"Oh God! Please… Uncle Gaston… My God! You can't tell Antoine," she pleaded, for nothing else mattered. "Let me! I'll tell him! I swear it…!"

"Stupid cunt," Larreau spat and Madeleine cringed at the vile insult. "What good do you think that'll do, now? The damage is done. Do you think he would want someone else's bastard child?"

"But you don't understand! She's just a little baby. Stop calling her those names! Damn you…!"

Larreau widened his grin. "So… you do have some spunk, after all. I… I was beginning to wonder."

"She's not to blame! She's an innocent baby…!"

"Shut up! You hear? Shut up, cunt!"

She did, gaping at him. His smile had disintegrated; his eyes were emblazened with rage. He raised his glass and drained it, then threw it on the davenport beside him, the ice dribbling out to wet the expensive cushions, his vile epithets cutting her to the quick. Heavenly Father, she had never been so abused in her life. He came next to her and tore the glass from her grasp, then wound his pudgy, brutal hand in her hair and forced her mouth to his.

He kissed her! His vicious tongue stabbed at her lips and she fought it, clenching her teeth until his hand twisted the long length of her hair, until tears streamed from her eyes and her mouth gaped from the pain. His tongue, hot and wet, plunged to her throat and his short arm encircled her waist powerfully, crushing her to him. He ground his belly overwhelmingly against hers, his groin tightly against her own soft, tender pelvis, until she could feel the hardness of his swollen member undulating in a near-pulverizing motion at the juncture of her full, warm thighs.

Mon Dieu! Antoine! Please… come quick! I need you! I need you!