Hurt You

by Abby Mccarthy

  “Oh my god, just like that,” I yelled out as the next flick of his tongue made my pussy clench in anticipation.

  “I gotta fuck you. Like now, Babe.”

  He dropped my legs and lowered me back down to the floor. Then, turned me around so that I was facing the wall. I braced a hand against it to give me leverage. He pulled my pajama bottoms down along with my underwear in one quick swoop. I stepped out of them, leaving only my still pulled-down tank top.

  I could hear the sound of the oscillating fan, the clink of his belt buckle and then the rustle of his jeans. A half a second later, everything changed. He pushed inside of me. I couldn’t see him, but he fit perfectly with me. He was a pleasant stretch and hit just the right spot. His chest was pressed against my back and his fingers on one hand linked with mine that were braced against the wall.

  “More than I imagined,” Jules said.

  “Jules,” I cried out as he moved in and out of me with the same ferocity as our kiss; hard and fast. Jules’ free hand moved to my nipple and his thumb drew circles over it. I arched my back and pushed my ass out, meeting him as each sexy inch of him moved in and out of me.

  Our bodies collided as if he wanted to get as far into me as he could. His hand moved off of my breast and I was suddenly flush with the wall. He grabbed my other hand and pinned me there. I couldn't move. He was in complete control, and I loved every second.

  “Oh, Jules. Oh God, that right there,” I panted.

  “That’s right, Jenny. Let go for me. I want to feel that pussy clench.”

  “Harder, Jules. Fuck me harder,” and he did. Our bodies’ slick with sweat slapped against each other. My body reacted in ways I had never felt before. He was intoxicating, a drug I’d easily become addicted to.

  “So good, Jenny. So good,” Jules huffed between thrusts. Then, it happened; the best orgasm of my entire life.

  “Oh fuck!” I cried out. My body tightened and shuddered around him, giving me a spasm of pure bliss. I felt high from pleasure as he continued to move into me. In and out, he continued to thrust. My sensitive pussy could barely handle his continuing assault, and then it happened again; I started to feel my walls tighten all over. I didn't know he could move faster or increase his pressure, but he did.

  “Jenny. Fuck, you feel good. Oh, shit Jen…” his words were halted as I felt him finally releasing. His cock throbbed hard inside of me as he came and that last thrust was all I needed to push me over the edge a second time.

  “That was. That was…” I tried to find the words to describe how incredibly awesome that was as Jules slipped out of me.

  “Yeah, Babe. That was all of it.”

  “All of it?”

  “Everything. It was everything.”

  Even though Jules’ room was dark, I could make out the bed as I sauntered over. I’m okay with my nakedness. I always had been. So instead of covering up when I sat down on the edge of his bed, I ripped off my tank top, completely exposing myself.

  Jules followed and flicked on a bedside light. In the light, the first thing I noticed was his body. And oh my, all-things-amazing-and-beautiful, what a body it was. I always thought Jules’ face was beautiful with his eyes so icy they sometimes sent a chill through me; sometimes good; sometimes not. He had nice arms that were covered ink. Tattoos were not something I was usually attracted to. I mostly dated Italian guys from the neighborhood who were more pretty boy than bad boy. Everything about Jules worked for him. His ink moved across his chest, shoulder to shoulder. His stomach was ink-free exposing a perfect six pack. Jules wasn't a bulky muscular, more like an I work hard for a living and my body shows it kind of muscular. My eyes traveled down his body, eyeing his semi-hard dick. Even half-mast, it was spectacular. I was no virgin and had seen my share, but his was gorgeous. I didn't share this. I wasn't sure how he would feel about me referring to his as gorgeous, but it was. My eyes traveled downward to where the gnarliest scar traveled from his thigh to mid-calf. It was angry, red and raised like it was a permanent reminder of something horrible. It didn't distract from his beauty though. I thought it added to it, another way of showing what a badass he was.

  “See something you like?” Jules asked.

  I wasn't shy by any means, “Yeah, I really do,” I responded.

