Enjoy Your Stay

by Carmen Jenner

  “I mean it, Holly. I’m not leaving, and I’m sure as hell not making you choose between me, and the people you love. But I am going to be there every step of the way. And you’re not going to get a say in it. I’m not walking away this time.”

  Well, that’s just great. Awesome, even, I think, as I stuff a cracker in my mouth to prevent myself from saying all the stupid shit I want to blurt out.

  Shortly after that, Coop drops me off at home, and I run to my room to drop off my things and grab a change of clothes, before heading to the bathroom. It’s then that I run smack into Jack coming out of the shower, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, showing his beautiful cock at half-mast. He puts his arms on my shoulders to stop my baby-belly bulldozing him, and then he absentmindedly runs his thumbs over my skin, and I swear I come undone. I glance up at him, trying my best not to give him come fuck me eyes, but it’s obvious by his expression that I’m failing miserably.

  FUCK.

  The way she’s looking at me right now just makes me want to bend her over and impale her on my huge cock. I lean in, and smell sex. Not sex, exactly, it’s just Holly’s sweet, sweet scent, but she’s definitely aroused, or has been. Fuck. If I get my hands on that little cock-sucking, emo shit again, I’m gonna throttle him for messing with my woman. And yes, I’m aware I just called Holly-fucking-pain-in-my-arse-Harris my woman.

  Jesus Christ. How the hell did I dig the hole so deep?

  I lower my lips to her cheek, and whisper, “He get you off like old times, Hols?”

  She pulls back, and glares at me. “Fuck you, Jack.”

  “My room, or yours?”

  “Very funny,” she snarls. “I need a shower.”

  She stalks toward the bathroom, but I loop my arm around her shoulders and pull her back into me.

  “No,” I whisper in her ear, and grind my Johnson against her arse. “You need to be fucked, sweetheart. Long, and hard, and merciless.”

  She lets out a breathy moan.

  “And I’m just the man to do it,” I say, and start easing her back into my room. “Here’s the thing you don’t realise, Hols. That might be Coop’s baby inside you, but he couldn’t ever satisfy you the way I can. You need a man, darlin’, a man who’s not afraid to get under your skin and piss you off, and give you a damn good fucking hiding whenever you need it—not a boy who wants to dress up and play house. The only housekeeping you need is to be on your knees, cleaning my cock,” I whisper, as I trail kisses down her neck before gently pushing her back on the bed.

  “Jack—” she begins, but I press my fingers against her lips.

  “You need someone, who can make you forget about everything, and just concentrate on feeling.”

  She shakes her head, but when I slip my fingers up her skirt and tear off her panties she gasps like a fucking virgin in a sex shop. “You need this. You need me.”

  “I don’t—” She begins, but then I cut off her speech by sliding my fingers down through her lips. A soft moan escapes her mouth. “This isn’t what—”

  “What?”

  “This isn’t what I want,” she mutters.

  I chuckle, but it’s far from humorous. “Your perfect cunt disagrees, Hols.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Nah, you like me just fine.” I plunge two fingers inside, and start twisting them back and forth, pulling all the way out and then plunging back in again.

  “Oh, fuck,” she pants, fisting the rumpled, dirty sheets in her hands. “More, I need more.”

  “What more do you want, baby?”

  “Please, Jack?”

  “Say it.”

  “No.”

  “Fucking say it, Hols.”

  “I need you, just you. I need you to show me …”

  “Show you what?”

  She hesitates, spearing me with her gaze. No fucking word of a lie, I feel my heart skip a beat inside my chest. She closes her eyes, and then jumps off the ledge. “I need you to show me … how you feel.”

  “That so?”

  She nods. “Before the crash, you said things. You said you wanted more. I need you to show me. I need to know how you really feel.”

  “Fine then,” I say, and strip off my towel. She stares with hungry eyes at my cock, which is throbbing like a fucking bitch and begging for release. I stand before her on full display as I watch her writhe on the bed before me, her beautiful cunt glistening wet with need. I can’t resist stroking myself. I spit on my hand, and with a tight fist I pump my cock brutally, and watch as desire ignites within her veins, and a gorgeous pink hue flushes her skin. I slide my fingers over the head, collecting a drop of pre-cum with my thumb, and lick it off. Her mouth parts, her eyes hood over, and then they narrow in confusion as I step away from the bed, snatch up my jeans from the floor and pull them on, adjusting my cock so it doesn’t get caught in the zipper.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Showing you how I feel.”

