Blackthorn Elite: The Entire Series

by Beck, J. L.

  Boris swings, but this time I sense it and dodge it, moving my head, and making him miss by an inch. Rolling, I move away from under him just enough to barrel a right hook on the corner of his jaw. His fucking face is apparently made of steel, but at least I caught him off guard. He stumbles back, and I use that small window of opportunity to give him all I’ve got.

  My knuckles hurt, but I push it away and keep hitting him. Punch after punch, I strike him over and over again. Head, chest, gut, back, head. Anywhere I can hit him, refusing to let him get even one shot on me.

  All it takes is one last punch to the side of the head, and he slumps over, his body falling face-first into the ground. Shocked, I stare down at him while Franco counts to ten, giving the fucking beast a chance to get up and fight again.

  Thankfully, he stays down, completely unmoving. Sweat drips down my aching body, and all I want to do right now is get the fuck out of this ring, grab Kennedy, and leave.

  As soon as I’m announced as the winner, I climb out of the pit and head straight for her. The crowd erupts around me, threatening to swallow me whole, but I push through the masses to get to her. People rush past her to get to me, almost shoving her to the ground to congratulate me. Anger ignites deep in my gut, and when I reach her, I wrap a hand around her wrist and tug her to my chest.

  The way she’s looking at me, like a helpless little bug, it makes me want to save her and squish her at the same time. There is way too fucking much going on around us. I can’t think straight.

  Heading for the doors, I wrap an arm around Kennedy and drag her along beside me. Once outside, I can think, breathe, my mind becomes less foggy, and I drop my arm from Kennedy and instead take her wrist into my hand.

  Her small legs can barely keep up with me as I practically run across the parking lot toward my car, wondering how and why she came.

  “How the hell did you get here? Did you drive?” I ask. I’ve never seen her drive anywhere, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a car. The other option is that she came with someone, and if that’s the case, it better not have been a guy. Because if she came here with some dude, I’ll kill him.

  “I walked,” she announces. She walked? That’s, that’s like five miles.

  “You walked here? All the way from campus?”

  “Yes, took me a while, but I did.” She sounds almost proud.

  “Why? Why the fuck did you come here?” Better yet, how the fuck did she know where the pits were and that I was going to be here. Talon. Talon was spreading the word about the fight. She must’ve overheard someone talking about it. That still doesn’t really explain why she was here though.

  When she doesn’t answer, I speak a little slower, “Why-did-you-come-here?” I’m tempted to shake the answer out of her. I’m tired of her making stupid choices and putting herself in danger, a danger that she acts as if she doesn’t see.

  “I–I… well. I overheard someone talking in class, and they said you were in danger. So… I came here to warn you.”

  The words trickle slowly into my brain, almost like I’m having a hard time understanding them. “You’re fucking joking, right? What do you think this is?” I motion between us.

  “Nothing. I just… nothing.” Her face falls, and her eyes drop to the ground. “I shouldn’t have come here. This was a mistake.”

  “Damn right, you shouldn’t have, but now you’re here, and you’re coming with me,” I tell her, and unlock the SUV with my keypad on the door.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she replies, her voice stronger now, “and I’m definitely not getting into a car with you.”

  Of course, she isn’t. I roll my eyes and open the passenger side door with my other hand. “Get the fuck in, or I’ll put you in. I don’t care if you want to ride in a car with me. Your fears are not my fucking problem.”

  My patience is thin as fuck, and if she doesn’t decide in five seconds, I’m going to choose for her.

  “Please, Jackson…” she pleads, but like I said before, my patience is good as gone.

  Picking her up, I place her ass in the seat and strap her in with the buckle. She struggles for half a second before I pull back and slam the door.

  Walking around the car, I climb into the driver’s seat and grab the key from the center console. I start the vehicle, and the engine roars to life. Strangling the steering wheel, I throw the bitch into reverse and pull out of the parking spot. Tires spin and gravel flies as I shift to drive and rip out of the parking lot.

  Glancing over at her, I see her fear-stricken face. Her hands are in her lap, where she is nervously playing with the zipper on her jacket. I wish she would calm the hell down. She has nothing to be scared of, at least not while I’m driving.

