Chapter Eleven
Past
The man I fell asleep with was not the monster I woke up to.
He was already inside me when I opened my eyes, thrusting as if he intended to make me bleed.
“Con,” I whimpered, my body jerking from his harsh motions.
“I’m almost done, Rosie,” he grunted, burying himself to the hilt and pulling out to do it all over again.
I grimaced in discomfort as he brushed against my cervix.
“You were so wet for me when I woke up. Your cunt was begging for my cock, babygirl,” he groaned, grabbing a fistful of my hair at the root.
“Stop.” I pushed against him, turning my head to try and ease the burn on my scalp. I wasn’t accustomed to this; I was still trying to wake all the way up, and my body was sore from his endless sessions the night before.
He dropped his mouth to my neck and began swirling his tongue in a circular motion before biting down hard enough to break the skin. I screamed, shoving him as hard I could, feeling tears spill from my eyes.
“Fuck, yes. Scream for me, Rosie,” he begged excitedly, grabbing my wrists so roughly it felt like the bones would crumble.
Why was no one coming to help me?
He kept pumping into me, ignoring my demands for him to stop. His body finally tensed with his orgasm, and I felt his cum spill inside me. When he rested his sweaty forehead against mine, his lips tried to connect with my own.
I turned away, sickened by everything he’d just done.
“No,” he growled.
He pulled out of me and grabbed hold of my jaw, squeezing until it popped.
“Get off me,” I garbled, weakly fighting against him again.
“You don’t deny me—ever. Do you understand?” His blue eyes darkened to a degree I would never think possible if I weren’t seeing it with my own two eyes.
The Constantine I was familiar with was gone. In his place was a stranger who was mortally terrifying. I struggled to nod, rushing to appease him so he’d let me go.
“It’s okay; don’t feel too bad. I know you’re new at this. You’ll get better.” His grip turned light and he placed a quick peck on my cheek before traipsing across the room.
I’ll get better? I need to get the fuck out of here!
He pulled open a drawer and took out some clothes, tossing a large shirt in my direction and a pair of boxers. My stomach dipped as I watched him remove a gun and tuck it in the waistband of his jeans.
Get out, get out, get out! My brain chanted.
“Constantine, I need to go home.” I spoke softly, like I was attempting to appease a predator.
“Hurry up and shower. It’s almost noon, and we need to hit the road soon.” He acted like I hadn’t even spoken.
I made two fists, trying to gain control of my shaking hands.
“I don’t like repeating myself, Rosie. I’m trying to go easy on you right now. Get the fuck up and go get in the shower.” He turned around and glared at me.
I flinched at his tone of voice, hating myself for showing that I was afraid.
Who the hell was this guy? Had I misjudged him so severely all this time?
His patience was like a burning fuse on display. I could see it growing shorter and shorter, with the explosive impact being directed fully at me.
Scrambling from the bed as fast as I could on shaky legs, I darted towards the bathroom. Before I could reach it, he caught me around the middle.
“Don’t be scared; I promise I’m going to keep you.” He kissed my temple and swatted my naked ass lightly, urging me in the direction of the attached bath.
I could have fallen to my knees and begged him to let me go, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Pride was such a reckless, stupid thing. I went through the motions of turning the shower on and waiting for the water to warm. My reflection caught my eye and had me blinking away fresh tears.
Teeth marks, a bit of blood, and an ugly purple bruise were imprinted on my neck. My wrists had a matching set but nowhere near as bad.
Looking away before I completely lost my mind, I stepped beneath the hot water and tried to calm down enough to think of a plan. I didn’t understand what was happening. His confession about watching me since I was fourteen resurfaced and chilled me to the bone. So many questions circled around my brain.
Why would he do that, and why was he doing this? And how the hell was I going to get away from him?
There was no way out. The second I stepped from the shower, slipped the oversized shirt over my head, and finished rolling the boxers at the top so they stayed up, Con reappeared like a phantom.
“You’re so beautiful, Rosie,” he expressed from the bathroom doorway. “I got you something,” he intoned, pulling a black bouquet of roses from behind his back.
I stared until his smile faltered from my resounding silence.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, slowly inching forward to accept them.
I desperately wanted to fall to the ground and curl up in the fetal position, but I wasn’t going to give him any reasons to hurt me.
“We need to leave now,” he explained after handing me the roses.
“Where are we going?” My voice was remarkably calm, considering I had a tornado of emotions warring inside me.
“That’s a surprise.” He winked, taking hold of my elbow. He led me through his room and back out into the hall.
The only sounds in the house were his heavy footsteps and the occasional drip of water from my hair hitting the floor. All the lights were off. Every door was open. Each room we passed was cleaned to perfection.
Where was everyone?
As we walked out the front door and towards his idling Hummer, an overpowering fear crippled me. If I got in his car, it was over.
The sight of my grandfather’s Lincoln parked in the garage across the street heightened that one single emotion. My bare feet skidded across the stone driveway as I attempted to pull away.
“Let me go—just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I pleaded.
“Don’t make this hard, Rosie,” Con warned.
“You fucking psycho, let me go!” I screamed at him, swinging the bouquet like it was a bat.
I never saw his hand coming. One second I was standing upright, and the next I was stumbling, tasting blood on my teeth.
“Dammit, look what you made me do, Rose,” he snapped, grabbing me by the collar of his shirt, causing it to rip as he dragged me to the car. I tripped over my own two feet and fell, crying out as the skin tore from my kneecaps.
“Shut the fuck up,” Con snarled, turning around and yanking me up by the throat.
“Fuck you.” My response was based purely on instinct and the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I reached up and raked my nails down his face, digging in as hard as I could.
He shoved me away from him with an angry curse, making me choke from the force of his palm hitting my windpipe. Saliva dribbled down my chin as I spun around and crawled into the street. The second I was on my feet, there was a distinguishable click from behind me.
“Your grandpa’s sleeping right now. How easy would it be to put a bullet in your back and then pay him a visit?”
Would he actually shoot me? I couldn’t risk it. If I were taken out, that was one thing, but my grandfather was precious to me—I would never put him in harm’s way. Hadn’t I cheated death enough, anyway?