taking in a heavy breath.
“Spit it out.” I can only imagine it’s about Vince. They must’ve got him on some fucked up charge.
“We gotta message, boss. I don’t know how they found her.” My heart drops like a fucking anchor. He quickly adds, “I swear there was nothing on the tapes. I don’t know how they got her.” His voice raises with anxiety.
“Tell me everything, Johnny.” I’m calm. Deadly calm. Suddenly, I don’t feel a fucking thing from my hangover. All I see is red.
“I got a text with a video. They have your girl, Rebecca.”
“Who and where?” That’s all that matters. I just need that info, and I’ll get her back. She’s mine. I don’t give a fuck what she said last night in the heat of the moment. I don’t give a fuck if she pushes me away again.
She’s mine.
“De Luca.” I hear Johnny swallow, and that pisses me off. I wait for more while I climb out of bed and throw on the first clothes I find. Sweats and a white tee.
I snarl into the phone, “Where!” He better fucking know.
“We’re on it now.” My hand tightens around the phone, and I have to close my eyes. My shoulders rise and fall with my angered breaths.
“Someone decided to send us a message. To send me a message. And they didn’t give any instructions? You aren’t able to track the message?”
“It-It’s just a video.” My blood turns to ice. I glossed over it earlier in my haste when he first mentioned it, but a video means there’s something to see. Fuck, no. I wait for more. I don
’t want to ask.
“They roughed her up, Dom.” I can’t breathe. I swallow down my heart, which feels like it's trying to climb out of my throat.
“She alright, Johnny?”
“She’ll be alright. I promise you, Dom. We’ll get her back, and she’ll be alright.” I wanna ask, but I can’t. I just need to get to her. I need to see for myself.
“What about her son?” A panic spreads through every inch of me. He’s just a child. They better not have touched him.
“Preschool. He’s still in class.”
“Get him out now. Give him to Ma, and don’t let either of them out of your sight. You hear me, Johnny?”
“I got you, boss. I’m on it.” Damn right he is. No harm is coming to her son. No one’s hurting him. Over my dead body.
“We’ve got to find Becca now, Johnny. How long ago did the video come in?”
“Fifteen minutes.” He’s quick to answer.
“How long does Tony need?” I ask with a calmer voice than I thought I could manage. I shove my shoes on and walk out the door with my keys in my hand. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know where she is. But I can’t fucking sit around just waiting. I need to do something.
I’m the reason she’s in this mess.
“Any minute. We’ll know any minute now,” he answers.
“I’m calling Tony. Call me the second you hear anything.”
“I will, boss.”
I hang up the phone and quickly dial Tony’s number. As I listen to it ring, the full weight of everything crushes my chest.
It’s my fault.
I led them to her.
I must have. I couldn’t stay away. I ruined her.
My eyes close as the phone goes to voicemail. Because of me, she may be dead right now.
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