Chapter 90

Hands come around to grab my breasts and I lash out furiously, trying to yank free with little effect,
wriggling to move but it’s almost futile. I’m held taut, and I can only imagine they think the super drug is
going to render me docile at any minute. I start to panic. So many flashing images running through my
head to send me over the edge if I let that pervert back in to render me useless. I claw away the visuals
and try to focus on staying here, in the now.

“What the fuck, Cam?” I snap at her, but the male behind me yanks me back against him harder,
clutching my breasts painfully from behind, diving into my naked neck and shoulder and biting my skin
with little care to leaving marks. I react psychotically, turning in his arms with new found strength from a
sudden adrenaline boost, yanking my wrists free and throwing my hands at his chest with slaps and
shoves that are quickly restrained with fast reflexes and what feels like a million hands.

“She’s a feisty one. You know I love me some fucking fire, Cam.” He laughs at me and looks over my
head, trying to back me further into the secluded area with him. I struggle and fight, head full of that girl
being pounded against the wall, panicking like crazy, tears biting my eyes and heart exploding in my
chest.

I don’t hear her response, don’t turn to see her before he dives in again, yanking me cruelly close with
strong hands and forces his mouth on mine, his grip on my arms biting hard. Teeth clash against my
lips which I have slammed shut, in the most painful way.

He’s not the kind of young boozed up asshole I’m used to dealing with; he’s about thirty-five maybe
more, strong, well-built, and obviously works out. He just reeks of money and power and no way in hell
am I able to fight him off. He’s intent on getting what he thinks he’s owed. Some sort of sex hungry
prick with little concern about raping women it seems. I open my mouth and bite his lip hard, tasting
blood with satisfaction, trying like crazy to get him off me, but he’s like an octopus with limbs encircling
and trapping me. He grabs me by the throat and tightens harshly, hurting and choking off my air supply,
pulling me into his mouth with a deadly evil gaze, right into my eyes which makes me momentarily



mute. I’m completely terrified. Gasping at the shock of his swift reaction, aware that I can’t inhale, or
swallow and my body goes limp.

“I have a million fucking rape fantasies; I suggest you play nice if you don’t want to be on the receiving
end. I love slaves and some BDSM, really know how to make a girl fucking scream, and I don’t mean in
pleasure. Camilla owes me. Pipe down and let the drugs take effect, you will thank me for it later.” His
cruel words calm me momentarily, my body reeling in shock and that psychotic, controlled tone makes
me freeze submissively for a moment.

I turn my head slightly to catch Camilla, to plead for her to help me with wild eyes and tears falling
freely. I don’t know why I think she will, considering the bitch tried to drug me. She blows me a kiss,
cold and uncaring and turns on her heel with a little smirk. Disappears into the crowds around us and
leaves me trapped in this cruel embrace.

Finding my inner fire, sparked by her response, clawing out from inside me as his mouth ascends on
my cleavage. He is obviously someone who is used to getting what he wants, doesn’t take no for an
answer, but I am not about to give in because I know I can’t win. It isn’t in me to give in that easily, even
when my father abused me for years. He left me black and blue from the beatings because I wouldn’t
yield to him. I am not about to fucking yield now, to this power-crazy asshole with a hard-on, especially
not when surrounded by people who might actually help me if I make a scene.

I push with all my might and bring my knee up hard into his groin, the way Arrick taught me years
before. Little memories of self-defense moves he tried to get me to remember. Kept hounding me to
learn under his careful guidance, and right now, I wish I’d listened to him and took more lessons. I get a
twisted sense of satisfaction when I collide with something soft, then hard, with a force to hurt my own
limb in the process, and he lets me go, crumbling into a bent pose with a muffled ‘ughhh’.

