Fin shook his head, shifting in the seat, then the shaking and the shifting took on a rhythmic quality and he groaned. "No," he whispered. "Oh God no."
He stilled, his face going blank, then he looked up at Owens. "Fucking bitch," he spat. "Fucking fucking cunt. Asking for it. Oh yes, just - just begging. Fucking cunt - yeah, fuck her. Make her scream. Bitch, fucking bitch. Just gagging for it, on her knees, gagging, ram it in, make her choke. Bitch - bitch." His breathing had quickened, his knuckles white as his hands twisted the material. He grinned at Owens. "Gon' make her ache, make her bleed."