INIQUITOUS

CHAPTER XL

WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT. Skip the chapter if it makes you uncomfortable.

CHAPTER XL

The ambiance in the silent classroom was fast-becoming asphyxiating and irritation spread across my skin like a rash and I itched to pick at it like a day-old scab. I was trying my hardest not to detonate and lose control of myself. I needed to be level-headed and composed; any other day aside from today and this would've been child's play. Frank was playing me like a fiddle, grim mouth pressed together, angry black eyebrows yanked over his menacing green gaze, fingers steepled in front of him, elbows on the desk, leaned forward, attention fixed firmly on me. He hadn't said a word for the last three minutes since the bell rang and the classroom emptied out and it unnerved me.

I whistled and I hummed and I sighed and still no word from him. I knew if I attempted to leave, he would shoot up and be an irksome bull in my way. I was oh-so-tempted to strike the bastard down and stained my hands with his blood but that would be reckless and senseless. I liked the game I played with him and I didn't foresee the ending just yet.

Today was just a bad day and I couldn't wait for its ending.

My temple throbbed, aching. I was lethargic and almost comatose and craved for a restful, warm sleep under soft quilt covers. I couldn't wait for the moment I could sling my backpack over my shoulder and escape from Frank's mistrusting and sceptical glower.

I set my chin on my hand and took a glance outside at the groups of distant and colourful students smoking and laughing. It made me envious.

Frank pushed his chair back and stood, a towering giant, and sat on the edge of my table, feet on Velvet's chair. His fingers skimmed across my neck, a gentle caress. I jerked back, pushed my shoulder up to my neck as if I was being tickled and twisted my expression into irritation. "Don't touch me." I was tensed.

"Why not?" his tone was falsely curious, a sardonic curve to his lips and he reached to touch me once more.

I grabbed his wrist. "I said, don't," I snipped irately and dropped his arm.

His face darkened, jaw clenched. "You didn't seem to mind my touch the other night–"

"That was then, this is now. I'm not hoping to repeat the other night's regrets. I don't want a relationship with you. I don't wish to have sex with you again and I don't want you to touch me."

"That's not how things are going to work, Cleo," he was an overbearing sonafagun. "Why don't we stay here till six? We can take a ride back to my apartment."

"No, thanks. I'd rather be gang banged by stallions."

"We don't have to have sex. I want to talk to you. We'll have a couple of drinks and I'll take you home before your curfew. Wouldn't want you to get grounded." His tone was cruel. He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me from my seat with unnecessary force. With the other hand, he brushed my hair behind my ear and smiled frostily. "What do you say, Cleo? We have a lot to discuss, wouldn't you agree?" He stared at me, lowered his voice, harsh and throaty. "You're very beautiful."

"You tell me this as if it's news," unbothered, I returned his stare, ill-tempered.

He laughed huskily and briefly and neared his face as if he was going to kiss me, his thumb sweep across my bottom lip and he wondered. "What changed your mind about me? A week or so ago you were flushed and wet at the sight of me."

"You meant nothing to me, don't delude yourself into thinking I ever had feelings for you or that you had any sense of control over me. I thought you'd be a challenge, I thought wrong. You're disappointing and you need to find another student to choke and fuck. I don't want nothing to do with you any longer."

"And if I refuse to let you go?" he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his bulging erection straining against his black trousers.

"I'd ask you why you're so obsessed with me,"

"Unzip your jeans."

"No,"

"Unzip your jeans or I'll tear them off."

"That's rape."

"Not quite," he smiled devilishly, and reached a hand to unbutton and unzip my jeans. I batted his hand away. Roughly, he shoved me backwards, my elbow hit the table as my back smacked against the hard surface of the table behind. My legs were over the side of the table in an uncomfortable and distressing position. He held me down with a tight and constricting hand around my throat, his body pressed against mine and other hand working to take off my jeans. Then, suddenly, he paused and kissed my mouth forcefully and aggressively. He leaned back and spoke. "Next time don't reject me, you won't like what I'll do to you, Cleo." He climbed off me and straightened out his suit.

I wiped my mouth. Sat up. My elbow was sore. My chest was tight and heated with an explosive rage. I kept a calm expression on my face and ran my fingers through my hair to straighten my unkempt hair. "Point made." I said quietly. My fingers drummed an inconsistent beat against my thigh. Agitated.

He switched his laptop off and placed it in his briefcase, packing files into folders and glancing at me as if this was a casual conversation. "We'll have a talk some other time. The mood has been spoiled. Goodnight, Cleo." His smile was blindingly bright when I left the classroom.

The ghost of Frank Rider followed after me like an obsessed stalker, pressed against me, unwanted and uncomfortable erection against my leg, hands on my throat. Suffocating.

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