by Lexxi Chase
Amanda shut her eyes tightly to block those horrid visions - the screaming, the rage, the kicks and blows, the salty, metallic taste of flowing and spattering blood and finally, being dragged naked, kicking and screaming out into the rain, the unforgiving night where soon sirens and flashing lights descended to rescue her but in so doing only amplified her pain.
She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes until Jake’s voice, melodic and raspy-sweet, slashed like lightning through her memories, lodging in her heart, “I’d offer you a penny for your thoughts but you’ve made enough money off them already.”
She winced. They’d never ever get past this, the money and her book. She’d made their privacy public and he’d never forget that. But with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she remembered too that it had been over for them long before she’d even sat down to write. Now, standing so close to him, so close that she could almost taste his cologne, everything in the past seemed like a dream. Everything was important but nothing mattered.
He was staring at her intently, his eyes a reflection of anger, innocence and pain. She wanted so much to hold him it was unbearable. If she’d had a choice right then she literally would have sold her soul.
They stood there like that for what seemed like an eternity until finally Jake asked, “What’s the fuckin’ bottom line here? What the hell do you want?”
Amanda realized she was feeling nauseous; her stomach was in knots. God, what could she possibly say? She moved closer until she stood right in front of him, so close that she could feel his breath on her face.
She looked up at him, raising her hand to his cheek, and said, “I just want you not to hate me. I’d give anything in the entire world for you to care again. I still love you,” she lowered her head, resting it lightly on his chest, “I still love you so much Jake.”
She held her breath, afraid, so damn afraid of what he was going to say, of what he was going to do. Time stopped for her then, at least for the few moments before Jake reacted. Then, she felt his strong hands grasp her shoulders as he shoved her back abruptly, holding her at arm’s length.
He glared at her, “Sorry baby, I can’t return the favor.” He paused, then said, “I doubt I could get it up for you if I tried.”
And then he spit in her face.
Bolted in place by shock, Amanda took a few seconds to react. The room spun. She fought off the heaviness of an invisible thousand pound weight on her chest, struggled to breathe, to gather her senses, to literally stand upright. Wiping Jake’s spit from her cheek and lips, she stared up at him in disbelief and horror and then those emotions boiled quickly into anger.
“You fucking pig...” she whispered and then screamed. “You goddamn motherfucking pig!”
Jake, who’d turned to walk away, instantly spun around and glared. His face tightened.
He sneered, screaming, “No baby, I’m not the pig. You swallowed my load, spread your pretty legs to take in more, and then you ran to write about it. You’re a fucking whore.”
Crazy with anger and despair, even as she knew she shouldn’t do it, Amanda lunged forward and threw herself at him, ripping at his hair, clawing his face with her left hand as she swung with all her might and slapped him hard across the face with her right.
Jake was usually more agile and alert. It had always been rare for her to get in a good blow. She’d caught him by surprise this time and she knew she’d be paying for it. His face a torrent of disgust and rage, he grabbed her roughly by the wrists, quickly forcing her hands behind her back, arching her so far backwards that he actually had to hold her to keep her on her feet.
He leaned over her, pressing his face up close against hers. Part of his ponytail had come loose when she’d torn at his hair and she felt the softness of his long locks against her cheek as he raged, his lips actually touching hers.
“Wanna hit me bitch?”
“No,” her voice was barely audible.
“Huh? You wanna hit me?”
“No!” this time she screamed, aware of her hot tears flowing down her cheeks.
The last thing she saw before the excruciating pain seared through her was Jake’s angry face against hers, his gorgeous green eyes darkened, on fire, and his sensual eyebrows arched in rage. Jake lifted his leg and kneed her hard in the crotch. The sudden jolt of pain and nausea left her breathless, gasping for air. The pain was so tremendous she couldn’t scream or cry or groan. She couldn’t make a sound. Even if she had, the next blow would surely have silenced her. He released her wrists and she fell backwards onto the carpet and before she even realized what hit her the first time Jake followed up with the second, kicking her as hard as he could with his cowboy boots right between the legs.
Time ended. Everything ended for Amanda then but the pain, which raged on inside of her leaving her motionless and shattered, a pathetic heap huddled on the plush hotel carpeting, struggling franticly in near silence to breathe, struggling to even want to. Her body broken but her thoughts wildly alive, crazy images flashed like some insane rock video inside her head - Jake on stage in leathers and scarves, screaming like a banshee, pyro erupting around him, her on Jake’s lap in their limo, her mini skirt pulled up and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, Jake with her in the shower, the water warm and silken, pounding rhythmically against their naked bodies thrashing in unison to its beat.
Oh God, she thought, I can’t breathe, I can’t get air, I’m going to die. The pain engulfed her, soothed only by the warmth of hot blood flowing freely from between her legs. She lay there on her side gasping, her left leg pulled upwards towards her, her arms sprawled out at her sides. Where the hell was Jake she thought suddenly, but just as quickly she prayed he’d walked away. Shutting her eyes tightly against the next blows that never came, she finally relaxed into concentrating on the moment, on catching her breath and getting help for her injuries once more.
