He thrust hard again, painfully digging his hand into my thigh while pulling my hair with the other. He buried his face in my neck, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want me to see him. We’d always looked at each other while we made love.
A tear escaped just then at the realization this wasn’t us making love. It was impersonal – the roughness that became of Jaxon was all the more cemented, even in sex.
My body betrayed my thoughts. It was aching for that release he’d started and was on the way of finishing. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I dug my nails into his back, muttering yes, yes over and over again… My breathing quickened, my groans became louder, and soon I clenched him as much as my strength would allow and felt the warmth of pleasure coat my body from head to toe. He followed after me, thrusting once, twice, and then stalling at his own release. He went limp, breathing hard against my neck. I could feel his heart beats through his chest, and when they eventually slowed down, he moved out of me and lay on his back beside me.
We were shoulder to shoulder, breathing in and out in silence. I didn’t know what I’d expected after this. Maybe I’d hoped, even for the briefest moment, I’d feel that connection again.
Only, I didn’t. It fled somewhere in the midst of our fucking. It was… strange. I felt misplaced, out of sorts… hurt. Yeah, I felt hurt most of all. There was no warmth like there’d always been after sex with Jaxon.
I grabbed the covers and pulled them over me, suddenly ashamed at throwing myself at him like that.
He threw his legs off the bed and sat up with his back against me. I hastily wiped another escaped tear from my eye. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he sat like that with his head straight for seconds that felt like hours.
“You’ve changed,” he finally said, and without a clear shot of his face and the flat tone in his voice, I couldn’t determine what mood he was in.
“Changed how?” I managed out.
“You’ve grown. Body wise anyway.”
I sighed, wearily. “Bigger was the word, wasn’t it?” The question wasn’t malicious; it was actually coated with sadness. Had I become that repulsive to him? Is that why he didn’t want to look at me?
Instead, his answer surprised me.
“Better is what I should have said.” His voice went tight, and I wondered if he was struggling to be nice to me. His shoulders slumped and then a hand raked through his thick hair. “Everything that I said to you the last two days had been said out of anger. I… I didn’t mean a lot of it. There’s just…” He exhaled and shook his head. “Get dressed and have your bags ready. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”
Disappointed at the change of subject, I watched him get up, butt naked, and gather his clothes off the floor. He changed with his back to me, dressed in the same soaked clothing and bloodied top. Even when he was done he didn’t look my way. Decidedly not wanting to be nude around him, I gathered the covers around me and walked to the suitcase in the corner of the room. I grabbed the first things I saw: hobo looking lounge pants and an oversized hoodie. These were my fat clothes I often wore to bed in cold weather. I went to the bathroom and changed, taking an insanely long time because every bit of my body felt tender and sore. My insides felt mashed to bits, and I had to pause to take in a deep breath of air. It was like having knives at the pit of my stomach. Is this what he wanted, for me to feel pain even after our time together?
Looking in the mirror, I shook my head at what I saw: red, puffy eyes, black bags under them, pale cheeks, swollen lips, dark hair that was taking on a mind of its own. I pulled out a hair tie from my purse and gathered my hair up, but then abruptly stopped when I noticed the red mark on the side of my neck. Instantly those pale cheeks went crimson. He marked me. Badly. I leaned in forward to look at the gigantic hickey and ran my fingers over the bump. Were hickeys even meant to be this pronounced? I brought my hair back down, combing through the tangles with my fingers, and set it over my neck.
He was waiting by the door looking down at his cell phone, reading something that had his eyebrows bunched together in heavy thought. He’d grabbed my suit case and set it beside his feet. I felt queasy walking past the bloody puddles on the floor on my way to him. Knowing I was there, he tucked the phone in his pocket, picked up my suit case, opened the door and walked out.
I threw the hood over my head and followed. It was so nice being in dry clothes, but the weather was still having a heart attack, pouring buckets of rain down over the streets. I rushed to his car and jumped in, not caring how filthy I was getting the leather seat (he could afford getting it cleaned) as I brought my legs up and set my knees to my chest. He put my suitcase in the trunk and then took a seat behind the wheel of the car just as his phone started ringing.
“What?” he answered, starting the car. The car roared to life, and I took this opportunity to throw my hands over the vents and soak in the warmth. “No, tell Finley I’ll be there tomorrow.” The name caught my attention. It was the name the bearded man had been mumbling to himself. He hung up, and with a long sigh, started the drive back to his mom’s house.
*****
After an uneasy silent ride there, he parked the car in the garage and I followed him inside. Looking up at a clock on the entrance wall, I saw that it was only quarter to eight. It felt like midnight to me. I was exhausted and desperate for some sleep.
“Mom!” Jaxon called out.
Lucinda appeared out of the hallway and, to my surprise, so did Christy. When I saw her, I looked away. Guilt filled in my chest at what I’d just done with her man. I peeked at him and wondered if he had a similar look, but I only saw irritation.
“Sara!” Lucinda remarked, and then she paused and took in Jaxon’s shirt and her mouth dropped, along with Christy’s. “What on earth happened? Where did you…? Are you both alright?”
“Long story. We’re fine. She needs a place to sleep,” Jaxon said, motioning to me without looking at me. “Give her one of the bedrooms.”
“Of course. Let me just fetch some clean sheets in the cupboard for you, Sara. Give me a minute.” Lucinda hastily turned around and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me awkwardly standing amid an uncomfortable stare down between Jaxon and Christy.
“What are you still doing here?” Jaxon asked rudely.
There was a steady decline in her emotions: joy at seeing him, then hopeful, then confused, and now it was disappointment marring her beautiful features.
“I thought I’d wait for you,” she said quietly.
“I told you to let Josh take you home.”
“I didn’t think you’d take so long.” She glanced at me, but not viciously like I’d have expected from someone whose boyfriend had disappeared with for two hours. “You said you were just going to drop her off.”
I took a hesitant step back, nearing the steps. The awkwardness went to a whole new level at realizing she hadn’t sent him to drive me to the motel after all. He’d decided to on his own.
“As you can see, things happened,” he said gruffly.
I was so confused by his demeanor. Looking back at the way he held her hand the previous night and the smile he’d given her, I thought they were happy together. Yet she was looking at him like she was used to the indifference.