BLAME IT ON THE PAIN : EPISODE 31 – 40
We head back to his apartment.
All that’s going through my head is—he told me he would never watch the tape.
I tell myself to calm down…that maybe, just maybe I’m overreacting and Jackson didn’t watch my sx tape after all.
I tell myself that maybe he just blacked out in the middle of the fi ght and had a flashback of some kind that caused him to say what he did. He did look out of it, like off in another zone completely.
I don’t know what to think right now. I feel like I’m grasping at straws because it’s better than the alternative I’m faced with.
I mean, why would Jackson do that to me? He knows how much pain that video caused me.
“I’m gonna go clean up,” he whispers before heading for the bathroom.
Those are the first words that either of us have said since we left the club.
I want to ask him…but I don’t want him to lie to me.
There’s only one way to know for sure if he watched the video.
I have to look at the history on his laptop.
I’m not proud of myself. Jackson’s been my boyfriend for all of an hour at this point…but I need to know. I have to. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
As luck may have it, I notice his laptop on the couch in the living room.
I flip it open and say a silent prayer.
A silent prayer that turns right around and bites me in the as s when I see that I don’t have to go through Jackson’s history after all.
Because it’s right here in front of me. Still on the screen.
He watched it recently. Very recently.
And that makes it even worse. I could forgive him for watching it when he didn’t really know me. I could even understand it…he is a guy.
But the fact that he watched it after I already started opening up to him.
After I told him things I’ve never told anyone. After I had convinced myself that Jackson was different. That he wouldn’t hurt me.
That ki lls me. Wrecks me.
Another thought hits me and I want to cry. No wonder Jackson got physical with me tonight.
Two days ago he was telling me that I wasn’t a wh’re and that it was best to just be friends until I discovered my self-worth.
Then tonight…after he watches the video, he’s talking about wanting me to s¢ream his name and pushing me up against walls while he ksses me in a club.
I’m so stupid.
I know exactly how Jackson feels about me deep down inside. I know how he sees me now.
Just like everyone else in the world does.
And just like that…the scab comes off my wound and I feel it.
I feel all of it in a single rush.
The pain, the heartache, the despair.
There’s only one way to cope when I shatter. I go to that place inside myself. The place that screams for me to acknowledge what I truly am and punish myself for it.
I also want to punish Jackson for what he’s done. And there’s only one way I can think of to accomplish both. The only weapon I have in my arsenal.
I slam the laptop and put it back where I found it, feeling myself morph into the person I’ve come to know so well.
“You only did it to yourself, Alyssa,” I whisper to myself.
“I think we should talk,” Jackson says.
I stand up and face him, putting on my game face. I throw my purse, not even caring where it lands and take off my jacket. “I don’t want to talk.”
Jackson doesn’t get a chance to finish that sentence because I jump on him and start kssing him.
I kss him so hard I back him up against a wall.
It’s nothing like our first and last one. I don’t let myself feel anything. I shut everything off. I only focus on what needs to be done.
“Whoa,” Jackson says pulling away from me.
“What?” I question. “Didn’t you say something back at the club about not being able to keep your lips off me?”
“Well yeah,” he says. “But that was before the fi ght and—”
I put my finger to his lips silencing him. “I don’t want to talk about that, Jackson.”
I kss his neck. “I just want you—” I run my to ngue along the shell of his ear. “To get nked for me,” I whisper while my hand ventures lower and I grab his package. I smile when I feel him start to thicken in my hand through his jeans.
“Alyssa,” he gr oans. “I think we should slow down. Especially since you don’t want to talk about what happened. We need to talk about what happened.”
“Take of f your shirt.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What?”
I lift my chin. “You heard me. Take o ff your shirt. I want to see you nked, now.”
He gives me a look that I hate. “No. Stop and talk to me, Alyssa.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk. I’d much rather su…¢k your dk instead.”
His eyes open wide. “Not like this…not when you’re acting like—”
I smile because it would be so much better for me if he said it. Like throwing another log into the fire. “Like what, Jackson? Tell me.”
“Not like you. Not like Alyssa. My Alyssa.”
I’m going to actually have to work for this. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I walk over to him and kss him sweetly, tenderly.
Then the worst thing of all happens. I start responding to his touch. I start losing myself because it’s no longer my kss…it becomes his kss.
He cups my face as his to ngue parts my mouth and I fall into him. His hands run along my hi ps before resting on my behind and I can’t help but moan.
And just when I think I’m going to float to another dimension…he pulls away and ksses my forehead. “Now let’s talk.”
I don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Nothing will change what I know to be true.
I kss his neck again before whispering, “I don’t want to talk. I just want to be close to you. I need to be close to you right now, please.”
He looks contemplative for a moment and I think he’s going to reject me. But instead, his thumbs brush over my cheeks and his lips find mine.
I reach for the button on his jeans but his hand lands on top of mine. “Stop, baby. Why are you rushing things?”
The term of endearment sounds so sweet and loving coming from him I have to fi ght off a shiver. And I have to remind myself why I’m doing this.
My other hand reaches down and starts rubbing along his length. “Let me do it, Jackson.”
He bites his lip and closes his eyes. I’ve seen that expression before. He’s fighting a war with himself right now. “Not tonight,” he says.
