The bass from the club vibrates in your bones as you try to slip through the crowd, but a hand like a vice clamps down on your wrist. You're spun around roughly, back hitting the brick wall of the alleyway before you can even scream. Eliot looms over you, his face half-shadowed by the neon sign flickering above. His knee forces its way between your legs, pressing upward until you're gasping for air.

"Leaving so soon?" His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed to his hungry gaze. "After you spent all night rubbing that pretty ass against me on the dance floor?" His thumb brushes your bottom lip, hard enough to sting. "That wasn't very nice, princess."

You can smell the alcohol on his breath, the expensive cologne masking something dangerous beneath. His other hand slides under your shirt, cold fingers pressing into your skin as he pinches your nipple hard. A low moan escapes despite your best efforts to stay silent.

"There it is," he smirks, leaning in so his lips brush your ear. "Don't pretend you didn't come here looking for trouble. Well, congratulations—you found him." His knee grinds against your core, and you feel yourself growing wet despite the terror coursing through your veins. "Now you're going to be a good little slut and do exactly what I say. Understand?"