by Kat Catesby
Shaun must’ve put something in my drink; I’ve never felt so drunk and disorientated in my life, certainly not after only two mouthfuls.
Panic starts to creep in and my stomach roils, revolting against the punch that’s churning my insides. I need to find a safe place to collapse in.
Through the thickening haze, I can hear a woman’s voice moaning. I follow the sound towards a slightly open door at the end of the hall. She groans again and it’s completely, erotically, sexual. The sounds become more frequent and louder, and not because I’m closer…she just can’t contain her ecstasy.
“Yes…Oh, FUCK YES…JACKSON.”
Chapter Four
My stomach roils furiously as she continues screaming Jackson’s name. “Harder, Jackson…fuck…yes.”
I sink to my knees – mostly because I’m too drugged to stand anymore – and peer through the opening. I know I don’t want to see this, but I can’t stop myself.
I regret it instantly.
His gloriously naked body, muscles glistening with sweat, is fucking some red-headed harpy powerfully up against a wall.
Her fiery hair is matted with sweat, her body slick against his, her seriously ample breasts bounce each time he drills his cock deep into her. She screams with every violent thrust, clawing at his back with her blood-red nails…squeezing her legs tighter around his waist and begging him for more.
The answering moan he gives her as she slams her hips down on top of him makes me want to rip her face off.
Jackson wraps his thickly muscled arm around her back and clamps down on her hip, holding her in place while he grinds into her over and over. The sculpted muscles of his ass flexing with each porn-worthy thrust.
The thumb of his other hand rubs hard and fast against her clit and I can hear her climax building through her moans and cries. Just as I decide I can’t watch anymore and am going to crawl away, I swear I see him bite her neck.
Not just some sexy little nibble…he sinks his teeth deep into her.
I must be seeing things because it looks like he drew blood, but instead of being alarmed by this she shivers and screams her way through an apparently epic climax.
“There you are, pretty girl,” Shaun’s voice startles me and makes my skin crawl.
In a panic to get away from him, I stumble completely through Jackson’s door. I land on my back as the world floats uncomfortably around me and the red-head screeches at my surprise entrance.
“What the fuck!” she squeals, all annoying and naked.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose control of my stomach and it’s contents, so roll awkwardly onto my side and into the fetal position, groaning as I do. Shaun, who burst into the room after me is apologizing profusely.
“Emilia?” Jackson whispers my name, but it’s still loud enough for me to hear.
He sounds pretty horrified to see me.
I don’t respond. I just lay on the floor with the hazy fog closing in around me.
Moments later he’s by my side, rolling me onto my back so he can see my face. I’m aware that he’s still naked and covered in her. Her scent hangs thick in the air and it’s disgusting.
“Emilia! Focus, look at me,” his voice is urgent but I can’t…there are too many of him floating in front of my eyes.
He tries to hold my head still with his hands, but I recoil away from him…I know where those hands have been and there’s no fucking way I’m letting him put them on my face. He gets the message and for a moment looks suitably ashamed.
My eyes start to roll and I’m pretty sure the fog is about to steal my tenuous grip on consciousness.
“EMILIA!” Jackson turns his sudden fury on Shaun. “What the FUCK did you do to her?” His shouting is so fierce it keeps me from passing out.
“Jackson? What the hell?” Squawks the redhead. Her voice really grates on me.
“PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON AND LEAVE,” he bellows at her. She huffs as she does it, but she apparently knows better than to argue.
“I thought she was here to party,” Shaun retorts petulantly.
“Did she say she was here to party?” He knows the answer to this one already and Shaun wisely decides against lying about it…Jackson looks utterly menacing, even with the haze clouding my vision.
“No,” Shaun admits. “She said she was here to see you.”
Jackson loses it completely at this point, I’ve never seen anything like it. He sounds like an enraged wild animal and lunges at Shaun, hitting him square in the chest and launching him into the air. His body flies across the room until he smashes into a bookcase on the other side.
What the…?
