Cynthia’s scream ripped through the bedroom, loud and desperate, bouncing off the walls.

She thrashed under Mike’s heavy, sweat-soaked body, her wrists pinned above her head, his grip like iron. The bed groaned under them, a sick beat to her cries.

“Mike, stop! Fuck, please, stop!” she yelled, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face.

Her fists slammed against his chest, but he didn’t budge, his muscles hard as fuck under her hits.

“You’re mine, bitch,” he slurred, drunk as hell, his breath stinking of whiskey.

His dark eyes gleamed, wild and horny, as he leaned in close. “You don’t get to say no to me.”

“Fuck you, Mike!...