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You like my buddy grabbing you for me?”
    Confusion rippled through me, chasing the terror away.
    Jacob?
    He let go of my wrists, jammed his fingers in my hair and wound it around them. And yanked.
    Juices flooded my pussy.
    I raised my hands, pushing them between us to reach his face, fingertips meeting with wool, the ridge of an eyehole, then skin. I traced over that tiny bit of exposed face in search of the little knot of raised scar tissue that should be there if this really was Jacob.
    It was there, beside his eye. Relief ploughed through me, leaving me a sagging, weak mess. I wanted to give in and cry, to let out the rest of the extreme tension that had consumed me, to rail at him for changing our plan and frightening me shitless. But he had other ideas.
    “Yeah, you fucking loved it, didn’t you, bitch? And you want me fucking you now, hard and fast, the wall gritty on your bare arse after I’ve ripped your knickers off. Bet you’re wet. So wet that my cock’ll slip inside you so fast you won’t have time to catch your breath.”
    Jacob had turned into someone I’d wanted him to be for so long. Sensations, so many of them—shock, surprise, pleasure—overcame me, and for the first time since he’d spoken, my clit swelled. The throb there grew as I sensed him staring at me, the heat from his ragged breaths fanning my face.
    “You’d answer, wouldn’t you? Except I won’t let you. My hand’s staying where it is for now, you damn filthy whore. Clamped over your pretty little mouth. Bet that mouth can suck cock good. Bet those lips and tongue can make a man come hard. Yeah, my hand’s staying put. Don’t want you screaming. Not that kind of scream, anyway.”
    He lifted his knee, settling it at my crotch, and moved it back and forth. My skirt rose with each movement, the air cold on my newly exposed skin. His jeans abraded my clit through my gusset, rough, pleasing strokes that fuelled the kernel of desire into something bigger, more intense.
    He’d got some guy to join our game, how I didn’t know, but right now I didn’t care.
    I wanted a fuck, a rough-as-hell fuck.
    And I was going to get it.

Chapter Four

    Jacob kept one hand clamped over my mouth as the other roamed my body. I pushed and shoved at his arms and chest. Fighting my attacker, I wriggled and writhed to be free. But my efforts were futile—he was so strong and determined. I was a lamb against a lion.
    He cupped my breasts, his hands rough and frantic, squeezing first one then the other, leaving them pulsing points of pain. It was not how he normally touched me—there was no respect there, no consideration or tenderness. “I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, bitch. I bet you’ve never had a real man like me, have you, eh? Just a bunch of losers who couldn’t get it up, I bet.”
    “Mmmph,” I whimpered behind his palm.
    He grunted and fumbled with his fly button. I couldn’t see, but I knew his cock would be freed instantly. He’d gone without boxers—didn’t want the extra barrier, he’d said.
    He gave a deft flick of his wrist and shoved my tiny Lycra skirt upwards, its flimsiness no protection from this masked man hell-bent on fucking me. There was a ripping sound as he tore my panties from my body, and I was vaguely aware of the burning sensation the taut fabric had left on my skin. There would be a bruised, red mark tomorrow.
    And I would be proud of it.
    Jacob breathed heavily, the noise of the air rushing in and out of his lungs rasping through the mask, down onto my face. He didn’t wear his usual spiced aftershave. He just smelt of raw man—heated arousal and dingy desires. It made him all the sexier—if that were possible.
    “Open your pussy, whore.”
    I shook my head, mumbled, “No”, and sped up my squirming.
    In response he stooped, hooked his forearm behind my knee, and hoisted my right leg into the air. My hip joint clicked in complaint, but I barely noticed its awkward position.