  “By getting me all worked up and walking away?”

  “Yep.”

  She sits up on her elbows, her perfect face pinched in frustration. “Jack?”

  “You don’t need pretty words to know how I feel about you, Hols. If you think about it, really think about it, you’ll find you’ve always known. Just like I suspect I’ve always known how you feel about me. But, I won’t fuck you again until that punk-arse emo shit is gone, and until you can admit to me, and to yourself, that this is more than just sex. It always has been,” I say and walk out, slamming the door behind me.

  And yeah, that was a fucked-up dick move, and trust me, my cock’s threatening a walk-out right about now, but I had to do it. She doesn’t get to be hot and heavy with the both of us. It’s me or him, and baby daddy or not, I’ll be fucked if that little emo dipshit is cheating me out of her bat-shit-fucking-crazy pussy. She might be a handful, and a prick tease, but she’s my handful, and my prick tease, not some cunt’s, who left her here for dreams of something bigger. For me, there isn’t a dream bigger than that. There isn’t a bigger dream than her.

  Fuck. I’m only just realising how god damned fucked up that shit is.

  I stalk out of the house and into the heat of a late summer afternoon with Snickers following close behind me. It’s already beginning to cool off at night, especially being out here in the country. I don’t mind the heat, it’s just a regular part of life in Australia, but the time of year I loved the most was winter in Tenterfield, when it was cold enough to light a fire and lay Chelcie out in front of it. Even though I know it wouldn’t be right, a part of me wishes I could go back to that time, where life was simple and Holly Harris was a fun but distant memory, because right now, I gotta say, I’m not loving this love bullshit.

  I head over to the shed, muttering to myself about how fucking stir-crazy that woman makes me when I see Elijah nursing a beer and tossing up a greasy car part in his hands. For a minute I’m pissed I can’t just escape to my man-cave and beat the shit out of some wood with a hammer and nails. Then he gets up, opens the bar fridge beside him and tosses me a stubbie.

  “You in the doghouse, too?” He smirks.

  “I don’t know about doghouse but I’m in some motherfucking hellhole, I know that much,” I say and sit on the wooden rocking chair I made for Holly. It’s not done yet, I still have to sand it back and add a coat of varnish. She doesn’t know about it. I had to bend over backwards to hide it from her when she burst through the doors the other day and reamed me out about not putting the fucking butter back in the fridge after I got done making breakfast.

  “What are you in for?”

  Elijah chuckles and swigs his beer. “I broke the best friend code: hoes before bros.”

  I shoot him a look that says he needs to learn the fuck how to speak English, because my fist is gonna get real friendly with his face if he doesn’t start speaking soon.

  “I called Holly a prick-tease,” he says and I spit my mouthful of beer all over myself.

  “Shit, Cade
, you got a death wish?”

  “I’m starting to think so, yeah.” He laughs. “Course, I don’t think it helped that Ana was sprawled out before me with her glorious pussy in my face.”

  “What are you doing talking about Holly when you’re fucking my cousin?”

  “Dude, it’s so not like that. When Ana gets downtime she just kinda purges all the shit inside her head. It’s weird, especially when I’m going down on her, but I just kinda roll with it.”

  “Only, this time you didn’t roll with it.”

  “Right. So I said the ranga midget needs to get her head together and stop fucking dragging you along like a randy puppy on a leash. I may have mentioned that her body was still slammin’, even though she went and got herself knocked up.” He makes the international symbol for awesome fucking tits by cupping his hands in front of his chest and gives me one of those dimple-popping smiles. Cocky bastard.

  I laugh and take another swig of my beer. “Christ, tell me about it. I can’t even look at her without feeling my Johnson fucking Hulking out and tearing a hole in my jeans, and don’t even get me started on the fucking.”

  “What, weird?”