  I’m not even sure why I give a fuck about her? She’s nothing but a means to an end, really. Revenge and nothing else. Yet, I saved her life the other day and had this intense need to protect her tonight. I don’t understand why I’m feeling this way, and it’s annoying as fuck. I want to hate Kennedy. Need to hate her. Wanting or feeling anything else is a betrayal to my sister.

  Halfway to my apartment, Kennedy speaks.

  “Where are we going?”

  “My place,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “What happens when we get there?” she asks, her voice meek.

  “What do you think happens?” I shoot back.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  She doesn’t know. Ha. What a fucking liar.

  I don’t reply, and instead, wait to say anything till we pull into the parking lot of my complex. Finding a spot, I put the car in park and kill the engine.

  “You’re coming inside with me,” I tell her. She’s coming inside willingly, or I’m forcing her. That’s the only choice she gets in the matter.

  “Why?” she asks as if she doesn’t already know.

  Leaning across the console, I inhale her sweet scent. She smells like flowers and fear, and fuck my cock is hard already.

  “You know why,” I say before forcing myself out of the vehicle.

  Kennedy takes a minute to get herself together but climbs out as well, walking around the car to meet me. It’s time for me to settle the score. It’s time for Kennedy to pay the piper.

  75

  Kennedy

  As I step into his apartment, all I can think of is what he said in the car.

  You know why.

  Yes, I know why he wants me to come in, but how am I going to get it into his head that it’s not happening? I’m not giving him a blow job. I can’t. I’ll do anything else, but not that.

  Walking closely behind me, Jackson closes the door once we’re both inside. His spacious living room suddenly seems smaller, like the walls are slowly moving toward us. The space is surprisingly clean for a college student.

  “I’m gonna take a shower, and when I come back, you’ll be on your knees ready to suck me off–”

  “No! I won’t. Either we have sex, or I’m walking home.” I shock myself saying the words out loud, but even more surprising is that I’m not scared. I’m not scared of sex with Jackson. I’d rather do that than anything else.

  I’ve never actually done it, but when I was younger, I thought about him being my first. I imagined him taking my virginity, even touching myself at the thought of it. So, I’m definitely not scared of sex, I’m more worried about him turning me down.

  When he doesn’t answer right away, I look back at him over my shoulder. I’m not really sure what I expected to find when I looked at him, but the shocked expression on his face is new. I guess he didn’t expect me to say that either.

  “You want me to fuck you?” he questions in disbelief.

  The tone of his voice changes. It’s lower, almost breathless, and it has some weird effect on me. I feel hot, like the temperature in the room has suddenly risen by ten degrees. There’s a tingling in my belly, and a heat creeps in that I’ve never felt before as I feel Jackson take a step closer. His scent surrounds me, and I feel a
calmness wash over me. I can breathe, feel… the weight on my chest isn’t so heavy right now.

  “I asked you a question, bug. Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck you?” he repeats, and all I can do is nod because the apple-sized knot in my throat won’t let a single word pass. Before I can change my mind and tell him no, he is on me. His muscled chest bumps into my back, and his fingers wrap around my upper arms as he shoves me forward and into the room.

  Oh, god, it’s really happening.

  “Fine, I’ll fuck you,” he growls venom in his words as he bends me over the back of the couch, pushing my face into a pillow. This isn’t how I imagined this would go the first time, but I’m not about to try and stop him. Keeping one hand between my shoulder blades to hold me in place, he uses his free hand to pull down my yoga pants and panties in one go.

  Cool air hits my exposed center, and I realize that I’m already wet. My cheeks heat and a shiver runs down my spine as I anticipate what’s going to happen next.

  Is he really going to do it? Is it going to hurt? Will it feel good? I wonder if I’m wet enough or if he plans to touch me?

  All these questions swirling in my mind come to a stop when I feel his fingers between my thighs. Gently he strokes my folds, moving his fingers to my clit. Rubbing tiny circles against it, pleasure, like I’ve never experienced before, erupts from the tiny bundle of nerves, and I have to bite my lip to muffle a moan.

