Ben shifted his weight once again, leaning to the side so that he could flip Lily on to her back and then slide on top of her once again. He still held her wrists against the bed above her head, gun wedged into the hollow of her throat. It was hard to see in the gloom, but he noticed the moisture trailing down her cheeks.

"Save em for someone who gives a fuck, baby," he snorted, and Lily scowled in embarrassed fury. As he settled his weight back over her, he made sure that his cock was pressed directly against her clit, and Lily tried to squirm away, but she had no hope of moving him. He was wearing a wife beater, and in the pale moonlight Lily could make out the curve of his bicep as he held her wrists in place. He was all muscle and attitude, his body deliberately hardened and designed to intimidate, and it was working.