by D. B. Webb
Of fucking course. Because nothing said heartbreak like a goodbye in the rain. It was cliché and I hated it.
I hated everything about this moment.
Jackson’s shoulders tensed and I watched as he slowly turned to face me. His eyes had softened and the thin line of his lips had disappeared into a frown. For a split second he looked like I felt: devastated.
“I thought we had more time… But it was fun while it lasted, right?” Something was off in the tone of his voice. It sounded like a lie.
It was a lie.
“Don’t go,” I finally broke. The tears fell, and he shook his head as he pulled me into him.
“Don’t cry, Ryan. Please.”
He wiped away my tears but when that didn’t work, he replaced his thumb with his mouth, kissing them away.
“I don’t… I can’t… What…” but I was crying too hard to sound coherent.
“Shh,” he murmured into my ear. “Please don’t cry,” he choked out.
He kissed me softly before pulling away.
“Jackson, wait,” I pleaded through my tears.
He gave me a pained look, one that told me he didn’t want this.
So, why was he leaving?
“Bye, Ryan,” he told me before jumping into the car.
I watched as he pulled away from the curb and drove off…
Without a single look back.
As I told Jackson the truth of what happened, I saw realization set in. Everything we had been through had been due to a misunderstanding. He had heard part of the conversation between Kayla and I and completely missed the part where I chose him. I told him how I had rushed over to L.A. the next morning to tell him I wanted him to be mine and only mine, only to find him leaving without so much as a goodbye.
He stood and silently listened. Even though pain was etched on his face, I couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looked. And he was perfect. And he was there. And now he was mine.
“I can’t believe…” Jackson paused as his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, “I can’t believe I’ve gone ten years without you because I thought that I was giving you what you needed, what you wanted.”
His eyes, the amber ones that reminded me of a strong whiskey, drifted toward the ceiling, and he shook his head in disbelief. I closed the distance between us and pulled his hands into mine.
“It’s not just your fault. Neither of us had been honest about how we really felt. We were stupid and young… But we’re here now. We have our second chance at this, at us.”
Amber eyes peered into my blue ones, and they felt like home. No, better than home, they felt like heaven. Standing with our hands clasped together, our eyes searching for the answers we needed, felt something like relief. Like a deep breath after holding your head underwater until your lungs hurt. Like a warm bed after a long pilgrimage.
“I’m never letting you go again,” he said earnestly, pressing his lips against mine.
They were soft and slow. Jackson took his time as though he were trying to get to know my lips again. Groaning, he swept his tongue across the bottom of my lip, asking for entrance, begging for more. I granted his tongue access and it danced against mine. He tasted like wine and forgotten memories.
Jackson pulled away only to lead us to his couch. He laid me down on my back and pressed his body into mine.
“You’re mine,” he told me with such fierceness, I whimpered into his mouth as it crashed down on me again.
He pulled away and brushed my hair away from my face.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded. “Tell me you’ve always been mine.”
I was drunk off our kisses and all I could think about was how much I needed him. It was past want. Past lust. It was a need that surpassed anything I had ever felt. I needed his mouth on mine, giving me breath again. I needed his hands caressing my skin to bring me back to life. I needed him on me, around me, in me.
“I’m yours,” I agreed hoarsely. “I’ve always been yours.”
And then we were connected again. Tasting, biting, licking. Making up for lost time, rushed touches, teeth clanking. I lifted my hips to get the friction my body desperately needed. Desire had begun to pool between my legs, and I was completely consumed by the man that was kissing me senseless.
I thrusted my hips again, and that time I connected with him and felt just how much he needed me too. He was hard and thick like I remembered him.
A groan from Jackson sent my head spinning. “Ryan,” he ground out, “We should slow down.”
Fuck that. We had been at a dead stop for ten years. Personally, I didn’t think we were going fast enough.
“No,” I argued breathlessly. His lips found my neck. He sucked the tender place that he knew drove me crazy.
Ho-ly. Shit.
“Please!” The cry that came from me startled us both, and Jackson chuckled darkly against my skin.
“Baby, you’re gonna kill me.”
I wanted to tell him that I thought he was going to be the death of me. But hell, it would be a perfect way to go.
His hands slipped underneath my shirt, cupping my breasts over my bra, rolling my hardened nipples between fingers. I pressed my chest further into him, needing him closer even if I didn’t think we’d ever be close enough.
When his mouth connected to the place behind my ear, the one that always had a way of making me squirm, I let out a moan and couldn’t help but writhe underneath him.
His body was strong and firm—he was all man. We had first met at twenty years old. We were really still kids then. He must have spent time working out because he was more muscular now. More rigid. More everything. This wasn’t a young kid trying to get his rocks off. No, he knew exactly what he was doing, even more so than he had years before. Every kiss, every trace he made with his fingertips, every nip was intentional and done with precise care.
“I need you,” he breathed into the sensitive flesh of my neck.
“Then have me,” I returned.
