"No. No you don't."
By Fic Fairy
"No. No you don't."
The statement, like my slap of his face moments before, stops us both in our tracks. Suddenly we're caught in a space / time continuum where we're the only people on earth. The only people that matter anyway. He looks at me, and I look at him, and then suddenly, I think before either of us know what we're doing he's crushing his lips down on mine, putting his arms around me and guiding me backwards.
This was not in my game plan.
And yet, I don't fight it. I let myself get swept away by the passion. The raw sexual energy. I want to push him away but something stops me. He wants to leave. If I let this continue, I can make him stay. I can control him, and his destiny.
I feel his hands under me, lifting me onto the table. My head bangs against the wall as he puts me down but I don't care. I'm going to have him and by the time I'm done he won't be going to Clapham Junction let alone Kazakhstan.
Sam Stratchan is going to learn that the world doesn't revolve around him.
It revolves around me.
We pause as suddenly we began, staring at each other as he slides his hand inside my scrub bottoms.
"Are we doing this?"
I spread my legs around him, then bring them back together trapping him in my grasp.
"I don't know Mr Strachan. Do you have the balls?"
There's a note of arrogance, of challenge in my voice and it seems to bring out both the best and worst of him as he thrusts two fingers inside me with such a force that I find myself walking the fine line between pleasure and pain.
"You better believe it bitch."
His words chill me. Again, its not in my game plan. No one talks to me like that. They can think it but they sure as hell don't say it – especially not when I'm giving myself to them in the way I'm giving myself to him. He must sense my distress, because he looks at me, slightly bemused,
"What's up? Not up for the rough stuff? I'd have thought a bit of S & M was your thing." He leers at me, his hands below not letting up for a second, "Don't you fancy it Mrs B… whips, chains?"
I'm not feeling reassured in the slightly but I'll be blown if I'm going to let him know it – I'm not prepared to give him the satisfaction. Instead I smile, the cocky smile I reserve for idiot registrars who are getting right up my nose,
"I don't see any whips. Or chains. I just see a pathetic little boy who is way out of his depth."
He responds with a slap to my face that easily outdoes my earlier one to his. I know then that I need to stop this as its already gone far and away past my original remit.
I'm not holding the reins anymore.
I twist my lower body from the waist, desperate to exorcise his fingers from my body.
"I don't want this."
In response to the fight I'm putting up, he only pushes his fingers deeper as he brings his other hand up to grip the hair at the back of my head,
"Yeah, well I have news for you." He spits the words in my face, "The world doesn't always revolve around what YOU want. And this time its all – about – " he brings his mouth back down on mine again, forcing his tongue so far down my throat that I find myself retching, "- me."
He pulls his fingers from me, but any relief I feel fades away again as he grasps my thighs and slides me towards him, causing my head to bounce off the wall again as he does so. My legs, my buttocks, are hanging off of the table now and its wouldn't take Einstein to work out that he has me precisely where he wants me.
"No. Not you don't."
He starts laughing then.
"You don't want me to resign. You don't want me to fuck you. You really are a killjoy aren't you Mrs Beauchamp."
The ways he uses my husband's name only serves to make me wish that Michael would appear and save me. Estranged we may be but I know that if he walked in now Sam would be ripped limb from limb. Michael loves me. Michael wouldn't let him hurt me.
But there is no Michael. There's in no handsome prince, just a savage beast dragging my scrub bottoms down my legs until I'm lying there, flailing on the table with only the briefest of thongs standing between him and what he wants.
We stare at each other, me waiting for the inevitable, he… who knows? Probably trying to think of the best way to make me suffer, and eventually he finds it. He kisses me – the single most intimate and loving action two people can share and he destroys it by slamming my head into the table as he does it.
Eventually, in between the kissing, and head slamming I feel my thong being slid down to join my scrubs. I try to scream but to no avail as a hand is clamped over my mouth, and even when I manage to drag it away I only manage mere words before its replaced,
"Use a condom. Please."
It might sound like a pathetic request. You might think I'd be better off begging to be left alone, but somehow, sex now seems like a foregone conclusion. All I can really do is protect myself from the consequences.
Some hope.
He shakes his head, "No."
The anger, the hatred in his eyes as he answers me says it all. This is a game that is going to be played entirely by his rules – I'm not going to get any kind of say in it.
He pulls his own scrubs down, only slightly, but enough. I feel his hand on my abdomen, holding me in place, preventing me from moving. I look up, force myself to stare into his eyes,
"No. No you don't. Please…" It's my last chance of making him change him mind.
He doesn't.
I feel him push inside me. I'm no virgin but my body knows when an intruder isn't wanted and I feel myself tear inside.
He doesn't care. He wants the pain inflicted on me.
He leans over, thrusts into me again and then brings his lips to my ear and whispers the words I know I deserve.
"Yes. Yes, I do."