“It happened without my consent—”
He cut me off. “Are you insinuating that he raped you? Because it looked like you were a willing participant.”
“No. What I meant was that I had no idea he was filming it. I never agreed to that.”
He narrowed his eyes. “But you agreed to spread your legs for him?”
Before I could interject he added, “Like some kind of whore.”
I heard that word from a lot of people after the sex tape leaked, including my own mother. But hearing it from his mouth made something inside of me snap.
He held me against him. “Shh.” He took out a tissue and wiped my face. “Stop crying.”
“I c-can't. You promised you would always be there f-for me.” I took a deep breath. “I need your help, Ford.”
He kissed my forehead. “What are you willing to do for it?” he whispered.
He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed. I backed away from him, closing my eyes in disbelief.
I looked up at him when I heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone. “No.” I shook my head. “You can't be serious.”
I had always thought about being intimate with Ford, but not this way. Never like this.
He smirked. “What's the matter, Alyssa? You can fuck some guy on video but not me? The man you claimed to love. The one you promised to wait for?”
“I-I. You got married. You chose her. You said we shouldn't talk anymore,” I stammered.
He leaned into me until I fell against the wall. “I was trying to do the right thing,” he whispered before he kissed me.
Our mouths tangled and his hands pulled at my clothing. “What are we doing, Ford?” I panted as he kissed my neck.
He pulled back. “You were supposed to be mine.”
I reached for the buttons on his shirt and he lifted my skirt. “I am yours.”
Before I knew it, my legs were wrapped around his waist and he was entering me with a loud grunt as I moaned.
“Yeah, you like that?” he asked before pulling out and slamming into me hard.
I could only nod, my body too far gone to form actual words.
Until his next statement. “Of course, you do. You little slut.”
My eyes opened wide and I stopped moving. “Wha—”
His hand slammed over my mouth and his eyes darkened. “You heard me. You lost all your value and appeal the day you became nothing but a worthless slut. You only did it to yourself, Alyssa.”
Tears sprung to my eyes with his cruel words as he continued thrusting and taunting me. “I loved you. I was supposed to be your first, your only. Now you're tainted...ruined.”
He grunted his release and threw me to the ground. “Turns out you weren't that good of a fuck after all. Figure your own way out of this mess, Alyssa. I suggest you continue to whore yourself around because that's all you're good for. Now, get out of my office.”
His hands remained clenched at his sides and he took one final look at me. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”
I quickly gathered my clothes off the ground and left.
After making my way out to the hallway, I reached up and felt for my necklace. With shaky hands, I tugged on it until it ripped free and fell.
It was then that I realized.
There are a thousand ways to break a girl...but it only takes one to kill her.
Chapter Twelve
Alyssa
I wake up to a pair of strong arms rocking me.
I look up as Jackson peers down at me, concern written all over his striking face.
I don't even realize that I fell asleep again until I glance at the clock, and it reads 3:45am.
For a moment, I'm nervous that I've said something about Ford in my dream state.
I expect him to start questioning me, or ask what I was dreaming about but he doesn't. Instead, his hand drops down to my cheek and brushes across the wetness gathered there. He looks at his fingers, which are now damp with my tears.
Then he pulls me off of his lap and crushes me against him in one of the most powerful embraces I've ever experienced in my life.
My breath leaves my lungs with a big whoosh, and all I can do is breathe him in and succumb to the warmth I feel.
It's been so long since I've been touched like this, I almost recoil.
He must sense this because he pulls back slightly, his thumbs graze over my cheekbones again and for a second; I think he's about to do something crazy- like kiss me.
I find myself wanting him to do just that. I want him to fix me, make me whole again. I want him to erase the past with his purity and kindness.
I wish our circumstances were different, I wish I was the girl he first thought I was. The girl he briefly flirted with on that walk from the fight club. The girl who isn't so damaged she barely even knows how to function anymore.
His lips move closer and my heart stutters in my chest as I close my eyes.
Disappointment hits hard when I feel his lips land on my forehead instead of my mouth.
“Look at me,” he whispers. “I won't hurt you.”
I've heard those words before...by the one person who swore they never would.
“You don't know that, Jackson. You can't promise me something like that.”
His eyes bore into mine before he hugs me again. “You're right. I can't make that promise.” He holds my chin between his thumb and his fingers. “But I can promise you that I will never intentionally hurt you. No matter what happens between us, just know that I'll always have your best interest at heart.”
I stay silent taking in his words, wanting so badly to believe them. I'm so lost in my own thoughts, I almost don't register when he stands up and walks over to his closet.
“Here,” Jackson says. He hands me a clean white t-shirt and a pair of flannel boxers. “Change into these. You'll be more comfortable.”
I look down at my skin tight jeans and my constricting leopard print tank top and give him a smile. “Thanks.”
He returns my smile before he closes the door behind him.
After I change he walks back into his bedroom, this time; carrying a mug. I look down in confusion when I see its contents.
“Hot chocolate with cinnamon and whipped cream?” I question. It's not that I'm not grateful for it, I'm just curious; especially because I never asked for it.
He looks uneasy before he clears his throat and sits on the bed beside me.
“I used to make it for Lilly whenever she was upset.” He shrugs. “It was her favorite. It always made her feel better.”
I'm touched that he's sharing this part of himself with me.
I take a sip of the chocolate goodness before putting the mug down on the nightstand beside the bed.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach for his hand. His hand dwarfs mine in size, but I lay it on top of mine anyway and begin tracing the lines of his palm.
He looks away but continues talking. “My mom was a heroin addict. We barely even survived living in that trailer on her check from government assistance. She made a lot of wrong choices due to her addiction, one of them including the men she brought home.” He swallows. “One night, when I was 11, I came home late. I was out playing ball in the park with my friends and lost track of time. My mother was passed out on the couch. She didn't hear Lilly's screams, but I did.”