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Long after the four wrestlers sitting at the booth across the room had gone, Torrie Wilson was still at the bar. She'd ordered a second margarita, and, as she'd done with the first one, drank it very slowly. The blonde didn't want to get drunk, and, normally, she wouldn't consume much alcohol because of its nerve-dulling effect.
She glanced up, her lips curving into a smile as the man for whom she'd been waiting finally entered. She reached out and touched him on the arm, and he slid onto the barstool beside her.
"What's wrong?" Torrie asked, noticing he looked a little agitated. Actually, that was an understatement - he looked a lot agitated.
The man's guard instantly went up. Damn, but why did women always have to be so nosy? Although he was glad he'd found Torrie, he hadn't intended to talk with her.
"Nothing," the man said. He forced a smile for the blonde's benefit.
"Good...that's better." Her grin widened even more.
The man scowled inwardly. He was pissed because he'd finally returned to his room, and Nora was nowhere to be seen. He wondered what she was up to, as normally she would be in the room, awake and waiting for him, but more often sound asleep. He wondered if she was messing with some other guy. But now that he thought about it, he didn't care. She could do whatever she damn well pleased so long as she stayed out of his business and didn't cause him any trouble. He couldn't imagine that happening because he'd seen the terror in her eyes after he'd put her in her place a couple of nights ago. He was fairly certain that as a result, she wouldn't be so quick to butt into his private affairs again. Fuck the little bitch.
The man focused his eyes on Torrie Wilson, who was chattering up a storm, dimples in her cheeks, her blue eyes sparkling. As he pretended to listen to her mindless drivel, he imagined getting her on all fours so he could enjoy ramming into her from behind. He knew he could make the tall blonde beg and cry - either for mercy or for more of the pleasure he could give her. He found himself growing hard at these thoughts and suddenly wanted to get out of this dinky little hotel bar and take her back to her room.
He reached out and traced one finger up her bare arm. As her eyes followed the movement with amusement, he said, "Why don't we get out of here and go to your room so we can have a little privacy? Hmm?"
Torrie laughed. "I'd love to..." She put down her only half-empty glass and stepped off the barstool. The man wrapped an arm around her waist, at the moment unconcerned by the possibilty of fellow WWF staff seeing the two of them together.
They went up to Torrie's third floor room, and the blonde swiped her keycard through the door, a hiccup escaping her.
"Oops," she said with a giggle. She reached up with one hand to cover her mouth as they stepped into the room. "Hard liquor always makes me hiccup."
The man instantly pulled her almost roughly against him as soon as the door was closed. He reached down to squeeze her buttocks as he kissed her, his lips and tongue demanding.
Torrie laughed softly into his mouth as she kissed him back with matching ardor. Without lifting her head from his, she expertly tossed the keycard onto the ledge at her left.
*
Adam lay restless in bed. He kept tossing and turning, but no matter what position he reversed himself into , he couldn't fall asleep. He just couldn't get comfortable.
Who was he kidding? The tall Canadian sat up in bed, knowing very well that the reason he couldn't sleep had nothing to do with his physical comfort - and everything to do with all the madness that was on his mind and wouldn't let him rest.
Amy suddenly sat up beside him, reaching over for the switch on the lamp beside her on the nighstand. They both squinted as the room was suddenly illuminated.
"I'm so sorry, babe," Adam said as he gazed at her. He was keeping her awake, and he felt guilty for that.
The redhead rubbed at her face sleepily. "Don't be silly, Adam. I can't sleep any more than you can. Like I keep telling you, we're in this together."
The blond gazed at her tenderly, his eyes suddenly fully-adjusted to the brightness of the lamp. He pulled her against him, hugging her tightly. She embraced him and laid her head against his chest.
"I love you," Amy said softly as she reached up with one hand to caress long strands of his soft hair.
Adam held her away from him for a moment, stunned as he gazed deeply into her hazel eyes. "You do?" When she nodded, he said, "Wow...I didn't want to say anything so soon out of the belief you might run away - it being so soon and everything, but...angel, I love you, too."
A gentle smile played at the diva's lips. After a moment, she laid back down and pulled him down to her. They kissed passionately, and the next thing Adam knew, they were removing one another's garments. He pushed all impleasant thoughts to the back of his mind, concentrating only on Amy and making love to her.