It was useless. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Jake, as always, would have the entire floor of the hotel rented, surrounded by his band and entourage, and she knew from experience that not one of them would ever come to her aid. Dear God help me was all she kept thinking, over and over again and then, with a shudder, she remembered the last time help came. That was their infamous “final incident” and even as the ambulance attendants worked on her as she drifted in and out of consciousness she hadn't stopped screaming at the horde of cops not to hurt Jake.
Suddenly his hands were upon her, his strong arms lifting her up but not out of her pain. Then or now? Panicked and confused, Amanda struggled to orient herself as all the beatings rolled into one long insane nightmare in her mind. She was aware of being carried, opening her eyes suddenly to find her face pressed against leather and silk, against Jake’s chest as he carried her out of the room. She was powerless to move, to say anything, but all the while kept thinking, don’t throw me out, please Jake don’t throw me out. She screamed no so loudly inside her head but somehow, through the confusion of pain and panic, fear and senselessness, she was unable to translate her pleas into reality.
She could barely hold onto what was real even as she felt herself being lowered, surprisingly gently, onto the bed. He’d carried her into the suite’s bedroom and then like a sensual and wicked phantom of the night, he was gone. Vaguely aware of running water, seemingly so far, far away, Amanda struggled to prop herself up by her elbows. The room spun insanely like some nightmarish funhouse and caught up in its fantasy, she was whisked along for the ride. Bolts of pain slashed up inside her as she finally propped up halfway and then, defeated, she crumpled back down, struggling once more to catch her breath. In despair, she closed her eyes, reluctant to just lay there but powerless to do anything else.
Footsteps, and then suddenly she was aware of warmth and wetness and opened her eyes with a start. Jake had returned and she watched him in amazement, sitting calmly beside her on the side of the bed, dampened towel in hand wiping gently at her bruised and bloodied thighs. Even now he looke
d so incredibly good to her. Except for the strands of hair loosened by her attack on him, his ponytail hung luxuriously down past the middle of his back. His face was sullen, near expressionless as he cleaned her and she wondered what was going through his mind.
Shocked already by the amount of deep red blood on the towel, Amanda gasped as Jake tugged at her short skirt in attempt to pull it down. He looked up at her sharply, and stopped. My God, maybe he just wanted to help her clean up, to stop the bleeding, and she’d been, like a fool, thinking something else.
Looking back down, grasping her skirt once more, Jake ordered, “Lift your butt.”
She did obediently, wincing from the pain, and although tight, the black skirt slid off her relatively easily as Jake yanked. She was horrified to glimpse it in his hand before he tossed it, soaked with blood and heavy with its weight. Looking down at her G-string, she was mortified. Although black, it was darkened by the blood flow but even more frightening, bright red blood heavily soaked the inside of her thighs.
“Fuck,” he said as he saw it too, and sighed.
He stood abruptly, leaving the room, returning momentarily however with fresh wet towels in hand. He pulled off her G-string and said nothing as he continued cleaning her, as gently as he could, but he’d look up at her, squinting, each time she’d wince or jolt from the pain. Her body still ached from the multitude of kicks. Jake’s boots had hit their target every time, making clean up all that much more painful. Finally, once the majority of blood had been wiped away, Jake folded one of the hand towels and pressed it firmly against her crotch, so firmly that she cried out in pain.
He stared at her, “You’re still bleeding.”
She’d known that. But it was the least of her worries. She knew that too. He adjusted the towel, raised his eyebrows and smiled.
Chapter 2
She’d been lying on the bed for about a half hour, her back propped up against the headboard and her legs spread to make room for the hand towel, which repeatedly had to be replaced as it got soaked with too much blood. Jake had been reading in silence, lounging comfortably in a nearby chair. He was in no mood for conversation and Amanda knew enough to keep her mouth shut. The telephone had rung once, about twenty minutes earlier, and Jake had spoken with someone who, by the conversation, seemed to be one of his bandmates.
He’d declined going out for the evening, telling the person on the other end of the phone, “Yeah well, like I said, got unexpected company. Just tell ‘em to keep it warm for me for tomorrow night.”
Amanda had literally shuddered at that, wondering how many girls Jake had had lined up for this evening. She’d always known about the other women. It’s not like he’d even tried to hide it from her. Most times, in fact, he’d been happy to throw it in her face. Nothing had changed and she struggled to keep from crying as he’d hung up the phone.
Jake had wanted an “open” relationship, open for him of course but not for her. She remembered one night, back home in California at his mansion, after they’d lain and leisurely made love by one of the fireplaces. They were both glistening with sweat, still lying on the plush throw rug, side by side, propped up on one elbow looking at each other. Jake had suddenly sat up, taken her head in both his hands and looked at her intently.
His eyes had been on fire, “If you ever even think of cheating on me I’ll fuckin’ goddamn kill you.”
At the time, Amanda had been so flattered, so uncontrollably happy that he was so crazy about her. She’d been crazy about him right from the start and never dreamt that even if she was lucky enough to sleep with him that she’d actually be capable of keeping him around for second helpings, much less for a long while.
