I Like Dirt (Jack. Book 2)

by Laine Watson

  “Don’t touch me!” I shouted, recoiling as if he’d tried to hurt me.

  “Katie?” Ells asked, confused, and hurt a little. We had been good friends at one point. I started to walk swiftly back to the huddle that Jack and Trey were in, having a good time. And then I just stopped. Ells and Chris stood watching me as I had a small panic attack. They walked a little closer to me but I couldn’t move.

  I can only imagine what they had said.

  “Dude, what’s her problem?” Chris asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ells said. As they continued to watch me, a bit creeped out. I swallowed. Jack caught wind of me. He had been standing in that huddle, talking to people, but he looked over and saw me surrounded by three guys. He knew my body language, and he knew me. He walked over to where we were standing.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked, coming up behind me. I grabbed his hand. He looked back at me, a little startled by how forcefully I held his hand.

  “Jack…” I whispered with trembles in my voice. He quickly turned around to me, pushing me away from Ells and Chris.

  “What happened?” Jack asked me. I couldn’t speak. I shook my head, still having a small panic attack, the words tattooing themselves on my skin the whole time. Jack knew what was happening.

  “Fuck…” he said. He licked his lips and he started walking me back to the car. For some reason, Ells thought it would be cool to speak to Jack on my behalf.

  “Dude, it’s fine,” Ells said, touching Jack on the shoulder. “We’re friends.” Jack looked at where Ells’ hands were on his shirt, and then looked at Ells in an absent, yet dangerous sort of way.

  “Don’t fucking touch me, dude,” Jack ordered him.

  “Bro, bro. We’re cool. We’re just…” Ells began.

  “What the fuck d’you say to her?” Jack asked, walking a little away from me and closer to Ells. Ells backed up to the doors as Jack walked toward him.

  “It’s all good, bro. We were just saying hi. We haven’t seen her in a while,” Ells claimed.

  “You fuckin assholes.” Jack swallowed, I could see his Adam’s apple. He cracked his neck. “This shit is real. Don’t talk to her. You don’t fucking know her. Don’t touch her.”

  “Dude, we do know her. Katie, what the fuck?!” Ells said anxiously. I said nothing. Jack was getting angrier.

  “Don’t fuckin talk to her!” he ordered.

  “Katie!” Ells plead. Jack pushed Ells up against the glass doors with one hand and pulled his handgun out from his pants with the other, cocking it right at Ells, who gulped.

  “Now, say something to her,” Jack dared him, looking Ells in the face with no trace of fear in his eyes, only intent.

  “Dude, I’m sorry,” Ells said. Everyone, even Chris, had backed away. The people who Jack had been talking to, including Trey, were looking on. I had to say something.

  “Jack…” A whisper was all that I could manage.

  He looked at me. My eyes were saying, “It’s not them, it’s me.”

  Jack started to calm down.

  “Fuck…” he said. I’m not sure how you flat out don’t say anything and walk away from a guy when you just had a gun in his face, but that’s what Jack did. He didn’t say anything to anyone. He just grabbed me by the arm, and we headed in the direction of the car. Trey watched us as we passed.

  “Are you gonna be alright?” Jack asked, leaning me up against his car. I was breathing frantically.

  “Jack…” I said, breathy. “Why’d you…?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “The gun, Jack.”

  “Look, I thought something was ‘bout to pop off,” he explained.

  As he talked, I pressed my palms into my stomach. Even though it was hopeless, I tried to gain composure over myself. I thought I could make it through the night without Jack having to stick his dick in me until we got home. I felt so weird, so strange, like something was innately wrong with me, like I had some sort of addiction or dependency along with a psychological imbalance. This wasn’t normal. But I still couldn’t talk, or make coherent sentences.

  “Yes…” I nodded nervously.

  “Hot Rod…” Jack said, looking me over, pitying me. “Do you wanna go home?”

  “Yes…” I said in the same manner, nodding my head frantically. It hurt me to take so much away from Jack. He couldn’t live a normal life, there was no freedom. He was basically just looking after me. At least, that’s how I felt.

