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the bottle jabbed short. Lou grabbed his wrist. He shoved it sideways an instant before the man smacked against him. They both went down. The bottle shattered, off to Lou's left, and then his back hit the alley and the man pounded down on top of him and pinned both his hands to the west asphalt. |
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'Get off me!' Lou squealed. 'Get off me!' |
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'You're mine,' the man piped. |
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Lou twisted and bucked. The man's skin was slippery and hot against his chest and belly. Something was pushing against his groin. He realized what it was, and he whimpered. |
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'Get off me, you bastard!' |
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A crazy thought came to Lou's mind: he ought to be just as turned on as the filthy madman writhing on top of him. It had been that way when he fought Doug by the pool and when he'd gone for Sheila. This shouldn't be any different. |
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He felt no lust, just terror and revulsion. |
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Lou opened his mouth to scream, and the man's mouth came down, slimy against his lips. |
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He's kissing me! Oh my God no! |
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Before Lou could twist his face away, the teeth chomped in on his lower lip and yanked, and he shrieked as his lip was ripped off. The man spat it out. It stuck to Lou's cheek and the head darted down again and he felt the man suck on the raw wound. |
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Lou jerked his head aside. Growling, the man clutched both sides of his face and wrenched it upward and clamped his mouth to the wound again. |
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