Page 21 of Dark Notes, Volume Two

“Fucking bitch, spread your legs.”

With his hand around my throat, he pushes me onto my bed and reaches up my skirt and tears my panties from my body. I punch him in the face and instantly regret it when he hits me in the nose three times.

“Angel,” Jett says, snapping me out of the memories I’d like to forget. “Eyes on me, baby.”

Lifting my gaze to his, a tear slips down my cheek, making me hate myself a little more. I know Jett is a bad fucking idea that will only wreck my life more than it already is. I know I should’ve stopped this before it started, but the way he looks at me makes it impossible. He watches me with concern, like he’d run in front of a speeding train to save me. I know it’s ridiculous. He can’t save me because Jett can’t even save himself. We are two lost souls seeking temporary comfort. When this ends, we’ll both be left lying in the wreckage.

“Who hurt you, Angel? I can fucking see it in your eyes.”

Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I attempt to shut him out, and shake my head silently.

He places his hand on the side of my face, the warmth from his palm easing the ache in chest.

“Tell me. Whoever it was will never hurt you again.”

Burying my face into his chest because I can’t look into his eyes, I admit, “My step-father. He is in prison, but he gets out soon and he’ll find me, Jett.”

His fists close against my back, and he growls against my hair, the warm breath against my face causing comfort to rush over my skin.

“You’ll stay with me. I fucking dare him to try to get to you, Angel.” Jett says with a growl rumbling through his chest, his tone angry and menacing.

His words tell me how impossible this is. I can’t stay with him because I don’t like drugs at all. I drink sociably, but I’ve never touched anything harder. My entire childhood was filled with the shit, and as an adult I’ve chosen to steer clear of it. I simply can’t live like that, which is how I know this thing with Jett is done.

“I can’t live with you, Jett. I won’t. I told you before, I’ll never be yours until you’re clean, and I meant it.

He rolls us over so he’s on top of me and places his hand on my chin and holds me gently but in a firm grasp.

“I have wanted you for so fucking long, Angel. Now that I’ve had you, don’t ask me to go backwards because I can’t. I won’t do it in front of you. Whatever the fuck you need, but I can’t watch you walk away from me. Not now. The ache is too much, I can’t take it. Don’t ask me to.”

His words are beautiful, but I know the ending to our story. It’s broken and tragic instead of happy and fulfilling. If it were a book, they’d call it a romantic tragedy instead of a romance.

“How long?” I need him to tell me I am not the only one who has been fighting this pull between us.

The corners of his lips turn up into a smirk as the butterflies swirl in my stomach. He thinks I’ve never wanted him because that’s exactly what I wanted him to think, but it’s not true. I wanted him. I didn’t want the drugs or the lifestyle.

“The first time I saw you, you blew my fucking mind. Two years ago, when you shot the music video with Jagger, I thought I’d die. Every fucking time he touched you, I wanted to kill him. Even knowing there was nothing going on, I hated it when he had his hands on you, Angel. That’s when I knew I needed you.”

Leaning down, he nips at the skin covering my neck, and a moan to slip through my lips.

“Let me show you. I can and will take care of you. I only use to not get sick, Mia. I’m not high all the time.”

Do I believe him? Not a damn chance because I’ve seen his behavior with my own eyes and I know I should run, but I don’t. Instead, I lay here and let him run his tongue all over my skin as I wrap my legs around his hips. Jett grinds his cock against my clit, eliciting a gasp from me as his mouth continues to devour my flesh.

“Fuck, Angel.” He groans beside my ear, the shivers prickling my skin are instant as he pushes inside me once again.

Placing my hands on his face, I whimper his name as I stare into his eyes and can physically feel my impending downfall.

“Jett.” His name on my lips both begging for him to take me and pleading for him to let me go.

He’s a bad idea that I cannot resist. I can see the future, and I know it’s going to hurt like hell. Jett is my drug of choice. I can’t escape the need for the thrill. I’ll take the hit I crave, understanding it’ll be my undoing. He’s going to destroy what’s left of my life, and I’ll let him.

2

Chapter Eleven

JETT

The way she looks at me makes it hard to breathe. Without words, it’s as if she’s telling me if I fuck up, I’m going to lose her and I will. It’s not ‘if’, it’s ‘when.’ Jagger says I’m self-destructive and he might be right because I blow my life up on a fairly consistent basis, but this is different. I can’t fucking lose her.