  “Good,” he said, smirking.

  The second thing I noticed was that his room was nothing like I expected. I’m not sure exactly what I thought men’s rooms here would look like, but this wasn't it. In some ways, I expected to see clutter, dirty clothes and posters of old eighties models showing off their poofed hair and fake tits pinned to the wall, but there was none of that.

  I couldn't help it, I had to investigate. I stood up and walked around his room. There were bookshelves filled with all kinds of books. I ran my hand over a few of the books’ bindings. I saw one bookshelf filled with fiction from well-known authors. There was a bookshelf stuffed with history books, books about statistics, and other accounting books. Lastly, my favorite bookshelf was a bookshelf that housed books about art. It was his own personal library. There wasn't a TV; words on paper were his entertainment.

  He had a leather recliner and ottoman cornered between shelves, with a small table next to them. On the table, there was a sketchbook and a charcoal pencil, plus one of those globby gray erasers. I wanted to open the sketchbook, but I didn't want to invade his privacy. I thought about asking him to let me see it, but then something else caught my eye.

  There were pictures on the wall. One had a few guys in military uniforms. Their arms were around each other’s shoulders. I looked closer and noticed one of the guys looked like a young version of Jules. Wait, it was Jules. His hair was buzzed and he had a cute boyish charm.

  Jules walked up behind me, “I like watching you in my space.”

  “How old were you there?” I questioned, as his arms circled around my waist.

  “Nineteen. It was right before I got the scar on my leg.”

  “Did you get discharged after that?” I asked.

  “No, shrapnel cut through my muscle though. I had the option, but I took a desk job and finished out my time.”

  I nodded and then continued to look at his pictures. There was a framed sketch of a woman. It was life-like; her eyes held a sadness. I stared at it for a few minutes.

  “That’s my mom. I haven’t seen her since I left for the Marines.”

  “Did you draw that?” I asked.

  A sheepish look crossed over Jules’ face and it was cute seeing a vulnerable side to him. “It’s amazing,” I said, running my fingers down the glass frame. “Your whole room is. It’s nothing like I would expect.”

  “What, just because I ride a Harley and have a brotherhood, you didn't think I could read?” he asked kind of joking, kind of not.

  “No, it’s not that. I just can’t imagine you bring the kind of women that hang out at the clubhouse to this room. It feels personal.”

  “It is personal, and you’re right, I don't bring women here.”

  I liked that. I shouldn’t. This was a one-night thing. He was free to do anything with whomever he wanted. I just liked the thought of him wanting to share his 'personal' with me.

  Jules turned me so that I was facing him, but still held me close. His fingertips brushed over my barely visible scar.

  “It’s almost gone,” he said in a hushed voice. “You can hardly see it unless you’re looking for it.”

  I met his eyes and my face flashed a treacherous look of pain that I didn't want him to see.

  “You don't know how bad I want to hurt whoever put it there,” he said, brushing his lips over my scar. He looked up from his kiss and his thumb brushed against my cheek. “And that look you just flashed makes me want that hurt to go on for hours.”

  “Jules,” I whispered his name, not wanting him to be angry right now about what happened to me.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you here like this?”

  I didn't think he really wanted an an
swer, but the way he was acting towards me was so different than I expected. I thought he was going to be quiet and his normal bad-ass self. I never expected to see Jules all soft and sweet. It made me behave in a way that I never did, I gave him sweet right back. So at his words, instead of answering, I curled my head into his neck and kissed him. I trailed gentle, soft kisses down his neck and his chest. My hands grazed along his body, feeling the hard ridges of his chest. Jules held on to me loosely, his hands stroked my sides. I continued my kisses downward until I reached his nipple. I sucked it in and flicked my tongue over it. Jules reacted by lifting me up and carrying me to the bed. This time he took his time with me. We didn’t rush. Our pent up passion was sated. This was the most tender, tantalizingly slow orgasm I’d ever had, and it was magnificent.

  ***

  “Hold still. I’m almost finished,” Jules said.