  “You’re already wet for me, bug,” he says, his voice is so low and soft, it’s barely recognizable.

  He never talks to me softly anymore. Everything about him now is harsh, domineering. Leaning in, he presses his chest against my back, molding us together, letting me feel his erection on my naked bottom. He’s still wearing his shorts, but the thin material doesn’t do much to hide how hard he is.

  “How long have you been thinking about me fucking you?” he questions. His voice is barely above a whisper now, but the words are enough to make more moisture form under his touch. The truth is, I’ve thought about this for a long time. Wanted it since before everything fell apart. It was always going to be Jackson, always. I wanted him to be the one to take my virginity. Jackson doesn’t wait for my reply.

  Maybe he knows I’m past words, or maybe he doesn’t care to hear my response. I don’t know. What I do know is he pulls away, his fingers between my legs disappear, and a moment later, they are replaced with the smooth tip of his cock.

  “Are you on birth control?” he hisses through his teeth, sounding as if he’s barely restraining himself.

  “Yes.” I sigh as he rubs his swollen tip through my arousal.

  Guiding himself back to my entrance, I force a ragged breath into my lungs. The mushroom head of his cock feels huge, bigger than I expected. I get the feeling this is going to hurt, but I embrace the pain, welcome it. It’s better than the sadness, the heartache. Anticipation clings to my bones, but I don’t have to wait long.

  Skimming his hand down my back, he enters me with one hard thrust and tears through my virginity with ease. He buries himself deep inside of me until his heavy balls press against my ass. Pain rips through me, and I whimper into the pillow, my hands clawing at the cushion as if it could save me from him. I feel like I’m being ripped in two, my insides shredded. Tears prick at my eyes, and I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming.

  “Fuck, you feel good,” Jackson grunts behind me, his hands on my hips as he plows into me over and over again.

  His strokes are hard, powerful, and they hurt, fuck do they hurt, but beneath the pain is a sliver of pleasure. It sneaks in between each stroke like a thief in the night, and I want both, need both. Feeling impossibly full, I hold on for dear life as he fucks me with primal, raw rage. He’s trying to imprint his hate on me, and I feel it. Feel every fucking lash as if he’s beating me, the belt hitting my skin, and leaving a mark behind.

  Fingers dig painfully into my hips, and I know there will be bruises by the time we’re done. Heat blooms deep in my stomach, and slowly I loosen up, opening like a flower in full bloom. Jackson’s balls slap against my clit with each punishing stroke, and it’s enough friction to leave me panting, leave me craving more.

  “I hate you,” Jackson growls, releasing my hips, and moving a hand into my hair. He grabs a fistful of hair and tugs my head back, making my neck ache with the angle. My scalp burns, and for a moment, I am catapulted back to that night, the feeling too familiar.

  No, no… I don’t want to think about that. Not now, not ever. This is Jackson, not him… I wanted this, asked for it. I force the ugly memories away and concentrate on the here and now. On Jackson. I can smell him all around me, his citrus scent. I am here. Not there.

  He releases his hold on my hair, and I let my head fall back down, face-first into the couch cushion. He grabs the back of my neck tightly, so tight it hurts, but it also brings me intense pleasure as he fucks me with every ounce of hate he has.

  “I hate you so much. Why did you have to do it? Why? We could’ve been more than this… I could’ve…” His words cut off, but the animalistic tone of them pushes me closer to the edge, and the pleasure trickles in slowly, building at the base of my spine.

  “Please,” I beg unsure of what I’m actually asking him to do.

  “You want to come? Come on my cock? You think you deserve that?”

  “No. Yes. Please,” I gasp into the cushion. My lungs are burning, my entire body is a giant knot of pleasure building up to the breaking point. I can feel my juices dripping down my thighs. I want this. Need it so badly, I might die if I don’t get to come.

  “Lucky for you, I really want to feel your pussy strangle my cock.” I can practically see the sinister smile on his lips as he swivels his hips, hitting a spot deep inside of me. It’s like being struck by lightning, every hair on your body stands on end, and you wonder if your heart might stop beating for one second.

