by Marie James
Don’t let him break you.
Hunter’s words echo, bouncing around my skull, as I reason with myself, as I fight the insistent urge to go upstairs and rip Jake a new asshole for disgracing me, but most of all, for making me like it.
Head held high, albeit fuzzy from the alcohol, I walk out of the bathroom newly determined with another layer of durability surrounding my heart.
I arrow for the front door, but the sultry beat of Versace on the Floor by Bruno Mars catches my attention. It’s not the most party-friendly song that could be playing right now, but it is one that’s making me want to hang around and make mistakes.
Jealousy isn’t the way to fucking test me, Cici.
My lip curls in disgust at the memory. His claim has an air of infatuation, ownership, and wrong-doing on my part. Each one of those are his issues, not mine. I shake my hair out, loving for the first time tonight the smell of Jake’s come wafting around me, and head into the slow grinding crowd.
I begin dancing by myself, letting the sensual rhythm of the music dictate the fluidity of my body. Before long, strong hands grip my hips. As his body presses against mine, his other hand holds up a drink in my line of sight. His lips trail down the curve of my neck as I take the glass from him. The clear liquid, either vodka or Patron, makes me smile. Only a man paying attention to me would know that I only drink those two things. I add to my buzz by tossing the liquor back. I’d planned on making Jake jealous by staying, but it seems he’s not going to allow for another situation like earlier to happen again.
After setting the empty glass on a table situated along the wall, I let Jake’s hands roam my body. I let the dips and swivel of his hips control mine. Hard against my back, I don’t even bother fighting the anger or the disappointment I had in him before.
The music takes over. Other than the suggestive roll of Jake’s body enticing me, I can’t feel a damn thing. Alcohol swims in my veins, the lime from the Patron lingering on my tongue.
“We should head upstairs.”
Even in the fuzziness clouded by liquor, I know immediately that Jake isn’t the guy I’ve been dancing with this whole time.
Stop this, my brain begs. Find Hunter and get a ride home.
The only problem is, my brain also told me to come here tonight. My brain convinced me that even as much as I want to fight it, Jake is different from all the other guys. He’s nothing like the Prep School boys in high school. He’s not some frat guy asshole.
My brain is the last thing I should listen to, and that only leaves my body. My body is all for going upstairs with this asshole and fucking him until I forget all about Jake.
I turn in his grasp, arms thrown over his shoulders. “No video camera.”
“Sweetheart, the last thing I need to do is have proof of what I’m fixing to give to you.”
I should run away from him. I should bolt out the damn door and walk home. It would be safer than walking upstairs with him, but at the same time, I feel like I need someone to hurt me more than Jake did. Even as upset as I am, I don’t want him to keep the title as the man who has ever hurt me the most.
“Come on,” he urges with a tug on my hand.
In my stiletto boots, I stumble in his direction. Laughing, he spends a long moment just staring at me with murky green eyes before sweeping his arm under mine and escorting me to the stairs.
“Not gonna happen,” I warn as I nearly fall backward looking up at the incline.
“No backing out now.” My squeal turns into laughter as he sweeps me up and bounds up the stairs. “I can’t wait to see what all the hype is about.”
“You can’t fuck me,” I say as he shuffles toward his bed.
“The hell I can’t.” I’m tossed on the bed, and this guy wastes no time ripping his shirt over his head.
A flash of the Beatles on the fabric is familiar, but my foggy brain isn’t allowing me to conjure the connection.
“Jake will be even more upset with me.” Tears sting my eyes.
The wavering, the back and forth.
Fuck, I can’t even control my bipolar thoughts right now.
I don’t give a shit about Jake.
The last thing I want is him being mad at me.
He doesn’t own me.
I want to be his.
I clutch at my hair, head shaking violently.
“I’m not doing this,” I mutter and slide from the bed.
Harsh hands push me back. “I don’t give a fuck about Jake Kortright. He’s been a rash on my balls since the minute he showed up at my house.”
