I flip it open and say a silent prayer.
A silent prayer that turns right around and bites me in the ass 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 fucking 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 kills me. Wrecks me.
Another thought hits me and I want to fucking cry. No wonder Jackson got physical with me tonight.
Two days ago he was telling me that I wasn't a whore 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 scream his name and pushing me up against walls while he kisses 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.”
“But—”
Jackson doesn't get a chance to finish that sentence because I jump on him and start kissing him.
I kiss him so hard I back him up against a wall.
It's nothing like our first and last kiss. 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 fight and—”
I put my finger to his lips silencing him. “I don't want to talk about that, Jackson.”
I kiss his neck. “I just want you—” I run my tongue along the shell of his ear. “To get naked 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.
“Jesus Christ, Alyssa,” he groans. “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 off your shirt.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What?”
I lift my chin. “You heard me. Take off your fucking shirt. I want to see you naked, 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 suck your dick 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 kiss 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 kiss...it becomes his kiss.
He cups my face as his tongue parts my mouth and I fall into him. His hands run along my hips 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 kisses 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 kiss 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 fight 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 kill. “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 the fuck is going through that head of yours, now,” he barks.
I lower the straps to my dress. His expression is a combination of both anger and lust. 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 bra. “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 off your panties.”
It's amusing that he's trying to call me on my bullshit. Lucky for me, I have no problem stripping 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 thong. His eyes darken when he looks between my legs before traveling up to meet my eyes.
I twirl my panties around my finger and give him a smirk. “Good enough?”
“No. Come and bring them to me.”
“Why?”
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 panties 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.