by Cole, S. Ann
Well, that’s what this dude’s deal was. He sounded as if he were castrated at birth, and it bugged the shit out of me. Some men were just good to look at. Literally eye-candy and nothing else. Just like a mouth-watering hot guy with a small penis. Pointless.
We didn’t all come to the club together, it was supposed to be just me and Marsha and Jahleel. But his buddies just so happened to choose the same club we did and stuck to him like leeches when they spotted him. They brought three cackling girls with them, two of them being sisters of the guy who was still yapping at my ear.
Nevertheless, the night was fun. The club was pumping, a sea of heads bobbing out on the dance floor. The deejay knew his shit, and the bartender could mix the hell out of a drink.
With all that, though, Jahleel didn’t seem to be enjoying himself, and it was supposed to be a night of celebration for him. He’d been rather quiet, leaning back against a wall with one leg propped up, completely ignoring a redhead who was all but thrusting her boobs in his face. Every now and again, he took out his cellphone and dialed a number, and then he would give it an angry shove back into his pocket when he didn’t get through to whoever he was phoning.
I was watching him, wondering what was wrong with him, when he glanced up and caught my stare. He frowned disapprovingly, as if realizing for the first time his friend was tongue-deep in my ear. Crooking a smile at him, I held up two gun fingers, moved my thumb backward to indicate pulling back the hammer, then stuffed the two gun fingers in my mouth and jerked my head back as I pulled the trigger.
Kill me now.
Jahleel laughed as he pushed off from the wall and started towards me. As usual, he was ruggedly perfect in mega-ripped jeans, unlaced Timberlands, white tee with black graffiti, and a black leather jacket.
When he got to me, he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me off the stool, relieving me from the annoyance of his friend’s voice. “Let’s dance.”
He started propelling me to the dance floor, but he stopped, held up a finger, and withdrew his cellphone from his pocket. When he looked at the screen, I could’ve sworn I glimpsed a smile.
Hmnph.
Curious to see who brought out a rare JK Smile, I peeped over on his phone screen and saw a text message under the name ‘Sassy’:
Am.tired.of.ur.shit.
So u kno wut?
Fuq.U!!!
Jahleel’s fingers swept over the keypad as he typed back:
Bitchy Sassy?
U kno how I feel about her.
Breathe easy.
When he hit ‘send’, I hastily looked away and pretended I wasn’t peeking. Did I have the right to be jealous? Was it fair of me to continue acting territorial even though I’d indubitably chosen Trevillo over him on my birthday? Maybe not. But I was jealous. It didn’t bother me when he did random hook-ups, no. But it did bother me to see him starting to care for someone else like he does me. I didn’t want him to be with anyone.
Jahleel slid his hand back around me and started out to the dance floor. As we passed Marsha gyrating her big, round ass on one of his dancers, he slapped her bum with an “Attagirl”.
Marsha stopped dancing and scowled at him, but Jahleel didn’t linger. For all I knew, she was dancing like that to get his attention.
The music switched to Ciara’s Body Party just as we found a dance spot, and Jahleel winked at me, biting the tip of his tongue with his teeth as he started moving to the music. Sometimes I wondered if he could be anything less than flirtatious.
“Save those winks for your drooling cum-guzzlers,” I said with an eye roll. “Seriously, what do they see in you?”
Quicker than I could blink, he spun me around and slammed me back against him, so that my back was to his front. “Just shut up and dance.”
I didn’t argue, because I was actually in a dancing mood. There was just one problem I realized a little to0 late: the song.
The song playing was too much. Too much intensity. Too much intimacy. So much that, deeper into it, Jahleel’s hands on my hips tightened and pressed me closer against him as he moved his hips with mine. What was worse? I wanted him to do more.
I wanted more than his lips that were next on my neck, his breath hot and titillating. I leaned back harder with each brazen touch he made, each brazen press of his lips against my skin, because I wanted more.
