Chapter 11: Lena

I open my eyes. Luis is crouched over top of me, the buttons of his shirt undone, his long hair loose and disheveled as though he's been running frustrated fingers through it. I briefly catch the edge of concern in his dark gaze, but my body reacts, almost independently of thought. He's kneeling next to me, his hands on my flesh, the memory of his dream monster still fresh.

I shove his chest, pushing him back. He's off balance for a split second which allows me to lunge to the side. I bring the jug down on the concrete, smashing it. I grip a broken shard and swing it around toward him. He shifts backward and reaches for his gun. His eyes are alight with fury and something else. Maybe anticipation. Or perhaps expectation. I don't know and I don't have time to think about it. I hurl myself at him, knocking his gun hand aside while aiming for his jugular with the shard.

He snatches my hair in his other hand and drags my head back. I expected the move and aim a kick toward his stomach. He's fast; he shifts to the side so my kick passes by him. He drags my head right to the ground, countering all of my moves. I'm about to aim a punch at his nose, hopefully shattering it, when he raises his gun. I try to knock it to the side again, but he slams the metal into my bicep, deadening the muscle. My arm drops and the gun is pressed against my forehead.

Neither of us speak, neither moves. We stare at each other. I've been forced nearly to the ground. I'm sitting on my ass, an elbow braced on the concrete. He stands, dragging me up by the hair. The tug of pain in my scalp is nothing compared to what I see in his eyes. Sadistic, savage intent. He wants to hurt me, might even kill me. If he does, at least I'll know I went down fighting.

I'm forced to kneel before him, my face inches from his crotch. He yanks my head until I'm staring up his body, directly into his glowing eyes. The gun is still pressed against my forehead.

"Move and you die," he warns. Then he drops the hand that'd been gripping my hair and reaches in between us. At first, I think he's going to grab me by the throat, choke me. But he doesn't. He unzips his pants, jerks the fabric a little and then pulls his cock free from the material.

I can feel my eyes growing rounder, though I try to hide my response. Perhaps it's the remnants of my dream. The orgasm he forced on me. Or maybe it's because I've been dreaming of Luis for almost as long as I've known him. Whatever it is, I drop my eyes, unable to do anything else. The breath catches in my throat as I stare at him. His cock is almost as big and angry as the rest of him. Engorged with blood, it's demanding, terrible and beautiful all at once.

"Suck me, Lena." His voice is cold, but I can hear the strain in his tone. "Use your teeth and I'll put a bullet in your skull."

I stare at him. This is it. I can take him in my mouth and then bite, injuring him permanently. I would die, but I'm probably going to die anyway.

He reaches for me again, burying his fingers in the tangle of my hair. Luis drags my head back and forces me to look up at him. His face is emotionless but the fire in his eyes tells me how much he wants this, how much he's willing to risk just to get it. My heart thumps faster.

He drags my head toward him and my cheek rubs against his cock. Precum smears across my face. I gasp, and he uses the opportunity to shove me onto his cock, forcing his flesh into my open mouth. I barely register the taste and texture of him when he jerks my head back again and then thrusts me forward, shoving himself deep into my mouth. I cough and gag, spit pooling in my mouth. I don't have time to adjust, to find a rhythm. He uses my face, thrusting himself inside over and over while ramming my head forward.

I bring my hands up, reaching back, in an automatic attempt to defend myself. Maybe grab his thumb and wrench it back. I'm fighting blind though. My eyes can only see his flat, hard belly and the cock that's being forced into my face.

"Hands down," he barks.

I instantly comply, dropping my hands to the floor and bracing them on my bent thighs. I don't know why I do as he says, just feel that I must. Involuntary tears pool at the corners of my eyes then release, trickling down my face. His movements are brutal, rough. I gag on him, spit dripping down my chin. I'm grateful I haven't eaten much because I would throw up all over him if I had. The thrust of his hips grows jerky and I think he might be close.

I wrap my lips around him, protecting him from my teeth. I am afraid that he'll kill me if I accidentally bite him. But also… I am intrigued. I've never seen Luis so undone. In such a moment of raw vulnerability. I roll my eyes up, look past the gun and the arm that's reaching behind my head. I look at his face. His eyelids are heavy, his eyes intent on me. They don't hold the hatred I've grown used to. They hold pleasure. Pure, glowing pleasure. He drops the barrel of the gun away from my forehead and slides the fingers of both hands into the hair at my temples. As his orgasm begins to crest his hands grow almost gentle. They guide me in the rhythm he wants, but they are no longer rough.

I should bite him now. Should reach up, grab his gun hand and bury my fingers into the tendons. I should use this opportunity to escape. But I do none of that. Instead, I watch with fascination and a little awe as he jerks his cock from my mouth and masturbates himself, sliding his palm over the wet flesh, the gun is pointed down, but the metal is touching his cock. I am breathless at the sight. The visual of this powerful, beautiful man, masturbating himself with a gun in hand. So visceral, primal, real.

He grabs my hair again, twists my head up and to the side so he can look at my face. I feel something hot hit my breasts, striking my hard nipples. He's coming on my body while staring down at me, our matching brown eyes clashing in a silent but heated exchange. The sensations running through my body are unbelievably erotic. As he finishes, I lift my hand from the ground, run my finger through the cum that bathes my chest and lift it to my lips. I close my eyes as I taste him.

"Look at me." His voice is strange, a guttural demand.

My eyes fly open to meet his, which hold surprise. Surprise at my action. I should be angry and fearful at the awful way he's treating me, like a whore he'll eventually use up and throw away. We both know it. But I'm not either of those things. I feel… good.

I only have a few seconds to bask in this feeling before he's dragging me up to my feet. I sway as my body protests, weak from lack of food and the beating. He bends over, his shoulder coming toward me. I try to move away but he grabs me before I can and tosses me up and over his shoulder. My breath whooshes out and I get only the briefest glimpse of my prison as he spins around and strides from the room.

My mouth opens in shock as he takes the stairs quickly and walks without pause through the house. I'm buck naked and his cock is still hanging out of his pants. Anyone can see us this way. He doesn't seem to care though. Again, he runs up another set of stairs, to the top floor of the house, holding onto me as though my weight is nothing. He's not even out of breath while I'm panting like a racehorse from simply holding on to him. He throws a door open and strides through.

Everything is a blur. I have no idea where he's brought me, though I can already tell that it's warmer and more comfortable than my prison. Then I'm falling backwards. I brace my arms out, ready for the impact of my back against the floor. I land on something soft, a billowing blanket embracing my naked body. I stare up at him for a moment, my mouth still open in shock. This was the last thing I expected. He's looking down at me, his gaze inscrutable.

A glance around confirms my suspicion. He's brought me to his bedroom.