Page 9 of The Secret
He thrusts forward with his hips as I try and twist out from under him, but I make the mistake of moving my thigh and somehow his cock is between my legs. Grabbing my ass, he pushes, shoving all the way inside. His grip is bruising, and the pain makes my eyes water.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he says, nuzzling my neck.
“I don’t want to do this.”
“Yeah, you do. Real up for it last night you were. All over me.”
I wriggle and push at his shoulders, but he’s way bigger than me and he grasps my wrists and pins them to the crumpled sheets on either side of my head. He chuckles, pulling out and thrusting back in hard. The sting tightens my breath.
“You’re hurting me. Stop. No.” I desperately try and shift my hips away as he jerks back, groaning.
“Yeah, baby, I like that.”
“Condom,” I say, but he just laughs again.
“No way. You’re way too good bare.”
Oh fuck, oh fuck. He pumps away at me shuddering and moaning as I stare at the ceiling. My throat constricts. This is my own goddamn fault.
Then he lifts up and stares at my chest, grunting. “Fuck. Fuck, yeah. So fucking good. Look at your tits. Thought they’d be stellar last night. Oh, fuck yeah, baby.” His hips stutter and he lets out a moan and jerks over me as he comes.
“Yeah, fuck.” He leans down, takes a nipple in his mouth, and pinches it in his teeth. Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes and into the pillow.
“That was perfect, baby. You want to stay to fuck again later, I’d be down for that.”
He doesn’t look at me as he rolls off and sprawls on his side of the bed. I stare at a brown stain on the ceiling. What just happened? I can’t bring myself to think the word. I’m not sure how much time goes by, but a sudden gentle snore rising up from next to me galvanizes me into action.
Jumping up, I scrabble frantically to gather my stuff but he doesn’t stir. I find a filthy bathroom down the corridor and shoot inside to pee. The inside of the toilet bowl under the waterline is full of slime. I pee in it nevertheless, and I’m suddenly desperate to wash him off my skin, to scrub and scrub. The tiles are black with mold, the showerhead caked in limescale, but I start the shower. The water is freezing, so I hop around the icy room waiting for the warmth to come through. Minutes tick by. Fucking hell. I dart into the cold stream, scouring across my body with a gritty, foul-smelling deodorant soap. What on earth was I thinking last night?
This is the third time this week I’ve got hammered. The other two nights I don’t remember but at least I woke up in my own bed. What a fucking failure I am, getting forced into sex with some awful guy. I run a hand down my arm then pinch the skin, over and over, watching the bright red spots appear, and warmth spreads through my body as I suck in a shaky breath. I’ve got some tablets in my purse. Just a little something to help me through today. Have I had many this week? Ugh. Normally I’m more careful than this.
My phone ringing pulls me out of the now warm shower, and I frown down at the picture of the handsome guy on the screen as I drip water onto the floor.Nick,my somewhat ill-tempered hookup partner.What on earth?
“Hey, babe, are you here?” The rumble of New York traffic slots in behind his voice.
“Where are you?” I say, crossing my fingers.
“I’m at Juliana’s? Breakfast? Are you close?”
“Oh shit, yeah.” Oh my God, he’s going to be furious. Nick slots his hookups in with miliary precision. And he’s an asshole when he’s in one of his moods.
“Fuck, babe, where are you?”
“I’m at Jo’s,” I lie. “We had a few drinks last night and I crashed. I’m just leaving.”
“Jesus, Liss! You’re so goddamn disorganized! It’ll take you at least thirty minutes to get here. You don’t keep people waiting like this: It’s fucking rude.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll catch a cab.”
The line goes dead. Jesus, I really don’t want him to be angry with me.
Then I’m out on the street, heart racing as I look for a cab. Images of biker guy’s hot breath and sweat plunking on my skin keep popping into my head. Why couldn’t I wriggle out from beneath him? My hands shake as I tie my dark curls into a makeshift topknot. Who can I talk to? Kate’s on a night shift this evening, but could I call Jo?
What would she think of me?
I don’t want someone telling me to go to the police, or even worse saying, “You poor thing.” My mind skitters around the wordrape. I said no and he kind of insisted? Why didn’t I fight harder? I don’t want to be vulnerable, but God, spinning this through my head on an endless loop is going to drive me mad. The wet street and indifferent faces provide no answers. My mind flitters to my two siblings and particularly Lauren with her safe obeying-my-father life and her fantastically steady boyfriend, David. If I told her something like this, she’d freak. Why am I always interested in these men?Goddammit. If this is a pattern I’ll repeat in the future, I think I’ll end up feeling suicidal. I can’t cope with this being anything worse than a dreadful mistake right now.
What am I doing here, getting myself into problems like this? I finished my master’s six months ago, and by rights I should be looking for a ‘proper’ job, whatever that means.
