After Emily escapes from her grandfather’s farm and takes the train the San Francisco, she ends up in a Brothel. (NOTE: This book is not x rated)
EXCERPT from Chapter Twenty-Three
He turned in his chair and moved his hands up around her neck, thumbs pressing against her cheeks, forcing her to face him. “You’re mine now. You understand?” She nodded because she was afraid not to.
He picked up his drink, stood, and then took her hand and led her out into the hallway. When they reached the foot of the staircase he let go of her hand.
“Go on.”
“Mm?”
“Up the stairs, go.”
She took a step, and then another, feeling his eyes move up her legs.
“Slower.”
She stopped, gripped the banister, and then continued up. It was as if Claude was there with his shifty eyes, ready with his arms and hands like sheets of steel rubbing up her thighs, his massive shoulders like boulders ready to crush her. At the landing, she turned and rushed up the stairs toward her room. She took the doorknob with both hands wrenching it open in a moment of hope, but then sighed in resignation as his footsteps came up the hallway. He reached around her and pushed the door open.
Inside, he handed his glass to her. “Here, drink this down.”
She wanted to scream at him that no amount of alcohol could force her to give him what he wanted. But she did as he wished, took the glass from him, and finished it off. Then she set it on the nightstand and looked down at the beautiful spread she had tucked in so neatly.
His hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, pulling the straps of her dress down. She closed her eyes and trembled, contemplating on how she would leave the next morning, reminding herself that it was just a few hours away. After tonight, she would never have to spend another minute with him. She reminded herself of this again as his fingers crossed her back tugging at her zipper, his face crushing into her neck, breathing spumes of hot air into her ear.
