Visibly Broken

by Chelsea Camaron

  “My angel works twelve-hour shifts. I work eight. I have some extra time. No big thing.” He shrugs again. “Let’s get these boxes in the car.”

  He calls me angel, but I know better. I know he is mine.

  —

  Over the next couple days, I push aside revenge and vengeance and surround myself in him as often as I can. When I return back to work, he brings me lunch every day. Every day for three now.

  The way my coworkers look at him should make me jealous. The way he looks at me and only me, though, tells me jealousy is unnecessary.

  Like every day since the first, he is home before me, waiting by the elevator door when it opens, leaning against the wall so the first thing I see is him. The look in his eyes is fierce, his chest tightens, his jaw squares, and the muscles in it flex. Then his tongue swipes quickly across his lips as his nostrils flare. His feet are bare and so is his chest. He wears low-slung shorts or sweatpants.

  He looks at me the same, regardless if I am in scrubs or naked. His green eyes bore into me with hunger. His kiss is possessive. His touch is protective. His thrusts scream that he is claiming me, marking me, ensuring that I will never forget him.

  I never will.

  We eat dinner, staring at each other. I look down when I feel like I may crawl over the table and demand to feel him.

  “How was work?” I ask.

  “I hate my fucking job,” he answers point-blank.

  “Then why do it?” I ask before taking a drink of water.

  “Paycheck,” he answers then takes another bite.

  “I wish you loved your job,” I say quietly.

  He smirks and shakes his head then points his fork at me. “How was your day?”

  I shrug. “Nobody died.”

  He smiles and nods. “That’s a good day.”

  I smile back because his is spectacular and the dimple is even more so.

  His smile straightens. “Bennett?”

  Oh, hell, how could I forget?

  “I agreed to go to dinner.”

  I watch as his eyes narrow.

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow, five o’clock.”

  He stands up and grabs his plate then mine and stalks to the sink, dropping the plates in. “I’m gonna step out for a bit.”

  I jump up and walk to him. “Where?”

  He holds his hand up, stopping me. “Don’t.”

  “Let me go with you,” I begin, feeling anxiety build.

  He shakes his head and starts to step around me, and I move in front of him.

  “I’m telling you I need a fucking minute, Lo,” he snaps.

  “Angel.” I use his endearment to me and remain unmoving.

  He lets out a deep breath, crosses his arms, and leans back against the wall. “You don’t cage a man like me.” I smile, refusing to believe him, and he gasps. “I told you I’m a bad man, Lo.”

  I step toward him, shaking my head from side to side. “You’re not bad to me.”

  He looks up with hunger in his eyes as I walk closer.

  “I’m not afraid of you.” I take his face in my hands. “Eyes on me.”

  He looks down, his eyebrow cocked.

  “I agreed to go to dinner.” He growls at that, and it sparks desire inside me. “I told him you would be coming, too.”

  His eyebrow rises higher.

  “I need to do this,” I tell him. “They were good to me.”

  He sighs, still not saying anything.

  “You need to be there, because…” I shrug and look down, feeling vulnerable. His fingers touch my chin and lift it, and our eyes meet. “I need you.”

  His body tenses, but he doesn’t move. He stands as strong and tall as a statue.

  “I need you, too, you know. I need to feel you, to be one with you. I realized some things the day you broke into my house and saved me from”—I shrug—“myself. You have to know, Jason, that you and me…This is it.” I close my eyes after using the words he used with me, the words that play over and over in my head almost hourly. When he doesn’t reply, I say it out loud, like a prayer begging to be answered. “Home.”

  “Eyes,” he snarls.

  I give him what he asks for, opening my eyes and searching his as they search mine.

  “This is home. Decisions get made together. And listen to this really well, Lo.” He grabs my hips, lifting me, before he stalks to the kitchen island where he sits me on it, gruffly putting his hands on either side of me and leaning in so his nose almost touches mine. “Never ask me to sit across from the man who fucked your sweet, innocent, mourning pussy. A sick fuck who touched your body, making you pretend to be less than the angel you are. You don’t know the monster inside of me. You don’t know that I want nothing more than to rip him apart, limb by motherfucking limb.”