By the time the song melded into Chris Brown’s Sweet Love, I melted into him. This was not just another dance with my bad boy. I’d danced with Jahleel countless times, and this one, tonight, was different. Maybe it was the songs. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the mood. But who cared? All I knew was I was enjoying it … and I wanted more than just his erection pressing into my back.
It might have been wrong. But I was feeling something other than pain and heartbreak for the first time since Monday’s walk-in. And as much I wished it was Trevillo’s hands wrapped around me, dropping flutters of kisses on my bare shoulder and breathing his hot, heavy breath against my skin, it wasn’t him. Trevillo didn’t care for me, neither did he want me. So there was no point in wishing. Wishes were for naive kids. Shooting stars and eyelashes on fingertips were nothing but a bunch of dumb shit.
Men will always be assholes, and women will always get used. It’s just, I used to be the one doing the using. Way to have my own game turned back on me, huh? Can’t go around breaking hearts and not expect my own to get broken one day.
Turning around to face Jahleel, I went up on my tippy toes, locked my arms around his neck, and kissed him before he could object. He froze, hesitant at first, but then he brought his hands up to cup my face and kissed me back, something fierce. He kissed me as if he’d wanted this his whole life, and I kissed him back hard, making him Trevillo’s substitute. I wanted to forget about what it was like being Trev’s. To not feel the heartache anymore. I just wanted to forget.
Breaking the kiss, I looked up at him with desperate yearning. “I want you.”
He blinked at me, as if unable to believe what I was asking. “You want … ?”
“You … to make me feel.”
Jahleel watched me without a word for several heartbeats, and I began to feel like I’d crossed the line. Like I’d screwed up our perfect relationship.
But then a slow smile crept onto his face as he said, “Two decades.”
He didn’t give me a chance to say more, as he grabbed me and started hauling me out of the club.
We crashed through our front door, lips glued together, hands rubbing everywhere, breathing wild. I gripped the lapels of Jahleel’s jacket and pulled him with me into the kitchen, walking backwards, never breaking the kiss.
“Your room,” he mumbled.
“No,” I mumbled back. “Can’t wait. I want you now.”
He tried to break free, but I wouldn’t let him. “Krissy, not like this.”
“We can make love later,” I promised him. “Right now, I want you to fuck me.”
“Dammit,” he hissed, voice strained. “I don’t want — ”
“Please, JK,” I begged. “Just … just let me feel … you.”
He didn’t want to.
At least not how I wanted him to. And I could see that he was having second thoughts. His gaze was fixed over my head, looking somewhat apologetic, and then he closed his eyes and turned his face to the side, as though he were trying to block something out. But when I looked behind me, no one was there.
I knew it was wrong of me to take advantage of him, knowing he wanted me in a completely different way than I wanted him. He wanted me beyond sex. Yet I was using him to fill the hole Trevillo left inside me.
But I didn’t care at the moment. Not even for him.
I was allowed to be selfish, because I was me. I was allowed to stop pretending and be the bad girl I truly was. If I couldn’t get anyone to tell me they wanted me and made me feel it, then maybe getting them to tell me they hated me would do the trick. But I had to do something bad to make someone hate me first. So, even though Ja
hleel would hate me in the morning when he found out I was just using him, I didn’t care.
As I continued to back up in the kitchen, my butt hit the dinner table, and I let go of his jacket. Gripping the edge of the table, I eased up to sit on it, spreading my thighs apart so my dress rode up to my hips and my black lace underwear was in clear view.
Jahleel stood distracted by this, his eyelids hooded, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. He was still deliberating.
Impatient, I reached for his lapels again and pulled him up between my thighs. “Do you want me or not, JK?”
There were no more second guesses when his resolve finally broke, and he grabbed me Jahleel Style and started kissing me again. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. As his lips traveled down my neck, towards my breasts, kissing between my cleavage, I reached down between us and undid his jeans, because I didn’t have the patience for foreplay at that moment. I wanted to be filled.
