Emma’s last hope died with that phone call. Her attacker continued to assault her. He grabbed her breasts with forceful touches, and she kept kicking and screaming beneath him. His mouth trailed along her neck in slobbery, slovenly kisses and bites.
“Such soft skin,” he commented. “And your breasts are perfect. Nice and young. Just the way I like them.” He went to put one in his mouth, but Emma squirmed and battled against him. With her freed legs, she pushed herself up and he fell back. She tried to get up, desperate for every chance she could take. However, he was so much larger. He pulled her back and pinned her beneath him. Emma was frantic with panic. She had to escape him. She just had to.
“This would be easier if you held still and just accepted it,” he snarled.
“I won’t! I don’t
