I Like Dirt (Jack. Book 2)

by Laine Watson

  I couldn’t close my mouth. His name just came out.

  “Jack…Jack…Jack…Jack…Jack…JACK!” I screamed softly, until I felt his warmth spitting inside of me, and my little banged-to-death pussy throbbing on his dick. I swallowed and just fell into the bed tiredly, catching these mini aftermath orgasms that deemed me immobile.

  He laid down on his side next to my naked body. I looked up at him, drained.

  “Wow,” I said, out of breath.

  “Never been fucked like that?” he asked me.

  “No…” I admitted. He nodded proudly.

  “Com’ere,” he said, taking me and scooting me closer to him. I laid on his chest and he covered us with the sheet. Our sweat-slick bodies felt so good next to each other.

  “Thanks. My butt was cold.” I giggled lazily. He stared at me for a moment.

  “I like to fuck you like that,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s different. Jack, we haven’t done that a lot. Like that time in the bathroom? That was so hot.” I paused before admitting hesitantly, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want to let you do that, not have to do that.”

  “I wanna do it however you want it, need it,” he told me. “It’s fine, it just feels like you when it’s this way.”

  “It hasn’t felt like me?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t all the time,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said, looking away from him.

  “But it’s okay…” he went on, turning my face back to him forcefully.

  “Ow…” I snapped. He didn’t apologize. I snatched my face from him. “Jack…”

  “What?”

  “Why do you hurt me?” I asked him.

  “What?” He frowned. I lowered my eyes.

  “Please don’t get mad,” I said. “When we were kids, well, not kids, but younger. You know you…left a lotta bruises on me. And now, I still have the one from the kitchen. I mean, I try to hide it, but…I just don’t…I don’t understand.” I paused, “Do I make you mad?”

  “Nawh, it’s not you. I’m fucked up. I don’t mean to do that shit to you. I mean, no matter how I touch you, you get bruised, even when we’re fucking. I mean, look at you…” he admitted as he looked at my bruised body. I did, too. Bruises covered some of my arms, around my waist and hips, on my left thigh from where Jack was smacking my ass and stuff.

  “I know you don’t,” I said sweetly. “But some people…”

  “Some people like Trey?” he interrupted.

  “Trey doesn’t know…” I said.

  “I don’t wanna talk about this,” Jack mumbled gruffly.

  “Okay…” I surrendered.

  “I have a question for you,” he said.

  “Okay…” I smiled a little.

  “Tell me the truth. Did somebody rape you? At your mom’s house? At Dodges?” he asked.

  “No…” I said.

  “Don’t lie to me, Hot Rod,” Jack warned.

  “I’m not lying,” I insisted. He was staring at me hard.

  “Then, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Jack…I don’t know,” I said painfully, “I told you how I felt. I just need you, okay? Can we…can we talk about something else? Please?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Something happy?” I asked.

  “Happy?” he said, thinking, “Hm.” He straightened himself next to me. “Okay.” He grabbed the remote. He shut the TV off and cuddled in closer, “This isn’t only happy. It’s like, both. Because in life, there is always adversity.”

  “Uhm, okay,” I said sarcastically, “So what, when the lights go off, you become a professor, profound with wisdom?” I snickered.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he said drowning each word out playfully.

  “You shut up.” I giggled.

  “Okay, you ready?”

  “Yeah.” I smiled in the darkness.

  “Tell me a really great memory of when you were a kid, and then, like, a really bad one,” he said.

  “Okay,” I replied with no smile. He didn’t know anything, and I wasn’t going to let him. I had promised my brother that I wouldn’t say anything, and I was going to keep that promise. “You too.”

  There were things that were just about me, that nobody knew. Things that Lainey and I did or just I did. And then there was also that feeling of missing my once-best friend, who I never talked about.

  “Yeah,” he assured me.

  “Wait. Before we start, can I ask you a totally unrelated question?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Jack replied.

  “Are you and Bug still friends?” I asked him.