Kortright? Why is that name so familiar?
“That,” I hiss looking up at him through the curtain of my tangled hair. “Sounds like something you should seek medical attention for.”
His hand rears back, but he falls to the side groaning and holding his jaw before he can land his own punch.
“You piece of shit,” he seethes from his position on the floor. “She wants to fuck me.”
“I don’t,” I vow looking up at Jake’s furious face.
He won’t even look at me, all of his attention is on the man bleeding near my feet.
“You gonna fuck her with my cum still streaking her hair?”
Cringing at the sinister chuckle, I can’t even look at the guy I almost slept with.
“A hole is a hole, man.”
Jake lunges for the asshole, but miraculously Hunter appears and grabs him by the shoulders. “She’s trembling. Make sure she’s okay.”
As if remembering I’m in the room, Jake’s head whips in my direction. “Fuck,” he mutters before lifting me off the bed. “I got you, babe.”
“I want to go home,” I mutter before my world goes black.
Chapter 20
Jake
Randi turns into dead weight in my arms before I can even get her across the hall to my room. The only thing I manage is getting my door closed. I can’t even let her go at this point, so I sit with her cradled in my arms in the chair in the corner.
“Damn it,” I mumble.
If it weren’t for Joey texting me with the heads up that she was downstairs getting wasted, that piece of shit Carlos would’ve hurt her. Jesus, or did she go up there willingly? I don’t have a fucking clue, but I do know that she was telling him no when I came into his room. Drunk, or high, no matter how fucked up, you stop. Even if you’re unsure about consent, you fucking stop.
My anger grows, until the trembling in my body makes her stir in my arms. She’s going to be fucking miserable tomorrow, so she’ll need all the rest she can get for now.
“What the fuck was that shit?” Hunter says the second he pushes my bedroom door open. His hands are clenched by his sides, blood staining the knuckles.
“That was the frat president about to force himself on her.” I swear steam is shooting from my ears, I’m so pissed.
“She was all smiles and giggles on the way up, man.”
“The fuck are you getting at?” He holds his hands up in surrender at my acrimony. “She changed her fucking mind at some point. That’s all it fucking takes.”
“You won’t get an argument from me.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Two beers,” he answers. “What do you have in mind?”
I dig around in the front of her skirt looking for the key to her Rover on the off chance she hides it there like she did the condom the first night we hooked up.
“Jake, man. The fuck are you doing?”
I pull the key out and show it to him, ignoring the implication that I’d assault her.
“I want you to follow me to her house in my truck. I don’t know what kind of mood she’ll be in when she wakes up, and I’d prefer not to be stranded.”
He picks up my truck keys from the dresser, and being the thoughtful man he’s always been, he grabs the blanket off the end of my bed and does his best to wrap it around her. It’s an arduous task since I refuse to let go of her.
“Lead the way.”
He steps to the side so I can stand as he pulls out his phone and opens the Uber app. “I’m going to go ahead and order a driver to pick me up from her place. What’s the address?”
I give it to him as I adjust Randi in my arms. She’s so small, fragile almost in repose, a huge contradiction to the spitfire she is when she’s awake.
“It’s just too loud down there,” I explain even though I know I don’t have to. “I want her to feel safe when she wakes up.”
“I know, man.” He claps me on the shoulder when I walk by.
We catch more than a couple pairs of eyes as I carry her out of the house and down the front walk. I couldn’t care less what they think, and I ignore the chattering and insults they mumble. I’m just as involved in the videos, just as much a part of SCP as she is, yet as the woman, she’s the one who’s catching all the flack.
“Jake,” she murmurs as I get her into the front seat of her vehicle and strap the seatbelt around her.
“I’ve got you, baby.” I press a soft kiss to her forehead before making my way around the front and check that Hunter is in my truck waiting for me to pull out.
