It’s stupid, I know, but I have to look at it. Every time it’s put up, before it’s pulled down again, sometimes just a few hours later, I have to look at it. I have to see what these hateful people say about me.
This time, the first images I see are manipulated photos of a threesome—me, Jack, and Kent. They’re obviously faked—it’s not like anyone would think they’re real—but they’re still horrible. Three naked bodies tangled together, made to look like it’s me being fucked by one man while another one’s cock is in my mouth.
For some reason, it’s so horrible that the phone slips from my hand.
I stand there in a daze while Jack picks up the phone, puts it in his pocket, and then pulls me against his body, wrapping an arm around me.
I burrow against him without thinking, feeling safer, comforted, as if he could really do something to stop this emotional violation from happening.
“I told you the damned phone is a danger to you,” he murmurs, leaning his head down to bury his face in my hair. “It breaks your heart every time.”
“It does not break my heart,” I argue, although the objection is mostly half-hearted.
He feels like life and safety and strength to me, and his arm is so tight it’s never going to let me go.
“I’m going to find out who’s doing this,” he says into my hair. Now he seems to be pressing kisses there. “I promise.”
“Please do.”
I pull away then and look up at his face. He’s gazing down on me with hunger, need, adoration.
I sway toward him slightly. Oh God, I want so much to kiss him, to love him, to never pull out of his arms.
But then the buzzer sounds from the lobby, signaling Kent’s arrival, and I pull away from Jack awkwardly and try to smooth down my hair.
Jack might act like he wants me, but he refuses to make a decision to act on it.
And I’ve spent way too long hoping for men to change. I spent most of last semester hoping for Carter to change, and look what happened with that.
***
So the date doesn’t end up being all that great.
It should have been good. I start by telling Kent about how he made an appearance on the Tumblr page, and he shrugs it off, saying he doesn’t care a thing about that.
So that’s nice. Then we go to the Macaroni Grill near campus to eat. A lot of college kids hang out there, so we’re definitely noticed, but again Kent makes it clear that he doesn’t care at all about any notoriety in being associated with me.
We talk about casual things. He makes a lot of jokes and I laugh at them. So that’s all good.
Jack’s presence lurking beside the table is definitely a distraction, but I manage to pretend it doesn’t bother me.
So then dinner is over and Kent suggests we head up to the lake, since it’s such a mild evening and the moon is full.
It’s not really that late, so it seems like a good plan to me. Yeah, Kent might have a make-out session in mind, but this is a date and I’m not going to flake out on it.
I have no plans to sleep with Kent, but a little kissing would be fine, would help me prove to myself that Jack isn’t the end-all, be-all of existence.
So we all take the short trip to the lake, and we get out to stroll beside it.
We talk some more, and then Kent reaches out to kiss me.
And, you know, it’s just not working for me because Jack is right there. Seriously, he’s right there.
Evidently, this is a problem for Kent too. He pulls out of the kiss and glances over his shoulder to where Jack is hovering. “Does he have to be here the whole time?”
It’s really dark, so I can’t actually see Jack from where he’s standing, but his voice comes out of the darkness. “If you’re out in the open, I have to be here. If you go to a secure location, I won’t have to be in the room.”
Kent shakes his head and looks frustrated. I know exactly what he’s thinking. If he suggests we head back to my place, then I’ll only be thinking one thing—he wants to screw me. And, on a first date, this might look a little pushy.
“Sorry,” I say, giving him a sheepish look. “Once this horrible thing is over, I won’t need a bodyguard anymore.”
I’m supposed to be saying this to make Kent feel better, but the words sound really bleak to me.
Once I don’t need a bodyguard anymore, then I won’t need Jack.
And that…I don’t even know what I think about that, except it’s painful.
“That’s fine.” Kent’s frustration disappears almost magically. “It’s not your fault. We can go somewhere else if you’d like. Otherwise, we can just call it a night.”
He did that pretty well, leaving it up to me about whether or not to invite him back to my place.
There’s no way I’m going to have sex with Kent tonight, so we agree the date is over.
So we make it back to my apartment building, and Kent walks me up to say goodnight.
Despite Jack’s hovering presence, Kent is brave enough to lean in for a goodnight kiss.
I’m determined to be normal, to move on, to not let Jack or horrible people get in the way of my living a decent life. So I respond to his kiss as best I can, lifting my hand to tangle my fingers through his hair and letting him press me back against the hallway wall.
I feel a weird blurred daze at the kiss, although my body doesn’t respond and I don’t get a thrill of excitement.
I let it go on for a while, to try to convince myself to want someone who is actually available to me.
Kent is evidently into the kiss enough to forget that Jack is in the hall, because his hands get a little gropey. Seriously, he’s palming both my ass and one of my breasts.
There’s a strange sound from down the hall, and it surprises me enough to break the kiss.
It’s just as well to end the kiss, because not only wasn’t I into it but it was starting to make me feel queasy.
Kent is still kind of all over me when I turn my head to look. Jack has turned around with his back toward us, but he’s planted one hand against the wall, and it looks like he’s pressing into it. Hard.
