In Too Deep by Cherry Adair

in French.
    He shackled her wrists and threw her backwards. Tally landed flat on her back on the mattress, the man fell with her, crushing her chest. One arm was pinned beneath her own hip, the other was pinned by the weight of his body. She squirmed beneath him. He wasn't budging.
    His hands came up around her throat. He was strong and determined. She gagged. Coughed. Gagged again. Brilliant lights starburst in the blackness of Tally's vision.
    Her right hand was palm up, and she could feel his heavy erection twitch against her fingers. Oh, Jesus. Fighting to stay conscious, Tally tried to free either of her arms so that she could try to fight him off. Their combined weight made the task impossible.
    With sheer gut instinct she closed her hand around the man's testicles and penis in a death grip. And squeezed with all her strength. The pressure immediately relaxed around her throat. She squeezed harder, digging her long nails into his flesh through his pants.
    He screamed. High-pitched and loud. Still holding on, she levered her upper body off the bed. He was cursing in virulent French, bent over, trying to protect his privates while scrabbling for her wrist. Tally managed to get a two-handed grip on his body parts. As disgusting as it was, she wasn't letting go for anything.
    His elbow smacked her check as he flailed around, in too much pain to be effective fighting her off. Good. She held to him as tightly as she could. Her hands numb with the pressure, her nails imbedded to the quick. There was no more erection of course, just a limp, disgusting noodle stretched to its limit. She was going to be grossed out as soon as she could figure out what to do next.
    Oh, Lord. What am I supposed to do with him now? Staring blindly into the darkness, she shouted, "Michael! Help!"
    Tally dragged the guy to the window like a pull toy. His language was blue and fierce, but of course, like any man, he followed his penis. She stepped outside onto the narrow wood lanai. The star-studded sky didn't give off enough light. But she saw that he was hunched over almost double, his hands clutched over hers, moaning in pain. Tally dug her nails in harder.
    Below the balcony was Auntie's beautiful tropical garden. No stairs. So he'd come in through the bar and up the inside stairs. She gave a sharp twist. He screamed like a girl. "Tell me why you wanted to hurt me?" she demanded, trying to figure out what the hell to do now.
    "I was looking for… money," he said in a rapid spate of French interspersed with much sobbing. "You will release my penis, and I shall go."
    "And come back to rob me another time? I don't think so."
    "Non. I will tell h— mon Dieu ! Release me, I beg this of you."
    Because she obviously couldn't stand there forever gripping the man's balls, Tally let go. And while he was still moaning and hunched over hugging his privates, she pushed him over the balcony to the lanai below.
    There was a thump, a loud rustle of foliage, and then silence.
    Without looking down, she rushed back inside and slammed the French door behind her. Grabbing the rattan chair near the bed, she wedged it under the handles. Useless, of course. Anyone wanting to come in only needed to give a hard push and the chair would slide across the wood floor.
    Tally fumbled in the dark for the flashlight she always kept beside the bed, then pulled the thin drapes closed across the glass door with shaking hands. With the light to guide her, she went across the room and turned the useless lock in the doorknob, then flicked on the overhead light.
    Better. Much better. She peered at her throat in the mirror by the door. Her neck was already starting to bruise, and damn it, the son of a bitch had cut her. She felt sick to her stomach at the violence. Two near-death experiences since she'd been here was two too many.
    This was a little more reality than she was ready for. From downstairs came the sound of people laughing, talking, having fun. She hesitated, almost scared