I pushed his boxers down his hips, and he sprang out. His cock was downright beautiful. Long, thick, and weighty with a slight curve upward. Yummy little veins snaked up to his wide, engorged head.
So. Frickkin’. Beautiful.
Wow.
It was hot and throbbing when I took it in my hands and began stroking. Now I was eager. I needed that beautiful thing inside me.
“Now. Please,” I moaned.
Releasing him, I leaned back on my elbows and raised my hips for him to take off my underwear.
Once they were off, I laid back on the table, took hold of his dick again, and positioned it at my entrance.
But Jahleel’s second goddamn thoughts started again. “This is not how — ”
“Just fuck me!” I shouted at him with a sudden burst of exasperation.
Vehemently shaking his head, he started to back away, but I jackknifed up, grabbed him by the waist and jerked him forward so he surged straight into me.
“Ahh!” I cried out at the same time he hissed, “Shit!”
His eyes slammed shut, and he stood still with a strained and pained expression. When it seemed he wasn’t going to move, I squeezed my inner muscles around him.
Releasing a long-winded groan, he whispered, “At least … at least let me tell you … I love you.”
As his forehead dropped to mine, he gently laid me back on the table and started to move. And, oh God, he felt amazing. He filled me perfectly. He touched me deep. He was doing more than filling a hole, because, he wasn’t just there … he was there.
Moving in sync with him, I moaned and whispered back, “I love you, too, Trev.”
One minute I was full, and the next, I was empty.
Jahleel was off me and dragging up his boxers and jeans. Taking one long, deep breath, he spun in a split second and slammed his fist into the wall. “Fuuuuucckkkk!!!”
As soon as what I said registered, I jolted upright. I called him Trev while he was inside me.
Jahleel whirled back around to face me, raging red. “Somethin’ happened between you two, didn’t it? I knew it. I knew it. And now you’re fuckin’ using me?!”
Deciding it wouldn’t make sense lying to him since he would find out the truth anyhow, I shrugged and apologized, “I’m sorry, JK.”
“Shit!!” he exploded again. “Why would you do this to me, Krissy? What the fuck did I ever do to you?”
Just then, the doorbell rang. Jahleel turned his face up to the ceiling and shouted. Just shouted. A long string of expletives followed. Then he turned and went to answer the door with his pants still undone and his white boxers peeking out.
He was seriously pissed off. Angrier than I’d ever seen him. Yet, I felt nothing. At that moment in time, I couldn’t find myself caring I’d hurt him. This was a screw-the-world moment for me.
I. Just. Didn’t. Care.
As I slid off the table and scooped up my underwear, I heard Jahleel explode again. “Ha! He’s like the fuckin’ Candy Man. Just say the assfuck’s name and poof, he appears!”
Panties still clutched in my hand, I ran from the kitchen to the front room and standing at the door was Trevillo, hands stuffed in his front pockets, face expressionless. He was Rocker Trev tonight, in black boots, black jeans, black T-shirt, and even a studded black belt.
All over again, I started hurting. Just to see him there. On my doorstep. The ice thawed from around my heart and it started beating again. I started hurting again.
Trevillo studied Jahleel’s ruffled attire — pants undone, cock semi-hard beneath the boxers. Then to me — dress twisted, panties in hand, lips no doubt swollen from kissing. Slowly, his eyes came up to mine, and I couldn’t read what was going on with him because he was still expressionless.
My heart plummeted, and I felt like crying. I wanted to apologize and beg for his forgiveness because I knew, even though he wasn’t showing it, he was hurt. Funny how I didn’t feel the compulsion to meaningfully apologize and beg for Jahleel’s forgiveness, even though he expressed his pain and had been good to me since I knew him.
And to think I had the nerve to feel guilt, even though I’d caught Trevillo in a more comprising position with Sarah, and he hadn’t apologized or cared or begged for forgiveness, yet I was feeling like the villain.
