Intruder Ch. 10

But Dean was having none of it. He pinned my arms in place, making my heart jump with fear, and setting off major alarm bells in my head.

"Before who notices us?" Dean asked with a look of jealousy, "your buddy 'Greg'?"

"Get off me, Dean!" I snapped, struggling to be free of him.

As I struggled with him, Dean grabbed my head and planted his lips on mine. I squirmed in disgust and slapped him hard across the face. He stood there smarting for a few moments, and I stood there too frozen with terror to run for the door.

"Little bitch is playing hard to get, I see." Dean hissed, his face darkening with anger.

I recoiled in terror as Dean advanced on me again, wrapping a hand around my throat pushing back against the bed again.

"You don't get to dangle such juicy fruit in front of me and then whisk it away when I try to have a taste, baby," he growled menacingly, "sooner or later, a man has to have the balls to take what he wants. And right now, I want you."

Those words terrified me; even more so when Dean reached his free hand under my shirt and placed his palm on my belly. I froze over completely when he did that.

"You've put on a bit of weight, I see." Dean noted with a sneer. Then his sneer turned to puzzlement as he ran his hand up and down my nascent baby bump.

"Are you pregnant?" he asked. I nodded fearfully, too afraid to open my mouth to speak. Dean's look of puzzlement turned into an incredulous laugh.

"Unfuckingbelievable," he exclaimed in a strange mix of amusement and disappointment, "I should have known the hot ones were the sluttiest."

I was mortally terrified now. Terrified of being forced upon by this pervert; terrified of what my rapist/lover would think if he saw Dean in this position with me; terrified, above all, that Dean might hurt the baby.

"Well, in that case, I guess 'Greg', or whatever his name is, won't mind if I help myself to a free sample," said Dean, fiddling with the zipper of his pants, "seeing as he beat me to the finishing line."

I tried to renew my struggles in a last ditch effort to prevent Dean from forcing himself on me, but he cut off my resistance with a gentle squeeze on my throat and by keeping his palm placed firmly on belly.

"Now there'll be none of that, Leah," Dean admonished me in a sickeningly gentle tone, "after all, we don't want the baby to get hurt."

That crossed a line.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my taser, and jabbed it into Dean's neck. His eyes bulged in shock -- pardon the pun -- and he staggered backwards, enough for me to lean back and kick him full in the chest with all the strength I could manage. He went sailing backwards and hit the back of his head against the edge of a storage cabinet with a loud clang of bone against metal. I didn't stick around to see if he was unconscious or not, I dropped the taser and bolted for the door, unlocking the latch and scampering down the hallway, screaming for help.

Another door opened, and my rapist emerged in response to my cries. I ran straight into his arms and hugged him, craving the safety of his embrace.

"What happened?" he asked earnestly.

"It was Dean," I wept, so glad to be safe again, "he tried to rape me, but I tasered him and knocked him out."

The latter part turned out not to be totally accurate as the far door from which I had fled opened and Dean came stumbling out. He looked delirious and livid, the taser and the knock to the head having taking a serious toll on his critical faculties.

"You sneaky little whore!" he snarled, shambling forward like a resurrected zombie, "I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

My alpha male guardian released me from his embrace and advanced towards Dean. I caught a murderous glint in his eye as he walked past me. I watched as Dean drunkenly swung his fist at my intruder, who swiftly sidestepped the punch and judo flipped Dean over his shoulder. Still holding onto Dean's wrist as he hit the ground, my rapist planted his foot on Dean's elbow and viciously broke his arm. Dean yowled in agony and passed out then and there, whilst I winced and curled up against the wall at the sickeningly audible crack of bone. My rapist finished with a brutal punch to the side of Dean's head. I was busy rocking back and forth with my face buried in my hands when my rapist came back over to comfort me.

"It's ok," he assured me, his upper class British elocution like balm to my trauma, "no one is going to hurt you. Not me and especially not him."

I allowed him to pull me to my feet and lead me to the staff common room where I could lie down. He got me a drink of water and I sipped a little, calming my nerves somewhat.

"Is the baby alright?" he asked earnestly.

"Yes," I assured him, hugging my belly protectively.

