Bears of Burden: HUTCH

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Bears of Burden: HUTCH Page 92

by Candace Ayers

Lying on my makeshift bed, I actually feel good. I did the right thing. For the first time, I’m the good guy.

  I shuck off my pants and boxer briefs and grab my hard cock, quickly stroking myself. Being a good guy is great, but I’m left with a massive case of blue balls, and as clumsy as it was, that strip-tease of Claire’s is going to be at the top of my spank bank for a long time.

  Chapter 5 CLAIRE

  I think I’ve died and gone straight to hell. My head is pounding, and my stomach is sour. Whimpering, I roll over and crack open one eye. I’m grateful to see the shades pulled down, and even more grateful to see some aspirin and water on the bedside table.

  I down the pills and tear off a few small bites of stale bread from a basket of rolls on the nightstand, waiting for all of my senses to arrive. I’m clearly in a hotel room, the nicest hotel room I’ve ever been in. The bedroom alone is as big as the house I’d grown up in. Everything is decorated in white lace.

  Slowly, memories return. The bar with Aaron… the fight with Jett… the diner… the insane proposal… that ridiculous marriage with a half-in-the-bag minister…

  I look down. I’m not in my wedding dress. In fact, I’m not wearing much at all. An icy chill runs through me and paralyzes me momentarily before red hot anger seethes through my veins like a lava flow.

  I am dressed in nothing more than the practically nonexistent underwear that the pushy saleswoman forced me to buy for my “special night.” A special night that I can’t remember, but that had apparently been pretty eventful for one of us.

  I am livid. I’ve been taken advantage of before by Aaron, for whom nothing is too low. But, now I have to watch my back around the guy who promised to help me. Once again, I’m nothing more than a slab of meat. The bastard. I will fucking kill him.

  I hear the water running in the shower and throw off my blankets, storming into the bathroom. I hardly notice the steam billowing out at me, and rip open the smoked glass door to see Jett, soaping himself up and looking stunned. “Jesus fucking Christ, Claire!” he bellows, not making any attempt to cover himself, “Give a guy some warning.”

  “Warning?” I scream. I climb into the shower and pound on his chest and shoulders with my fists. “Did you give me any warning before you fucking raped me last night?”

  “What are you talking about, you lunatic? I didn’t do anything.”

  “Then explain to me how I woke up in nothing but my underwear, you fucking creep. I don’t remember anything past when we arrived in the room. What did you do, wait until I passed out? I will kill you!”

  He grabs my wrists and although I writhe and try to free myself, he is too strong and immobilizes me easily. My punches hadn’t seemed to affect him much either. I’ve never had the best upper body strength.

  “Will you calm down? I didn’t do anything to you, I swear. I slept in the other room.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “It’s true.” He turns the water off and storms out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. I follow him through the bedroom and into a small living room area. “Look!” He points to a couch piled high with decorative pillows and a lacy blanket. “See? I slept here all night! I wasn’t even in the bed with you.”

  “Then why am I in my underwear?”

  He sighs. “Because you took your dress off. You were super drunk and you started talking about how you wanted to ‘be nice’ to me and ‘consummate the marriage,’ and you started doing this strip tease.” The corner of his mouth turns up ever so slightly.

  The blank spots in my memory start to fill. I put a hand to my mouth, remembering bits and pieces. I was singing some stupid tune, trying to get his pants off, and he forced me into bed with water and bread.

  “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh my God.” I look up at him, mortified. “I - Jett, I am so, so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he grunts, wrapping his towel more firmly around himself. “Just next time, could you wait until after I’m done showering to try to kick my ass,” he teases.

  I put my head in my hands. “I am a mess,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, sort of.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I’m going to go finish my shower. You should get dressed. My agent called and said we have to leave in about an hour to go back to my place.”

  “Of course.” I watch him walk away as I wilt in humiliation.

