Page 6 of Enticed

“Fuck, it’s such a turn on when you beg,” he licks my neck as the first sob breaks free. I feel his arm wrap around my waist and grip me tighter than before, so strong that even as I try to push back, I’m no match for his strength. I may work out regularly, but a brute man will still overpower me, especially when my body is running haywire with nerves and anxiety.

Pushing me towards the desk, he shoves me face first into the hardwood, leaving me hunched over with my ass sticking up in the air, pinning my hands behind my back.

He’s going to rape me. He’s going to destroy me. I can’t handle this.

“You always were a cock tease, Clara,” he rasps, dragging his hand holding the gun down my spine and over my ass, the cool metal piercing through my dress and making my stomach revolt at his touch. “You ran around this place on your high horse in those tight fucking skirts, teasing men with your body, but knowing you’d never give in. Well now, who’s in control? I’ll get the files I need and your pussy as a consolation prize for the path my life has taken since they fired me from this hellhole!”

I shudder and then struggle against his grip as I feel the tips of his fingers inch their way under my dress accompanied by the cool metal of the gun.

“Anthony, please stop!” I scream, fighting his hold as I shift my body and slide across the desk while he tries to control me. I feel his knee in my back and then a slap across my face from his weapon, the sting of the connection burning into my skin. My eyes shut tightly as I fight off the pain and will my mind to help me escape my circumstances.

“Shut up, Clara! You’re getting what you deserve! You think anything in this line of work comes for free? Or from hard work? Fuck no! You have to take what you want!” He leans over me and places a thumb drive into my computer, the screen lighting up instantly as files start to automatically download. Then his full force is back on me as both of his hands pull my dress up to expose my bare ass to him. The only thing between the two of us right now is his pants and my thong, which has Will Ferrell’s face on the front from the movie Elf.

I was in full Christmas attire, ready for the party that I now know I probably won’t be showing up to. I hope to God the police show up soon, or someone realizes I never showed. But knowing that my life could drastically change or quite possibly end in the next few minutes doesn’t help me remain hopeful.

“I’m going to enjoy fucking this ass, Clara. And your cunt,” I hear Anthony growl as the fuzziness leaves my ears from the hit on my head from his gun. When I finally feel myself coming around again, I realize he’s pushed my dress up over my hips and is peeling my underwear down my legs as the sound of a zipper lowering makes my adrenaline spike even higher.

Fuck this! This is NOT going to happen to me.

I stand up fast, throwing my head backwards, hoping to connect with his head hard enough to break his nose.

“Fucking whore!” He shouts when I feel the contact of our heads hitting and hear the sound of him falling, making my ears ring again, but I don’t stop to feel the pain. The only thing on my mind is getting as far away from him as possible.

I scramble to move around him, but before I can, he grabs my ankle from where he’s lying on the floor, pulling me down so I smack my shoulder on the corner of my desk as I fall.

“Fuck!” I shout, panting and screaming and attempting to crawl away, but it’s a lost cause. I feel his body climb over me as I twist and turn and then the gun finds my temple again.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot you!” He yells in my face, the smell of alcohol on his breath wakes me up from the fuzziness my mind is threatening to pull me under.

“Anthony! Please! You don’t have to do this…”

Chapter 3

Clara

I wake up in a panic—sweat dripping from my scalp and my breathing heavy. It happens every time I have that dream—the same dream that occurs in vivid detail of the night that has haunted me for the past three months. But at least I woke up before the worst part…

I wasn’t the only one who didn’t walk away unscathed though. The guilt that lives within me knowing Cooper also suffered because I chose to work late that night, isn’t as bad as hearing Anthony’s voice in my head every day while I try to sleep, eat, or pretty much just try to live my life in general. His words, his breath, his touch—they all make me violently ill.

Or maybe that’s the alcohol intake from last night.

I scramble off the couch as fast as my partially numb body will allow, racing to the bathroom to empty the contents of my stomach. Retching over the toilet, I attempt to eliminate any trace of booze and ill thought of that memory. Unfortunately, the dry heaves that are left don’t rid me of every ounce of either.

“I’m never drinking again,” I mumble as I lean back against the wall in front of the toilet, resting my forearms on my bent knees.

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve uttered those words in my life, I could retire from my job.

The truth is, I’m not a drunk. Far from it. I enjoy drinking and love to let loose, especially after I’ve worked my ass off on an account or my best friend returns home after years away. But on those days since that night when the memories won’t let up, when I see myself moments away from being robbed of my decency and subjected to an act that no woman should ever have to experience, when I feel the weight of Anthony’s body on top of me—I let the booze take my mind away from it. I lose myself in the music and company of others who don’t see the woman who was affected by that night, even though everyone in Emerson Falls and even a few towns over heard about the break-in. What they don’t know is every detail of what I lived through, thank God. And I’m grateful for that.

The only other person who knows what happened that night is Cooper Walsh—the younger brother of my best friend and now the man that occupies my mind more than he should. I never even told my three best friends the entire truth of what happened because I couldn’t bring myself to retell it—fearful that somehow saying the words out loud would make it more real.

But it was real, believe me—and I’m having a hell of a time trying to forget it.

There were the other officers on the scene who witnessed the aftermath as well, taking statements, documenting evidence, and the paramedics who drove me to the hospital to be examined and cleaned of Anthony’s blood. But they were there doing their jobs, following protocol, and treating the night like any other case to be processed.

And even though technically Cooper was doing his job as well, he also knew me. Cooper saw my fear. He saw me at my most vulnerable.

And he’s also the man who saved me.

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