  “Good.” Snickers rubs his fat little head against my hands for a pat. I scratch behind his ears and he whines. I lean back and shake my head. “Better than good. It’s never been like this.”

  “Jesus Christ, mate. Did your cock just shrivel up inside you and turn into a pussy?”

  “Maybe.” I sigh. “I love her.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Elijah laughs. “So, what’s the problem?”

  “She’s pregnant with another dude’s baby.”

  “And?” He prompts.

  “And I don’t know if I can deal with that shit.”

  “The baby shit, or the fact that’s it’s not yours?”

  “I don’t know, man. What if I can’t get past it? What if I fuck it up, and ruin both their lives?”

  “And what if she marries the rock star because you were too chicken-shit to hang up your frilly knickers and leap off the fucking ledge?”

  “Last time I took advice from you, I leaped so damn far I ended up in a coma.” I shake my head and crush my empty can. “I need more alcohol. You in?”

  “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  IT’S FOUR in the morning, and I’m wide-awake because Jackson ‘the asshole’ Rowe decided to go out drinking and not come home. He and Elijah escaped to the pub around dusk, but not before I’d overheard some of their conversations. I wasn’t exactly eavesdropping. I mean, I was, but not intentionally. After I’d had a good, stupid cry I’d gone out there to talk to him, and overheard him telling Elijah that he ‘didn’t know if he could deal with that shit’. That hurt like a motherfucker. It’s not as if I didn’t already suspect it, but hearing the words from his mouth shattered that tiny bit of hope I had for making us work. Whatever that means.

  A trashed Elijah had stumbled in around twelve after catching a taxi home, but he’d been alone. Ana chewed him out and then took him off to bed, no doubt to fuck like bunnies again, and I waddled my fat arse back to my room to sulk, and stab pins into an imaginary Jackson-Rowe voodoo doll. But mostly just to cry, then think, then cry some more.

  There’s a commotion outside my window. I jump out of bed and run for the door. I fling it open. Jack’s new HiLux is hugging the letterbox. There’s bricks and rubble everywhere, though the Ute barely has a dint. He’s sitting with his head on the steering wheel.

  Jack slowly straightens, and meets my gaze. A trickle of blood runs down his forehead. That fucker. I tear around to his side of the car. Jack unbuckles his seat belt, slides out with a wince and then smirks down at me.

  “You fuck!” I say, as I shove at his chest. “Did you forget about the car crash we had not three weeks ago? Did you forget about the fact that we almost lost you then, and you go and do something as fucked up as driving tanked like you are? How fucking dare you?” I clutch his shirt in an effort to get his bleary gaze to latch onto me. His lids droop closed for a half-second, and he shakes his head, as if to clear it. “Do you know, what it was like, seeing you in a coma? Do you have any idea what that was fucking like, Jack?” I demand, but he doesn’t respond. I think he’s too drunk to even register the fact that I’m tearing him a new one.

  He looks like he’s about to keel over.

  “Stop screaming. My head hurts,” he mumbles.

  “Stop screaming? You just drove your fucking Ute through our letterbox? Through our front yard and it stopped just metres from where I sleep, and you want me to stop fucking screaming? You’re a fucking selfish prick, Jackson Rowe.”

  It’s at this point that I realise I’m pounding my fists on his chest, and he’s just standing there and taking it. He’s staring down at me with this stupid-as-fuck impassive face, and I just want to punch it in, so I do.

  I pull my arm back and let fly, hitting him right in the jaw. I hit him hard enough to hurt my hand, and then Elijah’s pulling me away from him and trying to get me to calm the fuck down. He doesn’t have to work for long before convincing me to stop struggling with a “think of the baby”.

  Arsehole.

  Ana’s standing to my side, shaking her head and staring bleary-eyed at Jack. Elijah releases me from his grasp. I shrug him off, and stalk back over to Jackson.

  “You’re a bastard.” I say, and I pull his face down to mine to get a closer look at his head wound. It’s only superficial, as far as I can tell, but as I’m holding his face in my hands I make the mistake of looking into those pretty, sky-blue eyes. They’re soft, no doubt fuzzy with the copious amounts of liquor he’s consumed, but there’s a fire burning behind them that isn’t at all about our intense sexual connection. It’s infinitely more. It’s the things we can’t say to one another. The secrets that we keep that aren’t really all that secret. It’s a look that turns my insides all to mush.

