Free An Impossible Dilemma: A Psychological Thriller Novel by Netta Newbound

me.
    “Shane! This isn’t funny. Do you have no compassion at all? I buried my husband today.” My back hit the snug door.
    He leaned past me, twisted the knob and pushed me into the room.
    I was terrified. If he continued like this, God only knows what he would be capable of once he passed the point of no return.
    My heart hammered against my ribcage. “I’m tired, Shane. Please, just go. I appreciate you paying your respects but can we leave it at that? You don’t want to get into trouble, I’m sure.”
    “One kiss.” He licked his lips, his tongue stroking the top of the yellow pus filled mound.
    My stomach lurched. “I beg your pardon?” I shook my head.
    “One kiss and I’ll go.” He shrugged.
    “I’m tired. I can’t cope with this right now.” I reached the sofa and could go no further. Although my voice sounded calm, silent screams exploded in my head.
    He continued toward me until we were nose to nose. A broad, sickly smile spread across his spotty face as his putrid breath hit my nostrils, making my stomach lurch.
    I considered slamming my knee into his crotch, but thoughts of Emily stopped me. I wanted the situation to stay calm. I’d have more of a chance of talking him round that way.
    He licked my face. The stench of tooth decay, alcohol and rotten food almost knocked me over.
    I yelped, recoiled and wiped my face with my arm. The smell wouldn’t go away. I was bending backwards in an arc over the front of the sofa, the backs of my legs and my shoulders touching, but my bottom still raised.
    As he pressed his crotch towards me, I gave up and collapsed backwards.
    He straddled me.
    I was shaking uncontrollably, petrified now, and strange whimpering sounds escaped me.
    He lifted my hair and began kissing and licking my neck.
    “Stop!” My voice a high-pitched squeal.
    “I’ve not even started yet. Now be quiet. Think yourself lucky you’ve not had to wait too long to get your pussy stroked.” He laughed. “What’s the acceptable time-frame for a widow to abstain?”
    “This isn’t funny anymore, Shane. My friend will be back any minute now and her boyfriend will kick your arse.”
    “If you’re talking about the bleached blonde pygmy who lives here, she doesn’t even have a boyfriend. I’ve been watching. I know exactly who comes and goes, right down to the namby-pamby prick living over the garage.”
    The seriousness of the situation suddenly struck me. I wasn’t going to be able to talk my way out of this.
    He pinched my nipple through my slip.
    I squealed, taken by surprise.
    He repeated it with my other nipple.
    “Hmmm, a matching pair, look at that,” he said, staring at my chest. “I’ve dreamed of your little titties and I can’t wait to slurp on those juicy big tit-ends. All I had to do was get rid of that dickhead husband of yours.”
    “What the hell are you talking about, Shane? I’m begging you, stop this before things go too far.” The blood gushed in my ears. I was distraught, couldn’t believe this was happening to me. His mention of Jon horrified me. Could he be responsible for the accident? My whole body sagged and succumbed to the tremors I’d managed to hold at bay up to now.
    “No can do, I’m sorry, look at this,” he leaned backwards, giving me an eyeful of the bulge filling the crotch of his jeans. “He has a mind of his own and there’s no arguing with him.” Once again he chuckled at his own words.
    He undid his top button and holding onto the front of the waistband, he pulled each side of the denim apart. The zip slid down.
    The tip of his angry penis poked above the waistband of his boxer shorts. But even worse than that—I could smell the dirty, cheesy thing.
    It felt surreal, as though time had stopped. My raspy breath and thudding heartbeat filled my ears.
    He pushed his underwear down further and his penis sprang free and hit my chest with a wet thud.
    I squealed again, tears pouring from my eyes.
    He laughed. “Kiss