The drive takes forever. Saturday traffic in the metroplex is atrocious, but we finally make it. Pulling into her designated spot, Hunter parks my truck in the visitor lot and brings me my key.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate you doing this,” I tell him as I climb out from behind the steering wheel.
“Don’t mention it. I gotta go. My Uber is here.” He claps me on the back and walks toward the four-door Toyota idling several yards away.
Standing beside the vehicle, I just stare down at her sleeping form. Dark, thick eyelashes brush her cheeks. Her mascara, once perfect earlier this evening, now shadows her eyes. Lips pursed, she breathes even and soft.
Lifting her, I do my best not to wake her, more to reduce the risk of her asking me to leave than for her own comfort.
Using the only other key on her keyring, I open her front door, kicking it closed with my foot.
Havoc whimpers from inside his kennel when I carry her into her bedroom. With economical movements, I finish undressing her, my anger growing when I realize for the first time that her shirt is gone. If Carlos ripped it off of her, he'll have more to worry about than a couple of hits landed by my best friend.
Leaving her in her bra and panties, I pull the blanket up over her shoulders.
I’m near the door when she shifts, rolling from her back to curl around herself on her side. “Don’t go.”
The sleep-filled whisper is enough to make my heart pound harder, and I do my best to get it under control, reminding myself that she’s drunk and no one wants to be alone when they’re drunk, as I walk back toward her.
“I’m going to walk Havoc, then I’ll be back,” I assure her. Another brush of my lips on her forehead. “I promise.”
The over-grown puppy squirms and twists his back end as I grab the leash from the bedside table and walk toward him.
“Shhh,” I urge as I open the kennel door and he bounds out. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Barely catching him before he jumps on the bed to check on Randi, I manage to clip the leash on his collar, but I have to all but drag him out of the condo. He whimpers the entire way until the warmth of the late summer air hits his nose.
“Your momma is going to be fine,” I cajole, but he’s not listening to me any longer.
Nose to the ground, he sniffs and marks every pole, patch of grass, and small tree he encounters. Fifteen minutes I walk around the complex with him all but dragging me along. Thankful he hasn’t pooped because I didn’t think to grab something to pick it up with, I urge him back in the direction of Randi’s condo. Begrudgingly, he allows it.
“I did this all backward,” I confess as I pour kibble into the bowl in the small dining room. “I should’ve fed you, then took you out.”
Havoc devours the food, as I wonder if I’ve overfed him. He doesn’t seem to mind the overabundance as he licks the bowl clean before drinking what sounds like a gallon of water from the dispenser. Much to his dismay, I guide him back to the bedroom and enclose him in the kennel before going back to the dining room to clean up the water his lapping tongue left on the floor.
Heading back down the hall, I piss, and after convincing myself it’s not snooping, I open the medicine cabinet and shake two pain relievers from the bottle. After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I head back into the bedroom. With her back to the door now, I place the pills and water on the bedside table.
“She didn’t want you to leave,” I remind myself as I tug off my jeans. My fingers catch the band of my boxers, but I leave them on. Crawling in behind her, I relish the way she wiggles and molds her body to mine.
Sleep is what my body needs, but my mind won’t stop. I evaluate how I’ve treated her the last couple of times we’ve seen each other. Hateful words in the park, offering to pay her if she skipped her shift as a yoga instructor, and the way I treated her like a hole to fuck tonight. My stomach rolls as I recognize my behavior is exactly the same as those people who spit insults at her. The only difference is I’ve been inside of her. I’ve held her in my arms while we slept. I’m beyond possessive of her to the point of rage when I think of her with anyone else. Yet, I treat her exactly like everyone else. If my mother was alive, she’d slap my damn face for how I’ve been acting.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against the soft skin of her neck. “I’ll be better. I swear.”
Chapter 21
Randi
Refusing to open my eyes, I hold on to the bliss of being in Jake’s arms for a few minutes longer.
