by DD Prince
She told me about her closest friends, about how they all had crushes on her brothers, but that she forbade them to date any of her friends, after Spencer had done the dirty with one and then the girl got pregnant. Jojo’s friend had a miscarriage and it was a near miss… Spence was almost the first married off in a literal shotgun wedding. It had been a bad enough scene that Jojo made them all swear they’d never date her friends again.
Jojo kept losing her joy and sinking toward thinking about Luke, but when I saw it happening, I’d just start gabbing some more and change the topic.
She told me that a few of her friends met Ella at the hospital and were currently plotting to assassinate her for ‘bagging’ Deacon.
“Oh, Ella would win,” I assured. “She may be little and all cute-girl-next-door, but she’s fallen hard for Deacon. She’ll end those bitches to protect her man.”
“So, my other brother…” she said, pouring our fourth daquiris that felt like our tenth. “You fall hard for him?”
“Nope. We’re not talking heavy stuff,” I put my hand up.
She poured it too full, so I had to lean over and slurp some. My back was to the door and I hadn’t heard the door open, unfortunately for me.
“He’s off limits,” I said, licking my upper lip, still hunched over the chair and my too-full drink. “I can’t talk about him or how he’s the best sex I’ve ever had and how I’m the worst sex he ever had.”
“Err… Jenna…” Jojo started. But, I kept going.
“And how I could absolutely see a future with him. You know? The future I want. He needs a couple tweaks but he’s definitely a canvas I thought I could work with. Not the future my mother wants for me. Which is fine by me. I think I saw my whole life in my head that first time on the back of his motorcycle, and what I saw was good. Mm. More than good. But I was wrong. He’s allergic to commitment, as you said. And I’m just super vanilla. And he’s not. He’s… rocky road. Delicious rocky road.”
I sighed and then kept going, shaking my head.
“And we’re over before we got a chance to begin. Because I’m a selfish hypocrite materialistic bitch, apparently. It was over before I got a chance to see if I could trust letting my guard down. And fuck, I wanted to. It’s just as well. I can’t trust him.” I looked up from my daquiri and noticed she had a horrified look on her face.
“What? Oh yeah, off limits. Let’s forget about him. Sorry for talking sex about your brother. But, yeah. Fuck him.” I put my mouth back to the glass and took another big slurp and lifted it off the chair we were using as a table. “Though I could go one more round, maybe. Show him that he’s wrong. R-O-N-G wrong. Be the best sex he’s ever had and then tell him Fuck You, Rider Valentine. Fuck you and your anti-monogamy..notony…monogo…whatever.”
“Joelle. Go to bed. We gotta get up early,” Rider said from behind me.
I jolted. I felt his hand on the back of my neck. He squeezed a little. Sweetly, maybe. Oh shit.
“Someone kill me. Please.”
I closed my eyes. How long had he been standing there?
“Night, babes,” she said to me.
“You got a gun, Jojo? Please. Shoot me,” I pleaded.
“Nope. No way am I shootin’ my future sister-in-law. Good luck, Ride.” She took her full drink and moseyed on out.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
He let go of my neck. “One sec. Hold that ‘fuck Rider’ thought.” And then he disappeared into the bathroom. And I was thinking, shit.
Retreat? Retreat!
I jumped to my feet and went out into the hall and was about to shut the door. Shit. I didn’t have my bag. If I found my way out of this labyrinth, I’d need it.
I ducked back in and he was coming out of the bathroom.
“Where you goin’?”
“I gotta go.”
“Come here,” he said.
He was in just a pair of jeans and a black muscle shirt. His arms looked amazing. His ink. I could see the nipple piercing straining at the tight fabric of his shirt. He kicked his boots off and yanked his socks off and sat on the bed.
“Come here,” he repeated.
“Why?” I asked.
“I wanna talk to you.”
“No.” I shook my head, feeling like I was in mortal danger. Well, not me physically, but me emotionally. “Nope. I’m drunk, Rider. I need to just close my eyes and sleep. Not say more shit to embarrass myself while my Kevlar is malfunctioning.”
