Descent (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell)

My stomach twists up until I think I might be sick.
I don’t accept answers I don’t like, he said on the phone, and he really meant it.
He’s not just an absolute psycho, he’s cruel. So cruel he has no qualms about stripping away my
ability to defend myself just so he can get off.
I tilt my chin up as he pushes off the wall and moves closer.
I’m starting to realize there’s really nothing I can do to defend myself, but my defeat is so unfair,
I’m struggling to come to terms with it.
Tears glisten in my eyes. I refuse to look at him, so he grabs my jaw and tilts my face until I
relent and meet his dark, unfeeling eyes.
He leans in. My heart jumps when his lips brush mine again. I didn’t really feel it before, I was
too shocked, too convinced I could get out of this somehow.
Now, I’m trapped in cement shoes. I can feel the icky muck of inevitability beneath them, and I
know there’s really nowhere to run.
I have no choice but to please this monster, so I kiss him back.
It feels terrifying and horrible at first, like selling a piece of my soul to the devil and praying he
doesn’t demand the rest.
As the horror ebbs, though, it begins to feel less like a deal with the devil and more like a kiss
from a man. He tugs my tucked-in blouse out of my skirt. His hand slides beneath the fabric and skims
my side, then he grabs my waist to pull me closer as his kiss deepens.
Adrenaline and horror mingle together in my veins as he moves me away from the wall. I don’t
know where he’s taking me, I only know he’s in charge. He doesn’t break the kiss as he walks me
backward. He doesn’t break the kiss until the backs of my legs hit smooth black leather, then he does
so abruptly and gives me a shove.
I gasp as I fall back on the long black couch. Fear floods my gaze as he moves to climb on the
couch with me. Out of some instinct that can’t serve me here, I try to back away from him.
He smiles, amused, and grabs my ankle. My gaze darts to his long fingers closed around my foot.
He tugs off my nude-colored heels and carefully puts them on the ground.
His gentleness throws me. If he doesn’t care about hurting me, he certainly shouldn’t care about
scuffing my shoes.
I swallow, filling up with uncertainty. I don’t understand this man’s motives. He’s confusing to
me, and I don’t know how to deal with it.
Once my heels have been removed, he slides his hand up the inside of my bare leg. I squeeze my
knees together, but he easily pushes them apart and slides his hand up my thigh, too.
This can’t be happening.