  “Wow, Bug?” Jack laughed thoughtfully, “Hot Rod…When you…left…or whatever…I didn’t go back to school. I didn’t kick it with anybody, foreal. I sorta fell off the face of the earth. I guess, when I was, like, seventeen, that’s when I seen Rookie. And we was locked up. I mean, we haven’t been down in Washington Heights in, like two years. Probably more. Nah, I ain’t seen nobody.”

  “Locked up?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we were getting some tats. You know that tat on my leg?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s got the same one, in the same place. We moved up here a few months after you left and…yeah.”

  “You said you were in jail before?”

  “Yeah, we were, our asses almost went back.” Jack smiled, “Out there in Florence, acting like some mutha fuckin’ G’s.” Jack smiled pleasantly.

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I think he’s still at Dodges. I mean, that’s where he was when we was cool.” He shrugged.

  “Oh, yeah. I didn’t really talk to anybody when I was over there,” I said, trying to admonish any possibility of him asking if I knew Dylan. “You guys aren’t cool anymore?”

  “We are. I just haven’t seen him in a minute. Yeah, but it’s cool. Do you have any friends like that?” Jack asked me.

  “Well kinda. That’s kinda my story, too.”

  “Oh. Okay then, tell me your story,” Jack prompted.

  “Okay,” I laughed, “This is gonna sound silly, but when I was a little girl, I loved to play with my cousin Lainey.”

  “That doesn’t sound silly. Were you guys like, best friends?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, we were best friends. We even had like a little dance thing, that we did at all the family functions,” I told him.

  “Just you guys?”

  “Yeah just us.” I smiled, “Her dad would come over, to my gra’ma’s house…”

  “How is your gra’ma?”

  “She’s fine. Can you stop interrupting me?”

  “Oh, my bad.” He snickered.

  “Any way. My gra’ma used to keep all of us. Me and my cousins. But Lainey was my best friend.”

  “Is she still your best friend?”

  “Jack, be quiet,” I snapped.

  “Okay, damn,” he said, scooting closer to me.

  “But no, I haven’t seen her since I was fourteen. But so,” I laughed, “her dad would come over, and like, play fight with us.”

  “Play fight?”

  “Yeah, like you know, Three Stooges stuff?” I started saying some of the stuff they say. I don’t know if I wanted to see Jack’s face at that point.

  “That’s…interesting,” Jack said doubtfully.

  “No, it was really fun. Like, we’d box, and he’d make like fighting sounds. Like tttssh, chhh,” I mimicked hitting and punching Jack softly, “you know, like you’re getting beat up. Or he’d like, body slam us in different ways. And we’d beat him up. It was way fun. But we were like five.”

  “Oh…okay,” he said and paused, “So that’s your memory?”

  “No, it was just a funny story. The “Greatest” memory that I have is when Lainey and I were maybe ten or eleven.”

  “You guys are the same age?” Jack asked me.

  “Ask me another question, and the game is over,” I threatened.

&nb
sp; “Damnit…Okay,” Jack said with a smile.

  “And…we always did. We played like stupid games. Like princess games, or…wait, she’s like, way weird. When we were little, she’d like, no matter what we played, she always ended up marrying the blue turtle dude.” I smiled at the memory.

  “Like the ninja turtle?” Jack asked.

  “Totally.” I laughed while Jack snickered. “But we also used to play, like, princesses, and like, make up our own world and stuff.”

  “Well, that’s cool,” Jack added.

  “Sometimes we’d play at her house, and sometimes we’d play at my gran’ma’s,” I went on, “I guess after we were like, twelve or something, we stopped playing little girl stuff.”

  “What do you mean, little girl stuff?” he asked.

  “I mean, like, things got more complicated. One time, we wrote like a play or story or something, when we were in the backyard. She had fucking everything first of all. She had a fucking playground in her backyard. How the fuck does that happen?” I said, rolling my eyes, “Anyway, she wrote the stuff that happened, and I wrote the songs that went along with it, and then when we were going through it, we made up whatever we were going to say, right then. It was like… a play.”