I went to him anyway.
Why? Who knows. Kevlar malfunction. Evidently.
He got to his feet when I got close. I pushed at his chest.
“Don’t. I wanna sleep. We’re done, you and me. Okay?” And then I ran my hands up his chest until they got to his shoulders. My hands stopped there. And then I shoved and grabbed him by fistfuls of his muscle shirt.
I looked up into his eyes. His beautiful green-blue eyes.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he whispered, kissing my temple.
My heart hurt so bad it felt like it was bleeding. “I’m sure.” I touched his bottom lip with my fingertips. And then I pouted.
After a loaded moment of silence, me staring at his mouth, he stepped back.
“You don’t wanna try? See if we can make fireworks together? ‘Cuz I’d bet my Harley we can.”
I stared at him. My throat was dry. “No.” I took a step forward.
“Sure?”
“Yep.”
I stepped closer again. My hands were on his chest again. Or still? I didn’t know.
“Okay,” he shrugged and backed up.
And that hurt. I chewed the inside of my cheek, feeling the burn in my chest and my eyes.
“Okay?” I asked. I still had my hands on his chest. Or maybe I’d moved forward again.
He smiled at me and looked like he was about to crack up laughing.
I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He looked down at me and then pulled his shirt off and climbed in with me.
“Yeah, give up, Rider. They all do,” I said, all maudlin.
“What?” he asked, lifting up on an elbow and looking down at me.
“Nothing.”
He booped my nose with his index finger.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“How bad am I?” I asked.
“Huh?” he asked.
“In bed. I’m that bad?”
He let out a long sigh, “Gorgeous…”
“I’m not bad in bed. I’ve never had any complaints,” I defended.
I didn’t like how my voice sounded. I sounded like a loser.
“Maybe you and me…we’re just not compatible in bed.” He was trying to be nice, but it was in his voice. It was written all over his face. And I could still hear those mean words he’d said about me being a selfish lay.
He was amazing in bed. He liked it rough, but the things he did with his tongue, his dick? He wasn’t bad in bed.
I was pissed at this guy. Pissed. But, I had to change his perception of me. Even if we were over, which we so were, I couldn’t let it end with him thinking I was bad in bed. He needed to have trouble getting over me because of how fucking awesome I am. He needed to think of me when he was old and gray and not nearly as hot, and think of me as the one that got away.
“Give me another shot. Let me show you you’re wrong. I’m not bad in bed.” I blurted.
His head jerked in surprise.
“We’re over. Don’t mistake me, Rider Valentine. But, I’m about to prove you wrong. Take off your fucking clothes!” I got to my feet and got the shock of my life when he got up too, and roughly grabbed my hips and backed me against the wall beside the bed.
I’d decided that though I was fed up with him and didn’t want anything to do with a guy who got his rocks off in a staged rape gangbang, I didn’t want to end this with him thinking what he thought about me. I was gonna walk away with him wanting more.
And not being able to get it.
His eye
s were darker, hooded, and filled with intent. His hand cupped my jaw. “Since we’re over, I’ll give you a parting gift. I’ll show you how to fuck. I’ll show you how to rock the world of any man you wanna give that to. I’ll take off my fucking clothes, but first…” He grabbed my tank top with both hands and shredded it, stopping at the hem so that the front was ripped straight down the middle, but it was still technically on my body. “Yours.”
He looked angry. Very angry. My heartrate spiked. And then he leaned in and ran his nose up the ridge of my ear and then sucked my earlobe into his mouth.
I started breathing heavily and wetness had already hit the gusset of my undies.
But, my heart hurt at just the notion of rocking some other guy’s world. I pouted. And then I pulled my lip back in, but he saw it. I know he did, because I hadn’t hidden it and now he had a smirk on his face.
And I felt like he was playing me.
And I did not care.
I pushed it away and grabbed his belt buckle and worked his jeans undone. I went down with the jeans, sultrily, like a burlesque dancer, letting them sit on his thighs, then my hands rose, and I dug my nails into his perfect ass cheeks as I took him deep into the back of my throat. How I didn’t gag, I have no idea. Pure resolve, maybe. But, despite that the round studs on his dick were hitting the back of my throat, I sucked.