  He put me in the passenger seat, and then got in the driver’s seat and we drove off. Trey looked back as Jack drove away. He even called both of our phones, but neither of us answered. He didn’t tell Trey or anyone else we were leaving. I didn’t even get a chance to see Bianca. As he drove, I held my vagina, pushing into it until it hurt. I needed the pain, that throbbing desire to go away, or to just let us get back to the house.

  Jack looked over at me a few times, feeling sorry for me.

  “Hot Rod, what happened this time?” he asked me.

  “I saw some old friends. It doesn’t even matter. It didn’t matter.” I said, still breathy. “That’s how they always talk to me. What’s wrong with me, Jack?” I looked over at him.

  “Baby, I don’t know…” Jack replied, a little defeated. “What did they say?”

  “Ells said, ‘I miss your boobs,’ and Chris said, ‘Where the titties?’” I admitted scornfully. It hurt because I felt that even my friends, people who I thought were my friends, were only my friends because of the view. Everything we had gone through for two semesters, every party, and I was just a piece of meat. Something pretty for them to look at and desire and nothing more.

  “Shit!” Jack said, getting upset because outside of my panic attack, he felt like he wanted to hear them say that shit to him so he could bust them in their face or a cap in their asses. He cracked his neck angrily as we turned into Old Cooper Creek. He pulled the car up to the front of the house.

  “That’s just how they talk, Jack. Something’s wrong with me, not them. They’re my friends. I shouldn’t feel like this,” I sobbed.

  I couldn’t wait until he stopped the car. I took my underwear off as he parked. The car stopped, and I climbed on top of him.

  “Now…Jack…now,” I begged.

  “Hot Rod, we’re at the house, com’on,” he said, opening up the door and getting out with my legs and arms wrapped around him.

  “No, Jack. Now,” I demanded sadly. Jack being Jack, he had to. He sighed, opening the back door and climbed in the back seat with me still on top of him. As he was closing the door, I was unbuttoning and unzipping his pants and pulling his penis out. I shoved it inside of me. I gasped.

  “Damn…why are you so wet?” he asked me. I didn’t answer, I just rode his dick. You could hear the clapping sound of my ass hitting his bony thighs. My arms were wrapped around his neck as I kissed him. He wasn’t as aroused as I wanted him to be; I was so into it. Eventually though, his dick got completely hard, and when it was, it was hard for me to ride him because it hurt. But he helped me, his hands at my waist. I couldn’t hold my moans in. It hurt, but it felt so good. I rode him fast and hard when I was getting ready to have an orgasm.

  “Jack…. Jack…Jack…” I whimpered until I was orgasming completely. I could tell he had cum already before I did, but I was too close to stop.

  “S-s-s, ow…” Jack said, the friction was causing my vagina to basically suffocate his dick. I had to get off of him, but I didn’t want to. I stopped moving. I gulped, wetting my dry mouth.

  “Can I just stay right here?” I peeped.

  “No, Hot Rod. Let’s go in the house. This is crazy,” Jack said. I slid his penis out of me, and he tucked it back inside of his boxers. He carried me into the house and laid me on his bed. I don’t know what happened on the way into his room, but whatever it was, he was rock hard again. He kissed me, and I could tell he was aroused. He didn’t ask me or warn me, he just put his erect penis back inside of me, which was alright with me.<
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  And we had sex again. And I had yet another orgasm, I still didn’t want him to stop.

  I’m clean, but I could keep going, I thought, and Jack did keep going. It was hard to have sex with Jack for a long time because it hurt, and I had orgasms way faster than he did. By the time he had come, I had already had three orgasms, not including the first two. When Jack was done, my body felt like jelly, and I couldn’t move. His heavy breathing and smile as he hovered over my sweaty body, staring into my flushed face with a lazy smile, seemed to be all I needed. His face glistened with his perspiration, his hair drenched in his sweatiness.

  “I thought you said you weren’t coming inside me anymore?” I said, still lazy.

  “Shut the fuck up…” he smiled, just as lazy, as he kissed me. I giggled softly. He fell on his back, lying next to me on the bed, both of us trying to catch our breath.

  “I guess bowling isn’t our thing.” I smirked.