  “What?” Jack asked me.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, you like, foreal sing and shit?” Jack asked.

  “No, not really. I mean to myself, yeah. But there hasn’t really been much to sing about. I mostly just write songs and put’em away. They’re just my feelings at that moment,” I explained.

  “Sing one,” he demanded. I laughed.

  “Anyway, so this story was about a girl. Her name was Pielo. She lived near the woods, and…we would act like we were the characters. I was Pielo, and Lainey was her mom. She wanted to get away from her mom because she thought her mom didn’t understand her, and she was making her life hard.”

  “Is that really what the story was about, or are you talking about yourself?” Jack asked me.

  “No, it’s not about me. It’s really how the story goes,” I said. “Well, she like, ran away into the forest, or something, and then met a bunch of people, and then the house burned down, or something. I don’t know. It was stupid, I guess.”

  “That was fun?” Jack asked me doubtfully.

  “Yeah. Oh, remember the chemistry lab incident?”

  “We did shit in a chemistry lab?”

  “Oh my gawd no, remember that one chick when were like in eighth grade?”

  “Uhm, no…”

  “Yeah you do! …who was giving you head?”

  “Aw shit,” Jack scuffed, “You’re never gonna let that go?”

  “It’s let go. I was just reminding you since you be acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” I said, pursing my lips. “Well, it was the last day of school. Do you remember now?”

  “I don’t remember that.” Jack smirked. I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, it was, when I went over Lainey’s house that summer, we made up stories and like, made a play, I guess…” I said, biting my lip.

  “What was it about?”

  “You. So, I’m like, fucked up in the head.” I giggled, “Even when I was kid. So. You were like, this rebel prince from a different kingdom than mine, and I was princess, and there was another prince I was supposed to marry. But you stole me, and when I woke up, I was chained in your dungeon. There was a large chain around my waist, and you were way creepy, waiting for me to wake up.”

  “Damn…did we fuck in the dungeon?”

  “Uhm, no…” I rolled my eyes at him, and he smiled. “You were like, in love with me, but you were so pissed at me. And you told me stories about how your parents wanted you to be different, but you could only be you, and that is what was fucked up. And then, you’d be like, where the fuck were you when shit was horrible? Shit’s cool now, I’m gonna be the fucking king. But where the fuck were you when they were calling me a bullshit-ass nothing-ass prince?”

  “Damn, I was mad as shit?” he asked.

  “Yeah, you were. It was sort of how I felt. Like, how can you do all this stuff with this chick, and I’m like right here?”

  “Damn…that shit hurt you, fo’real?”

  “Yeah, but I burned your kingdom down.” We both laughed. “And we ran away together. Then, we made up another story, and I made you a bad guy, who I was in love with, but you didn’t love me, and I made up a whole other person who was your brother who did love me.”

  “What?”

  “Yep, your name was Nathan, and his name was Rembrandt,” I said.

  “What was your name?” he asked.

  “Embar, and Lainey’s name was Theille.”

  “Wow, those are some unique names.” Jack smiled, “Okay, what happened?”

  “Oh, uhm. I was like, always trying to talk to you, and you were uninterested. Or, we’d go on dates, and you would be miles away in your mind until I finally asked you if you loved me, and you said no, but Rembrandt appeared, and said that he loved me. And…we burned the kingdom down.”

  “Dang…twice?”

  “Yeah, I was really mad at you,” I admitted with a smile.

  “Well, I’m not Nathan. I’m not Rembrandt,” he reminded me. “I’m Jack, and I love you.”

  “I know…” I replied.

  “You guys seemed to play a lot,” Jack commented.

  “Yeah. Nobody really understood me but Lainey. I guess nobody really understood her, either,” I said thoughtfully. “We were kinda like these outcasts, and, I don’t know. We just worked, I guess. She loved to write stories, and I loved to write songs. We thought we’d be famous one day. I mean, what ten-year-old kid doesn’t?”