Starting to grow infuriated for having the wrong feelings in the wrong places for the wrong people, I turned to Jahleel to beg for his forgiveness, because he was the one who deserved it. “JK, I — ”
“Fuck off, Krissy,” he spat, as he zipped up his jeans. Leaning down to stare into my eyes, he seethed, “Fuck. Right. Off. You’re a heartless, emotionless, selfish, manipulative and empty bitc — ”
“Nuh uh,” I heard Trevillo warn in a calm voice. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
On a bitter laugh, Jahleel turned to Trevillo. “Seriously? Dude, I just had my cock buried deep inside her.”
Trevillo’s jaw tightened, but he held his composure well. “You may say whatever you want to me. But to her? No.” He shook his head from side to side to emphasize the ‘no’.
Jahleel scoffed and waved a hand between Trevillo and I as he said in general, “Good luck with … whatever the fuck this is.”
He shouldered past Trevillo through the door, and seconds later, I heard his motorbike roaring off.
The handsome blue-eyed man stood there all calm and inexpressive, staring at me, and I grew guiltier by the minute. I hid the hand holding my underwear behind my back so the shame wouldn’t be so evident. However guilty or shameful, I wasn’t going to give in to conscience and apologize for my actions, because the last time I saw this man, his cock was in another woman’s mouth.
Deceivingly soft, he ordered, “Pack your stuff.”
That’s it? That’s all he was going to say?
“What?”
“Pack your stuff,” he repeated as he took a step inside the house.
“What do you mean ‘pack your stuff’?”
Taking another step inside, he replied in an extremely quiet voice, “It means exactly what you think it means, Krissan. You are going upstairs to pack all the things you need, because when you leave this house tonight, you’re not coming back.”
I snorted. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You can’t just pop up on my doorstep some four days after I watched you empty yourself down another woman’s throat, and think you can order me around, telling me what to do. That agreement to be yours was broken. You broke it. Not by cheating on me, but by not showing you give a fuck with so much as a text message apology attached to a lame excuse. Nothing. You did nothing!”
Still stoic, he told me, “Be mad. You have every right. Cut my balls off. You have every right. Curse me out. You have every right. Seek revenge. You have every right. Don’t forgive me. I don’t deserve it. But leaving me? That’s not allowed. You don’t get to leave me. When you agreed to be Trev’s, you agreed to be Trev’s forever. Through shit storms and fuck-ups, you stay. There’s no leaving.”
Tears suddenl
y pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill. “You didn’t come after me. You didn’t! Why? Why would you just leave me to choke on the pain? Why?”
Trevillo sighed, and it was the first sign of emotion he showed since he arrived. “Aside from the fact I was out of the country within that same hour Monday, how … how could I have talked myself out of that, Krissan? Tell me? How could I have explained it to you? Should I have been a dickless asshole and blamed it all on Sarah when I know I could’ve controlled myself better than I did?
“I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. So I didn’t know the first goddamn thing to say to you if I called you. I tried, many times, but hung up before the phone even rang. What the fuck do I say to something like that? I still don’t know how to handle this shit. I just knew the minute I got off that jet, I wasn’t going to let you leave me.”
He drew a hand from his pocket and rubbed his forehead. “Now, since you know how to handle situations like these, try talking yourself out of what happened with you and your brother. Try explaining that shit to me. I’m all ears. Teach me. You start, and I’ll follow your lead.”
I sucked in my bottom lip and worried it between my teeth as I tried to find the best angle to explain what happened with Jahleel. “Okay … Um, okay … I was mad. Yes, that’s it. I was mad!”
“I was weak,” he followed.
“I-I wanted to forget about you,” I told him.
“I thought about you the whole time,” he put in.
“I, uh … he was … I was upset and … ”
Yeah, this was hard. There was nothing else I could find to explain the horridness of what went down with Jahleel and me.
“Pack your stuff.”
