Assassins: Slow Agony Part 36

He got up and hauled me to my feet. Grasping my hand, he dove into the woods that surrounded the house.

I did my best to keep up.

The woods were dark, because there wasn't much of a moon out tonight. Griffin moved like a cat, but I wasn't as skilled as him.

I ran into branches and stepped on th.o.r.n.y vines. The forest reached out for me, tangling in my hair, las.h.i.+ng my cheeks, tripping me.

Griffin moved on regardless, his grip an iron vise on my hand. He yanked me after him, no matter how I faltered.

And I did my best not to cry out every time something cut or hit or scratched me.

If he noticed my discomfort, he didn't let on.

Then, abruptly, he stopped.

He shoved me against a ma.s.sive tree trunk, pressed his body against mine, and a.s.saulted my mouth with his own.

I was so surprised by the kiss that I just let it happen, not even responding.

Griffin didn't seem to mind. His hands were launching an onslaught on the sc.r.a.ps of blanket he'd tied around my chest. He pushed the fabric out of the way, prodding my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, pinching my nipples.

I gasped. Seemingly against my will, heat coursed through my body. I went limp, surrendering to the violent movement of his fingers.

He pulled his mouth away from mine, his expression feral. His mouth went to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His lips found my sensitive places. His teeth sc.r.a.ped me, bit me.

Vicious pleasure shot down me, searing a burning line from my b.r.e.a.s.t.s to between my thighs.

He made a b.e.s.t.i.a.l noise against me, something inhuman-tortured and barbarous.

And fear warred with the pleasure inside me, my blood pounding, my breath going shallow.

He grasped me by the shoulders and turned me, pressing my face into the rough bark of the tree.

I whimpered.

He pushed the blanket around my waist down, down, down, so that it was around my ankles. And then he nudged my leg until I moved it, spreading myself for him, opening.

He sucked in breath noisily behind me.

I felt his body press against me.

His hands explored my b.r.e.a.s.t.s again. They ran over my waist and hips. One hand traveled lower, finding me wet and ready. He nudged several swift circles around my c.l.i.toris.

I moaned.

And then his rigidness was invading me, jamming into me, taking me.

I let out a little noise, something that could have been interpreted as a cry of pleasure or a cry of pain. And for a moment, I wasn't quite sure which it was.

Griffin's strokes were fast, deep, and brutal. His fingers dug into my hips, and he bucked into me-ruthless, wild.

I felt myself clenching around him, spasms. .h.i.tting me.

It took a moment for the burst of pleasure to catch up.

I was having an o.r.g.a.s.m, but it had been ripped from me, forced somehow. No build up, just the climax. I cried out.

Griffin grunted behind me. His breath was fast and loud.

"Griffin," I gasped, "don't come inside me. I don't want-"

He wrenched himself out of me, pressing himself into the soft flesh of my back. He dragged himself against me. Once. Twice.

He groaned.

And I felt a gush of hot wetness against my skin.

Then he wasn't touching me at all.

I sagged against the tree.

I could hear his hoa.r.s.e breathing behind me, a few feet away.

I couldn't move.

Something cool, soft on my back.

I twisted. He had a leaf. He was wiping me off, erasing the evidence of his e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. He'd already rearranged his loin-cloth-like blanket sc.r.a.ps, so that he was covered again. He wouldn't meet my gaze.

Feeling fl.u.s.tered and confused, I wriggled back into my pieces of fabric.

"Ready?" he said.

"I..." I chewed on my lip. "I'm ready."

He didn't take my hand again. He started through the forest ahead of me, this time slower.

I picked my way after him. Because of the less frantic pace, I was able to step more easily, avoiding thorns and branches.

We walked in silence for what seemed like a long time.

Ahead of us, lights peered through the trees. The woods seemed to end there.

"Was Naomi's house close to campus?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. That was what the lights were. They were the college. All the way back here, though, it would be the dormitories, not the cla.s.sroom buildings. New dorms had been built last year, and I was pretty sure they extended back to the woods. They would also be lit up like Las Vegas too. "Those are probably dorms."

"The new ones, right?" he said. "We went to that party there for Halloween?"

"Yeah," I said. I'd forgotten about that.

"Huh," he said. "Summer cla.s.ses start yet, you think?"

"No, I don't. Not for another week or so."

"So, there's probably no one in the dorms."

"Probably not."

Griffin put his elbow through a pane of gla.s.s.

I braced myself, waiting for an alarm to cut through the air, high pitched and beeping.

But there was nothing. No sound except the distant noise of insects singing to each other.

He was bleeding, but he didn't pay it any mind. He'd heal in a few minutes, anyway. He reached inside the broken window and unlocked the door. He opened it. "After you."

