A Christmas Wedding

Mama was tenacious. Before I knew what was happening, I’d been whisked into her favorite salon for a facial, manicure, pedicure, haircut and some other tortures too painful to mention. She found the dress, bought the shoes, even presented me with my very first pair of diamond earrings on the day of the dance.

The evening started out ordinarily enough. Steven picked me up in his father’s Cadillac, took me out to dinner then danced with me for hours once we arrived at prom. I tried to be enthusiastic, tried to enjoy the dancing and the festivities despite my awkward nervousness and aching feet. Steven was a gentleman—funny, attentive, interesting—and eventually I relaxed enough to enjoy the dance and the party he took me to afterward.

When we got back to the ranch sometime after three in the morning, I was happy, a little excited and too restless to sleep. So I took off my shoes and invited Steven, a city boy, to the stables to meet Jezebel. When he reached for my hand, I let him, because it had been a nice night and the gesture seemed harmless.

I introduced him to my horse, laughed as he fed Jezebel sugar cubes and cracked jokes at his own expense. When he wrapped an arm around me and lowered his head to mine, I didn’t protest because I was curious. Obsessed with Jesse from the first moment I had laid eyes on him, I had missed out on the many dating rituals of my peers. I was seventeen and had never been kissed, had never been held by an attractive boy, had never felt the rush of desire as hands smoothed over my body.

His lips met mine and the sensation was mildly pleasant—not earth-shattering, not arousing, not even very interesting. I pulled back with a smile, said something funny, turned to leave. And just then suddenly he changed. He grabbed me, pulled me to him, his hands moving hard and fast over my arms, my back, my breasts. I tried to pull away, tried to shove him back, but he was strong and aroused and I had nowhere to go.

DESI SCREAMED AS Steven dragged her to the ground, his hand slipping inside her dress to fondle her bare breast even as he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. She gagged and turned her head, her body bucking desperately beneath his.

“Stop it! Steven, I mean it. I want you to stop.”

“You don’t mean that.” His breathing was harsh as he forced her legs apart, settling himself between her thighs and rubbing himself against her. “You can’t.”

“I do. I do. Steven, no!” Her voice was panicked, her hands shaking as she shoved against his face. Annoyance gave way to anger and anger to fear as time stood still and she realized that she couldn’t move, that he had her pinned beneath him and that there was no one around to hear her screams.

She strained against him, her body inching along the ground as she fought to escape him. “Come on, Des, stop fighting.” Steven’s voice was low, but she could hear the strain in it as he struggled to keep her beneath him. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

Adrenaline surged through her and she put her hands on his forehead, pushing against him with every ounce of strength she possessed. His head snapped back, an almost comical look of surprise replacing the desire in his eyes. It only took a second for him to come to his senses, but that second was all Desi needed.

She rolled away from him and ran. Dirt and hay clung to her dress but she didn’t notice as she raced for the door. He caught her mere seconds from freedom, his hands grabbing the hem of her dress and tugging so hard that she stumbled and the material ripped.

She kicked out as she fell, her foot catching him squarely in the chest. She heard the air rush from his lungs as her heel connected and she scrambled, on all fours, desperate to escape this nightmare that was spiraling completely out of her control.

Spying a shovel near the door, Desiree extended her body, reached for it, pausing only a second as she waited to feel her hand close around the wooden handle. But that moment of hesitation was all it took for him to be on her, one hand shoving her face into the ground as his other lifted her dress and ripped frantically at her pink lace underwear.

“No! Please, no!” The words were torn from her against her will, shrill cries that sounded nothing like her voice. She tried to move, her fingers clawing at the ground as she twisted against him. But he was on top of her and he outweighed her by at least sixty pounds.

Tears streamed down her face as strangled sobs tore through her chest. She wanted to scream, to beg, to plead, but he was too heavy and she couldn’t breathe. She heard the rasp of his zipper, felt her dress tear again as the lack of air caught up to her and the world slowly turned gray around the edges.

“Steven, please.” The words were hardly more than a whisper, the fight all but gone from her as she began to float silently away. Her lungs shuddered, desperate for air as tears leaked slowly down her chin to mingle with the dirt beneath her cheek.

She felt so heavy, as if she weighed a thousand pounds. Much too heavy to move or struggle. Desiree’s eyes drifted slowly shut despite her determination to fight. She felt him push against her, heard a bellow of rage that didn’t register.

She heard a scream from far away, followed by a crash and then, suddenly, she was free. Her lungs were on fire as she sucked in gulp after gulp of oxygen.

She could hear Steve whimpering behind her, could hear the slap of flesh hitting flesh. She struggled to her hands and knees and tried to get to her feet, but her legs felt like jelly.

“Stay there, Desiree. Don’t move.” Jesse’s voice bit off the words, and relief pumped through her. They were only five words, but they were the five sweetest words she’d ever heard. Jesse was here. Everything would be okay. She would be okay.

Another crash, another groan. She turned in time to see a bruised and bloody Steven hit the wall face-first. “Are you okay?” It was Jesse’s voice again, harsher than she’d ever heard it. She stared at him, watched his eyes burn with a rage so black it nearly frightened her.

“I’m fine, Jesse.” Her voice was hoarse, raw. Jesse snarled at the sound, his eyes taking in her torn dress and mud-streaked face, her bruised flesh and shaking body.

With a growl of fury, he buried his fist in Steven’s stomach. The power of the blow drove Steven to his knees and he knelt on the ground, retching. His clothes were now as torn and dirty as hers, his nose bled profusely and his arms were wrapped defensively around his stomach when Jesse reached down and grabbed him by the back of his shirt.