“Morning,” he says, no sign of sleep in his voice. “Take these.”
Squinting, I look up from the comfort of his warm chest to see two blue pills in his palm. The sweet smile playing on his lips is so fucking confusing, but the pounding in my head wins out. Taking the pain relievers, I toss them back and accept the bottle of water he hands me next.
“Come back here.” Arms open, he indicates the circle of his embrace.
Cocky Jake I can handle. Asshole, shitty Jake I can tolerate for the most part, but I have no fucking clue how to deal with sweet, early morning Jake.
Pushing away from him, I’m grateful to find myself at least partially clothed. “Where’s my skirt?”
Pointing to a pile of clothes on the floor, he frowns.
“What happened last night?”
Fuck, I don’t even want to think about last night.
“Which part?” I sneer as I climb off the bed and reach for my skirt. “When you treated me like a whore or the part where I really acted like one and went upstairs with that meathead?”
Lips in a flat line, he refuses to answer me, so I busy myself with pulling the small cardboard package from the pocket of my skirt.
“What’s that?” he asks as I pop the pill out and dry swallow it.
“Plan B,” I mutter reaching for the bottle of water.
Fear creeps into his eyes as I watch him and chug the water. “You said you were on birth control.”
“I am.”
“I didn’t come inside of you last night.”
“I know,” I say as I shiver in memory of the times he has in the past. “I’ll never forget what happened last night.”
At least he has the decency to look embarrassed when I glare at him.
“About that,” he begins, but I hold my hand up to silence him.
“The pill is just a precaution.” Actually, the pill is a show of power, the only thing I can think of because it’s been so long since he came inside of me the medication wouldn’t be very effectual if my birth control has failed.
“Did you fu—”
“You might want to stop while you’re ahead,” I warn before he can accuse me of sleeping with someone else before going up the stairs with that jock last night. “Could you imagine a pregnant porn star?”
He growls, and I beam inside at having the upper hand once again.
“Pregnant porn star?” he says with an ominous rumble in his chest as he slides off of the bed.
“I mean,” I say with a shrug. “I know there’s a market for it, but—”
“You’d fucking quit. The mother of my baby won’t be making fucking porn.”
I huff at his show of manliness. “How very open-minded of you.”
Keeping my eyes on him, I reason with myself it’s to maintain control of the situation, but in truth, I can’t stop staring at the way his muscles clench and bunch as he pulls on his jeans. I’m physically unable to remove my gaze from the bulge he’s hiding behind the denim. It’s the only thing I can manage, rather than focusing on the fact that he doesn’t tell me I’d get an abortion or get mad about the possibility of pregnancy no matter how slim.
“It’s not about open-mindedness.” His abs disappear behind the fabric of his t-shirt.
“Settle down, cave man. Just wrap it up next time.”
Silence fills the room as I pull a t-shirt and yoga pants from my dresser.
The heat of his body meets my back just before his breath ignites a wash of chill bumps on my skin. “One,” he pants against my neck. “I’m floored that after the way I treated you last night that you’d even consider letting me fuck you again. Two, there’s no way in hell I’ll give up the feeling of your amazing cunt around my cock bare. Better stock up on those pills, baby, because coming inside of you is the only place it’ll happen from now on.”
A moan slips from my lips as he presses against me, the hardness I couldn’t pull my eyes from making itself known at my back.
Jesus, body get control of yourself.
“I signed a contract,” I remind him as if it’s the only reason why I’d let him between my thighs again.
He catches me before I can fully get away from him. With hands on my hips, he backs me up until my back is pressed against the cool wood of my closet door.
“And that’s the only reason?” Nipping at my earlobe, my body begins to betray me. Again.
“Ummm.” Cognitive thought is barely a possibility right now. “I need to get a shower.”
“I’ll join you.”
Shaking my head, I try to push him away, but my fingers, addicted to the hardness of his chest, merely clench against the t-shirt covered muscles.