"Good, I can't stand the thought of losing either one of you."

***

Dean was admitted to the critical care ward and kept under police guard since he couldn't be formally arrested until he was discharged. Meanwhile, the cops took statements from my rapist/lover and I after which we were both allowed to go home early. My intruder was ostensibly also an employee at the hospital, and so he passed by unnoticed.

We walked back to my apartment in complete silence, with me nervously holding onto his arm as we made the ten minute walk home. My intruder was stern and protective, elbowing strangers aside to clear a path whilst I struggled with the turmoil of my attempted rape by a co-worker. He hadn't been anything more than a friendly acquaintance, but we had been working together ever since I first got a job at the hospital, how could he suddenly turn on me like this? Had he forced himself on other women prior to me?

Similar questions from the morning after losing my virginity to rape were now resurfacing in my mind, and I couldn't stay blind to the perverse irony of being protected from a man who'd attempted to rape me by the man who'd actually succeeded. What exactly was the difference between Dean and my actual rapist? That the latter had gotten to me first? Was I nothing more than a tender fuck-hole to be bred and defended by an alpha brute against beta brutes like Dean? Justifiably or not, I started to feel like a juicy piece of meat being escorted home for supper at a latter date.

However, my inner turmoil was worsened by the fact that I couldn't reconcile my cynicism regarding my rapist's possible motives with the fact that he had saved my life, and that of my baby, our baby. In spite of my trauma, I felt genuinely safe in his presence, and I had genuine feelings for him. For the first time, I admitted to myself that I was in love with my rapist. The catch was I didn't know if he really loved me back. Had he been motivated to protect me by a reciprocal love for me, or did he see me as nothing more than a vessel for his progeny? What was his name? I needed answers to all these questions before I could fully trust him.

***

We arrived back at the apartment in the middle of the afternoon. My intruder told me to lie down and get some rest, but I insisted that he first set all the locks on the front door and all the windows before I did anything to relax. When he assured me that the apartment was now completely impregnable -- unlike me -- I agreed to lie down on the bed while he went to the kitchen to make me some tea.

As I lay on my side tenderly stroking my belly, I couldn't help but wonder why he was being so nice to me all of a sudden. Back in the early days he hadn't hesitated to berate or nipple-twist me if I answered back to him; now he was suddenly so caring. Even though the answer was obviously that he was taking care of his unborn child, I couldn't shake the feeling of cynicism over how important I really was to him. After all, he'd left me to start a whole new brood in another state, and would probably leave when he was bored of me to find another fertile young woman to prey upon.

Eventually, the initial shock of the events of earlier in the day had dissipated enough that I could start to think more clearly. I was afraid of being raped, but I was also afraid that my rapist would leave me now that his work with me was finished. If Dean had succeeded, would my intruder have been as caring and sensitive to me as he had been today? Or would he have abandoned me like the damaged goods I had almost become? It was a big what if, and I couldn't drive it from my mind.

Finally, my rapist returned with a cup of tea in hand, and I sat up on the bed and took a few sips. The tea was warm and minty and it calmed my nerves a lot. I put the tea on the bedside table with a weak but grateful smile.

"How are you feeling?" my rapist asked me tenderly.

"Safer, now that you're here." I answered, turning over on my side.

He shut the curtains, kicked off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed behind me, spooning me in his arms. I snuggled into his embrace, doing my best to lose myself in the security of his presence; but I still couldn't banish the obvious parallels between my would-be rapist and my actual rapist. I felt safe in my rapist's arms, but I didn't know whether I should.

"Please don't fuck me tonight," I requested humbly, worried that he might refuse.

"Sure," he agreed, "you need to rest anyway."

Calmed by that reply, I drifted off to sleep.

***

Leah slept soundly for hours whilst I dutifully held her in my arms; but inside, I was seething. The fact that 'Dean Kaczynski' had had the nerve to lay his filthy hands on her -- on MY woman, the mother of MY unborn child -- filled me with murderous rage. I'd been far too lenient in snapping his arm and knocking him out, I wanted to kill him.

I was also angry at Leah. She'd spent all morning being overly friendly with this Dr Hatfield, and actually flirting with Dean; no wonder Dean attacked her, he must have thought she wanted it. The little whore had been asking to be attacked.

