No. No, we were not doing this.
When he forced his tongue inside, I bit down on it. Hard.
He yanked away, his bruising grip on my neck digging in painfully, and then shoved me down on the bed. Before I could roll away, he climbed on top of me and used his weight to keep me there.
I kicked and punched and writhed and screamed. "Stride! I'm telling you to stop."
Without a word, he banded my arms above my head with one hand. A horrific glint burned deeply in his eyes, like my fighting was just turning him on.
My breaths became revolted gasps. Bile splashed onto my tongue. My blood turned to ice. My body shook beneath him as he pulled my belt off, tossed it aside, and tugged down my pants.
How could this be happening?
Behind him, the giant wolf moon floated on a ribbon of lacy cl