*
The man yanked at Torrie's tank top, and in his attempt to get it off of her in a hurry, tore it. The blonde didn't seem to mind and even laughed about it. Besides, the man knew her focus was currently on one thing and one thing only - having him inside of her, banging away and bringing her to orgasm over and over again.
He stripped his own clothing off, shoving the blonde woman down onto the bed. She laughed again, and he began to wonder if she was actually tipsy. If that was the case, she couldn't hold her liquor. She'd told him she'd only had one margarita before the one he'd seen her nursing - and she'd only drank half of that.
Torrie's eyes widened slightly as she stared at his nude body. He smirked as he noticed her lick her lips, then roughly began to yank at her shorts. He pulled so hard that she lost her balance and fell back from the sitting position she'd been in. He pulled off her thong as well, not bothering with her bra, for he had no interest in pleasuring her at the very moment.
Torrie started to get up to him, but the man shoved her back down. She seemed surprised as he suddenly repositioned her, turning her over and forcing her on her stomach.
"Not so rough!" she protested.
He ignored her. What she wanted or felt didn't matter a damn to him. Shoving her flat on her belly, pressing one of his large hands against the small of the woman's back, he pried her legs apart.
Torrie began to yell even louder, and then he brutally shoved into her. Her protests quickly became cries as he began thrusting violently into her.
"Stop it! You're hurting me!"
"Shut up and take it, you bitch!"
He reached down with one hand and whacked the young woman in the head as he continued to batter into her.
As her cries increased in volume, the man roughly grabbed her by her long blond hair, pulling her head back. The sight of her fright, pain, tears and pooling mascara angered him more - but at the same time, it excited him as well. He kept thrusting, probably tearing her in the process, until he came and emptied himself into her. As he did so, he allowed his full weight to rest onto Torrie, not caring that he was probably crushing her.
After he got back up and put his clothing back on, the blonde weakly turned toward him. Her face was ashen, tears still on her cheeks. "You bastard! You...you...raped me!" She jumped to her feet and struck out at him with her small hands.
"Not so bright, are we, Torrie?" he asked, a cruel, sadistic smirk on his face. Grabbing her with both hands, he shoved her into the wall. The woman collapsed in a heap to the floor. He glanced cursorily at her, thinking she was unconscious, but he didn't care to check. He'd gotten what he'd come for, so his work here was done.
The man stealthily made his way back to his own room. Part of him hoped Nora would be there. The other part of him wished for the opposite. He needed to get something, and he had something he had to do.
*
Adam had finally drifted off to sleep shortly after his beautiful encounter with Amy had ended. He was in the middle of a surprisingly pleasant dream when a loud banging sound penetrated his nocturnal thoughts.
Amy awoke as well, stirring as she gently untangled herself from his embrace. She pushed up into a sitting position, reaching over for the lamp.
Adam squinted as he looked at the diva, her hair mussed from sleep. The knocking was loud and frantic.
"Who the hell can that be?" he wondered aloud. Maybe it was Jay with another silly theory on why the person out to hurt him was Kurt Angle.
Amy ran a hand through her hair. "Maybe we should just ignore them. I mean, who would be visiting us this late? Hell, I don't even know what time it is."
"Three-fourteen," the blond man replied as he leaned over to the nightstand to glance at his watch. "Jesus..."
The volume of the knocking increased even more. They both suddenly jumped as a loud crash resounded.
"Oh, my God," Amy breathed, her eyes widening with shock.
Adam met her eyes, an identical thought in his own mind. The maniac who'd been after him was right outside the door.
They both leapt out of the bed, and Adam was relieved he and Amy had put their sleeping wear back on after their lovemaking. He glanced toward the window, ideas of escaping through it taking form in his head, but then he realized there was no time for that. Their hotel room door was suddenly opened, smashing into the wall - the bastard had somehow gotten a keycard from the desk clerk.
Adam and Amy both stood in shock as they eyed the assailant. In his right hand, he held a sledgehammer - a weapon he'd used many a time against opponents in and out of the ring. His eyes glared at them, glittering with fury. In the doorway stood Nora's abusive boyfriend. He was none other than Paul Levesque - better known in the squared circle as Triple H.