Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
He could’ve loved me. He just never did. Part of me knows that if he was there that night, Jillian would still be here. I wouldn’t be broken, and neither would he. If only he would’ve loved me then, maybe things would’ve been different.
Something inside my chest fractures, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed with guilt and shame. The pleasure can only fog your brain for so long before reality comes crashing back through. This never should’ve happened. I know before he even pulls out that this was a mistake. Doing this with him has only complicated things further. I should be running away from him, not letting him fuck me on his couch. Tears start to form in my eyes, and bile rises up in my throat. I need to get out of here, leave, run away as far as I can, and never look back.
11
Jackson
My body is flooded with endorphins, floating on a cloud as I pull out of her. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life. I’m literally weak in my knees as I take a step back and look at Kennedy, still bent over the couch. With her perfectly shaped ass jutting out and her warm, wet pussy nestled between those creamy thighs, she is a sight to be seen. I could get used to seeing her like this. When I notice my come leaking out of her, my cock roars back to life.
Shit, I could fuck her again already. Looking down at my cock, I’m about to grab the iron rod when I notice something else. Mixed in with the glistening wetness of her arousal is… blood. It’s not much, almost as if she was…
“Fucking Christ, were you a virgin?” My question gets her moving, but she doesn’t answer right away. She pushes herself up from the couch and pulls up her panties and yoga pants frantically. Only when she is dressed, does she turn around. Her hair is a tousled mess, her cheeks a soft pink, and her eyes are filled with tears. She’s looked thoroughly fucked and sedated. If it wasn’t for the fucking tears in her eyes, I would say she looks pretty happy about it too.
“Does it matter?” Her question catches me off guard. Does it? Fuck, I don’t know. It shouldn’t, but I don’t know how to feel about this. I just didn’t expect her to be. She is nineteen for fuck’s sake. Who stays untouched for that long nowadays? What the hell was she waiting for? Marriage? Prince charming? Well, she got neither.
“Yes, it mattered. If I had known, I would have turned you around, so I could see the pain in your face when I took this part from you.”
For the first time since we started this game of hate and revenge, I see something that looks a little like anger in her hazel eyes.
“Fuck you, Jackson,” she grits through her teeth.
Gesturing to my cock, I snicker. “Looks like you were the one that got fucked, so get your shit and get the fuck out.” Tugging my shorts back up, I watch as she winces when she moves.
God, I’m an asshole. This takes the cake on all the shitty things I’ve done to her so far, but I know worse will come. I’m not done making her life miserable, not by a long shot.
She leaves my house, and though I don’t look at her face, I know there are tears in her eyes. I can hear her sniffling, trying to hold back the sobs that will wreck her the second she walks out the door. If I had a heart, I might’ve cared. I might’ve called an Uber for her, so she didn’t have to walk across campus. I might’ve done a lot of things, but she knew the score when she came here. She knew what would happen, and I can’t feel sorry for someone who walks into something expecting a different outcome. I didn’t promise her shit. Didn’t even ask for sex. I asked for a blow job. Well, maybe not asked, more like demanded. She offered sex up herself, so the only person she has to blame is herself.
When I hear the front door close with a soft click, I get up from the couch and lock the deadbolt, then I head to the bathroom for a shower. My entire body is one massive ache, and as I turn the shower on and step under the stream of water, a terrible feeling overcomes me.
My stomach churns and tightens, and I feel like such a fucking dick. Hating Kennedy is my life now. I’m consumed with my need for revenge. She took the only other person besides herself that mattered to me. She killed my twin. Hating her is the nicest thing I can possibly do.