“Teeth, Jenna. Fuck,” he growled and pulled my hair back a little.
I deflated and pushed him away and wiped my mouth.
I got to standing and, looking down, avoiding his eyes, I tried to move away. This wasn’t gonna work. He didn’t even like the way I gave blowjobs. And I hated giving blowjobs. Why was I trying to prove something to him?
He wasn’t having it. The me pulling away part. He grabbed my hair and used it to bring my mouth to his. And then he was devouring me with his lips, his tongue.
I whimpered, half with arousal and half with frustration. He spun me to face the wall.
“You want it the way I like it?” He licked my collar bone.
“Rider.” I don’t know why I answered with his name.
“I want it rough, baby. Just a little bit rough. You can handle it, promise.” His mouth was at my ear and I was melting.
“Do it,” I heard myself say, and I was too much of a ball of sensation and firing synapses to think it through.
The yoga pants and panties went down to my ankles and he went down with them and then he bit into my ass cheek.
I jolted. “Ow!”
And then my ass was slapped with a ringing startling slap that made me gasp. He stood and almost immediately, I felt him, sliding between my legs.
“You okay with no condom?”
He’d already fucked me bare so what was the difference? I’d taken my birth control pill that day. I never forgot to take it.
“Hurry,” I demanded.
He slammed inside and then his hand snaked around to my throat and he held it.
“You’re makin’ me fucking crazy, gorgeous girl. Crazy like I’ve never been crazy.”
I whimpered, feeling everything he was giving me. He bit into my neck and I went liquid. My legs were trembling. That little voice in my head was trying to tell me to push him away, to get a grip, but I ignored it.
“You know how crazy you’re making me? I really fuckin’ get off on fightin’ with you, baby. I don’t get off on fightin’ ever. Till you. Never fucked without a condom. Love this. Feeling nothing but you around me.”
I shook my head. “No-ho. Ohgodohgod oh…right there. Right. Fucking. Ah! There!”
“Never been jealous, either. Till you. No one touches you but me. We’re not over, Jenna. We’re just getting started.”
I whimpered. “Uh uh.”
He was slamming into me. This felt so damn dirty. His jeans zipper was cutting into my upper thigh and I didn’t even care. Because, if I complained, he might stop what he was doing, and I did not want it to stop. Maybe not ever. He was hitting my g-spot. His fingers were holding my throat possessively and then his other hand went to my clit and he was pinching it or something and it felt crazy good.
“You really mean it when you say you want us over?” He demanded.
I moaned.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Then why do you want this?” he demanded, slamming hard into me.
“I… oh fuck…” I was gonna come. This fast.
“Beg me not to stop. Or I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop. I’m close.”
“I should stop.”
“No…”
“You turn lazy after you come. I think I should keep you on edge until I’m close.”
“No. Don’t stop.”
“Beg.”
I didn’t even hesitate for a split second this time. “Please, Rider. Ride me. Ride me, ride me. Fuck. Don’t stop…”
“No date with Daniel.”
“Nope.”
“Never.”
“Okay.”
“No dates with anyone.”
“Fuck...ah…fuck you,” I grunted, so close, so deliciously close to climaxing.
“Want me to stop?”
“No. Don’t. S-stop. Don’t. Stop.”
He thrust in over and over and over; a punishing rhythm that matched the rhythm of my begging. I heard each slap of skin and grunted in time with it. And then he pulled out and spun me and as his lips crashed into mine, it was a tumble and a cloud of hair and arms and legs, clothes flying off, and cusswords ground out as we hit the bed, my legs thrown up over his shoulders.
He was intently staring into my eyes while driving forward. Hard. So hard. I came, hard. I grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth to mine, crying into it. His eyes looked hard, angry.
I jolted in surprise.
He threw my legs back down, moved closer to my face, grabbed me by the jaw, and then his lips crashed into mine.