  “Yeah…” he said calmly. “Do you ever talk to her?”

  “No…” I admitted.

  “Why not?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know, we just don’t talk. She never gets in trouble. She could do anything, and her parents wouldn’t even care. We just get in trouble together, and our gra’ma be saying shit.” I sighed and shrugged, “I dunno.”

  “What happened to the stories?”

  “Oh,” I laughed, “Pielo? Or the other ones?”

  “All of’em…”

  “Well, you know we thought we made the name up, “Pielo.’ So, we were like, yeah, we’re awesome! What a cool name, then we looked it up on the internet, and it’s like a part of a penis or genitals or something in German or some shit.” I laughed.

  “Leave it to you to name a girl a Dick.” Jack laughed.

  “It’s a font, too, I think. But yeah, we were done after that. At eleven and twelve, to me, dick didn’t sound as appealing as it does now.” I smiled, “But our other stories were just stories, you know. We were kids.” Jack kissed me.

  “I didn’t even know you liked to write like that. You never talk about it,” he said.

  “It’s no big deal.” I shrugged, “I mean, I don’t really write a lot, just when I can’t keep my emotions together.”

  “Do you write about me?” he asked.

  “I never could bring myself to write about you,” I lied. All I ever did was write about Jack, especially when I had first gotten to Dodges.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because it was either I wanted to be with you or…” I paused, “It hurt too much.” That was true.

  We were both quiet.

  “What about your bad story?” Jack asked me softly.

  “You know my bad story.”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah, that was the worst day of my life. When my mom came and just…” I said.

  “Hey, it’s okay. We’re here. Fuck it,” he reassured me.

  “Do you know she’s not even married to that guy anymore?” I asked. Jack paused before he spoke.

  “Did he ever do anything to you?”

  I was quiet. I swallowed.

  “Hot Rod. Did-he-ever-do-anything-to you?” he asked again, sitting up.

  “No…”

/>   “Are you lying?” Jack pried.

  “No, I’m not. He never did anything to me. Well, sometimes, he used to watch me through my door,” I admitted, my heart pounding in my chest. “But I’d just close it. I wasn’t there that long. Only like…not even a month.”

  “Fucking asshole,” Jack grunted.

  “Jack, please…” I paused, trying to think of anything that could get his mind off something that didn’t matter anymore. Especially if he knew what another husband of my mother had done. “Tell me your good story; your great story.”

  “You’re my great story, Hot Rod,” he told me. “Nothing good happened, until I met you.”

  “What about your mom and stuff?” I asked.

  “Yeah, she’s cool, but you asked me about my great story. It’s you.”

  “Jack?” I smiled. I was quiet, and so was Jack. I snuggled into him more. I could see it in his eyes. Jack felt like a protector, like he was watching over me. And that I felt too.

  “Hot Rod. I’m not gonna let anything else happen to you,” he promised.

  “Jack, I’m just gonna be here with you.”

  “Yeah, you are.” He gulped nervously, “Hot Rod?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How come you never tell me any stuff about how you grew up?” Jack asked.

  “I do. I just told you a story about me and my cousins,” I said.

  “No, when I asked about the real stuff, you just said, ‘Let’s talk about something else.’” Jack exclaimed.

  “Cuz there’s nothing to tell. I had a regular life,” I insisted.

  “You’re lying,” he said.

  “I’m not.” I said.

  Silence once again crept over the darkness.

  “Hot Rod?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, Jack.”

  “Hot Rod, you’re so fucking perfect,” he said, staring at me with those brilliant blue eyes, and even in the darkened room, I could still make out all kinds of diamonds glistening within them.

  “No Jack…you’re perfect.”

  “No…” he whispered, “You think I’m perfect.”

  I felt like I understood him more than I had ever. He was a strange boy; I couldn’t tell him how perfect he was. It would be too real for me, so I just stared at him until he fell asleep.