My fingers shake as I press the doorbell, listening for the faint ring behind the closed door. I'm not sure why this part always made me jittery. This stoop isn't new to me, this house isn't new to me, but the anticipation of what's about to happen is what lights my nerves on fire. In any other place, the quiet breeze playing across my pale skin and the soft moonlight would instantly calm me, but here it seems less romantic and more eerie than anything. Thinking I see the faint flutter of a curtain from the corner of my eye, my fidgeting worsens, tugging on the hem of my dress, tucking miniscule strands of hair behind my ear. All of that comes to an abrupt stop when the door swings open suddenly. And he's there. He looks pissed. "Nice to see you're on time today," he says through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching around his biting tone. He steps aside to let me in, and there's a second where I think running would be the right thing to do. But his brown eyes are drilling into me and somehow I end up in front of him despite my desire to escape. "I thought you might not come back after last time, Joan." He sneers at me, curls his lip to reveal sparkling white teeth, and I'm reminded of a wolf's grin before he attacks. It's only enhanced by the damp black hair clinging to his forehead and his muscles twitching under his simple white v-neck. I can feel his eyes moving up and down my body as if I'm his prey. It makes him look like some savage animal, and I'm feeling like a victim. I love it. He takes a step closer to me and I brace myself, my breath caught in my throat, but he reaches up pushes the door closed behind me, twisting the lock in one exaggerated gesture. When I finally sigh in relief he raises an eyebrow at me, amused by my reaction. "Of course I came back, Cole." I force out the words, my voice barely a whisper. "Take off your shoes and stay a while," he says to me, a little bit more playful this time, and I can't help but smile at the irony. We both know that I won't be leaving here for quite some time. I slip off my black patent pumps and straighten up, feeling vulnerable bent over. He inspects my outfit carefully, making sure I'm wearing what he instructed. Of course I did, I think. I learned that lesson already. I can feel his gaze on my simple black dress, short, low-cut, and hugging my curves delicately. My brown hair falls straight and tidy over my shoulders. It's one of his more uncomplicated requests. Usually I can guess what I'm in for by what he tells me show up in, but in this getup I have no idea what to expect. I notice his eyes darken and with one long stride he completely closes the gap between us. I find myself pushed against the door, gaping up at him wide-eyed. He presses against me and buries his nose in my hair, inhaling me, getting my scent like the hound he is. Cole rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, looked peaceful yet tense in the same instant. His hands move to my wrists and travel slowly up my arms, to my shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I shiver. His fingers splay on either side of my neck with his thumbs gently caressing my jaw. This unsolicited display of affection isn't normal for him and I just can't enjoy it like I know I should. My eyes are still staring straight ahead and I'm shaking like a leaf. "Joanie," he whispers, so close I can almost taste the words. "Yes," I gasp. "I want you..." He pauses and I melt a little bit. "To run." I don't need to be told twice. The words are hardly out of his mouth before I start pushing against his chest, trying to get around him, just a second for a headstart. He's solid muscle though and I can barely move him. His eyelids flutter open and he looks down on me lustily as I expend every ounce of energy trying to escape his embrace. I try to get my leg to bend up behind me for some additional leverage but both are pinned between his and my movement is limited. I'm already tired, and I'm half gasping and half moaning as I'm trying to wriggle from his grasp. His gentle hold on my neck turns into a surprising strangle and I gasp but no air reaches my lungs. Without even thinking about it, I raise my hand and slap him-- hard. Cole's shock is evident as his hand instinctively covers his cheek. I take the opportunity to duck around him and start for the hallway directly behind. "You fucking bitch!" He bellows behind me, and I cringe. I know I'll pay for that. I'm only about ten feet away from him and for some reason I'm possessed to glance over my shoulder to judge my position. He's rage embodied with his fingers fisted at his side, his eyes on fire, his sweaty skin turning red with anger. When I turn my head back to the path ahead of me, my balance is thrown off and I fall to the floor. I cry out, more from fear than pain, and he advances on me quickly. I try to crawl as fast as I can away from him, and can feel the beige rug burning my unclad knees. Some frantic noise is coming from my mouth, like some sick animal running from a predator, but knowing their fate is to be feasted on. There's not much I can do before he's standing over me. I feel his hands grasp my hair and pull so hard that I'm surprised I'm not hearing it rip from my head. I scream and he pulls harder. "Bad move, little girl." He begins pulling me down the hallway, my scalp searing with pain, to what I know is his bedroom on the right. I flip onto my back as he drags me, literally kicking and screaming, and I try to pry his fingers from their grip, driving my nails into his strong hands. The pain is overwhelming and tears begin to form in my eyes , but I register that we're finally in the familiar room. Instead of the light carpet like in most of the house, he has a dark brown wooden floor. Everything else in room matches the dark hues and it makes it seem more like a cave than a bedroom. The feelings are primal, sometimes making you tired to the point of hibernation, or horny in a way that it becomes not an urge, but a need. He kicks the door closed when we're both inside and it slams with a loud clap. At this point tears are