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WhenIget back toJackson’s, my mood is just this side of murder-now-ask-questions-later.I’mon my way to the bedroom to change, whenJacksonfinds me in the hall.
“Hey, there you are.Iwas wondering when you were going to get home.Ialmost came down to the bakery to find you.”
Mylips twitch.Nowthis is something that could improve my mood.SomeJackson-provided-orgasms would definitely put a smile on my face.
Iwalk over to him and nuzzle my face into his black t-shirt, not caring if my makeup rubs off on him.He’sgoing to be covered in my makeup in minutes ifIhave anything to say about it.
Reachingup,IpullJackson’shead down to mine.Whenhis lips press against mine, he takes over, like always.Hekisses me hard, convincing me how much he missed me.
Myhand slides down to feel him through his jeans, and his dick leaps to attention, like always.Ifthis is what the man is like at almost thirty-three,Ican’t even imagine what he must have been like at twenty-one during hisRaven’sRavinehey-day.Orall the women he took out all that stamina on.No.Nope.Actually,Idon’t want to imagine any of that.
Instead,I’mgoing to distract myself from that thought, from my bad mood, from bakery disasters, and from the ticking clock thatIreally don’t want to think about, withJackson’sdick.Inmy experience,Jackson’sdick has some sort of magical powers of distraction.AndIam powerless against it.
Perfect.
Feelingmy way,IfindJackson’sfly and start undoing the zipper.
Thenhis hand pulls mine away.Iwant to pout and stomp my foot, like he’s taking my stuffy away.ButsinceI’ma twenty-eight-year-old woman,Irestrain myself.
“What’swrong?”
“Baby, as much asIwant to.Asmuch asIalwayswant to…”Jacksonglances at his watch over my shoulder. “Wedon’t have time.”
“Whynot?”Iask, confused.
“Wehave to be at the studio in two hours.Andwith traffic, it’s going to be tight.Youshould start getting ready.There’sa dress for you hanging up in our room.Hairand makeup’ll be here in ten.AndI’lleat out that sweet pussy of yours as soon as we get home.That’sa promise.”
Pressingmy knuckles into my eyes,Idon’t care ifImess up my mascara, more than it already is.
“Sorry, what?Whereare we supposed to be going?”
“There’sa roundtable press event with the director, writers,Elisha, fuckingDerek, and me.”
“Andit’s tonight?”
“Yeah, baby,Itold you about this.”
Slowly,Ishake my head. “No, you didn’t.”
“Baby, yes,Idid.”
“No, you didn’t.Iwould have remembered thatIwas supposed to be going to some fancy press thing.I’vebeen working at the bakery all day.Myhair is frizzy.Mymakeup is a mess.Idon’t want anyone taking my picture.Noone told me about this!”
Jacksonholds his hands up to calm me down, which only pisses me off even more. “Holdup, hold up.Everything’sgoing to be okay.Youlook great.Baby,Ineed you to come with me.I’msorry, but this kind of thing is part of the deal…”
Andthat’s it right there.
Thedeal.
ThiscontractImade beforeIhad any idea whatIwas getting myself into.
BeforeIhad any idea thatIwas going to fall in love withJacksonWaters.
Theresistance inside me feels like tectonic plates shifting and grinding against each other, about to cause the big one they’ve been warning us about since elementary school.
AndIknow thatI’mdone.I’mnot waiting for the other shoe to drop.I’mnot waiting forJacksonandValto cook up a perfect plan to break my heart and make sureJacksoncomes out of it smelling like roses.
I’mdone.