He pulled up so that he could see me. See the way my eyes begged for him to take me. See the way my breasts rose and fell with every heavy breath I took. He leaned back and kissed the corner of my mouth. It was a ghost of a kiss, barely touching me, yet it felt so intimate.
I wiggled underneath him, egging him on—asking without words for him to undress me.
The smug look on his face indicated that he knew exactly what I was wanting. Sitting, he pulled his own shirt off, and I gasped. I had never seen him without a shirt and now I knew why. Silver, jagged lines criss crossed against his chest and upper arms. If I had to guess there were probably more on his back. Eyes wide, I traced the deeper scars gingerly with my index finger as though they were still open wounds that could easily be reopened with the slightest touch.
So this is what he had been hiding from me.
“If we’re doing this thing again,” he told me in a soft voice, “we’re doing it with no rules. It’s all or nothing, baby, and I choose all.”
He caught my hand that was still tracing his marred skin in his own and pulled it to his lips. He gently placed a kiss on my knuckles before answering my silent questions, “My dad liked to use me as a punching bag… Now I’ve got the tattoos to remind me.”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson…”
“I used to be ashamed of them. I thought they made me weak. But now I don’t mind them. They remind me that I’ll never let someone have that kind of power over me again.”
I listened to him and tried not to cry. My Jackson, my sweet, wonderful Jackson had been through more than I had realized. I had always known there was tension between him and his parents, but I would have never imagined it was something quite that horrific.
I knew he didn’t want to be pitied. So, instead, I did the only other thing I could think of to do. I lifted myself up so that we were chest to chest and began running my tongue across his collarbone. When I reached the hollow of his neck, I peppered kisses down and onto each scar I could com
e in contact with. I kissed them to show him that I still found him to be the most handsome man I had ever seen. I kissed them to take away the pain that each one had once caused. I kissed them to make them, like the rest of him, mine.
“Ryan,” he groaned, tangling his hands in my blonde hair. “God, I love you.”
I slipped off the couch and continued to kiss him lower until my tongue skimmed the waistband of his boxers that peaked out from under his jeans. My hands shook as I unbuttoned his pants and slowly pulled them and his underwear down his legs. His erection sprung free, begging for my lips to wrap around it. I licked the drop of precum from the pink head, and Jackson let out a guttural sound of pleasure, urging me forward. I took him in my mouth as far as I could and wrapped my hands around the part I couldn’t fit in my mouth. Jackson’s hands wrapped my hair into a ponytail and rocked my head back and forth, deep and shallow, full and empty.
I stared up at him and found his eyes watching me hungrily. I let his dick out of my mouth with a plop and pumped him in my hand a few times before standing and peeling off my shirt. The bra I wore underneath was a royal purple lace and the look on Jackson’s face told me he appreciated it. Undoing and unzipping my jeans, I hooked my thumbs in the loops and pulled them down slowly. I never broke eye contact with Jackson, wanting to see every emotion that ran through his sparkling eyes.
“Fuuuck,” he growled. Gone was the nice guy. His eyes were heavy with want. He licked his lips before yanking me toward him. The skin on my bare stomach burned at the touch of his soft, tanned skin. It wasn’t until then that I had even noticed that his skin was sun-kissed. I took a few seconds to appreciate it and the small freckles that danced across his shoulders. I wondered briefly where the hell he had gotten a tan during a New York winter.
As his lips branded the heated skin of my neck and shoulders, his fingers danced across my panty line. Slowly, he dipped his hand into my lacy thong. His thumb brushed across my oversensitive clit, and I let out a cry, which only made him more determined, and he slipped a finger between the slick folds of my sex.
“You’re so wet.”
And I was. I was dripping with want for him.
“Mmm,” was the only thing I could manage before he plunged two fingers into me. He worked them in and out of me, circling my clit with his thumb as he did. When I was close, my legs began to shake, and I didn’t think I would be able to stand any longer.
“Jackson,” I pleaded. For what? I wasn’t even sure.
He pulled his fingers from me and I immediately felt empty. Jackson pressed his index finger to my lips. It was coated with my juices and as he swiped his finger across my lower lip, I found myself following the trail with my tongue.
“Jesus Christ.”
“I don’t think he’d approve of what we’re doing,” I joked.
Jackson gave a short laugh and sucked his two fingers in his mouth.
“You taste as sweet as I remember… maybe even better.”
His words sent an electric shot straight to my core. I pulled my thong and bra off of me before collapsing on the couch beside Jackson, who was still kneeling on it.
He pushed his jeans and boxers fully off of his body before settling over me. His cock pressed against my belly, hard and thick.
“I’m on the pill,” I told him suddenly, hoping he’d finally let us be together without anything between us.
He hesitated before pulling my earlobe between his teeth. When he released it, his hot breath hit against me, sending shivers down my naked body.
“Do you want me to come inside of you, Ryan?” I felt as he ran his tongue down my neck and back up. I nodded.
With my consent, he settled his cock at my entrance. I was impatient for him to be inside of me. I craved him like a junkie craved their next hit. I let out a quiet whine just as he filled me in one swift move. I hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, so his sudden intrusion caused a small rush of pain. But as he continued to rock inside of me, pleasure overtook anything I had been feeling.