  “I…” Words try to escape me, but nothing comes out. My entire body tightens, my pussy clamps down on his cock so tightly I’m surprised he can still move inside of me.

  Light forms behind my now closed eyes, and my entire body shakes as an orgasm rips through me, stealing the breath from my lungs. The pleasure is so intense, all I can do is sag against the sofa while Jackson uses my body. Aftershocks of pleasure tingle down my spine.

  “Jesus, I’m coming,” Jackson warns as he explodes deep inside of me, his sticky warm release painting the inside of my womb. I wish I could see his face, see the pleasure overtake him, but we aren’t lovers, we aren’t even friends. We’re enemies, two broken souls floating through life, the results of a complete and utter tragedy. I knew what he was going to say to me a little bit ago, that he could’ve loved me, but that was the problem here, wasn’t it?

  He could’ve loved me. He just never did. Part of me knows that if he was there that night, Jillian would still be here. I wouldn’t be broken, and neither would he. If only he would’ve loved me then, maybe things would’ve been different.

  Something inside my chest fractures, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed with guilt and shame. The pleasure can only fog your brain for so long before reality comes crashing back through. This never should’ve happened. I know before he even pulls out that this was a mistake. Doing this with him has only complicated things further. I should be running away from him, not letting him fuck me on his couch. Tears start to form in my eyes, and bile rises up in my throat. I need to get out of here, leave, run away as far as I can, and never look back.

  76

  Jackson

  My body is flooded with endorphins, floating on a cloud as I pull out of her. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life. I’m literally weak in my knees as I take a step back and look at Kennedy, still bent over the couch. With her perfectly shaped ass jutting out and her warm, wet pussy nestled between those creamy thighs, she is a sight to be seen. I could get used to seeing her like this. When I notice my come leaking out of her, my cock roars back to life.

&nb
sp; Shit, I could fuck her again already. Looking down at my cock, I’m about to grab the iron rod when I notice something else. Mixed in with the glistening wetness of her arousal is… blood. It’s not much, almost as if she was…

  “Fucking Christ, were you a virgin?” My question gets her moving, but she doesn’t answer right away. She pushes herself up from the couch and pulls up her panties and yoga pants frantically. Only when she is dressed, does she turn around. Her hair is a tousled mess, her cheeks a soft pink, and her eyes are filled with tears. She’s looked thoroughly fucked and sedated. If it wasn’t for the fucking tears in her eyes, I would say she looks pretty happy about it too.

  “Does it matter?” Her question catches me off guard. Does it? Fuck, I don’t know. It shouldn’t, but I don’t know how to feel about this. I just didn’t expect her to be. She is nineteen for fuck’s sake. Who stays untouched for that long nowadays? What the hell was she waiting for? Marriage? Prince charming? Well, she got neither.

  “Yes, it mattered. If I had known, I would have turned you around, so I could see the pain in your face when I took this part from you.”

  For the first time since we started this game of hate and revenge, I see something that looks a little like anger in her hazel eyes.

  “Fuck you, Jackson,” she grits through her teeth.

  Gesturing to my cock, I snicker. “Looks like you were the one that got fucked, so get your shit and get the fuck out.” Tugging my shorts back up, I watch as she winces when she moves.

  God, I’m an asshole. This takes the cake on all the shitty things I’ve done to her so far, but I know worse will come. I’m not done making her life miserable, not by a long shot.

  She leaves my house, and though I don’t look at her face, I know there are tears in her eyes. I can hear her sniffling, trying to hold back the sobs that will wreck her the second she walks out the door. If I had a heart, I might’ve cared. I might’ve called an Uber for her, so she didn’t have to walk across campus. I might’ve done a lot of things, but she knew the score when she came here. She knew what would happen, and I can’t feel sorry for someone who walks into something expecting a different outcome. I didn’t promise her shit. Didn’t even ask for sex. I asked for a blow job. Well, maybe not asked, more like demanded. She offered sex up herself, so the only person she has to blame is herself.