  “Yeah, I can’t take you anywhere without you wanting to be fucked.” Jack grinned. I giggled. It was sad, but true.

  “I’m so fucking tired,” Jack said, leaning over to me and putting his still-damp body on mine.

  “I know…” I paused, “You know I just needed the one…” I smiled.

  “I needed this,” Jack insisted.

  “Jack…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s wrong with me? It didn’t used to be like this.”

  “I don’t know, Hot Rod…”

  Chapter Twelve: It is my Responsibility

  The next day was Sunday. I woke up next to Jack in his big, comfortable bed with the clean sheets; well, they weren’t clean anymore.

  “Jack,” I whispered as I lay there in his arms.

  “Yeah?” he yawned. I sat up a little, his eyes were still closed.

  “You tryna fuck? What’s up?” he asked, eyes still closed, sleep in his voice. “You didn’t get enough last night?”

  “No.” I giggled.

  “Why not?” He smiled.

  “I’m hungry,” I said.

  “You pregnant? You always hungry?” Jack said, opening his eyes. “You pregnant?”

  We laughed. He turned over to me.

  “You hungry for food or for dick?” Jack asked me.

  “Yeah.” I smiled.

  “Which one?”

  “Food,” I told him. He sighed.

  “Mom should be coming home.”

  “No, Jack. She just worked all night, and you want her to make breakfast for us?”

  “Yeah, she does it all the time,” he replied.

  “No, we should make breakfast for her,” I suggested. Jack looked at me sideways. I grinned.

  “You sure you don’t just wanna get a little fuck in?” Jack asked me doubtfully.

  “Jack…” I giggled.

  “Serious, Hot Rod.” He paused. “What do you feel, when you feel like that?”

  “Feel like what?” I asked him.

  “When you feel like I just gotta fuck you.”

  “Oh…” I paused. “Um…I feel like…nobody…nobody can help me. Only you. I always have. But, Jack?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “I used to…” I paused. “I mean, when I had, you know, the screwdriver. It didn’t happen all the time. Just when things were really bad. But…now, it’s like, every day.”

  “It’s my fault?” he asked with hurt eyes.

  “No, it’s me. It’s just like every time somebody says something, I feel like a fucking tramp,” I explained.

  “Hot Rod? Did you like, sleep with a buncha guys?”

  “No…”

  “You can tell me, I don’t care.”

  “Jack, I didn’t. I promise.” I wanted him to believe me.

  “Then, why would you feel like a tramp, or a whore, or whatever?”

  “Because that’s how most people look at me. The good people think I’m bad, and the bad people think I’m like them, so nobody cares.” I shrugged.

  “Who?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. I can’t even walk down the street without someone saying something…gross to me. It doesn’t matter where I am.” I paused. “When I got off the train to walk to my aunt’s house. It’s like two miles. Like, six cars stopped to pick me up. All guys, all at least thirty. I bet they weren’t just tryna help me out. and I bet they didn’t care how old I was.”

  Jack didn’t know what to say. So, he said nothing in regard to the conversation. He took me in his arms, and I laid there. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the camera. He held his phone up over us.

  “Look. This is us,” he told me. “You ain’t gonna worry about no other shit, okay?”

  “What does that mean, Jack?”

  “It means fuck old-ass mother fuckers tryna fuck you, okay?” he said. “Or anything else. I don’t know about you, Hot Rod. But when we were kids, it was okay to take our time, act like shit doesn’t matter, but I don’t wanna do that anymore. I love you.”

  “Jack, I love you, too,” I said, and I meant it. “I’m sorry. Yeah, I don’t wanna pretend like I don’t love you. I don’t wanna deal with shit without you.”

  “Yeah…” Jack replied, looking into my eyes. There was silence and understanding between us.

  We both looked up into the phone, each looking at the other. Jack snapped a picture of us, real and raw before the day started, my hair how it was when I woke up, and Jack as perfect and beautiful as he always was. I never saw that picture again. Jack put his phone away and kissed me.

  “W-we could probably make some breakfast.” He smiled.

  Ten minutes later, we were in the kitchen, frying up eggs, badly mixing pancake batter, burning pancakes and over-cooking turkey sausage links.

