Chapter 34: Fed the Fuck Up

As she walked to her van at the back of the lot near the alley, she noticed a definite swagger. The gin and tequila were doing their thing, she shouldn't drive. Cursing her lightweight ass, she stopped outside her van and rifled through her handbag for her phone to text Randy for a ride, but a hand grabbed her wrist, pulled it painfully behind her back, and shoved her against the van.

Her assailant leaned in, sandwiching her between his groin and the van. A familiar stench burned her nostrils. It was Dillon, and she wasn't at all surprised by this brazen move. Still, she was momentarily afraid of what he would do to her, but fear held a shaky second to the all-consuming rage that fought its way to the surface.

"We aren't finished yet," he hissed into her ear before his tongue slid along her cheek.