  My pulse quickens; my chest rises and falls rapidly; my body is near combusting from how badly I want him.

  “Fuck me,” I beg.

  He growls then laughs a haunting laugh before reaching behind me, and with one swipe of his arm, he sends everything on the counter tumbling to the ground. Excitement grows hotter and hotter inside me.

  He pushes my back so I am lying on the hard granite countertop, then grabs my scrub bottoms and rips them from my body. I start to sit up.

  “Stay. Fucking. Down.” He covers my entrance with his mouth, and then his tongue circles my clit.

  “Yes!” I cry out.

  I have been on edge since he met me at the elevator, half-naked and wanting me, so I knew I wouldn’t last long.

  His tongue thrusts inside of my pussy, and I contract around it. My hips thrust upward, and he grips my thighs and spreads me wider. His tongue slows, and I try to thrust into his face again, needing more, but he digs his fingers into my thighs, stopping me.

  “Please,” I beg, knowing I’m there.

  He removes his mouth, steps back, shoves his pants down, and then wraps his hand around himself tightly, groaning as he pumps his thick cock.

  I push myself up and slide off the counter, dropping to my knees before him. He rubs the tip of his cock across my lips, and I lick him, tasting the salty pre-come.

  Then he steps back and pushes his erection into his shorts.

  I shake my head, and he nods.

  “Why?”

  “You pissed me off!” he snarls.

  “Let me finish.” I grab his leg and pull myself across the smooth wooden floor.

  “Dammit, no.” He steps back.

  “I don’t understand?” I nearly cry.

  “I don’t understand, either, but I’m making this decision for us, just like you made one for us.”

  “That’s cruel,” I snap.

  “Damn straight it is.” And he walks away.

  —

  After my shower, I walk out completely naked and crawl into bed. He lifts his arm for me to curl up next to him, and I do. I look up at him, and he looks down.

  “Kiss me.”

  He does.

  My hand runs down his chest, his stomach, and I grip him.

  He pulls away from my kiss. “No.”

  I close my eyes. Inside, I weep. He doesn’t need to push me away physically and emotionally to teach me some sort of lesson. I know I am new to having a relationship, but this can’t be how we handle things.

  —

  I wake up to Jason pushing my knees apart with his thighs. His cock is in his hand, pumping himself hard and fast. It’s beautiful. His neck muscles are strained, and every vein is visible in his strong forearm as he strokes faster and faster.

  “Oh, God,” I say as the fire inside me blazes from just the sight of him.

  “Fuck!” he snaps. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He releases his cock and pulls me close. Then he lines up, thrusting harshly inside me. He comes hard, groaning sexy obscenities as his cock pulses inside of me. He leans forward and grazes his teeth across me from hip to hip. Then, in the blink of an eye, he pushes himself off the bed.

  “Jason?”


  “My come better be inside you when I get home.” He walks toward the bathroom then turns back. “That decision was mine alone. I came hard inside the pussy I fucking own. You made a decision yesterday and didn’t consider me one damn bit.”

  I gasp as I am both angry and elated that he marked me in his own way. “You’re serious?”

  “You’re damn right I am.”

  After his shower, he comes out completely naked and dresses quickly.

  “You’re an ass.” I pout.

  “I’m the only ass that has ever owned that pussy and made it a priority.”

  “Well, that changed,” I say, rolling so I am looking away from him. I have learned to make myself my own priority…because of Jason and our time together, but I’m not telling him that right now.

  “Today, as you fight to keep my come inside of you, wishing you could get off, I’ll be trying to figure out how the fuck I’m gonna keep from killing his ass tonight.” He grabs my shoulders and rolls me over, kissing me harshly then growling as he stands up. “This is fucked up, Lo.”

  “I trust you can handle it. I need you there with me!” I yell at his back in desperation. We have never had this type of moment together. I can feel the heat coming off of his body as he fights inside with his own emotions.