  I hate him so much right now. I hate him, and yet I can’t see anything but him. I wait for my heart to return to its calm, steady rhythm, and close my eyes to stop the salt water from spilling over. They sneak out anyway. Jackson slides his clumsy hand over my cheek, collecting my tears with his calloused fingers. “Don’t cry over me, darlin’, I’m not worth it.”

  “You’re right about that.” I swipe the tears from my eyes and let out a resigned sigh. “Come on, Jackarse, I’ll clean you up.”

  He follows along behind me and Snickers follows behind him, licking at Jack’s heels. Once I have him in the bathroom, I shove him down on the toilet seat and take an alcohol swab to his forehead. I’m not gentle as I jab at the wound. He winces and says, “Ow, fuck. I know you’re mad, but take it easy, sweetheart. I’m not made of stone.”

  I continue jabbing the way I am. He reaches up and grabs my arm, runs his fingers along the inside of my wrist and the air turns electric. His eyes are blazing with desire. Anger and revulsion swell inside me. I swallow it down, and look away.

  “I don’t think you need stiches, but your stupid arse should be getting a fucking hiding right now, Jack. Do you have any idea how irresponsible that shit is? Why? Just tell me why you felt like you needed to drive half-tanked?” I shake my head. “You’re not even half-tanked, you’re fully-loaded. What if you’d killed someone?”

  “I wasn’t thinking. Not past wanting to drink myself into forgetting.”

  “Forgetting what?” I ask.

  “You.”

  “And did it work?”

  “Nope.”

  “Where did you spend the night?” I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to know, even if it means having my heart wrenched out of my chest.

  “In a field, downing half a carton.”

  “Why do you want to forget me, Jack?”

  “Because you’re gonna the fuck the rock star, then you’re gonna run away with him, and then you’ll marry him and play happy families and I’ll be here, alone, watching Ana and Cade fuck themselves stupid.”

  “I didn’t ask Coop to come back.
I didn’t ask him to touch me. In fact, I told him not to. I did ask you yesterday to show me how you feel, and you walked away.”

  “You wanna know how I really feel, Hols?” He asks as he stands and moves towards me. He grabs my hand and shoves it hard against his racing heart. I stare up at him in surprise. “Feel that? That shit’s still beating because of you. But it don’t change sweet F A, darlin’. All you and I were ever good for was fucking, Hols. Dirty, primal fucking. You can’t make a life outta that shit. I’ll love this kid because he’s half yours, but I’m never gonna be a dad to him, and I’m not sure I can get past that. That’s how I feel. I love you, but it doesn’t change jack-fucking-shit.” He leans down and softly kisses my lips, and then he stumbles past and leaves me standing in the bathroom staring after him.

  I’m sitting on the veranda, looking at the mess of our letterbox when Coop’s hire car pulls up the drive. He eyes Jack’s Ute, raises his brow and gives me a little wave when he sees me watching him. Then he climbs out of the car, flashes that perfect rock-god smile. My heart is supposed to do cartwheels—at least, that’s the way it used to behave when Cooper was around. For now, it just hurts.

  Coop takes the steps two at a time, and says, “Looks like someone was in a hurry to get inside?”

  “Yeah, apparently one accident a year isn’t enough for Jack. He’s just lucky I didn’t hospitalize his arse once I saw how wasted he was.”

  The muscles in his jaw tighten. He scans the outside of the house, and the distance from the letterbox to my room. “Where is he now?”

  “Sleeping it off, probably. Don’t know. Don’t care.” I shrug it off, but it doesn’t take a genius to hear the sadness in my voice and figure out that I care a lot. Too much.

  “Well, I’m just glad you and my son weren’t in the car with him this time.”

  He slides onto the seat beside me and places his hand over my belly, rubbing in slow circles like he did yesterday. It’s nice, but weird. I kinda tense up and he stops, but then my stupid hormones go nuts and I burst into ugly-crying so hard he tucks me into his arms. “Hey, what’s wrong, beautiful girl?”