  “What’s going on in here?” Stephanie asked, dropping her bag on the old sofa and slowly walking into the kitchen. I spun around with a bright smile.

  “We’re making breakfast for you?” I asked.

  “Breakfast for me? Give me that mixing bowl,” she said sternly. My smile left, and I extended my arms, handing her the red mixing bowl with the half-mixed pancake mix.

  “Told you,” Jack whispered in my ear with an arrogant smile. I looked up at him innocently. He pushed me gently over to the table as he walked along behind me.

  “Look at this mess you made.” Jack’s mom smiled.

  “We’ll clean it up,” I promised, trying to sit down, but Jack made me stand while he sat, then sat me on his lap. I looked back at him. Was I the only one who was uncomfortable?

  “Hot Rod, she heard us fucking. It’s cool,” Jack whispered in my ear.

  “So, your grandmother called, Jackie,” Stephanie said with a grin.

  “Yeah?” Jack said, looking at me.

  “She said you haven’t been returning her phone calls,” Jack’s mom continued.

  “That’s cuz all she wants to talk about is bullshit,” Jack replied.

  “You will not talk about my mother like that. Her bullshit is legitimate,” Stephanie said.

  “But you agree it’s bullshit?” Jack stated.

  “Do you wanna have breakfast or not?” Jack’s mom snapped, turning around to us.

  “You’re right, I should call her.” He smiled at me. “Can you go get my phone?”

  “No, she cannot!” Stephanie said, talking with the spatula pointed at him, and then pointing toward his room. “But you can get your own ass up and get it yourself.” I stood up.

  He huffed up and went to his room.

  Breakfast was almost done, and Jack still hadn’t come back into the kitchen. Stephanie turned around. I was sitting on the edge of my seat, twiddling my hands.

  “Oh, my gawd, just go.” She laughed. I smiled and got up and went into the room with Jack.

  He was lying on his bed, about to have the dreaded conversation with his grandmother. I lay down next to him. He raised my shirt up as the phone rang, and rubbed my belly. I don’t know why, but I needed that. I felt so warm and innocent.

>   And I’m not an innocent girl.

  “Hello?” His grandmother said. I loved her voice. It was angry for no reason, yet loving and a bit funny.

  “Hey gran’ma,” Jack mumbled sheepishly.

  “Where you been, Jackie?” his grandmother asked.

  “Gra’ma, I just been at home,” Jack said.

  “You’re not in school?” Jack’s grandmother asked.

  “Gra’ma?”

  “Do you have a job? You working your poor mother to death?” she pried.

  “Gra’ma?” Jack repeated.

  “You’re all she has, Jackie. You should try to help her out,” she suggested.

  “I am helping,” Jack defended himself.

  “Doing what? What are’ya doing, Jackie?” his grandmother asked.

  “I take the trash out and stuff,” he said like he was a little boy.

  “Good, Jackie. But what else?” his grandmother wanted to know.

  “I got a job,” Jack said.

  “Doing what, Jackie?” There was silence on the phone. Jack’s grandmother sighed, “Your grandmother loves you. Why don’t you come and cut the grass or something?”

  “Gra’ma. I don’t have time for that,” Jack complained.

  “You don’t. What are you doing right now?” she asked.

  “Hanging out with mom and my girlfriend,” Jack said, annoyed. As Jack spoke, I noticed he spoke the same to everybody, the hood was just in him, I loved that about him, the way he spoke was like he took the suburbs and the hood and just smooshed them up together. and he sounded like I wanted him to sound. He didn’t sound like Trey, he didn’t sound like Spider. He sounded like the Jack that I met in third grade, but all grown up. I smiled and listened to him.

  “Girlfriend?” his grandmother said, clutching her pearls, so to speak. “Jackie, you have a girlfriend?”

  “Yeah…” he said, as if to shrug.

  “Then you have to come over,” Jack’s grandmother insisted.

  “Gra’ma?” Jack said, agitated.

  “Next week, next Sunday. You and Stephanie…What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

  “Katie.”

  “Katie? That’s a pretty name. …And Katie, come over, for lunch. I’ll invite your aunts Gertrude, Marge, Violet,” she said decisively.