Chapter 6

“You’ve never given head before, have you?” There’s an appreciative quality in his tone as if the wanker approves. “Hollow your cheeks and loosen your jaw. Don’t just lick, suck,” he instructs in a lust-filled voice as if he’s speaking to a lover. I’m so tempted to bite his dick off completely this time, but the threat of actual death forces me to abandon the idea. Instead, I follow his command. The sooner I’m done with this, the sooner I’ll be out of his deadly orbit. “That’s it,” he breathes out, his tone loosening for the first time. “Use your tongue.” I do, mechanically, not even thinking about it. I also try not to think about the position I’m in. On the edge, on my knees, about to fall back, with a maniac using my mouth to get off. If he slides my body back even an inch, I’ll have no one to save me but the same person who put me in this position. His hold on my hair stiffens, and I think I’ve used my teeth again, but I soon find out that’s not the case. He’s done with attempting to take it easy. Or maybe he’s bored. Whatever the reason, he’s just decided to take things into his own hands. Using his grip on my hair, he seizes my jaw with his fingers, forcing me to open as wide as I can. “I like your adorable attempt at sucking cock, but how about I show you how it’s properly done?” He thrusts all the way to the back of my throat. “Hmm. You have a pretty little face that looks erotic when being fucked.” I splutter, choking on my saliva and his girth and length. I haven’t come across many dicks in my life, but this, without doubt, is the biggest I’ve seen. And the way he drives it to the back of my throat is nothing short of a show of domination. He keeps it there, choking me until my eyes nearly bulge out. I think I’ll die with his dick in my mouth. His gaze remains on mine and he gets even harder as he watches me, my eyes bulging with tears gathering in them, and face probably turning red. The sick bastard is going to kill me and get off on it. But then, he slides out enough to allow me to take a sliver of a breath. I don’t even drag a whole inhale before he’s ramming in again, more violently than before. More intense. More…out of control. Tears sting my eyes and fall in rivulets down my cheeks. Drool and precum trickle down my chin and neck as he thrusts in and out of my mouth, still holding me at the edge with a hand. Over and over. And over. Matching the brutal sound of the crushing waves below. I’m lightheaded, my fingers throbbing and my legs shaking. I refuse to think about what’s happening between them. I’m just not that fucked in the head. Right when I think he’ll never finish, a salty taste explodes in my mouth. My knee-jerk reaction is to spit it all out in his face, so I try to do just that. The moment he slides his dick out of my mouth, I splutter the cum all over his designer shoes. Rugged breaths rack my chest and I inhale and exhale in rapid succession, but I don’t break eye contact. I glare as I wipe the remainder of his disgusting cum from my mouth. At first, he watches me with a blank expression, but soon after, a low chuckle comes from his lips and for the first time tonight, light shines in his eyes. It’s not black-on-black this time. It’s pure sadist light. The light of someone so utterly pleased and satiated. He releases my hair and jams his middle and ring fingers into my mouth. I hold on to his wrist to keep from stumbling backward and he uses the chance to smear the rest of his cum on my lips. His fingers choke me, invading my mouth as if they have every right to, over and over. And fucking over again. When he seems satisfied enough, a flash blinds me. I stare up at the camera that’s covering his eyes. Did this bastard just take a picture of me in this position? Yes. Yes, he did. But before I can try to snatch away his camera, he pulls his fingers from my mouth, then uses them to tuck my hair behind my ears and pats the top of my head. “You were a good sport, Glyndon.” And then he effortlessly tugs me away from the edge, turns, and leaves. I remain in a frozen state, unable to wrap my head around everything that just happened. The most important of all is, how the hell does that psycho know my name? Idon’t know how I drive home. There’s definitely crying and some blurry vision as I strangle the steering wheel. But the persistent feeling is the constant need to follow in Devlin’s footsteps and just hit the gas to the nearest cliff. I shake my head. Thinking about Devlin under the current situation is about the worst step I can take. The best step I take, however, is stopping across from a police station with the intention to report what just happened. One thing stops me from opening my car’s door. What evidence do I have? Besides, I’d rather die than have my family battle a media war for my sake. Yes, Dad and Grandpa, and even my mum, would probably shred the stranger to pieces and be willing to battle all types of wars for me if they knew. But I’m not like them. I’m not antagonistic and I sure as hell don’t want them to be in the spotlight because of me. I just can’t do that. And I’m so damn tired. I’ve been tired for months, and this will only add to the weight that has been perching on my shoulders. Mum will be so disappointed in me if she hears that her little girl is covering for a predator. She raised me with the motto of holding my head up. She raised me to be a strong woman like herself and my late grandma. But she doesn’t need to know about this. It’s not that I’m covering up for him. I’m not. I won’t make any excuses for him. I won’t consider it anything less than what it is. However, it’ll remain buried between me and myself. Just like everything about Devlin.