Dirty Filthy Rich Men (Dirty Duet #1)

“Theo. Please.” I swallowed the ball at the back of my throat.

He sniffed, the second time I’d heard him, either from the cold or from snorting, I wasn’t sure. “Please what?” he said as if he really didn’t have any idea what I was asking.

“Let me go.”

He feigned consideration then shook his head as if he was sorry he couldn’t comply with my request. “Look.” He pulled his thumb along my bottom lip, which quivered under his unwanted touch. “I don’t want to draw this out, so here’s how this is going to go—I’m going to fuck you. You can either make it easy or you can make it hard. Either way, we both know who has the power here.”

I didn’t even think. I just opened my mouth and started to scream. “Hel—!”

Theo was ready for me. He clamped his hand over my mouth—cutting me off before I could get any real sound out—and grinned from ear to ear. “I was actually hoping you’d choose the hard way. I like it when girls struggle. It will be better for you too. I’ll come a whole lot faster.”

“Fuck you,” I said, muffled against his claw. And though I hated giving him what he wanted, though he was at least six feet tall and probably two hundred pounds, though I had no chance in hell at getting away from him, I fought back. I pushed against his shoulders with all my strength. I kneed at him. I wriggled. I cried.

Theo only chuckled. “Just like that, baby.” He pressed his body in tighter against me, using his thighs to keep my lower body from squirming. With his free hand, he undid his pants and drew out his cock.

I started crying harder. I’d seen a penis before. I was a virgin but not a prude. I’d had a high school boyfriend. I’d given him blowjobs and handjobs and he had done enough to me in return that I wasn’t even sure my hymen was still intact.

But looking at Theo’s cock made me want to throw up. It had to be the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. Everything about it was disgusting. I didn’t want it anywhere near me. Definitely didn’t want it inside me.

I had to get out of this.

I brought my hands up to his face and scratched as hard as I could. Scratched until I drew blood.

Theo cursed and let go of his dick so he could wrestle my hands down instead. When he had them pinned tightly under my breasts, he moved his other hand so it covered my nose as well as my mouth.

“I can keep my hand like this, and in a couple minutes you won’t have the energy to fight me. Would you prefer that, Sabrina? Is that the way you want to do this?” He locked his eyes right on mine, got right up in my face so he was sure I understood what he was saying. So he was sure that I understood that he was giving me the choice of whether or not he let me breathe.

I shook my head.

“So you’ll be good?”

Did I have a choice? My lungs were already aching. My eyes were already seeing spots. My brain was already panicking with the impulse to take a breath.

I nodded.

He didn’t move his hand.

I nodded harder. I cried harder. Desperate.

Finally he moved his hand down ever so slightly so that my nostrils were uncovered. I inhaled cold air in long, sputtering draws, taking as much as I could get in through my nose. My chest rose and fell with each gasping breath.

Slowly, Theo let go of my hands, giving me another warning look as he resumed stroking his cock.

I got it. He had the power. I did not. Lesson learned. Lesson fucking learned.

I still struggled. I couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex. Like that one time I’d gotten a pedicure and couldn’t help kicking the technician because I was so ticklish. I willed myself to cooperate with Theo, and still my body fought him.

“Undo your jeans,” he ordered after he’d jacked himself for a minute, his voice tight.

No. Please no, don’t make me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

He inched the hand over my mouth slightly toward my nose—threatening—but I was already undoing the snap. Unzipping the zipper.

Tears leaked down my cheeks as Theo shooed my hands away. He licked two of his fingers and said, “Don’t want to go in dry,” then he stuck them inside my panties, searching for the hole he wanted.

A sob bubbled deep in my chest, and I closed my eyes, wishing I could be someplace else, surrendering to a deluge of mismatched thoughts that went on and on randomly. A panicked stream of consciousness. I’m not here. I’m somewhere else. I’m on the beach. I’m in the Riviera Maya. I can’t tell my father. He’ll be so mad. I haven’t shaved. Can you get frostbite in October? That redhead had nice breasts. What was her name again? It’s just my virginity. It’s just sex. Will I tell my sister? This is so embarrassing. I should have waited inside. It’s so cold. Who was the blonde in that picture in Donovan’s room? That last trip we took with Mom to the Riviera Maya was in October. It will be five years this December. What if he hurts me? What if he really hurts me? I hope no one comes out and sees this. I can’t tell my sister. I can’t tell anyone. Nichelle. I keep forgetting her name on purpose. I miss my mom. Please, God, let someone come and stop this!

I was still aware of everything around me. Hyperaware. I knew I’d forever be able to identify the smell of Theo’s shampoo. Of his cologne. His watch ticked in the quiet, each second sounding after an eternity while his fingernails scraped along the walls of my insides.

But I must not have been as attentive as I thought I was, because I never heard the door open or the footsteps on the stairs. I didn’t see Donovan grab Theo by the back of his jacket and pull him off of me, but I did see him punch Theo squarely in the nose, heard it crack, saw the blood gush.

“What the fuck?” Theo howled, one hand holding his nose while he quickly pulled up his pants with the other. “Jesus, Kincaid!”

My knees nearly buckled in relief. I was free of Theo, free of his sweaty hand and his oppressive body. I scooted away from the corner I’d been trapped in, afraid I might somehow end up imprisoned there again, and fastened my pants as fast as I could. Shock halted my tears, and though I felt steady, I could see my hands were shaking.

Theo, seeming to see that he might be in trouble, took a step away, but Donovan grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “Did I say we were finished?” Theo had Donovan beat on size, yet Donovan didn’t seem concerned at all.

I bit my trembling lip and hugged my arms around myself. Donovan might not be scared, but I was. Too scared to leave to get help. Too numb.

“Hey, I don’t know what you think happened—” Theo started to say, but Donovan cut him off.

“You don’t get to talk.” Donovan yanked Theo’s arm again. Hard. “It’s up to Sabrina whether she presses charges. Sabrina?” Donovan looked at me, his green eyes searing into mine, searching as though he was afraid I was lost.

Maybe I was lost.

I blinked. He’d asked me a question. “What was that?” I managed.