I make a dash for it, but he’s only half wounded, recovers inhumanly fast, grabbing my wrist and tugs
me back to him so I collide once more. This time he grabs me by the throat and pulls me tight to him,



so I’m nose to nose. Squeezing so I can’t breathe, can’t take a breath and I panic. I grasp at his fingers
with both hands, no longer fighting to get away, but fighting to take in air as, that terror-inducing fear
points out I can’t. I’m suffocating and I’m going to black out if he doesn’t let up on my throat. His grip is
superhumanly tight, and he has no qualms about applying pressure, obvious he uses this form of
control frequently.

He lifts me up a little, so my feet scrape the floor, making it tighter. Weird gasps come from my mouth
and he sneers at what he’s doing to me. A smirk on his face that puts the fear of God into my soul.

This here is a monster, much like the one I ran from. A man who has no qualms about inflicting pain
and suffering and taking what he wants. I know I’m pretty much screwed; even in a public club like this,
this kind of shit happens all the time. With enough money and power, you can make anything go away,
and he knows it. This obviously isn’t the first time he has exerted force on a little girl, and I have no
doubt that as soon as I get weak or pass out from this, he will fuck me, in a dark rancid corner like that
girl, and then walk away as if nothing happened. His smug confidence in how he’s handling me makes
that clear.

What the hell is Camilla into?

He forces another kiss on me, loosening my throat enough that I gasp, still unable to do anything but
claw at his hands and try to pull back. I taste the blood I caused on his mouth, gagging at its vileness.
Crushing cruel hard lips lock against mine, pushing hard to open me up to him. My body is weak,
resolve deteriorating with the lack of oxygen and I know that I’m fucked. I’ve been on the receiving end
of an overpowering male, intent on sticking his dick inside you. I know how useless a girl can be when
faced with brute strength, regardless of where we are. I resign myself to the fact that I can’t fight, no
one’s going to save me, but I know if I lock myself inside my head then I can endure it like I did so
many times before. I won’t let this destroy me; I never let any of it destroy me.



I’m ripped out of his grip by warm hands around my waist, yanking me back and depositing me on my
feet, hard, in the blink of an eye. Gasping and choking. Suddenly able to inhale air. The rush of it
makes me dizzy and I crouch and crumble to my knees, clutching my throat pathetically, as I expand
my lungs and come back to reality. The sheer force of relief that I can breathe and get lightheaded with
the sudden intake of oxygen. Everything’s spinning, but I’m aware I’m not being held anymore. I have
no idea who the hell just grabbed me and dumped me like this to languish on the floor amid pounding
feet.

I look up as the blood drains from my body, a cold wash of terror as I realize exactly who. That
formidable hard body, his speed, and skill unmatched by normal men, pounding his fist into the creep’s
face in sheer rage. Arrick looks insane, he’s bypassed all his typical calm and cool responses and is
instead, beating the guy into oblivion. In a fury of punches and movements that would befit a ring fight,
he seems lost in his own head, unable to stop. Beating down a reign of pain on his victim. Nothing like
he has ever done to any sleazy asshole in a club for me before.

Fear grips me, sense hits me harder, and I realize he might actually kill him. Concern for him overtaking
me, I jump to my feet, closing the few feet that have opened between us amid the grinding crowd and
start hauling him by the back of his shirt, yelling his name. Begging him to stop. He’s like a demon
possessed, pounding the guy into the ground with swift trained blows, precisely placed, like a well-oiled
machine on autopilot.

Arrick is deaf to me, oblivious to my pulling at his shoulders and arms as he hits him repeatedly. The
guy tries to fight back, obviously someone who can, yet still no match and is already on the floor.
Arrick’s too fast, too well trained, and too enraged to be controlled. The other man has no chance.

He’s on the ground cowering as Arrick rains an assault of blows and kicks at his head instead of body,
and surrounding dancers are starting to turn with the commotion which at first had been concealed. I
dart around in panic, thinking of what this will do to his career, his reputation. It will be in every paper
and magazine if I don’t stop it. This could ruin his life.




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