Promiscuous

Promiscuous

By

Missy Johnson

Copyright © 2014 Missy Johnson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or

mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems,

without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a

reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either

are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely

coincidental.

ISBN

First Printing:  February 2014

Missy Johnson

Other books by Missy

Seduce (A Beautiful Rose Prequel)

Beautiful Rose (Beautiful Rose #1)

Captivating (Beautiful Rose #2)

Tease (Tease #1)

Promiscuous (Tease #2)

Always You

So Many Reasons Why

Incredible Beauty

Desire

Inseparable

Social Media

Email:
[email protected]

Twitter: @MissycJohnson

Facebook: www.facebook.com/MissycJohnson

Prologue

Beth

Fucking Coop.

I was so pissed off at him. We had arranged drinks for tonight
weeks
ago, and he just didn’t show up? A short text, half an hour later, explaining that Mia was jealous of our friendship was not fucking good enough. No call. Not even an apology.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Ivan, my manager, just
happened
to be at the same bar I was? I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me. That was just the kind of creepy, weird thing he’d do.

It wasn’t the first time I had seen him when I was out. I was sure my reputation as a party girl was behind it. Maybe he thought if I got drunk enough, he could be there, waiting . . . 

And what do you know, he had been. I’d barely finished reading Coop’s rejection text when there was Ivan, a drink in hand. I’d been too annoyed at Coop to turn down a free drink, even if it meant putting up with Ivan’s company for a bit.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone?” He smirked. He pushed the drink along the bar, his stubby fingers tapping on the counter. “You haven’t been stood up, have you, Bethy?”

Ugh
. The mocking tone of his voice made me cringe. He eyed me, every inch of me, from my curled blonde hair down to my black stilettos.

“My
friend
couldn’t make it,” I replied. I kept my voice cool, hoping he’d get the message. He didn’t, and I shuddered as he chuckled to himself.

“Good thing I’m here then, huh?”

No, not really
. All I wanted was Coop, but unfortunately he had deserted me. I sighed and downed the rest of my drink, much to the delight of Ivan. He reached for the empty glass. I jumped as his fingers brushed over mine slowly and deliberately. His lips cracked into a smile, revealing his hideous, yellowing teeth, which made my stomach turn.

“I’ll get you another,” he murmured, smacking his lips together as his beady little eyes openly gazed at my chest.

“Sure,” I said dully, my mind still on Coop.

A few drinks later, I’d had enough. Standing up, I reached for my jacket, Ivan’s fingers brushing past my arm.

“Leaving so soon?”

“It’s been a long day,” I muttered.

“I was just leaving too.”

I eyed his near full glass of beer and raised my eyebrows. He chuckled, and stood up.

“Let me give you a lift. I’ve got some papers that need your signature in the car anyway.”

In my gut I
knew
it was a bad idea, but I was so angry at losing my only real friend that I’d just wanted to get home as quickly as possible. As much as I disliked Ivan, I’d known him for years. I never thought he would actually try anything.

Only, I hadn’t expected him to follow me up to the door, or push his way inside my home. He had waved a handful of papers at me.

“Contracts,” he said in his slight Irish accent, dampened by ten years spent living in the U.S. He grinned as he ran his fingers through his curly, ginger hair. My stomach backflipped as I nodded, trying to mask how uncomfortable his attention was making me.

I stood on the other side of the sofa, as far away from him as possible. My hands twitched nervously behind me as I took in his tall, wiry frame. I don’t know why, but tonight he was creeping me out more than usual. For Ivan, that was a hard task. He was always a first-class weirdo, but tonight, there was something more than just his usual creepiness. The look in his eyes . . . I shuddered, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up and sent shivers down my spine. My breathing began to shallow. I couldn’t explain it—even when I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his eyes on my body.

He slowly inched toward me as my instincts kicked in, telling me I
needed
to get away from him.

“Just leave them on the coffee table and I’ll have a look over them tomorrow.”

“Okay then.” He threw the papers down on the table, his brown eyes not breaking away from mine as he continued to move toward me.

“Uh, so, I’m kind of busy. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the lift home,” I muttered. I was done trying to be nice. I just wanted him gone. The sooner he left, the sooner I could end what had been a hell of a day with a hot bath, and sleep off the several drinks I’d consumed.

I tugged at the hem of my short, red dress as Ivan’s eyes lingered on my legs before very slowly moving up and over my body. I hated the way he leered at me, as if I was a piece of meat.

He walked towards me, his grin widening. I tensed and backed up until he had me pressed against the wall with nowhere to go. I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat as he reached out and touched my stomach.

The feel of his fingers running down the soft silk of my dress made me cringe. I tried to get away. I tried to maneuver my way from under him, but his arm shot out against the wall. I was blocked in. His weight was up against me. He was so close I could feel how aroused he was. As he surrounded me, his intentions becoming clear, I began to panic.

Oh no. Please don’t let him do this.

I tried again to move, but I was locked into this space like a prisoner in a tiny cell. He had a good six inches and at least fifty pounds on me. He wasn’t that well built, but compared to my hundred-pound frame, he might as well have been a wrestler.