Too bad he chose the wrong side.
“Fine,” I say backing away from him.
I know I’m about to go in for the ki ll. “I’ll just find someone else who wants me.”
His hands clench at his sides. “Why are you acting like this? You don’t have to be this way.” He slams the wall beside him. “Tell me what is going through that head of yours, now,” he barks.
I lower the st raps of my dress. His expression is a combination of both anger and lu$t. Which I can definitely work with. “Because you keep telling me no and I want you.” I slide the top of my dress down revealing my lacy b ra. “I want to take you in my mouth so bad. I can’t even see straight.”
His jaw tightens and he swallows hard. “Prove it.”
I begin sinking to my knees but his voice halts me. “No. Not like that.”
For a minute…I panic. It feels like he’s taking all the control from me. I stand back up. “Then how?”
He looks me in the eye, his expression giving nothing away. “Take of f your pa nties.”
It’s amusing that he’s trying to call me on my bullsht. Lucky for me, I have no problem strlpping for him. Besides, he already saw everything when he watched the video.
I give him a sly smile, lift my dress and slip out of my t hong. His eyes darken when he looks between my Iegs before traveling up to meet my eyes.
I twirl my pa nties around my finger and give him a smirk. “Good enough?”
“No. Come and bring them to me.”
His gaze is penetrating. “I want to see how wet they are.”
I know I’m blushing.
He knows he’s got me.
And it’s not because my pa nties are dry. Quite the opposite.
He’s playing me at my own game. Twisting it around and turning me on against all odds. Making it so that it doesn’t feel like a punishment, but a reward.
I also know that a part of him is hoping I don’t take the bait. Hoping I’ll back down and reconsider doing whatever it is that I’m doing. Hoping that I’ll cool off and hear him out.
Too bad for him that’s no longer an option. I’m bringing Jackson into the dark with me and I won’t stop until I make him pay. I’ll show him my fked up underworld. He can find his own way out when I’m through with him…unlike me who never will.
Steeling myself, I take the few steps forward until I’m standing directly in front of him.
He takes my pa nties out of my hand and his eyes blaze when he runs his thumb along the ¢rot¢h of them. His head rests against the wall and he closes his eyes. I watch his adam’s apple bob, straining against his throat as he begins to unbutton his shirt.
For a second, I wince when I see the tape across his ribs, hating the sight of him hurt. I force myself to put it out of my head and focus on the task at hand when he shrugs out of his shirt.
He opens his eyes and his hand reaches out for my cheek. His gray orbs are obscured with both lust and turmoil as his pupil’s drill into me. We both know this is the final step before takeoff, the last chance to stop myself.
I slowly drop to my knees. And because I’m more fked up than I ever realized, I decide to prolong his torture by saying, “Tell me exactly what you want me to do, Jackson.”
He groans, his hands tightening at his sides. “Undo my p ants and pull me out,” he says, low and deep.
I undo his b elt buckle and unz ip his jeans before sliding them down his h ips.
I expect him to be wearing bo xers, but he’s going commando. My breath catches because he’s both long and thick. My eyes focus on the glint of metal from the barbell going through the engorged head of his thing. I also can’t help but take in the veins and ridges encompassing his thing and the pure masculine scent radiating off him.
I’m so tu rned on, I can’t find my way into the darkness. I’m completely out of my element now. All I can do is succumb to my own arou.sal.
I dip my head forward, look up at him and plant a kss on the small drop of fluid leaking from his tip.
His eyes glaze over and the tight cords of his muscles flex in restraint. I’m struck with the overwhelming feeling of wanting to see him lose control.
I take him in my hand and pump him while I run my to ngue along the seam of his balls. My to ngue travels back up to his length and I li ¢k the throbbing ve in running across his thing.
“Fk, Alyssa,” he rasps.
I open wide and proceed to fill my mouth with as much of him as I can. Then I start, his hand wraps around my hair and he thrusts forward. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. That feels so good,” he gr..oans, his voice husky.
I don’t let up, my mo uth bobs up and down, barely stopping for air.
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the sexiest sight I’ve ever seen in my life.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s hauling me up to him and crushing his mouth against mine. “That was incredible,” he whispers.
I’m brought back down to reality and I give him a menacing smile.
He looks confused for a moment…until I utter my next statement and his face falls.
“Was it better than the one you saw me give when you watched the video, Jackson?”
Before he can answer or stop me, I adjust my dress, find my jacket and keys and head straight for the front door.
His hand reaches for my wrist when I touch the doorknob. “Alyssa. It’s not what you think.”
Anger rips through me. “Oh, so you’re going to try and deny it?”
He shakes his head, his expression hurt. “No. I won’t lie to you. I…I watched it.” He sighs. “Well, part of it before I had to turn it off—”
I didn’t think I could feel any worse about the situation. I didn’t think there was any more hurt left to experience in my lifetime.
I was wrong.
He’s disgusted by me. And why wouldn’t he be? He just witnessed who and what I am first hand.
Ford’s words from that day echo in my head, shredding my insides. I have no value…no one could or ever will love me.
My hands reach for my necklace and I tug on it until it falls. “Goodbye, Jackson.”
BLAME IT ON THE PAIN : EPISODE 31 – 40
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