The Sackler Trap

Broken

I tried to pull his hands away, then tried to pull myself away but it was no use. Adam had a strong grip on me, and he wasn't letting go. I moaned in protest against his mouth, even when he forced mine open. It was all too much. His nearness, his scent, his fingers digging into my skull, and that marauding mouth. My feminist mother would have disowned me in a second but, God help me, I grabbed onto his hair, pulled it tightly and deepened the kiss. Our tongues and teeth clashed, and I became dimly aware that he had backed me up against something...the couch.

One of his hands moved to my thigh and began gathering my short skirt up in bunches, then pulling my leg up and around his waist. It was wrong. I knew it in my heart. This was all wrong, but my primal instincts cried out to be filled. Filled by him. Then he broke away from kissing me and I reached up...and slapped his stupid face.

"You're real sure of yourself, aren't you?" I spat.

He had the audacity to grin at me then and cheekily, "Drop the act, Julie, you kissed me back."

I was flooded with shame and then shrieked as he suddenly swept me up and over his shoulder and began carrying me to his bed. I felt ridiculous as the only thing I could do upside down like this was give his backside a few token hits with my fists.

"You're archaic!" I screamed. "You know that? A fucking throwback! Do you even know what fucking year it is? Or what century?"

He laughed as he threw me down on the bed and crawled over me.

I continued my tirade, my eyes burning as I looked into his. "Oh, you think you fucking own me, don't you?" I said scornfully. "Bet you think that about every woman you fuck, don't you?"

He was undoing his tie but leaned down to kiss me forcefully on the lips. "No," he answered, his silky baritone settling over me like I had been dipped in chocolate fondant. "Just you, my little foul mouthed slut."

That was it...I spat at him aiming for his eye. He barely flinched and the spit went wide of its mark and landed somewhere in his hair. He whipped his tie from around his neck and, leaning down, used it as a temporary gag over my mouth.

"Oh, do that again, Julie, please!" he taunted.

I shoved the tie aside and huffed in annoyance, "Fuck you!"

I gave a halfhearted struggle, but it was difficult, bracketed on either side of my hips by his knees as I was. He was unbuttoning his shirt and that too got flung aside. I was desperately trying to control the primal urges of my treacherous body, but it was a battle I was swiftly losing.

"I want to go home," I said, hating how it came out like a whine.

He was kissing me again, down my neck and over the top of my dress. "No, you don't."

My temper flared. "Don't tell me what I do and don't want!" I fired back.

He sat back looked down at me in annoyance. "Why do you want to go home?" he asked, clearly baffled.

"Because you're a dick," I answered vaguely. I was wearing myself out.

He sighed and ran his hand through his tousled hair. "Julie, those other girls don't mean anything to me. And after what you said..."

I groaned and rolled my head away, unable to look at him. "Please don't remind me," I said. "I wish I hadn't said it!"

He was quiet and motionless above me, I could feel his eyes on me, but I refused to look at him.

"Did you mean it?" he asked after a while.

I kept my face turned away and tilted my chin up a degree, trying to muster as much dignity as I could while lying prone between his knees. I even crossed my arms.