  *

  The plane ride is completely silent. I stare out the window, doing my best not to make eye contact with my new husband. What had I been thinking? Just because I woke up in my underwear, I assumed he took advantage of me? Sure, Jett was a jerk in college - and he kind of still seemed like one - but did I really have to immediately go there?

  Besides, Jett had been with tons of beautiful women. It was stupid to think he’d even consider doing anything with me. Even though Take Back the Night had taught me that rape was about control more than anything, Jett would probably be disgusted by the very thought of touching me. He laughed when I was afraid he was going to want me to have sex with him. Just like he had in college, he’d just laughed.

  Why would I think a guy like him would ever even think about touching a girl like me?

  *

  I thought the hotel room we’d stayed in was big, but Jett’s home is twenty times that size. The wrought iron gates part for us, and Jett drives us up the long driveway to his garage. I know my mouth is hanging open the whole time, I’m completely absorbed in the view of the beautiful trees scattered throughout the yard and the massive, pale blue mansion with white trim. Two men are standing next to the garage door. At first, I think they might be butlers or some sort of hired help, but then Jett whispers, “Oh, fuck me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He points to the two men. Both are tall and fairly well-built like Jett, one has shaggy black hair and tattoos, while the other is dressed to the nines in an expensive looking business suit.

  “My brothers,” he sighs. “I’m so sorry.”

  The moment we open the doors, the two walk toward us. “What the hell?” the one in the suit says, looking outraged. “You got married?”

  “And we had to find out from a fucking tabloid?” the other adds.

  Jett takes a deep breath and turns toward me. “Claire, this is my older brother, Grayson, and my younger brother, Cade. Apparently they’ve come to celebrate our honeymoon with us.”

  “Fuck off,” Grayson, the well-dressed brother, snapped. “We’ve put up with a lot of your shit over the years, but this is beyond the pale. I know you think you’re too good for us half the time -”

  “I never said that!”

  “- but you couldn’t even give us a phone call? Jesus, Jett, how selfish can you be?”

  Cade extends a hand towards me. “Nice to meet you,” he says sarcastically. “I’m assuming you’re some foreign model I’ve never heard of?”

  “Um.” I just look at his hand. “No, actually. I tutored Jett in college.”

  Both brothers look shocked. “Wait,” Cade says, “you’re that Claire?”

  “Oh my God!” I slap Jett’s shoulder. My voice quivers, “You told them about college?”

  “At the time, yeah. I didn’t think they’d remember it.” Jett turns to his brothers. “Guys, listen. It’s not a big deal. Claire was having a, um, difficult time, and we decided to help each other out. Larry thought I should get married, and Claire was available, so…”

  “So you paid her to marry you?” Grayson asks. “That’s just creepy, Jett.”

  “Not exactly,” Jett tries to explain, but Cade cuts him off.

  “You must be pretty fucking desperate to marry him,” he says, nodding at his brother. “What, did you have a gambling debt or something? Some bookie threatening to break your bones?”

  I’m surprised by the twinge of defensiveness I feel, not for myself, but for Jett. “Not a bookie,” I snap. “A boyfriend threatening to break bones. He succeeded once or twice, too. I don’t think he’s going to bothe
r me now that I’m living with a team of bodyguards, though.”

  All three brothers look down at the ground. My outburst, it seems, has made them uncomfortable. I made them uncomfortable. Stupid girl, getting kicked around by some asshole, I imagine them all thinking.

  “Now,” I say, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to go inside and find a bedroom.” I grab my meager bag of belongings, a couple of outfits I bought on the way out of Vegas. “It was not completely terrible meeting you.”

  I storm into the house, trying to block out the whispers that follow me through the door.

  *

  “Claire? Claire, where are you?”

  I gasp at Jett’s voice and wipe hastily at my eyes. I had tried to find the most secluded, out-of-the-way guest room in the house, but I knew Jett would find me eventually. Crap. I had hoped he wouldn’t find me sitting in my new bed and sobbing.

  The door opens slowly. “Claire?” Jett takes in my puffy, red eyes and trembling lip. “Shit, I’m sorry. My brothers were just being dicks. They were pissed at me and ended up taking it out on you, and that wasn’t cool.”

