Brook screamed and held her hands in front of her, palms out, pleading, “No, no, no, please don’t do this. All I want is to leave. Please let me go. I'll keep my mouth shut, I swear! Please!” Jase grabbed her jacket and tore it from her shoulders. Her blouse quickly followed, ripped open and torn away like tissue paper from a gift. She dropped to the floor, arms crossed over her bra-covered breasts. Filled with dread, she pulled her knees to her chest and curled into a ball.
“You need help?” Pete asked Jase, excitement lacing his voice.
“Hell, no,” Jase said as Brook huddled on the floor, staring up at him through her hair. He slid his shirt up over his head, revealing a chest nearly devoid of hair. An intricate tattoo of a bizarre creature with a snake’s body attached to a woman’s head ran up from his right nipple around the back of his neck, ending on his left shoulder. “I got this licked.”
He reached down and yanked Brook roughly up by one arm, bruising the soft skin. Seizing a handful of her hair, he pulled her face forward and mashed his lips against hers, forcing his tongue deep into her mouth. Brook gagged and pounded on his chest. Reaching upwards, she tried to pry his hand from her hair.
From somewhere in the house came sounds of fury; things being thrown around, breaking glass, and thuds. Gina muttered expletives just loud enough to be heard.
Jase grinned at Pete, holding Brook easily with one hand. “It sounds like your old lady is having some fun, too. Hand me a blade.”
Brook’s eyes grew wide with terror, and she quickly lowered her hands to her side. “You don’t need to do that. Please.”
With a cold smile, Jase reached back and Pete laid a knife in his hand. Brook struggled to break free, but Jase tightened his grip on her hair and flipped the blade open. “Better hold still,” he sneered, “or I might slip.” Brook froze as he slid the cold metal beneath the front of her bra and sliced though the silky material. The knife did slip, leaving a thin red line below her breast. She cried out.
“Oops,” Jase said in a mocking tone. Then his mood darkened. “You ain’t hurt bad, bitch. I’ve had worse cuts shaving.” He closed the knife and tossed it back to Pete, who opened the blade and wiped it clean on his pants leg before returning it to his pocket. Brook followed the movement with her eyes, wishing she could get her hands on the knife. But she was defenseless.
Covering her breasts with her hands, she begged, “Stop! Please! Don’t do this.”
Jase released his grip on her hair and moved her hands out of the way. He grabbed her breasts and squeezed hard. “Ohh, yeah!” he said. “Ain’t these nice?”
“Damn right they are!” Pete boomed. He and Benny watched Jase’s moves, their eyes burning with a strange light. Jase lowered his head, and buried his face between her breasts while Benny whooped his appreciation in the background.
Nothing in Brook’s life had prepared her for what was happening. She felt the intrusion of his skin against hers, smelled the patchouli he wore, and felt revulsion crawling inside her like worms. She reacted without thinking of the consequences; she hit, slapped and pushed on his head. Shoving her hands roughly aside, Jase pressed her down onto the mattress, falling on top of her. “Give me back those tits,” he leered and lowered his mouth to her chest.
Lapping at the knife wound, Jase smacked and slurped. “Yummy! Nothing like fresh blood.” With a grin, he stuck out his tongue, revealing the slick red coating. He bugged his eyes at her and laughed satanically.