“I’ve dreamt about being with you like this,” he told me between kisses. “You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Mine.”
I didn’t argue. Even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to make any words leave my mouth. All I saw was him. All I felt was him. All I knew was him.
The sound of slapping, wet flesh filled the quiet room. It was the sound of our love making, a song that was setting my soul on fire.
Each time he pushed himself farther into me, I could hear one word over and over again.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
The week after Jackson’s departure was full of wallowing and being melodramatic. Both Kayla and I had been dumped, so to speak, and we were really feeding off of each other. It was worse than the time our cycles had synced and we had both PMSed at the same time.
“Fucking boys,” she whined between mouthfuls of her peanut butter chocolate ice cream.
“Yep,” was my curt reply. I had already eaten my weight in sweets and had opted out of this round of eating our feelings. Instead, I picked at my nail beds, wondering what Jackson was doing.
I had refused to contact him after he left, and told Kayla if she heard from him, I didn’t want to know. I had wasted a month swooning over him already and didn’t have any more time to spend on Jackson Freaking Bennett.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be here,” she sighed before putting the carton of ice cream on our coffee table.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe we should be out… You know, looking for rebound sex.”
I swore that half the time my best friend and I were from different planets, because rebound sex sounded like the exact opposite of what I wanted to do.
“You have fun with that,” I told her.
“Shit… you’re right. It sounds like a terrible plan.” Kayla threw her arms dramatically in the air and let out a loud cry. “He fucking broke me! Brody broke me. I don’t even want sex right now!”
I laughed at her, and she shot me a dirty look.
“This is serious. We’re screwed, friend.”
I had to agree with her on that. It was like we were stuck on a never-ending ferris wheel. Around and around and around. We weren’t able to get off and move on. The cycle was getting old and making me crazy.
“Have you heard from him?” I asked Kayla, nodding my head to her cell that had been discarded on the floor beside us.
“Nope. You?”
“Have I heard from Brody?”
“No, you jackass, Jackson.”
I sucked in my cheeks and gave a slow shake of my head.
“He’s really gone.” Kayla sounded as shocked as I felt. It was some consolation knowing that I wasn’t the only one who had been blindsided by Jackson’s actions.
“He’s really gone,” I confirmed so quietly I wasn’t even sure she heard me.
The words made my heart ache.
Gone.
It took Kayla all of three weeks before she was finally back to her old self. She danced while cooking, sang off key, and brought home men each weekend. I, on the other hand, was stuck between a state of resignation and hope. I couldn’t count on both hands how many times I had picked up my phone with the intention of getting ahold of Jackson before thinking better of it.
Kayla had kept true to her word and never uttered a single syllable of him, and I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or disappointed in that. She went on with life, acting as though everything was exactly as it had been before Jackson had swept me away with his charm and good looks. Brody was a thing of the past, and it seemed like she believed I should be thinking the same thing about Jackson.
But I couldn’t. Because I had spent weeks telling myself he was just my present with my heart hoping he was my future too. Making him a thing of the past was easier said than done.
Soon, days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months.
Three months had passed since I had last
seen Jackson when tragedy struck again. This time was in the form of a loss I had never imagined could hurt as bad as it had.
Mom died. Killed by a drunk driver. It seemed the higher powers that be had a horrible sense of humor when they decided to have my alcoholic mother killed by a drunk driver. The man that had hit them took off before the police got there. Without witnesses, the man got away while my world was turned upside down.
Kayla was a great friend. She watched me as I walked the floors of our apartment like a ghost. She never pushed for me to talk about my feelings, knowing how much I hated doing that. So instead she made herself scarce, not knowing how to help me. I didn’t blame her. I would have done the same thing.
Losing mom was a searing pain. Pain that I imagined losing a limb would be like. She and I hadn’t been close for ages, but she was still my momma. She was the woman who had sung lullabies at night when I was a child. The woman who cut off the crust on my sandwiches in my school lunches. She was the one who told me how pretty I was when I felt insignificant because of mean girls in my class. She was my best friend as a child. My tormentor as a teenager. My greatest life lesson when I was an adult. Yet she was still mine. She was my mother. And now she was gone.
For the first time in years, I wished that I had a dad. Someone to pick up the broken pieces with me. But I didn’t. Hell, my mom hadn’t even let me meet my grandparents. I had no family that I knew of. That left Kayla, who was MIA during the day. She had started school again, while I was taking the semester off. So I walked around our home in a trance for weeks.
It was three weeks after Mom died that I started looking into schools. The first one that really caught my eye was NYU.
New York.
My heart did a weird flip as I researched the school and the different programs they offered. They had a Photography and Imaging degree. It was perfect.
And it was near him.
I convinced myself, as I applied, that I wasn’t doing it because it was located in the same city as Jackson Bennett. But it didn’t hurt.
When Kayla got home that day, I told her that I had applied to NYU and she eyed me suspiciously. Apparently she didn’t buy my “this isn’t about Jackson” bullshit as well as I did.