  “They’re fine. I get it. I… I’m not crying about them,” I stammer, wiping my nose and hugging my knees to my chest.

  Jett frowns and sits on the end of the bed. “Then what are you crying about?”

  “About - Jesus, about everything.” I throw my hands in the air. “This whole thing. I already feel like garbage all the time, and this is just making it worse. First I have a boyfriend who looks at me like I’m some dog shit he stepped in, I barely have any possessions, and nothing that I can actually purchase for myself, I have a husband who thinks I’m some ugly little mutant that’ll make women think he’s sensitive, and my new brothers-in-law, along with everyone else probably, think I’m just some, some, some fuck-whore.” I can’t stop my tears from flowing, but I cover my face with my hands. “I try not to let shit get to me, but there’s only so much a person can take. And now, the only person in the whole world that I have to talk to is you, the inventor of the Titless Wonder.”

  When I raise my head, Jett is staring. “Don’t look at me like that!” I sniff.

  “Like what? How am I looking at you?”

  “Like I’m pathetic. Like I’m totally useless and disgusting and stupid. I know what you think of me, but don’t rub it in my face.”

  “I don’t think you’re any of those things.”

  “Fuck off,” I scoff.

  “Seriously.” Jett scoots closer to me on the bed. “I don’t think you’re useless or stupid or pathetic, and I definitely don’t think you’re disgusting.”

  “Please. The way you looked at me after you saw Aaron beating on me said it all.”

  Jett sighs and rubs a hand over his face. He looks tired. “That wasn’t about you,” he says. “Or at least, I wasn’t thinking anything bad about you. You’re strong. You’re doing your best, making the best out of a bad situation. If you thought I was judging you, what you saw was just me… dealing with some shit.”

  “Like?”

  “Like…” Jett ruffles his hair in agitation. “When I was a kid, my dad constantly hit my mom. Every night, we had to listen to him beat the hell out of her. And she never did anything to end it, even though we were all scared and we begged her to leave him and get us all away from him. But she didn’t. And then, a few months before I left for college, he shot and killed her right in front of Cade.”

  My stomach plummets like I’m on a rollercoaster ride. If I’d felt bad before, I feel like complete garbage now. “Oh my God, Jett. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. My point is, I’m actually really proud of you, Claire. You’re doing what my mom refused to do. She always thought that she could change him or that this time would be the last, but you’re not like that. That’s part of why I wanted to help you. You’re really smart, and you’re really tough. I like that.”

  I sniffle. “Well, I’m sorry I won’t be much of a wife. I know you probably wanted to find somebody prettier.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I don’t think you’ve always dreamed of marrying the Titless Wonder.”

  “Shit.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize you still thought about that so much.”

  “Yeah, well, surprise.”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders. “I was a dick in college,” he says. “Honestly, I just did that whole thing because I had problems of my own. I had a lot of issues. My mom had just been killed and I was angry at the fucking world, trying to hurt others the way I was hurting. I’m ashamed of the way I treated you back then. The truth is, I thought you were kind of cute.”

  I frown. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Yeah. Even with the braces and everything, you were pretty adorable.” He smiles. “And now… Fuck, Claire, now, you’re gorgeous.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You are. That strip tease you gave me was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Your hips and ass are incredible, you’ve got amazing legs, beautiful hair, the prettiest eyes in the world… and your titties are not too small. They’re perfect.”

  “Shut up,” I say, blushing, but inwardly, I’m ecstatic. Maybe Jett is a good liar, but no one’s that good. If the expression on his face as he looks me in the eye isn’t proof enough, the bulge in his pants assures me that every word is true.

  “Seriously.” His eyes scan my body, “I had to jack off three times last night before I could even fall asleep.”

  “Jett!” My face must be crimson.

  “I’m just being honest.” He grins. “Would I have had to do that if you were so ugly, pathetic and disgusting?”