Of course I knew that wasn't true and I was fully conscious of the hypocrisy of my thoughts. I had raped Leah because I was turned on by the sight of her, not because I thought she'd invited me to attack her. I was also aware of the fact that she had had the moral high ground in our argument earlier that morning. I had left her with a pregnant belly and made her seek emotional solace with her friend David, and now I had returned and felt jealous that she was getting close to another man.

As for Dean, he must have been attracted to her all this time, only now finally deciding to act on his desires. I couldn't bear thinking what might have happened if Dean had attacked Leah BEFORE I arrived back from California. At best, David would have been the one to save her instead of me, at worst...

I shook my head clear of such thoughts. I didn't want to contemplate what might have happened to make things worse, I didn't want to think about the uncomfortable lack of difference between what I had done and what Dean had tried to do to Leah, and I certainly didn't want to contemplate a scenario in which Leah or our child got hurt. But I couldn't stop thinking about the man who'd tried to lay his hands on them. My murderous thoughts began to coalesce into a plan.

Leah stirred in my arms, still sound asleep. I didn't want to leave her alone, but I also couldn't stand the idea of Dean still drawing breath after what he'd tried to do to her. God knew when he'd wake up from his coma, but I knew that I didn't want him waking up at all.

Eventually, I released Leah from my grasp and got up, packing a small bag of kit.

***

When I woke up it was already 10 at night. I still felt somewhat shaken from the events of earlier in the day, but on the whole I was calmer. I rolled over to wrap my arm around my guardian, but my arm passed through empty air and came to rest on the bed. He wasn't there.

I panicked and bolted out of the bed, switching on the light and searching for him high and low. He wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen; he wasn't anywhere to be found in the apartment. He was gone.

I suppressed the sense of panic that surged in my chest and managed to calm myself enough to notice that his big bag of possessions was still by the bed, with a giant, industrial padlock securing its contents; so wherever he'd gone, he was planning on coming back. But why would he take off in the middle of the night after what I'd just been through? Never mind. I was hungry, and he'd be back for his bag sooner or later. He could explain himself then.

I changed into a dress, and then went to the kitchen and devoured several sandwiches. I was at least partly calmed by the knowledge that I was at least safe in my own apartment, maybe not from my rapist, but certainly from anything else that might try to enter. David would be back from his shift soon, hopefully he'd come see how I was doing. He wasn't the equal of the other man in my life, not by a mile. But as much as I had grown to love my rapist, I resented him almost as much for leaving me once his seed had been planted. David was much better at being there when I needed someone to confide in or console me; too bad I wasn't his type.

Once I was full, I went back to my bedroom and watched some TV; but the headline story on the news of a sexual assault at the city hospital dissuaded me from watching any more. My head was a seething cauldron of trauma, worry, resentment, but most of all boredom. What the fuck could he be doing this late at night that was so important he had to leave unannounced? Maybe he was planning his next rape-trip, I thought gloomily.

The focus of my curiosity shifted to his giant bag. It seemed rather silly to put a padlock on a bag when someone could just cut through it. I knelt down and tugged experimentally on the fabric. It was far too heavy for me to lift, and the material felt like a net of criss-crossing cables, probably impervious to a knife. Whatever it was my rapist-lover had sealed away inside the bag, I wouldn't be getting a peek.

The doorbell rang. I rolled my eyes and got up to answer the door. With all the sophisticated gear he carried around with him, you'd think he'd remember to bring his own keys. Looking through the peephole, however, my irritation evaporated into elation as I undid all the locks and opened the door.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" asked David with a smile.

"No," I replied, returning the smile, "I just finished making dinner for myself."

"I won't keep you too long. I just wanted to see if you were OK."

"I'm alright," I answered, half-lying to my best friend, "a bit shaken, but I'll live."

"I'd never have thought Dean would do such a thing," said David, sounding genuinely appalled, "especially to a nice girl like you."

"I guess you never really know a person until something like that happens."

"But you and the baby are both OK, right?"

"We're both fine," I said, resting my hands on my belly protectively, "Dean threatened the baby if I kept struggling, and that's when I tasered him."