“Like to get hate fucked, Jenna?”
I gasped. “What?”
He laughed and tried to kiss me again.
I was about to pull away.
He kissed me anyway, letting go of my jaw to pin both arms over my head. He got them into the grip of one hand. He rammed hard. Then again. Then again, then pulled out.
“Gonna come all over your belly. Gonna write my name on this sweet body with my come. Mark you. Make sure you remember how good dirty can be.”
I was in such shock that I was frozen, mouth open, staring, reeling. Coming to grips with what was happening right here. In disbelief.
And then he stroked his cock with hard, long strokes until streams of his come were landing, warm, on my belly. He was staring at my stomach, not at my face, so he didn’t see what must’ve been horror on it.
And then he leaned over and ran his nose along my jawline and kissed my ear.
He leaned back on his knees and lifted his gaze to me and a smirk on his face melted clean away.
I was just lying there, staring, in shock.
He flinched.
“Jenna…” His eyes softened.
“Hate fuck?” I choked out hoarsely.
I felt my face crumpling.
He shook his head, paling, “It was a joke. It’s not---" He reached for me. “Baby…”
I scampered away, not letting him finish, and yanked my underwear and pants on. I ran to the bathroom and slammed the door and locked it, getting away from him before he could see me fall apart.
I felt the vibration of him pounding his fist against the door twice, but I kept leaning against it. I slid down slowly until I was on the floor, my forehead buried in my knees.
“Baby, don’t take that literally. It’s a game. Angry sex. That’s all. There wasn’t an ounce of hate in that.”
“Fuck you and all your games.” I jumped to my feet and started wiping his jizz off my belly with toilet paper. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Oh no. Shit no. He gave me another damn hickey! It was hideous and big on my neck.
“G
orgeous…”
“Fuck! Off!” I screeched and threw the toilet paper into the toilet and turned the shower on.
I stripped my clothes off, noticing I again only had one sock on. And Jojo’s tank top was half on me, but ripped, ruined. And I got in the shower and bawled while I shampooed my hair and scrubbed my stomach.
I heard an ugly smashing sound. He got in, pulling me into his arms, against his body. I tried to push him away, refusing to meet his eyes so he couldn’t see that I was crying. He tightened his grip on me.
“Talk to me,” he demanded, rubbing his hands up my back. He turned the shower off.
“I don’t wanna talk to you. I’m furious. That you would say that to me? I have a fuck of a lot more respect for myself than to let myself be treated like this. Fucking someone who hates me…”
“I don’t hate you. It wasn’t like that. You gotta know that what I’m feeling is a long fuckin’ way from hate. Hate fucking is just a rougher version of angry sex. It’s a good way to deal with frustration. We’re gonna learn a lot about one another. What I like. What you like. I’m lookin’ forward to it. What we did wasn’t even that. I was only teasin’ because of the way you yanked my hair."
“Not like what you and your biker shithead friends did to that girl? We’re done, Rider. That hate fucking thing was the last of it. So, I hope you enjoyed that shitty Jenna Murdoch lay, because it was the last time you’ll have to endure it.”
He clenched his jaw. “I explained about that gash, Jenna. Is that something you’re gonna throw in my face for the rest of our lives?”
“Do not call women gashes! And what?” I did a double take. “The rest of our…” I frowned.
He smiled deviously.
I shook my head. “Out. I’m pissed at you, Rider. Go.” I pointed.
He took my face into both hands. “Not going.”
“Then I will. I’m going to bunk with Jojo.”
I pulled away and exited the bathroom, which now had a broken door knob, to the suitcase on the floor by the bed and dragged on hot pink cheeky panties with the word PINK in silver glitter on the bum. I hadn’t even taken the tags off. I quickly threw on the first thing I could find. The hoodie. The hoodie. She must’ve put it back in the suitcase she’d packed for me. It was on and I was thinking it needed to come off. I was about to take it back off when he was coming out of the bathroom in a towel. I started dragging my purse and that suitcase out, heading to the next door to the right. In just the hoodie and panties. I banged on the door.
