Wicked Intentions

"You're hurting me," I breathed, the side of my face pressed hard against the cold white walls of the bathroom. He had both my hands suspended above my head with one of his large ones, his nails digging into my wrist. I couldn't feel his chest against my back, just his hot ragged breathing washing down my spine as lose brown strands of my hair blew gently across my neck. His lips lowered until they brushed my cheek but he gripped my wrists tighter as if by instinct. "What did you hear?" His voice was low but demanding, tight as if the wrong answer would throw him off. "Nothing," I forced out in a whisper, shivers racing down my spine. "I heard nothing." His free hand wrapped around the back of my neck as he pulled me from the wall, spinning me around to face him and pinning me back against it. The pain that shot up my back was nothing compared to the burning still in my wrists. His light hazel eyes narrowed in on me, his hand finding its place firmly around my neck as he lowered his lips closer to my face. I could feel the dull ache in my lungs from the lack of oxygen drum to life but just as quickly, he removed his hand and placed his arm down against my chest holding me securely in place as he finally released my hands. I couldn't help glancing at the door behind him even though it was no use. I would never be able to push him off and run through this mess of a room to the door in time, even with him being a relatively small guy all his weight was pressed against keeping me still. His chuckle brought my eyes back to his pale complexion, his dirty blond hair messy at the top with the sides still gelled in style, a few strands hovering free around the side of his eyes. "You can try but I don't think you'll like the consequences if you fail." His eyes glanced quickly to the small cross lingering above the v in my breasts. "Not even your God can help you." I pressed my lips tightly together, his eyes drinking me in. My knees buckled together, the weight of his stare forcing my body to squirm uncomfortably with the need for him to stop . . . And for him to continue. Ripping my gaze away, I forced my face to the side ashamed of my feelings. This was wrong, he was wrong, everything about him is wrong but that only made his fingers shoot hotter waves of fire burning up my leg as his hand slowly traced itself invisibly up my inner right thigh. Even with his outbursts at school, he was still too awkward to actually have more than three seconds of flesh to flesh contact. Before it was me pressing him, trying to see how far I could push him, how far I'd have to go to get this exact reaction from him. Now he was pushing me. I couldn't help squirming against the wall, my breaths shallow. His lips tugged at the corners curving into a smirk at his new found power. "So this was what you wanted?" He breathed, his lips grazing my ear, whatever fear he had before vanished and my eyes landed on the Glock 21 resting on his bed slightly shielded by his black duvet. He sensed my body suddenly turn numb and pulled away following my gaze to the bed, his face draining of color. "Why do you have a gun?" I whispered, my brain focusing on only the metal sitting a few feet away but not on what it meant, what it could do. I was just aware of its presence. His eyes grew darker, angrier as both his hands gripped onto my shoulders slamming me hard against the wall but this time his body kept me glued to it. "You afraid?" His voice was barely above a whisper but I noticed the way his eyes danced over mine, searching for any kind of a reaction. "Are you going to shoot me?" I asked back not answering his question and keeping my voice even. His eyebrows lifted in response before he was suddenly taking a large step to the foot of the bed. I seemed to play him in slow motion, watching as he reached for the gun wrapping his hand firmly and confidently around its handle, his finger resting on the trigger as he turned around holding it to his side. He was still searching my face for any reaction but I was frozen. Not with fear . . . I was mesmerized, he has never looked so . . . Sure of himself, he's never radiated power like that. After looking so weak out there he looked completely different in here. "Are you afraid?" He asked again, this time pointing the gun right at me. My eyes narrowed in on the barrel, everything else fading as I felt my chest slowly rise and slowly fall. All logic wiped as I looked back at him, his eyes glistening with the surge of pleasure at his dominance. Reaching for my necklace, I pulled it free from my neck making sure his eyes followed as I held it out to the side and opened my hand letting the silver cross drop to the floor. That took him by surprise but I never said I wore it for religious reasons. Slowly I pushed away from the wall, taking small strides towards him, "I never wanted God's help," I breathed mentioning his former comment. I paused when the gun was pressed to my chest but I wrapped my hand around the barrel feeling his grip on the gun tighten before I pressed it to my forehead, my hand falling to my side. "Do it. Shoot me." I stepped up the barrel of the gun feeling the cold metal press against my forehead but I never pulled my eyes from his. I spread my arms out in the air beside me, a smile pulling at the corner of my lips as I felt the loose strands of my plait whip my cheeks. "Do it," I breathed, my voice barely audible over the thumping music blaring from the basement below us. "Don't f*****g push me!" He yelled completely complexed by my actions and falling to the only other emotion he knew but I could feel the waves in his strained voice as he pressed the gun harder against my head. "I'll f*****g do it!" I know you will. But the wild crazed look in his eyes seemed to crumble into something else . . . His lips closed, those eyes only darkening with lust, his frown relaxing across his forehead as his hand began to shake. His shoulders tensed, the gun faintly pressed to my skin now and I pressed further because that's just what I do, because now I'm sure he's gonna push me up against this wall and f**k the s**t out of me and I f*****g wanted it. Bad. "I said, do it."