The tension in his broad shoulders and strong back are unmistakable, and I suddenly feel guilty. Stupidly guilty.
I’m not doing anything wrong, but I still feel like I’ve betrayed…something by doing it.
“All right,” Kent says, looking frustrated again. I can hardly blame the poor guy. I’m sure he’s never had a date like this before. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Maybe we can do this again.”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
There’s nothing definite about it, but I don’t want to hurt Kent’s feelings.
I just want to get him out of here so the date can finally end.
Jack doesn’t turn around as Kent walks away. He must have sent Bill a message because the other bodyguard comes up just as Kent is heading down.
Bill will sit outside my door tonight, like every other night.
I greet him, kind of half-heartedly, and I stare at Jack’s back, waiting for him to turn around or say something.
When he doesn’t, I finally poke him. Kind of hard, right between the shoulder blades.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
I assume he’s mad about the kiss, but he’s acting very weird. And it’s freaking me out a little.
“Nothing.” His voice is not right either. It’s low and soft and rough.
“Then why won’t you turn around or move or something?”
“If I move, I’ll do something I’ll regret.” It’s that same thick voice, and now it’s giving me different kinds of chills. Both chills of anxiety and chills of excitement—at the same fucking time.
That can’t be good. At all. We’ve already worked out that nothing can happen between us, so getting all excited would be a big mistake.
Best to get away, as fast as I can.
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
Then I wave to Bill, who’s looking at us quizzically
, and make a beeline back into my apartment.
I’m so jittery that I lean against the closed door, breathing deeply and trying to pull myself together.
It’s just not good for someone to feel so many things all at the same time. It throws them completely off balance.
Then there’s a knock on the door and, since I’m leaning against it, it startles me so much I squeal.
I barely move out of the way before the door flies open.
“You scared the crap out of me!” I almost scream, since Jack is suddenly there, in my apartment, when I thought I’d finally gotten away from him.
“You got a text,” he says. It’s really more of a growl, that thick voice even lower, rougher. He thrusts the phone at me.
I look down automatically. My hand is shaking as it holds the phone, and it takes a minute before I can focus enough to read.
It’s Kent, thanking me for going out with him and telling me he had a good time.
I just stare at the phone.
“Aren’t you going to answer him?” Jack asks. It’s more of a guttural demand. At some point, he must shut the front door to my apartment again, although I never see him do it.
“I…I don’t know.”
“If you had a good time, you better answer.”
“I’ll answer if I want to answer.”
“So go ahead and do it.”
It’s a ridiculous conversation. I’m well aware of this, and I’m sure he is too. But we’re both glaring at each other now, and that tension I’ve seen in him so many times has built up to the point where it’s about to be unleashed.
I know it’s about to be unleased, and I’m dying for it to happen. So much so that I can’t stop trembling.
“I’m not ready to answer it yet.”
“Well, why not? Didn’t you have a great time? Didn’t you get excited by the way he was pawing at you?”
I gasp in outrage. “I did not get excited! I mean, he was not pawing me!”
“Well, which is it?”
“Which is what?” I’m worked up to such an extent now that I can’t quite follow the thread of the conversation.
“Was he not pawing you? Or were you not excited about it?”
“Both,” I say, hoping that’s an appropriate response. He looks so big and feral and hard and sexy that I’m having trouble not launching myself at him and tearing off his clothes.
I never realized before that it’s even possible to want a man so much—physically, emotionally, viscerally, completely. Want him so much you can hardly restrain yourself.
“So, if you didn’t get excited, why did you let him kiss you like that? Why did you let him put his hands all over you?”
“Why does it matter to you whether I did or not?”
All his coiled tension might as well have been held back by the thinnest of threads, and for some reason this question snaps the thread.
Before I know what’s happening, Jack has me pressed up against the wall, just next to the front door of my apartment. His hard body is pressed into mine, and I suddenly realize that he’s hard all the way.
Hard. All the way.
I moan—I actually moan aloud—at the feel of his arousal pressing into my middle.
“Why the fuck do you think it matters?” he demands, staring down at my face like he might literally devour me. “Because I can’t stand for someone else to put his hands all over what belongs to me.”
Okay. Well, okay. There’s something you don’t hear every day.
Eight
The girly part of me is through the roof, but the rest of me has to object to being called someone else’s possession.
Although my heart isn’t really in the fight, I manage to argue, “I don’t belong to anyone. I’m not yours.”
“Yes, you are,” he murmurs hoarsely, still pressing the bulge of his cock into my belly. He reaches down to lift one of my thighs as he does, wrapping my leg around his hip. “You are mine. Your perfect little body, and your amazing mind, and your stubborn courage, and your tender heart are all mine.”
I’m not sure how he did it, but somehow he’s lifted me up, using the wall for leverage, so I’m supported by his arms and my legs around his waist, caught between his body and the wall.
My arms have twined around his neck, and I can’t think of a better place in the world to be. “Oh. That only works if you’re mine too.”