  “You give me too damn much credit, angel,” he barks as he walks out of the bedroom.

  I wait until I hear him leave then get up. I don’t know what to think. Actions speak louder than words and Jason’s actions with me have always been good. After my shower, I dress, determined to find out who killed my family. More than ever, I need closure.

  I need to be smarter now. I need to get this done. I need to either live—truly live—or smile when I see the bright white light at the end of the tunnel, knowing that I have done my family proud. I have been in a relationship that I could never walk away from, because as angry as I am at him now, he is my home.

  —

  At four-thirty, he walks in the door, and I feel my body heat up. I’m pissed about this morning, but seeing him lessens the anger drastically.

  He drops his bag and storms toward me, pulling me up from the barstool and kissing me hard, taking my breath away. He then shoves his hand down the front of my leggings and pushes his finger possessively inside of me. He sighs against my mouth and pulls away.

  He then takes my hand and drags me behind him to the bedroom. “Bend.”

  One word is filled with so much promise.

  I do.

  He pulls my pants down and thrusts his thick cock inside me. Lazily, he moves in and out. Each time I try to push against him, he holds me still.

  I feel him pulse and whimper, “I’m close.”

  He spurts off inside of me then pulls out.

  Kissing the back of my head, he says, “Tonight, when you sit at dinner across from that piece of shit, know that my come is filling your pussy. I own it.”

  “I am so pissed at you.”

  “Uh-huh,” he says. “But when you’re in that house, whose cock will you be thinking about wanting? Don’t answer. It’s mine, Lo. Mine.”

  “All I want is you.” I almost can’t fight back the tears. I need him. I want him, and he is punishing me.

  “You’re damn right you do,” he snaps.

  Chapter 20

  Jason

  I’m an asshole. Time and time again, I have told her there is a monster inside me. She wants to find the good when there is none. I’m punishing her, and I’m punishing myself. I don’t want to fuck her angry, but I need her to know she claimed me as much as I claimed her. This is us.

  This is different. I don’t want to hurt her. The thought of my hands on her in anger makes me sick. I just want her to see that we need to do things together. Punishing her, I am punishing me. The push and the pull runs through my veins. Every breath I take is a fight inside not to repeat the same mistakes. Everything between us pushes me not to push her too far. I find the ways to hold back; even when I don’t think I can, I do.

  I am quiet as we make the drive to the Bennett family home. Tonight will be our make it or break it. I will be here where she needs me. Before I put my mark on that pussy anymore, though, she needs to know exactly who she crawled into bed with. To do that, she needs to know my past. She needs to know I have the power to hurt her, and I don’t just mean break her heart.

  There is a poster at the gym: a real man owns his mistakes. a real man uses the fight inside to face them and never make them again.

  We are not going to be another mistake in the long line of mistakes I make in life. Tonight, I will lay it all out for her. If she chooses to walk away, I will use the fight inside to let her go. What I won’t do is make the same mistakes again.

  Reaching over, I squeeze her hand as I park the car. Hand in hand, we make our way inside the overdone home.

  As we enter, I can’t help tensing up. It reminds me of the lavish place I grew up in. Behind such beautiful doors were many secrets. Is this house the same?

  Dr. Bennett comes around the corner to greet us. He quickly hugs Lo tightly, not hiding his look of distaste for me.

  “Lorraine, we’re so glad to have you home,” Mrs. Bennett says, following not far behind her husband.

  She gasps as she looks at me. I want to laugh because I see the lust in her eyes as she licks her lips, looking me up and down. She keeps watching me as she hugs Lo.

  The collar of my shirt hides my neck tattoo. I’m not the pretty boy in dress pants and a button-down she thinks I am. I want to tell her I’m not the pool boy or her tennis coach, so she need not ogle me further, but then Ryan Bennett comes down the stairs, and my eyes meet his narrowed ones as rage automatically runs through my veins.

  Hugging Lo, he sneers over at me. Then I hear him whisper, “What did you bring him for? This is a family dinner.”

