Rachel Rubin Wolf

half-Indian girl Swiss Miss might be a stretch.

If he squeezed the life out of me, I’d gladly take that over being raped. He’d already taken me to the precipice. If he pushed, I’d fall, and I might not ever get up again

straddling my hips. He spread my ass cheeks, the head of his dick prodding my entrance before driving into me. My neck arched as I gasped at his intrusion. He caught my throat in his hand, keeping my head against his shoulder

frustration and rage into my body, and I took it. Oh, I took it, and I answered with scratches down his back and rolling hips, showing him I wouldn’t break.

“There’s something you need to know about me: I’ve had an unholy obsession with The Nightmare Before Christmas since I was a kid. Have you seen it?”

“Can’t say I have, but I know what it is. That’s the brother on your notebook?”

The Nightmare Before Christmas, but he’d made Sally into a boy and Jack into a girl. They were in front of a full moon

home sweet home. Instead, he’d slam his bony fist against the walls until they

Je suis désolé. Tell them that. Tell them for me.”

I’m really fucking glad I didn’t stand up for you. I take back when I said you were a good girl. I’m seeing you clearly now, Bex. You’re a cheap

tide pools in some of the rocks