Jabari McKingsley deserves to get knocked down a peg or two. Annoyingly though, he saw right through that set up. So much so he could read my emotions out loud and lay them in front of me with enough time to spare to have me beneath him yet again.
Now the only one looking stupid is me.
The size of him catches up to me all over again.
A sharp, low ache pulses through my lower body, and I wince.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter then kind of fold sideways until I’m flat on my back, one leg dangling off my pillow, staring at the ceiling for answers.
Because I am stupid. And this is stupid.
This is so stupid.
My stomach flips. My knees actually go weak.
I hate him.
“I like you, Frankie.”
I don’t.
I do.
My body throbs again, and I let out the world’s most exhausted groan.I reach for my pillow and shove it between my legs. A wave of discomfort hits as I think of every decision that led me to this point. I was stupid for thinking him coming over wouldn’t lead to more. I thought I could get through it without him sneaking his way back into my panties.
I don’t know what it is about him that makes the little girl, who thought the sun and moon orbits Planet Jabari, come out from the secondary school broom closet I had her tucked away in.
That part of me is dead.
Murdered even. And by my own hands.
Yet still, all he has to do is kiss me and I’m back to thinking stupid thoughts.
I’m just gonna have to tell Za. She’ll be mad at me but I can’t live with this hanging over my head. It’s so clear I only keep doing this as self sabotage but I can’t allow that man to have a hold on me.
I need him out of my life. I need his sperm out of my body.
And I need…Oh my days.
I smell like him. And whatever he’s using to wash with doesn’t match my pH because my skin feels off.
I waddle to the bathroom, irritation prickling across my thighs.
“It’s always something,” I rant to myself, turning on the shower.
My phone buzzes with a new message:
Jankro Jabari : u ok right?
Steam fills the room,but the ache inside me doesn’t fade. I grip the edge of the sink and catch my reflection.
My face is flushed, lips swollen, hair a mess.
“I need to get a grip,” I tell the mirror me. “Seriously. A grip.”
Except the moment I close my eyes, flashes from earlier strikes.
His mouth on my neck, his hands holding my hips in place, the way he whispered my name while I unraveled under him. As messy as it is.