  I smile shyly. “I guess not.”

  “Exactly.” He slides closer to me on the bed. “And if you weren’t beautiful, I definitely wouldn’t be doing this.”

  I feel his warm breath fanning over my mouth seconds before his lips descend over mine in a passionate demand. A jolt of electricity shoots from my lips down to my most sensitive nerve endings. I gasp at the impact of it. When his tongue runs over my lips, they part in an open invitation, begging for more. He draws me tightly into his body as he wraps his muscled arms around me, pulling me even closer.

  When he breaks off the kiss, he doesn’t release me from his grasp. His strong arms remain clasped tightly around me and my head rests against his chest. I melt into him experiencing something that I haven’t in so long, I almost forgot it exists.

  For the first time in years, I feel safe.

  Chapter 6 CLAIRE

  It’s mid-Monday and Jett is driving me to Aaron’s apartment to help me pick up my stuff. Actually, Jett insisted on driving me and refused to take no for an answer. Aaron has, judging by the multiple, curse-filled texts to my cell phone, read about my marriage somewhere, so it won’t be too big of a shock for him to return home from work and find all of my belongings gone.

  I rifle through my purse for my keys, hoping Aaron hasn’t changed the locks as Jett pushes the door open.

  “Is it usually unlocked?”

  “No. Never.”

  “You stay here.” He creeps into the apartment. A minute later, he comes back out with a solemn expression. “I don’t think you should go in there.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re not getting your stuff back, Claire. Let’s just go home. We’ll get you new clothes and everything- whatever you need.”

  I should listen but I have to see for myself. I push past him into the apartment and drop my purse. “Oh my God.”

  The place looks like an absolute hellhole. A pile of my clothes sits on the living room floor covered in dirt, grease, and cigarette burns. All of my books have been torn to shreds. When I search through the closet for my keepsake box, I find all of my necklaces pulled apart, my earrings smashed, and the word “BITCH” scrawled across every page of my photo album, which is now empty. Snippets of pictures litter the ground like confetti.

  Jett gently wraps an
arm around my shoulder and guides me out to the car. I walk like a zombie where he leads.

  “Are you okay?”

  Okay? No, I’m not okay. But I’m also not surprised. Mostly, I just feel empty.

  “Just take me home.”

  Jett spends the next hour doting on me trying, no doubt, to improve my mood.

  “Can I make you some tea? Or I could set up a bubble bath. Or we could watch reruns of The Bachelorette and you can tell me which contestants are assholes and why.”

  “Jett,” I finally say softly, “I don’t need any of that, okay? I just need…” I swallow hard. What do I need? I’m not sure. I think of the few possessions I had that had meant anything to me. Pictures of my mom and myself that I’d hoped one day to show to my future children. The fact that someone could be so viciously vindictive to deliberately destroy them…

  “I need to feel cared about,” I mumble almost under my breath.

  “Okay.” He still seems unsure. “Tell me what to do.”

  He is seated next to me on the couch and I climb into his lap. “Make love to me,” I whisper in his ear, and I press my lips to his.

  His hands on me move tentatively at first but when I deepen the kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, I feel an animalistic energy roll off of him and he responds full force. He grabs my thighs, pulling them apart until I’m straddling him. When I pull back, I see the raw lust in his bright blue eyes.

  He slides my shirt over my head and his lips and teeth graze down my neck sending waves of tingling pleasure shooting through my core. His fingers deftly unhook my bra and it drops off my shoulders. Next, his hands snake their way under my skirt and he grips my ass. I use his shoulder to stifle a moan as his fingers hook the back of my thong and pull at it teasingly. I gasp, feeling the silky fabric rub against my clit.

  In a swift move, he rolls me over onto the couch, and quickly rids himself of his shirt, shorts, and boxers. He kneels in front of me, divesting me of my skirt and panties, allowing me to drink in the sight of his toned, muscles, tan skin and massive cock, already standing at attention. My pussy throbs. I need him in me. Now.

 

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