  “She asked me to come.” I step up with her back now against my front, my hands on her shoulders.

  His hand grazes my abs as he pulls away from her.

  Dr. and Mrs. Bennett smile politely while giving their son a stern look before escorting us to their dining room.

  Pulling out her chair, I make sure Lo is situated before I sit beside her. Then I reach over and give her thigh a squeeze just as a raven-haired woman walks in with a surprised look on her face.

  “Jason, this is Rochelle,” Lo introduces. “She’s Ryan’s stepsister.”

  “Oh, has the good daughter come home?” Rochelle asks, plopping down rudely across from me.

  Ryan sits directly across from Lo as his parents sit at the ends of the table.

  Ryan jerks his eyes to her with fury. “Rochelle, Lorraine is more than welcome to come home anytime she wishes.”

  Mrs. Bennett smiles at Lo. “I would love to have you back. Sam tells me you are selling your parents’ house.” She blinks as if she’s fighting to contain her emotions. “Letting go is hard, but it is healthy, you know.”

  Ryan drops his head at her words before his father chimes in. “When Ryan first started dating Heidi, we all became close. We just knew they would be together forever. We knew we would all be a family together.” He sighs and looks at Lorraine with sadness. “Ryan hasn’t moved on since your sister, either. Like my wife said, we know letting go is hard, but it is healthy.”

  I try to push back the thoughts in my mind. I try to take these people at face value. Lo trusts them and has a deep bond with them, no matter how fucked up I think it is. I wish I didn’t have this feeling that there is so much more to the Bennetts and their love for Lorraine.

  Dinner is awkward at best, as time and time again, all of the Bennetts except Rochelle push for Lorraine to come home to them. They have no regard for what Lo wants or the fact that I am sitting right there among them. Meanwhile, the more Ryan looks at her, the more I want to break his face.

  “I think it’s time to go home, Lo. I’m sure the cats are ready for bed,” I finally say, getting up from the sitting room after our meal. My clothing is the norma
l business attire I would wear with a sports coat at work, so I want nothing more than to get out of it.

  Lorraine looks at me for a second too long, making me question whether she is ready to leave or not.

  Mentally, I prepare for a fight. My gut twists as my past haunts me. Please don’t fight me, Lo, I silently beg with my eyes. My adrenaline kicks in as I tell myself it’s time to go and she’s with me, so she goes, too. Only, Lorraine doesn’t argue. Other than the pause, she nods, smiles, and says her goodbyes.

  “Thank you for taking care of Lo when she needed you. Dinner was delicious,” I tell Dr. Bennett, shaking his hand. I don’t bother with the others before I guide Lo to the car with my hand at the small of her back.

  I don’t speak on the car ride home. I am at war with myself. Part of me is battle ready. I feel like I’m walking on a ledge, and I could tip at any moment. My brain is running a mile a minute, waiting for her to fight with me.

  She paused. I must have done something wrong. I retrace our night. What did I do for her to react in that way? What will she say when we get home? How hard will she push me?

  She nods to the doorman as I guide her inside my building with my hand at the small of her back. The elevator ride is quiet and tense. I feel my blood pumping in preparation for war.

  She makes her way inside, immediately stepping out of her heels. The cats come over, and she rubs their heads before making her way into the kitchen.

  I move to pass by when she turns sharply to me.

  Here it comes.

  I steel myself for the verbal blows.

  “Jason,” she says softly, “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t—”

  “Fuck you, Lo!” I roar, interrupting her. “I hated every minute of being in that house. I’m not that kind of man. I don’t know what I did in there, but—” I stop my pacing back and forth. “Wait a minute.”

  I look at her wide eyes and see the fear in them. My mind automatically went into defense. There is no reason for it.

  I back myself up against the wall. “You’re sorry? Did you say you’re sorry?” Why would she not attack me, push me, and take it farther?

  She nods and takes a step toward me.

  I raise my hand to stop her. “Don’t. Please don’t come near me.” I’m too amped up. I need to work this out for myself before she can touch me.