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Chapter 14 - Bravery

Kaya

Shelly gasps as Storm's strong hands flip her over, her body sprawled open while her back is exposed. Enjoying the view, he climbs on top of her, trapping her under the weight of his powerful body. 

Startled, I press my back against the cold surface of the door, my heart pounding in my chest. My entire body is covered with tiny beads of sweat––I know what it feels like to be trapped like that. I've been in her place far too many times to forget. 

But unlike me, Shelly doesn't struggle. 

On the contrary, she forces her body to submit, and I find that rather remarkable. No, it's not an attempt to endure the inevitable. She wants him to believe that he has control over her and that she enjoys it. 

She knows how to please a male in more than just one way. And right now, she wants to show him how vulnerable he can make her. 

Noticing her submission, Storm smirks, his large hand stroking his cock as he drools over Shelly's neck. She gasps again, and the sound of her breathing makes him scoff, driving himself inside her opening without any kind of preparation. 

I know it hurt, but Shelly only arched her back, another round of fake gasps escaping her lips. Storm moves his hips violently, as if he hasn't seen a single woman in years and needed an urgent release. 

I cringe as I feel Shelly's discomfort while she only raises her hips, probably trying to adjust the angle to make it hurt less. 

And Storm realizes it. 

"Hah!" He snarls and lands a loud slap on her butt. Shelly snaps her eyes shut, wincing in pain, but she is still pretending. A loud moan escapes her lips, but now, it only seems to anger the man. 

"You bitch," he hisses at her, his giant hand snakes around her neck and only stops when it reaches her mouth, covering it completely. "Instead of faking it, how about you just shut the fuck up?"

Shelly mumbles something, but Storm's hand prevents the words from attaining any meaning. Satisfied, he continues to slap his thighs against her butt, his short groans cutting through the room like rusted nails on glass. 

I am frozen again. I can't move. I can't tell which is worse: to be the one receiving the abuse or to be the one who has no choice but to witness it, having absolutely no power to stop it. 

I can't stop it. Mostly because my head is blank and I can't think about anything that I can do. 

Meanwhile, Storm removes his hand from Shelly's mouth, her ragged breathing tells me she was too close to suffocating. Then, the man grabs her long, sleek ponytail and pulls it toward his chest, forcing her to arch both her neck and back even more. 

I cringe again, the memories of Camilla's claws near my roots are still fresh in my memory. I can see Shelly claw at the mattress as she struggles to suppress a scream, and my heart sinks for her. 

I have to do something. I can't just stand here and watch this anymore. 

So I clench my fists and look around. What can I use as a weapon? 

The room is half empty, apart from the chair standing across the desk, there is really nothing I can quickly grab and use on Storm to hurt him. It will take me too long to work the chair––just by looking at it, I can tell that it's heavy, he will strike me down before I can even lift it above my head. 

My patience is running thin, and the loud sound of Storm's body slamming against Shelly's, combined with her forced gasps and moans is not helping me at all. 

Then, it gets worse. 

Shelly, perhaps tired and exhausted from Storm's perpetual assault, starts faking an orgasm, but the man sees through it right away. 

"Cut the crap," he snarls at her, his hand releases her hair and snakes back to her mouth. "I'm not doing it just so that you would fake something. Just shut the fuck up!"

Shelly groans, her face grows whiter. It's clear that he is pressing on it too hard and with his palm covering her nose as well, I'm starting to fear that he might strangle her. 

Storm, hovewer, is not satisfied with that either. Pulling himself out of her, he quickly throws Shelly onto her back and wraps his hands around her elegant neck, his lips spreading wide in a grin of sick ecstasy. 

I feel my blood run cold as I see Shelly's white face. Just a few more moments, and it will grow blue, threatening to leave her lungs without air forever. 

Yet, Storm doesn't seem to care at all. With his eyes transfixed on her terrified face, he slams his member so hard inside her, that her head hits the headboard from the impact, another loud groan escapes her body. 

She is suffering while he is taking pleasure in her misery. 

I'm getting sick. 

My gaze moves frantically over the desk, searching for something––anything that can be used as a weapon. Finally, my eyes fall onto a metal letter opener placed in a black cup, which is clearly used as a pencil holder. 

It is now or never, so I take the risk. 

My legs move faster than I expected as I leap toward the desk and pull out the letter opener, clutching it firmly inside my right palm. I charge onto Storm, but my luck ends there. Having caught onto my actions, he pushed Shelly away, her head banging the metal headboard so hard, that she instantly falls unconscious. 

With his erection still hard, he jumps on me, bearing his fangs and claws as he presses me against the desk.

"Well, aren't you a brave little whore?" He hisses through his teeth, and I can feel his wolf salivating at me too. "Let me fuck that bravery out of you then."

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