"Damn right." David said with great approval, "he's under police guard in the critical care wing, so you don't have to worry about him."

"Thank you so much." I said softly to David.

"For what?" asked David, puzzled, "I was on a different floor when you needed my help."

"For being such a good friend to me," I embraced David, who tenderly reciprocated.

Bad timing.

"You're looking better." said a familiar masculine voice in a perfect American accent.

Neither I nor David heard my rapist-lover approach, and his sudden appearance caught us both by surprise. I hurriedly broke off the hug. His composure was nearly perfect, carrying a bag of groceries in one hand and holding a small backpack slung over his shoulder with the other.

"This is my friend David who I was telling you about," I explained quickly, trying not to sound like I'd done something wrong, which of course I hadn't.

"Nice to meet you." said David, proffering his hand with genuine amiability.

"Likewise," replied my rapist, accepting the handshake, "Leah's told me a lot about you."

"She hasn't told me very much about you, I have to admit." replied David.

I tried my utmost not to roll my eyes at my rapist, who was squeezing David's hand harder than necessary and was squaring his shoulders in an alpha male display of intimidation. If David was intimidated he didn't show it. It wasn't as if he was competing for me, anyway.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, David," said my rapist, politely breaking off the handshake and the conversation.

"Likewise." answered David, rubbing his hand, "I'll see you next week then, Leah."

"Sure, goodnight."

***

My rapist dropped his backpack on the floor and put away the food he'd bought without saying a word as I waited patiently in my bedroom for him to return and explain what else he'd been doing besides shopping for food in the middle of the night. Soon enough, he came marching back in, his composure gone.

"I leave you alone for two hours, and you're already cuddling with that beta-prick, David." He said in his normal British accent, audibly tinged with jealous anger.

"You were gone for two months, and I went to him for emotional support, you hypocritical rapist!" I snapped in return, "he gave me a shoulder to lean on and cry on when I felt abandoned, by YOU! And all you gave me was a pregnant belly and a wire transfer!"

"I don't want him anywhere near you." said my rapist, his fists clenching in anger as he adroitly sidestepped the moral high ground that he could never hope to seize.

"Why not?" I shot back, angrily, "He's not going to force himself on me like some mindless, macho beast; unlike you or Dean. I feel safe when he's around, as well as cared for. Whereas I'm just a fuck-hole to you, a walking incubation tank for your babies. You don't care about me, you never did! It's all about spreading your alpha male seed all over the place --"

"Stop it, Leah!" my rapist surged forward and seized my wrists as I tried to push him away, cutting me off in mid-rant, "I do care about you, both of you. I thought about you and the baby all the time I was away."

"Let go of me!" I hissed, struggling to free my wrists from the bear-like grip of his hands.

"No one is going to hurt you, Leah," my rapist continued, keeping me restrained with little effort on his part, "I'll be here for you to make damn sure of that."

"I said let go of me, you fucking brute!" somehow I managed to whip one hand free of his grip and, on the spur of the moment, I punched him straight in the mouth.

Time froze as the two of us processed exactly what had just happened. I had actually hit my rapist; not very hard, but I had hit him nonetheless. He stood there frozen with fury. I stood before him, frozen with horror at my impulsive action.

"I...I'm sorry." I stammered penitently.

There was no answer. Instead, he advanced towards me with a calm purpose that terrified me far more than actual violence on his part would have done. I backed away from him until my back was against the wall, and he trapped me there with his enormous chest and muscular arms, looking down at me with his beautiful green eyes brimming with anger. My heart was pounding in my chest as I fearfully awaited his next move. Dean was no weakling, but my rapist had flipped him over his shoulder like a doll and snapped his arm in two with barely any effort; I was in no position to resist him. But unlike the cold fear I had felt when Dean had cornered me, my rapist exuded a raw sexual danger that was somehow far more potent; I could even feel my pussy moistening just from being near him. He ran a hand across my breasts and I squirmed in response.

"No, please," I pleaded, struggling to remove his hands from me.

Swiftly, he wrapped one hand around my throat, making me freeze up instantly; but he didn't squeeze. I could still breathe, but his grip on my windpipe was just tight enough to remind me who was in charge.