  “Jules, I gotta pee,” I giggled.

  “Then, stop moving.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said biting my lip to keep the giggles in.

  “That doesn’t work either, Jenny. Close your mouth.”

  I did as I was told and held still. I was on my stomach, my hair swept off to the side over a pillow, naked with a sheet covering my curvy bottom. Jules pulled his chair close to the bed and sat across from me. His sketch pad was open, a pencil in hand.

  “Just another second,” he said making a few sideways strokes on the paper. “There. You can get up now,” he said, closing his pad.

  I sat up, my breasts were exposed, but my hair fell down over them. I tossed a pillow at Jules. “Are you kidding me? You’re not going to show me?” I asked with accreditation.

  He laughed at me. “Go. I’ll show you when you come back.”

  I grabbed a discarded t-shirt of Jules’, threw it over my head and walked into the bathroom. I came back into the room and Jules was laying down on his bed. His sketchpad was nearby. “Come here,” he said, pulling his sheet away from his body and motioning for me to lay with him.

  “Well, are you going to let me see?” I questioned, as his fingers drew lazy circles on my stomach.

  He flipped open his sketchpad, and there I was. Every curve of my body, every wave of my hair was there, but that wasn’t really what made me gasp. No, what made me gasp was the way he captured my eyes. I had never seen this woman staring back at me from the page. Her eyes were filled with so much sparkle, happiness, and life. Could that be how he sees me? Oh my goodness! Holy shit balls! Being with Jules made me happier than any man has ever made me. I stared at it for a while, coming to this realization.

  I looked away from the paper and met Jules’ eyes. He was searching mine, trying to read my thoughts. He looked worried like he was nervous about what I would think. Jules moved a piece of hair behind my ear and then said, “I know. It doesn't do you justice.”

  “Are you kidding me? I was thinking that I don't live up to the woman in the picture. Is that how you see me, Jules?”

  In a flash, he closed the sketchpad and tossed it on the chair. He moved on top of me, holding himself up like he was going to do a pushup, his hands on each side of my head, “If you could only see how I see you.”

  I gulped at his words. There is so much more to Jules than meets the eye. With him on top of me, staring down at me, whispering words to me that made me feel vulnerable and beautiful, I felt guilty. This happiness wasn't mine to have. I took advantage of the night, and now the sun was starting to rise. A ray of light peeked through a high glass block window telling me my time was up.

  “Jules,” I began, then drew in a breath and continued, “Tonight has been amazing but…”

  “Don’t you dare lay beneath me in my t-shirt and nothing else and try to give me some it’s not you, it’s me crap. You feel this right here.” He moved to his knees so that he was straddling my thighs then reached up between my legs and pressed his thumb right into my pussy, “That’s me inside of you. You feel all that wetness? That’s my cum and you coating my finger. You like me there, don't you?” His thumb moved over my clit and two fingers filled me up. I gasped. This was not going how I envisioned. I needed to get away and tell him this was a one-time thing. “You need me here, don’t you?”

  “Jules!” I gasped again as he pumped his fingers in and out of me.

  “Answer me, Jenny!”

  “Yes! Dammit!” I called out.

  “Yes to what?” He increased his pace and moved his thumb so fast over my clit, I couldn't believe he was working me again so quickly.

  “Yes to all of it. I feel you and I want you there.”

  He withdrew his fingers and didn’t give me my building orgasm that he clearly knew he could draw from me. He seemed agitated, and could I really blame him? The clench between my legs aching for more said yes, I could.

  “What were you about to go on about then?” he asked.

  “Jules, we’re not going to work.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “I have to go, the sun is starting to come up. I need to get back to Maura’s room.”

  “What the hell nonsense are you on about, Cinderella?”

  I wanted nothing more than to stay in Jules’ bed all day, fall asleep with the man and wake up, preferably with him inside of me, but I knew the consequences.