The drugs must be screwing with my eyes more than I thought.
“You were busy with Sonya, I thought I’d have some fun…it was only a standard roofie,” Shaun pleads, but Jackson doesn’t calm down.
“NOTHING ABOUT HER IS STANDARD.” Yells Jackson as his fist collides with Shaun’s face, which sounds like a skull-cracking against a boulder.
Their fight doesn’t distract me for long and soon the fog is back, swirling in front of my eyes like a sinister black cloud. As I drift on the edge of consciousness, a montage of images I never want to see again flashes through my mind: Jackson biting her naked body, a pain in my neck, her moans of ecstasy, my screams of terror as I lie in a street bleeding to death...
I make some sort of half-strangled, terrified noise that sounds very disconnected from me and clench my hands to my neck. Jackson says my name but I’m not listening; I want to escape – I desperately need to get out of here.
Something inside me agrees to cooperate with this idea, something long dormant and unfamiliar. Adrenaline floods my system, coursing through me, vital and electric. It pushes the fog back, allowing me enough clarity to scramble forwards until I find my feet. Strong arms encase me, but I don’t want them, I don’t even look at them as they flex around my waist, I just shove them away with as much power as I’m capable of.
I’m shocked that I push Jackson with enough force that he releases me. I know he’s stronger than I think he is; it’s in the way he carries himself and I instinctively know that he wouldn’t just let me go so I could fall over again. So how the fuck did I manage to throw him off?
This thought is echoed by both Jackson and Shaun, but I don’t hang around to hear what they say – I’m sprinting for the stairs, surprisingly surefooted, while Jackson yells my name and shouts after me. I suspect he’s faster than me, but I’m hoping that he won’t chase after me naked and has, therefore, had to spend time dressing, giving me valuable seconds to flee.
At the bottom of the stairs I race past the red-headed bitch who appears startled to see me, but she’s just one of several faces I run past in my quest for the open front door. I sprint through it and drink in the fresh air of the cool night and pause briefly to orientate myself in the direction I need to get home.
With each stride I push off the ground as hard as I can, urging myself to go faster towards a shortcut through a small wooded embankment, but I can feel the adrenaline surge fading and the fog is creeping back in. I make it to the trees and look back to see Jackson – dressed – and three of his housemates sprinting after me.
Fuck, they’re fast.
I disappear into the mottled darkness of the trees, stumbling my way down part of the slope until I find a section where the earth has slipped away beneath a large tree and the gap created is big enough to hide in. I just manage to tuck myself away before Jackson and company come barrelling through the trees. The world swims in and out of focus as he calls my name, softer than before.
“Emilia? Emilia, Angel, come out. It’s ok.” His soft voice calms my raging pulse.
“There’s no point hiding, we can smell that you’re still here,” taunts one of his idiot friends.
“Jared, shut up,” hisses Jackson.
Smell me? What the…?
“I don’t get it,” murmurs another, “normally when a roofie knocks them down, they don�
�t get back up again for a few hours.”
“Well, she’s not like the others,” Jackson mutters through gritted teeth.
They move slowly through the trees and down the slope, it won’t be long before they find me, but it occurs to me that that might not be a bad thing. I know I ran because in my current state I’m irrationally afraid and have no idea what the hell is going on with Jackson and my nightmares, but the realization already came to me when I bolted from his bedroom. Despite the crazy conversations and the thoroughly fucked redhead, he cares about my safety; he just beat the shit out of one of his friends for what he did to me.
The dizzying fog is creeping in too fast for me to make it back to my room and if I’m going to pass out, it’s probably safer to do it with Jackson looking after me than for me to be out here, alone and at the mercy of whoever else finds me.
“Jackson,” I can barely whisper through the haze, but something tells me he’s able to hear it.