I padded into the dormitory. It was air conditioned inside. Freezing air enveloped me. Gooseb.u.mps appeared all over my skin. Griffin shut the door behind us.

We were inside a lobby area. To our left there was a room with a desk, a phone, and a wall covered with mail boxes. To our right was a laundry room.

Griffin went into the laundry area.

All of the washers and dryers were silent and open, since no one was here. But there were two baskets full of clothes on one of the counters. A handwritten sign above them read, "Lost and Found."

Griffin began rooting through one of them. "We need clothes."

He was right. I joined him, looking through the other one. I found a pair of jeans that would probably fit me. A t-s.h.i.+rt. A bra that was the right size. I might have been able to find underwear too, but I thought I'd rather go commando that wear someone else's underwear, even if they'd been washed.

Griffin dumped the basket out. "Put your stuff in here."

I dumped the clothes I'd found in the basket. He put an armful of clothing in on top. He'd pulled out two towels as well.

"Come on," he said.

I followed him out of the laundry room. We climbed the steps to the next level of the dorms. I was convinced the rooms up here would be locked up, but all the doors stood open. I guessed there wasn't any reason to lock up the rooms when no one was living here.

Griffin and I went into the first room. They were suite-style dorms-with a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and two bedrooms all in one unit. I remembered the set up from the Halloween party we'd gone to. We stepped into the kitchen. Griffin turned on the light.

The suite was illuminated. The walls were bright white, the floor a bland tan tile. Everything was inst.i.tutional and blank.

He cleared his throat. "You want the first shower?"

I shook my head. "No, that's fine. You have all that dried blood on you. And after what they did to you, I'm sure you feel-"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed up a towel so sharply that I stopped talking.

I swallowed as he slammed himself inside the bathroom.

I sank to the floor. Oh G.o.d.

I wanted to cry again. But I couldn't for some reason. Maybe I'd used up my allotted amount of tears for the month. Maybe my body was simply shutting down. Things could get worse, but I wouldn't be able to react to it, because I couldn't process anything else. I was done.

Griffin took a long shower. I curled up on the college-issue tan couch in the living room. It wasn't very comfortable, but I didn't care. It was better than the bas.e.m.e.nt I'd spent the last few days in.

When he emerged, he came out with a swirl of steam. Just the feel of it was luxurious.

"It's all yours," he said. "I found some stuff in a drawer in there. It's on the sink." He had a towel wrapped around his waist. Water was still clinging to his eyelashes and nose. Droplets of it beaded up on his perfect chest. He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. And he still wouldn't look me in the eye.

I got the other towel and went into the bathroom.

I was glad that the college had an unlimited supply of hot water, because I think the shower I took was just as long as Griffin's. What he'd left on the sink was some shampoo and a box of condoms. I guessed that some college kid had forgotten to take that with him when he left. I was pretty sure that it was a guy, because it was male shampoo.

I used it all over, anyway-scrubbed myself from head to toe. It was wonderful to feel clean, even if I didn't smell particularly feminine.

Griffin wasn't dressed when I came out, clean and wrapped in my towel. He'd gotten clothes out of the laundry basket and laid them out on a chair in the living room. But he was lounging on the couch still only wearing his towel.

"Don't they fit?" I said.

He stood up. "I don't know. I didn't..."

I wanted to be dressed. We hadn't been dressed in so long. I couldn't believe he didn't want to as well.

He crossed to me. He reached out and caressed my cheek. But he still didn't meet my gaze. He was staring at my mouth instead.

"Griffin..." I wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sorry, doll," he said. "But I need..." He licked his lips. And then he was kissing me again.

His tongue moved in my mouth desperately, and I grabbed onto his shoulders, kissing him back. He was tempting and arousing, and my body was awakening under his touch. But my head told me that this didn't make any sense. And I was still confused by what had happened between us in the woods. I drew away from him. "Look, you can't just-"

He propelled me backwards, pressing me into the smooth, white wall across from the open bathroom. Steam rolled out onto our bodies.

His mouth was on mine again, fervid, vigorous. Between kisses, he was speaking. "I know I shouldn't have done it like that." He kissed my neck. "I'll be gentler. Slower. I swear."

He kissed my jaw.

But he wasn't slow or gentle. His hands had already pulled the towel from my body. He was pawing at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his touch fierce and pitiless.

I struggled to catch my breath, to collect my thoughts. I couldn't. He was hurting me, twisting and pinching and clutching. But he was inciting me too, rousing desire in me. It felt good. I moaned.

He seemed to take it as a.s.sent. He dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands still at my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He put his mouth against the inside of my thigh.

"Griffin." Was I urging him on or asking him to stop?

His lips traveled higher.