“What…”
“Get the fuck out of here! I told you I’d rather chop my dick off than have anything to do with you.”
“But Jacob…you…I…”
“I was teaching you a lesson,” he growls and picks up my shirt off the floor and throws it at me.
With everything going on, I didn’t realize I was naked. Before, it felt beautiful, now I feel exposed and dirty. I hold the shirt tight to me, covering my front from him.
“Think my brother would like knowing you wear his clothes to come and fuck me, Princess? You really are just begging for any man’s cock, aren’t you? Did you tease that bastard two years ago like you just did me? Did you only cry wolf when you noticed me there? Is that how you play your games?”
His words are full of venom and hate and as I listen to them, I realize he fully believes them. Tears start falling before I can stop them.
“Oh, poor little rich girl. Turning on the waterworks, get the fuck out of here!”
That sounds like a great idea. There’s so much I need to digest, so much pain, mine and his. Worse is the fact he called me Princess. It is more hurtful now. For a small space in time I had everything I wanted, when he called me Care Bear. Being called Princess now? A knife couldn’t cut sharper.
I turn and hobble from the room, my leg hurting and slowing me down. I don’t even care that my ass is hanging out. I just want away from him. I’ll get dressed when I am out of his sight.
Chapter 7
Dancer
I watch Carrie run from me and the disgust curls and foams inside of me. I push my hand hard into my forehead wishing I could stop the memories and the words swimming in my head.
“FUCK!!!” I yell and start grabbing shit off the table by the chair, throwing it across the room.
I fall back into the chair holding my head, so fucking exhausted. I lied through my teeth. I want Carrie. I’ve always wanted Carrie in some form or another. She was always a cute little freckle faced girl that my sister adored. As she grew, she was a sweet kid who I looked out for. Then, she became the last real connection I had with Jazz. We helped each other grieve. When she told me at seventeen she loved me, I laughed it off and told her I didn’t think of her that way. Again, I was lying. I seem to do that to Carrie often.
I had noticed the changes in her body. I would have been a fool not too. She is beautiful and her beauty goes beneath the skin. She has this kindness and gentleness I’ve never found in life—except with her. I’ve always pushed her away because I’m fifteen years older. That’s too damn much and even before the shit of the last two years, I was a twisted fuck. I don’t deserve her. I don’t want any of my darkness to touch her, but I am weakening.
The night when she showed up at the nightclub I was pissed as hell. She shouldn’t have been there. The bouncer had no business letting her through the front door. She was wearing this sexy little green silk dress that moved with her body and turned every fucking man’s head in the place, something an eighteen year old shouldn’t do. When she stood in front of me asking me to dance, I followed like a lamb to its slaughter.
It’s been years. My brain is fucked up, I’m half drunk and yet I can still remember how it felt to hold her in my arms that night. How it felt inside when she told me she loved me…when she asked for my kiss. It took everything I had to tell her to go home.
The minute I saw the tears in her eyes and watched her run from the room, I had to follow her. I fought it for five minutes or so but in the end, I didn’t have a choice. I would rather try and be what she deserved, to ignore all the reasons why I wasn’t the man for her. I would rather try, than cause her pain.
I thought I missed her. I stood outside the main club doors, looked around and didn’t see her or her car anywhere. I was about to go back in when I heard her scream. I don’t know how I knew it was her, but I did. I ran, my heart filling with fear. I made it to the corner of the building in time to see that fucker backhand Carrie.
The blow was so hard her head jerked back and blood sprang from the corner of her lip. He ripped the strap of her dress and it separated, leaving her bare breast open to his assault. Before I could move, his hand covered her pale, small white breast. It seemed unreal and froze me in my tracks. She began screaming again and he slammed her against the brick, his hand around her throat, applying so much pressure her voice instantly stopped.
I lost it, completely and utterly lost it. I know what Dragon said was true because if it had been anyone other than Carrie, I would have done things differently. It was Carrie though. I knew how innocent she was. I knew how precious she was. Seeing someone abuse her, touch her… fucking put his hands on her? I completely lost it.