I fumble to my feet, using an exposed tree root for support so that he can see me. He does and sprints down the slope toward me, but he’s not faster than the loose earth that gives way under my feet. I tumble down the remainder of the slope, rolling over a few times, but the earth is soft and I avoid hitting any trees. I start to think that maybe I’ll walk away unscathed…until I see the sidewalk. There’s a four-feet drop from the edge of slope down to the sidewalk and I have a lot of momentum. I screw my eyes shut and try to brace myself for the face-first impact, completely convinced I’m about to break something when at the last second, strong steel arms catch me and halt my fall. The sudden stop relocates my stomach into my throat for the second time today.
“Fuck. Angel, are you ok?” Jackson whispers as he picks me up completely, one arm around my back, the other under my knees, holding me tightly to his chest. He still stinks of sex, but that’s the least of my worries as the black fog finally wins and my eyes roll shut.
* * *
A bobbing motion pulls me from unconsciousness long enough for me to open my eyes and glimpse my surroundings. Everything is blurry, people have fuzzy outlines and their voices make no sense. I’m still being carried – up the stone front steps, I think. One of the face splodges is streaming bright red liquid.
“Jackson, you’ve busted Shaun’s nose pretty bad,” an accusatory voice rises above the babble. Sonya.
“He’ll heal, more to the pity.” There’s something a little sexy about Jackson still being pissed, a gravelly edge to his deep voice.
The fog claims me again as he climbs the stairs with me cradled in his capable arms.
* * *
Something cold lands on my face and draws me out of the darkness for a second time…a compress maybe? I try to focus on the face in front of me, but the more I try the more elusive the features become.
“Emilia,” Jackson’s voice is soothing but laced with anxiety. “Open your mouth, Angel. You need to drink some water. It’ll help, I promise.”
My best guess is that I’m sat on his bed with my back resting against the headboard, while he holds my face firmly with one large hand. He tilts my head back slightly and brings a cool glass of water to my lips with the other.
With his help, I’m able to take small sips that I can feel leaving a frozen trail from my throat, down my chest, and into my stomach. The chill thins the fog a little and I can see his handsome face frowning with concern – he’s still a little out of focus, but I’m not imagining it; he cares.
“Are you hurt? You fell a distance before I was able to catch you,” Jackson sounds utterly guilty about this.
I’m able to shake my head but regret it as my brain bounces around the inside of my skull.
“I need to clean you Emilia; you’re covered in mud and grass stains and I can’t see where your cuts and bruises are until I’ve washed it all off. You have to trust me, Angel; I won’t hurt you or do anything inappropriate to you. I promise. Will you trust me?” His voice is pleading and even in my state of total helplessness, I trust him. It doesn’t make sense, especially after what I saw this evening, but I do. I nod as much as I can while my brain still treats my head like a bowling alley.
Jackson exhales in a relieved rush and scoops me effortlessly into his arms once again. My head spins as he carries me to his oversized bathroom. It’s all shiny black and white stone tiles and in my dizzy, befuddled haze, it’s dazzling.
He sets me down on my wobbly feet, with one arm firmly around my waist, as I lean back into his chest. I’m completely unable to support my own body weight, but he holds me like a weigh nothing.
Jackson leans down quickly to fill the giant sunken bath with water, steam billowing around our bodies. I’m not sure how he does it while holding me up, but he strips down to his boxer briefs in record time. Obviously, he’s had practice at that.
He then leans me further so that my back is against his impressively solid chest and cages me in with both of his muscly, tanned arms. At first, I think he’s hugging me until I feel his swift, nimble fingers undoing all of the buttons on my shirt that he then peels off my shoulders and down my back.
Not being able to see clearly acts like sensory deprivation, elevating the sensation of the soft cotton shirt kissing my skin and his feather-soft touch, causing every muscle south of my bellybutton to clench deliciously.
How is he doing this?
I’m drugged and I’m still hot for him.
Less than an hour ago he was fucking some other woman in spectacular style and my traitorous body still responds instantly to him. It’s more than a little frightening.
Jackson’s breathing accelerates ever so slightly and the sound makes me brave; I may not be able to stand on my own, but I can pull my shoulders back so that my chest is thrust up towards him. His ragged breaths tell me the view of my breasts, displayed for him in my lace push up bra, is quite the sight.