She’d grasped his arms below his shoulders as he held her and smiled, “Jake, I could never even think of anyone else. Don’t you know how much I love you? You’re my whole life.”
His eyes lit up the heavens as he’d smiled and he’d run his fingers through her long blonde hair, first kissing her on the forehead, behind her ears, on her neck and finally on the lips as he slid so expertly back inside of her and he’d taken her once more and then, as night lingered, over and over again.
She felt another jolt of pain and fresh flow of blood. She looked down, dejected. The towel needed to be replaced again.
“Jake?” she asked reluctantly.
“Hmmm?” he was still reading.
“Sorry...I need another towel.”
Slamming his book against his knee, he looked up at her, annoyed, “Do I look like the fuckin’ maid?”
He swung his long legs off the arm of the chair where he’d been lounging sideways, stood up and walked briskly over to her. Grabbing the towel roughly from between her legs, he threw it aside and grabbed her by the shoulder.
“This isn’t working. Get up. You’re taking a shower.”
God no, she thought. I can’t stand; there’s no way I can walk! Ignoring her protests, Jake lifted her up and with Amanda leaning heavily on him they walked slowly to the bathroom. She felt dizzy and weak, probably from the pain/blood loss combo but she was petrified to make too much of a fuss. Jake was already so angry, doing a great job of controlling himself at the moment, and she was afraid to say anything that might set him off. He helped her remove her black lace top and bra, drew back the shower curtain, got the shower running and helped her step inside.
“Jake, I can’t stand!” she screamed and he caught her just as she crumpled, managing to soak his silk shirt and a good portion of his jeans.
I’m in for it now, Amanda thought, but Jake merely bitched about getting wet and helped her to sit on the side of the tub while he removed his shirt. The sight of his numerous tattoos, up and down both arms, took Amanda’s breath away, as always. They’d been such a major turn on for her and she’d thought she’d never see them again, up close and personal. She remembered suddenly one of the very first times they’d made love. She’d run her hands slowly up and down his arms, admiring each creation and asking Jake about its history. The steel demon just below his right shoulder was identical to the one she had on her pussy, only he’d gotten his first, many years before her.
“What?” Jake said, noticing she was staring.
She turned her head quickly. Although he looked at her quizzically as he helped her back into the shower he said nothing. The warm water, rather than soothing her pain, actually worsened it. It sliced like a knife into her wounds, stinging, and she kept trying to step back as Jake held her in place.
“It hurts Jake,” she kept saying but he ignored her pleas and only ordered her to turn around and bend over. When she hesitated he held her tighter, spun her towards the wall and pushed her into a bending position. She screamed as the water rained between her legs but, mercilessly, he held her in place. Tears were streaming down her face and she was struggling to breathe by the time he pulled her forward, out of the line of pain.
“Come on,” he said suddenly, shutting off the water, “You’ve had enough.”
Out of the tub, Amanda steadied herself by holding Jake’s shoulders as he toweled her dry. Oh my God, she was thinking, his hands feel so incredibly good on me. She wanted so badly to look up into his face, into his eyes, to read the expression there. Didn’t he feel anything touching her naked body up so close to his? When she couldn’t stand it any longer, as he moved the towel gently over her breasts, she hung her head back and looked him straight in the eyes. His face was serious but she could see his thoughts ran deep.
“What now?” he asked but knew.
Afraid to tell him, petrified of instigating another attack, Amanda merely shook her head, saying “Never mind. I don’t want you to spit in my face.”
The towel he’d been holding suddenly dropped to her feet and before she could say anything he picked her up, carried her into the bedroom and set her back down on the bed, not so gently this time. Groaning, she stared at him in disbelief as he leaned on the dresser, kicking off his cowboy boots. Reality struck her as she watched him undoing his
belt, noticing he was deliciously hard inside his tight jeans.
Oh my God, she thought, I want him more than anything. But then, as she struggled to a sitting position fighting the bolts of pain, she was reminded sharply that she was in no shape to have him.
Panicked, she murmured, “Jake?”
Unzipping his pants, he looked at her, his face pensive, his green eyes alight.
“This is what you want,” he said, pushing down his jeans.
Naked before her, he smiled. As angry as he was, he was amazed that she still turned him on. No brains in my dick, he thought, as he looked her over lying and waiting for him on his bed. Amanda’s blonde hair hung down in long, straight wisps, with a hint of wave in all the right places, cascading over her large breasts and flowing sensuously down her back to just above her waist. God, he thought, she’s still so tiny and perfect and then he remembered the first time he’d had sex with her.
It was at a mutual friend’s house and they’d snuck away from the party into the pool house to be alone. She’d kept whispering in his ear, “harder,” as she’d pulled at his hair and he’d actually been taking it easy till that point, afraid of hurting her. She’d come with such intensity it had surprised him and he’d been surprised again when, within minutes, she was climbing all over him, begging for more.
Ironically, as Amanda watched Jake peel off his jeans she’d been thinking about that same pool party and the first time they’d made love. She’d been so ecstatically surprised that she’d caught Jake’s attention at the party, that he’d actually wanted her and then later, as the evening wore on, that he’d been so incredibly into having sex with her.