“Of course,” he rasps, leaning his face closer until I can see the texture of his stubble. “Of course, I’m yours. Don’t you know that already?”
Then he kisses me, and I’ve got to say, I don’t think any girl could possibly hold back, after hearing that.
The kiss is deep and raw and almost clumsy, and I squeeze my legs around him, held in place only by his incredible strength.
Then, as we kiss, he readjusts his hands so he’s holding me by my bottom, and he starts to walk through the living area and into my bedroom.
I’m kissing him like crazy, clawing at his shoulders, trying to suck his tongue into my mouth. So I’m barely aware of the fact that we’ve moved until he’s lowering me down onto the bed.
I grab at him to pull him down on top of me, and he doesn’t seem to have any problem with that.
He claims my mouth again and, at the same time, tries to work on my clothes. He’s tearing at my cute little dress in his urgency. I don’t think he actually rips the fabric, but he definitely tears off at least one button.
I’m trying to pull off his shirt at the same time, and the result isn’t entirely successful. I do manage to get it pulled up so I can slide my hands under and stroke the skin of his back.
He has better luck with my dress, and he wastes no time in lowering his face to my breasts. My bra is still on, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. His teases my nipples with his lips and tongue through the fabric until I’m writhing in excitement.
“Oh God, Jack,” I gasp, tugging at his hair and arching up into his mouth. “Please tell me we don’t have to go slow today.”
He groans, the vibrations running from my nipple all the way down to my pulsing pussy. “I don’t know if I could go slow, even if I wanted to.”
“Good.” I gasp again when his hand slips in between my legs and under my panties. “I don’t want to go slow. I want—” I break off the words when he finds my clit and rubs the pad of his thumb over it.
“What do you want, princess?” he asks, returning to work on my breast at the same time he teases my clit.
I’m torn between the sensations, squirming and unable to do anything but gasp and moan.
“Tell me what you want, princess,” he says, raising his head to look at my face. “Anything you want is yours.”
“I want…I want you to let go too.”
Something shudders in the air for a moment, a question that has never fully been asked between us. But then he releases a soft groan and adjusts his body so he can kiss me on the mouth again.
I return the kiss eagerly, and before I know it he’s turned my body over and positioned me on my hands and knees.
He’s fumbling with his pants and then with a condom, and I’m waiting so impatiently I’m having trouble not screaming.
The cool air of the room teases my heated skin and, in particular, the exposed flesh of my wet arousal.
It doesn’t take long for him to position himself behind me. He leans over to kiss me as I look over my shoulder at him and then he aligns himself at my entrance.
He slides in easily, the penetration slick and tight and intensely pleasurable.
“Yeah,” I rasp. “Oh, yeah.”
“Oh, fuck, you feel so good.” His voice is that low, hoarse one I love—sounding like he’s barely holding onto to control.
“Oh yeah.” I wiggle my bottom, trying to intensify the sensations, but he takes hold of it with two strong hands.
“You do like it, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah.” So, okay, that’s the third time I’ve said that, but it’s incredibly hard t
o be verbally creative when your entire body feels so incredibly good.
“Your little pussy is the best thing I’ve ever felt. Oh, fuck, you’re so tight and hot and perfect.” So he’s a little more creative than I am. But not much.
“Oh yeah.” I try to squirm some more but he holds me still. I whimper, since I’m dying to feel even more. “Oh God, Jack, please fuck me.”
“I will. I will. I’m going to fuck you exactly like you want.”
I’ve been looking back at him, because who wouldn’t want to see this big, hot man buried in her from behind, but now I drop my head and fist my fingers in the bedding. “Oh, please, oh, please. Fuck me now.”
He groans and starts to move, and it’s seriously the best thing ever. He’s big and tight inside me, and the friction is intense. My body is so highly sensitized that every little feeling intensifies the pleasure. The sway of my hair, which is falling over my shoulders. The texture of the bedding in my palms. The tightness of my boots.
Yeah, I’m still wearing them, if I haven’t mentioned it.
He starts off slow and steady, but it doesn’t last long. Soon he’s driving into me hard and fast, and it’s so good I can’t keep quiet.
And he’s talking. Oh, God, is he talking.
“That’s right, princess. Don’t try to hold back. Show me how good it is. Show me how much you want this.”
“Oh, God! I do. I want…I want…” The pressure of an orgasm has built up, and I want it so badly it aches. I try to bump my bottom back against his thrusts, but he has complete control of my body, holding my ass in his hands.
He’s moving me as much as he’s thrusting into me, and the helplessness just makes it even more intense.
My elbows suddenly buckle and my upper body falls down. My ass is still in the air, but the penetration shifts inside me.
Both of us make loud exclamations at the change in sensation.
“That’s so good, baby. You like it like that?”
“Oh yeah. Harder. Faster.”
He fucks me harder and faster until I’m gasping out loud sounds of helpless pleasure. They get louder and louder, but there’s no way I can hold them back.
“That’s right. Don’t fight it. Just take what you want. Let me hear how much you want this.”
Knowing Jack Page 12