  “Jules, my brothers would not approve of me being here in your bed. They barely approve of me being friends with Maura. They think you guys are dangerous and we already lost Gus. I can’t do that to them. I like you. This was fun but…”

  “Fun? Shit, Jenny! What is it you think we did here tonight? Jesus! You’re not ready. I thought me waiting and you coming to me the way you did, that you'd be ready, but I can clearly see I made a lapse in judgment. Fuck if I didn’t get a taste and now I know that I don't give a shit if you’re ready or not ‘cause I need you in my bed.”

  “Ready for what, Jules?”

  “Oh, you haven’t worked that out yet either, huh? Let me spell it out real clear for you then. You and me we’re inevitable. I staked a claim to my brothers the first time I put you on the back of my bike. Why do you think none of the guys hit on you around here? You need more time to work it out with your family, I’ll give that to you. You need to know I want you here and have since I had your legs wrapped around me and saw how free you were on the back of my bike. It’s where you belong.”

  I looked around his room. I wanted to stay here. He wasn't wrong, but I needed to leave. My bottoms were still by the wall. I needed to get dressed and get out of here. Jules was still straddling me. I think he could see that I was about to hightail it, so what did he do? He said, “Not yet, I’m going to give you what I started.” Then, he moved so he wasn’t straddling my lap. He kneeled between my legs, put his hands under my ass and lifted my pussy right to his mouth. I should’ve run. I should’ve told him no. I shouldn’t have given in and come to this room because Jules lifting me up, feasting on me and claiming me as his made me want it to be. I wanted it so bad.

  His tongue worked my clit, circling it and flicking my nub. He was an artist with everything he did, his tongue, the paintbrush making perfect strokes. I bucked my hips to his mouth needing my release. He threw my legs over his shoulders and freed up his hands, then pushed his fingers back into me. It didn't take long. All I needed was a few more touches for my body to remember exactly where he left it. I threw my head back and did what I’m sure he meant for me to do, I screamed his name.

  Jules got up and went to the bathroom right after he smirked at me, knowing he had me. I knew I needed to get out of there, so I threw off his shirt and then as fast as I could I put my tank top on and ran to the door where my pants lay on the floor. I didn't have time to bother with my panties. I needed to get out of there, and quick. I left his room and tiptoed back to Maura’s room, glad that she was still asleep. Then I pulled out my overnight bag and changed again. I wrote Maura a quick note telling her that I would call her later. She was used to me leaving early.

  I made my way down the
hall and into the main clubhouse area. The clubhouse looked trashed. Balloons were popped, and beer bottles riddled the tables, remnants from last night's shenanigans. Jules was sitting at a table having a cup of coffee. It reminded me of the first time I stayed here. I looked around and saw that we were alone.

  “Come here,” he called to me. I should’ve walked out the door, but he already had me and he knew it.

  “You’re not a coward, Cinderella. Don't run off on me like that again.”

  I let out a sigh, wishing it wasn't this way, “I gotta go, Jules.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “Jules, I can’t let anyone find out about last night.”

  “Kiss me,” he said again.

  “I’m serious, no one can know.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “Fine,” I said with steely reserve.

  “Fine,” he mimicked back.

  I walked directly in front where he was sitting and lowered my mouth to his. In typical Jules fashion, he gave it his all. His lips met mine, soft at first. Then, his tongue ran over the edge of my lip, parting it open. Our mouths smashed together as he swirled his tongue with mine. He grabbed my hair at the back of my head and held me in place. His kisses weren’t just sparks. They were fire. Their heat so strong that when he finally pulled away, my lips were practically singed, burning for more and swollen from his assault.

  “I’ll keep us on the down low for now Jenny, but you come to me with those lips or I’ll come to you.”

  And so it began.

  Chapter 6

  I drove away from the clubhouse in much the same frantic way I came here. I was tired; my drunk from the night before wore off hours ago. I needed to think. I drove to the same spot that Jules had taken me to. The overlook was empty as it usually was.

  What was I going to do? Another man staked claim to me. Granted I liked this stake and Jules wasn't wrong. Part of me did feel like I belonged on the back of his bike. I knew my future. One man had already decided it.