The Devil’s Pawn Read Online Free PDF Page A

pain that radiates through my insides would nearly bring me to my knees were his hips and penetration not holding me firmly in place. I can barely breathe at the feel of his body within mine. His hips are square against my bottom, and he is holding perfectly still. The invasion is complete, and as I pray for the searing pain to subside quickly, he starts to pull from me. This launches another wave of pain through my womb, and I can feel the tears start to prick at my eyes.
    I will myself desperately not to cry in front of him, but I’m fighting a losing battle. As his length leaves my body, the first of my tears runs down my cheeks. But he can’t see my face, and I hope against hope I can get out of this with my dignity intact. This is not a man who will let my weakness go unnoticed, and that, above all else, is what terrifies me about him. He starts to enter me again, slowly this time, and every millimeter he moves is a piercing invasion of my tight sheath, but he is relentless and pushes to his hilt slowly and surely until he is buried completely within me again.
    The next thrusts come fast and hard. He moves against me over and over, and as his movements go on ceaselessly, the pain eventually dulls to a deep ache. My tears continue to escape from my eyes, more now from the shock of the experience than anything else, and as he continues plunging and retreating over and over, my head drops between my shoulders and so, too, do my tears to the table in front of me. I’m powerless to stop them or hide them from this man, and as he sees the effect of this first, most brutal experience in the small teardrops that fall to his table, he abruptly pulls himself from my body with a growl deep in his throat. He stays panting behind me, his hand still on the table by my side before raging in my ear, “Get the fuck out!”
    And I do. As he moves away from my body, I run, pulling my skirt down as I go. Once back in my room, I collapse against the door. I stay there crumpled on the floor for many minutes, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want to do anything at all except run away from this place and run away from this man. I’ve given my life over to a man who hates me, all for a five-year paycheck that will set me free from the men who will hunt me down and kill me if I fail to deliver on a debt that is not my own. My life reeks of unfairness, and I want to curse myself, curse him, and anyone else that stands in my way. But instead of yelling at Derek or myself, I slowly move to the bathroom and run a bath.
    I hurt, and sitting on the side of the tub is uncomfortable, but the pain dulls my anger. It’s over. It’s done. I’ve given myself to a man who hates me. This isn’t what girls dream of when they grow up. They imagine falling in love and giving themselves to men whose love matches their own. I’ve just lost any last shred of that dream that existed in my mind, not that there was ever much chance of love for me. I am, after all, just an orphaned nobody that is destitute and desperate. But I don’t hate Mr. Pennington for what he’s done to me. I hate myself.
    As I sink into the warm water, the sting of my raw skin stills me. I cry out again, unable to stifle the pain, and as I do, my eyes find the blood-streaked spot on the side of the bathtub where I was just sitting. Once settled into the water, the warmth of it starts to soothe my sensitive and painful sex. My body relaxes more and more with each passing moment, and as it does, I start to cry again. I sob endlessly, hugging my knees to my chest, and it isn’t until I’ve pitied myself for well over an hour that I finally decide to crawl from the bath.
    I quickly dry off and look myself over in the mirror. My eyes are puffy and red, my face streaked by the many tears that have fallen today. I look ugly and splotchy, and as I regard myself with hatred, my anger starts to build again. I collapse against the bathroom door, sinking to the floor once more, and as my