Jackson grips my hips with both hands, his splayed fingers digging into my soft flesh.
“Stop it,” he pants in my ear, his lips brushing across my flaming skin, “You’re in no fit state and I already told you…I’m not virtuous.”
His touch is electrifying, his words intoxicating, and if I could string a sentence together, I would probably be begging him to take me right this second on the bathroom floor…or against the wall…or in the bathtub…I’m not picky really.
A voice I know I shouldn’t ignore is telling me to listen to him; if only because I want to be able to remember the first time he fucks me…because I’m determined to make sure he does.
I breathe deeply to calm my raging desire as he moves his hands down to my jeans, undoes the button, pulls the zip down and yanks the jeans down over my butt, miraculously leaving my little lacy thong in place. I try to kick off my flats and step out of my clothes, but I’m still too unsteady – my hypersensitive, aroused, adrenaline state will probably stop me from blacking out again, but it’s not helping my balance; I’m weak in the knees and I’m not sure it’s because of the roofie.
Jackson kneels down in front of me so that I’m able to lean forward and put my weight on him and his body is solid rock under my hands. He untangles one foot at a time from my jumble of jeans and flats, and once down to my underwear, he stands, picks me up again and carries me into the bath with him. The warm, soothing, soapy water takes the edge off my adrenaline-fuelled quasi-clarity. It pools around my body making me drowsy and slightly more unfocused again.
Jackson positions himself behind me with his legs either side of my body, allowing me to lean back against his strong chest. Despite his solid muscles, it’s a pretty comfortable place to rest and I’m in no hurry to move.
He grabs a washcloth and some manly smelling soap and begins gently washing the mud and crap off my skin with surprisingly gentle hands. I close my heavy eyes and try really hard not to focus on his touch, the rhythmic way he brushes the cloth up my arms and sides, down my legs as far as he can reach and then back up to my stomach, over my chest and up to my neck. I almost succe
ed in keeping my breathing even as I sink deeper into his embrace.
Jackson lets me rest for a little while before he stands, washes himself and switches on the shower at the other end of the tub. He easily pulls me to my feet and walks me under the hot water to rinse off. Just when I think we’re done, he grabs a bottle of shampoo and begins washing my hair, causing my heartbeat to stutter. His dexterous fingers massage my scalp as he works the shampoo into a thick lather; I can’t help but groan in pleasure – I love having my hair played with.
Jackson takes a step closer as he runs his fingers through my hair to rinse out the soap. He dominates my senses; he’s tall, tanned and toned and I want to look at him, run my hands over his chiseled chest and rippling abs, but his gentle massaging and the hot water streaming over my body makes me drowsy again.
One half of my brain screams at me for not capitalizing on my current state of nearly-naked slipperiness with the Adonis in front of me. The other half demands sleep and a conversation to deal with the mountain of unanswered shit between us. Not least how he can hold me this intimately barely an hour after fucking Sonya into erotic bliss.
But I don’t want to think about that; I just want to press my increasingly sleepy and unresponsive body next to his. As if reading my mind, he folds me into his chest and encases me with his strong arms.
Jackson plants a swift, gentle kiss on my forehead and then he’s gone; switching off the shower and grabbing a couple of towels from a heated rail…somehow, I stay upright unassisted.
He wraps one towel around his lean hips, leaving his impressive torso on show, and wraps the other around my shoulders, cocooning me in soft, fluffy cotton. Jackson picks me and our pile of clothes up and carries me back into his room. Despite sleep threatening to take me, I’m increasingly preoccupied with being held tightly against the smooth, warm bare skin of his chest. His natural scent – thankfully free from the smell of Sonya – is overwhelming. I breathe him in deeply and it’s a heady combination of raw strength and alpha male masculinity; he oozes sex appeal and were it not for my yearning need for sleep, I would be consumed with my desire for him.