 “Come on, Beth. Is that any way to show your appreciation to a friend who helped you out of a
tight
spot?”

Let me go,” I yelled as I struggled to free myself.

He smiled, exposing those grotesque teeth, and pressed me harder against the wall. “Don’t be like that, Beth. I don’t like games, and you’ve been playing me for a while now, you little cock-tease.”

He grabbed hold of my neck as I tried to break away from him. Pain shot through me as his grip on me tightened, his nails digging into my skin so hard I could feel my blood pulsate against the pressure of them.  A cry escaped me as he groped at my breasts and forced his mouth against mine. I coughed, gagging at the taste of his rancid breath.

He’s going to rape me.
Bile began to rise up in my throat. I tried to scream. “Why are you doing this?” I sobbed, the salty taste of tears running onto my lips.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed hold of my forearm and pulled at it roughly. I gasped, his strength winding me. With one more hard yank, we tumbled to the floor. I landed hard. He hovered over me. He was way too strong, and in complete control.

His weight crushed down on me as I struggled to breathe. His dark eyes, now overshadowed with rage, narrowed in on mine as he gripped both my wrists together and pinned them above my head while his other hand roughly pushed my dress up, exposing me.

“Please,” I sobbed as his hand groped in between my thighs. I kicked frantically, desperately trying to free myself. I gasped as his fingers brushed my panties aside before they roughly and forcefully thrust inside of me. I felt sick, and at the same time, like this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I’d
never
let this happen. I was disgusted at
myself
for putting myself into this situation.

“Don’t do this. Please, Ivan,
stop
,” I yelled, struggling to free my hands.

He grunted in response. It was almost a laugh. His hand curled around my black lace panties, and with a sickening rip, they were off me. Pain shot through my legs where the fabric had burned into my skin. A fresh lot of tears ran down my cheeks as I began to weaken.

This can’t be happening.Please… please no.

My heart dropped as I heard the sound of his zipper and then felt his fumbling between my legs. Another wave of nausea ripped through me as I braced myself for what was next.

“No!” I shrieked, trying with my last ounce of strength to free myself.

But he was just too big, his grip on my wrists so tight I was beginning to lose feeling in my fingers. I cried out as his fist connected with my face. My eye throbbed.  My vision became cloudy as my eye began to close over. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.

“Stop fighting this, Bethy,” he whispered in my ear.

I cringed, the stench of body odor and stale cigarettes enveloping me. I whimpered as he forced his fingers inside me again and moved them around.

“Ooh, you’re nice and wet for me baby.”

“Stop…please stop.”

“You can have me for free, honey. No need to go paying for it,” he whispered in my ear as his fingers groped roughly inside of me. All I could do was lie there and beg like a fucking puppy—beg him not to do what he had every intention of doing, what he was already doing. Plead with him not to take the only thing I’d had control over my entire life.

He removed his fingers and forced himself inside, the pain leaving me breathless. I choked back tears as he fondled my breasts, his hands all over me like he had a right to my body. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the sound of my heartbeat. I tried to block everything else out.

Bump, bump, bump, bump.

 “You feel amazing. Better than I imagined, honey,” he huffed as he thrust inside of me. “For a slut, you’re really fucking tight. God, oh yeah. You like that? You like the feel of a real man inside you, honey?”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I lay there, shaking, and slowly dying inside as he moved inside of me. I gasped as his fist connected with my face again, crashing me back down to reality.

Please make him stop. Oh God, please just make him stop.

“Say it, Bethy. Tell me how much you want this. Fuckin’ say it,” he growled in my ear.

“I
don’t
want it,” I sobbed as he raised his hand to hit me again. My eye had already closed over, and the pain I felt everywhere was unbearable. “You disgusting, fucked up excuse for a human being, I hope you rot in hell!”

He roared with laughter, my words having no impact on him whatsoever. “I’ve caught myself a feisty one,” he grinned, licking his lips.

I closed my eyes, repulsed…disgusted.

Please, stop. Please just leave me alone . . .

“
No!
”

I cried out as he came inside me, the shame and worthlessness I was feeling breaking me. How could I call myself a strong woman when I let something like this happen to me? I should’ve fought harder. I should have stopped him. Why the
fuck
had I gone home with him?
Why?

This was like my childhood all over again. My sister flashed into my head. All those years of torture at the hands of her scum boyfriends had come to an end the day I found her dead in the bathtub. She had overdosed. I was fifteen. Fifteen, and finally free. Fifteen and alone.

All that I’d accomplished since then meant nothing now as I lay crying on the floor, Ivan still inside of me.

He pushed me aside and got to his feet. I sat there, crying, my knees pressed up to my chest and my hands curled tightly around my legs, creating a barrier between him and me. He stood over me as he buckled up his pants, the satisfied grin matching the evil in his eyes.

Fucking asshole.
Every part of me ached, yet the pure hate I felt for this piece of scum right then outweighed every other sensation.