falling freely down my cheeks from the discomfort. But this part is my favorite. I know it's about to get good. Cole hauls me onto his bed, his black satin sheets cool and slippery against my exposed skin. He forcefully throws me back and my head lands on his perfectly fluffed pillows. I glance nervously to my left, my right, but my blurred vision in the dark room isn't serving me very well. I cry out in frustration and make a break to my left, but he quickly covers my body with his. I resign to sobbing quietly with lame attempts at writhing beneath him. He breathes heavily on top of me and I feel how much this chase has turned him on. He grinds his impressive erection against my abdomen and I squeeze my eyes shut. I know whatever he does with that is going to be for his pleasure, not mine. "Do you still think that slap was cute, you slut?" He growls at me. I can feel his anger, it's almost tangible, and it's suffocating. I let out a loud, defeated sob, even more conflicted now that I can start to feel my own arousal at the apex of my thighs. I know when he finds it he won't let me hear the end of it. "You poor, poor thing," he jeers, smoothing my rumpled hair in a mock display of affection, and without warning he grips my throat tightly. I sputter in surprise. With his other hand he bunches the bottom of my dress and indelicately yanks on it. He releases my neck to pull it all of the way off and I seize the moment to take a much needed breath. After he's thrown my sole article of clothing to God knows where, I can tell he's surprised to find out that I'm wearing panties, but not a bra. My perky C-cups are completely naked and I turn my head away from him, trying to feign embarassment. The v-neck covering his perfectly sculpted muscular body is removed swiftly and he turns his attention back to my breasts. He palms them roughly, way too hard, and I flinch away from him. He loves making me hurt, and this gesture only eggs him on. He takes a nipple between his teeth and sucks fiercely. I make a strangled sound and squirm underneath him, trying to free myself from his "unwanted" attention. In all honesty, every flick of his skilled tongue sends a new wave of chills down my spine and ignites the heat I'm feeling between my legs. He reaches down between us and rubs my clit over my panties. I surpress a moan. Yes, yes, yes. "No, no, no," I plead, my entire body shaking with fear and anticipation. Without warning, he flips my light frame onto my stomach and scream knowing what's about to happen. I hear his zipper being undone and make a weak attempt to crawl off the bed. He hauls my hips to meet his and holds both my wrists behind my back in one of his strong hands. Pushing downwards, my head is forced into the pillow. It smells like his shampoo, something musky and manly. I scream loud, a defeated bargaining plea but it's so muffled. With his other hand, he shifts my panties aside and presses a long dextrous finger into me. I already know that I'm wet beyond belief, but he tells me anyway. "I knew you liked this, fucking whore. Useless cunt," he snarls at me. I sob into the soft fabric against my face, embarassed and ashamed that my body responds to him this way. I feel him rubbing the tip of his dick against my slick opening and I shriek, crying louder, hoping he'd find some shred of humanity within himself, but he plunges his eight inch cock into me. I scream, my cheeks wet with my tears, feeling full and exposed. He fucks me hard and fast, and I can hear him breathing hot and heavy. My mind and body is exploding with sensation and I kick my legs in frustration. Apparently he doesn't like that, because I quickly feel his hands again yanking my hair. I yelp and immediately still, and he laughs, sick and humorless. Pulling out of me, he rolls me on to my back again, and it isn't long before he's resuming his attack on my wet cunt. I like this less. I have to actually look at him this way, and I can tell he's not going to make it easy on me. I shut my eyes, trying to block him out, but my lids fly open when his fingers find my clit. I shriek and squirm under his unrelenting touch. It's a matter of seconds before I feel the pressure building deep in my loins. Panic is rising as is the threat of orgasm. "Are you going to cum, filthy fucking whore? I know you are," he whispers menacingly to me, and I can't look at him. "I'm raping you and you're getting off on it like a dirty slut." I whip my head back and forth, as if physically denying it might rid my body from this feeling. It's creeping up on me quickly and I'm practically hyperventillating. It's becoming painful, every muscle in my body tight and tense, fighting the release. "Look at me, slut!" He growls at me, and repeats it when I don't fulfill his order. With his free hand, he uses his index finger and thumb to pry open my lids. "I said look at me!" I look at him through tear filled eyes and openly weep. I'm face to face with an animal and I can't fight it anymore. Orgasm rips through me and I scream, terrified, enlightened, and conflicted. My legs shake uncontrollably and my brain is numbed by overwhelming sensation. When I think I'm finally coming down, I feel Cole's hand around my neck again and he's groaning against my ear. "Fucking cunt, filthy fucking cunt," he moans, and I feel him explode inside of me. I gasp, trying to pull in as much air as he empties into my pussy. Letting up on my neck, we lay there, trying to catch our breath, and I try to stop my tears now that it's done for now. I can almost hear him smiling in the dim room, one of the smiles that's melted my heart countless times. Cole kisses the tears from my cheeks and I smile, weak and exhausted. He nuzzles against my neck, and he sounds content and spent. After what seems like forever, he pulls out of me and I wince. I'm left slightly sore after our escapade. He rolls over and I join him, my head resting against his strong, rippled chest with his arm draped around me protectively. The last thing I remember thinking that night was how happy I was that I got to fall asleep with Cole, my best friend of seven years.