look…strange,” she said.
Jim reached out and pulled one of the straps down past her shoulder. “I don’t think it will look strange, lover,” he said. “And besides, I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” He tugged the second strap and let it snap back onto her skin.
Amy kept her head low and slowly removed the other strap with both hands. She paused there for a moment.
“Keep going,” he said. “Pull it down to your waist.”
She took a deep breath, her chest expanding, hating that the deep breath made her chest heave, assuredly exciting him further.
With both hands she gripped the center of her bra and inched it down to her stomach. She could not bring herself to look at her own breasts in this man’s company. She closed her eyes and looked away.
Jim moaned lightly under his breath. “Oh yeah…” He briefly touched himself. “Nice and firm. I guess you never breastfed those two rug rats in there did you?” He aimed a thumb over his shoulder towards the bedroom door. “You know I read somewhere that if a mother doesn’t breastfeed her kids, she loses that special bond between mother and child during those crucial developmental years. Is that true? Is there a bond lacking between you and Carrie? You and Caleb?”
Hearing her children’s names made Amy’s heart burn. She’d been desperately trying to put her family out of her mind during this most recent nightmare, and she would have bet anything that Jim knew this; that his speaking Carrie and Caleb’s names as opposed to something like your children or your kids was intentional. It brought her anger back full-steam.
“I breastfed them,” she said with an instantly regrettable defiance. She could feel the cold on her bare breasts and prayed her nipples were not hard for him. She did not look and see.
“Really?” Jim said. “Wow. I guess you’ve just got some winning genetics then, yeah?” He reached out with his index finger and circled the perimeter of her left nipple. Then her right.
Amy tried a swallow and her throat caught, forcing a cough. Her rage was the only thing keeping her from crying.
“Thanks,” she whispered. It was barely audible.
Jim stopped his exploratory finger, brought his whole hand to her cheek, stroked it. “You’re welcome,” he said. His began caressing her hair again. Amy kept her profile to him. “Look at me,” he said.
Amy didn’t move.
“Turn and look at me.”
Amy bit harder into her cheek and tasted the coppery hint of blood. She forced herself to turn and lock eyes with him.
He winked at her, leered, then established a quick, firm grip on the back of her scalp that made her gasp.
“Much better,” he said. “Now…where were we?”
The pressure on her scalp was painful. She took her eyes off him immediately and attempted to lower her head back to his groin. He allowed her, but kept a strong hold on her hair.
Do I try and sell it again? Or are we past that? I need to say something. I need to hear my own voice…
“I think we were here,” she said. Her voice was a weak, defeated offering—as she’d intended. She was inches from his penis for the second time.
He gripped her scalp harder. “Well then what the fuck are you waiting for?”
Amy swallowed dry again. She had no spit whatsoever. If she were with Patrick it would be difficult to do a decent job. But she didn’t need to prolong this act. She didn’t need to be concerned with performance. She would take him in her mouth for as long as necessary. Once the moment presented itself, she would chomp down with everything she had then jerk away violently like a wild animal. Hell, the dry mouth would even give her a better grip wouldn’t it? Fuck yeah. Keep the damn thing from slipping out.
Amy knew the assault would not stop her attacker, but she was hoping (praying) the intense pain would buy her the precious seconds needed to hop off the bed, snatch the giant lamp on the dresser, and then bring it down onto Jim’s skull, knocking the son of a bitch out. Maybe (hopefully) even killing him.
After that? After he was incapacitated? She had a plan. A damn good one.
Amy allowed the tip of his penis to touch her lips, her breathing coming in short, rapid bursts. She opened her mouth and allowed the first inch to enter. She didn’t need to slide too far down onto his shaft. Biting the head off would