27 Welt
A metallic, electric blue Ferrari drives by and turns a few streets ahead. I keep walking, wiping a tear away. I wasn't crying but I was feeling rather emotional over what just happened. It made me feel dirty, used, and ... disposable. I didn't like that. It was not a good feeling.
I'm about to enter another crosswalk when arms wrap around me and pull me to the side, one hand covering my mouth before I can scream. I'm struggling with all my might, trying to stomp this persons foot with my heel when a familiar voice has me freezing.
"Will you stop! It's me!"
I twist painfully in Jacksons arms, taking note of the blue Ferrari parked not far away. I push myself from his arms and stomp my foot, "What the hell did you expect? Grabbing me from behind like that?!"
"What I was not expecting was for you to just leave like that with out saying anything." He crosses his arms in front of himself, giving me a scowl.
I scowl just a furiously back at him, "And I wasn't expecting to feel like I was easy and disposable!" I want to scream but instead just turn and continue to walk home.
Jackson is quick to grab my arm and pull me back on to the sidewalk. "Come on talk to me. How did I make you feel that way?! I thought we were just having some fun?"
I scoff, "Fun? I wouldn't call that fun. Now let me go so I can go home." I demand tugging my arm, but his grasp does not let me go.
"No. Let's talk so this doesn't happen again." He starts directing me to the car and I try to tug my arm out of his hold again.
"I can walk myself!" I snap at him. He let's me go and walks over to the Ferrari and opens the door for me to get in. I avoid looking into his eyes and sit down. Jackson climbs in quickly and takes back down the street to his house.
"Why are we going back to your place?" I exclaim in question.
"Because this is not for actually driving on the street. It's tags are strictly for the race track, but it was the first thing that I could get out of the garage." Jackson pulls into the drive and parks in the garage.
I step out of the vehicle as he does and start to walk to another car. I don't see his driver anywhere right now. I feel Jackson approaching me and as I turn, I'm swooped up over his shoulder and carried into the house.
"Jackson! What are you doing?! I want to go home!" I try to push myself off, but suddenly a loud smack and sharp pain radiates off my ass.
"OW!" I grip my ass as tears spring to my eyes.
"Stop squirming. We are going to talk and you're not going to run away." His stern voice stirs memories I'd rather not think about.
"You hit me." I say quietly as a tear breaks free from my eye as he takes me upstairs.
He pauses, seeming to realize what he's done before he lets out a heavy breath and takes through a doorway. He moves me off his shoulder gently and places me down on a bed. I wrap my arms around myself, still clutching my purse to me, not looking at Jackson.
"Melita..." His voice is softer, but still firm. When he moves closer to me, I can't help but flinch. He pauses again as I hug myself tighter, trying to keep my emotions inside, like I could hold them in with my arms. He sits down next to me on the bed and I avoid his gaze, not wanting him to see how much that quick smack on my ass affected me. My ass still is uncomfortable with the stinging heat that radiates from it.
I blink and another tear falls from my eye that rolls down my cheek to land on my arm. Jackson sighs and I hear him run a hand through his hair in frustration before he's pulling me into arms.
I whimper as my sore ass is sitting on his leg uncomfortably and go to move off his lap, but he holds me firmly to his chest.
"I'm sorry." He whispers hoarsely, "I didn't think about what you have been through when I smacked your ass in my frustration and annoyance." He releases some of his hold on me, allowing me to move my rear end so the pressure was no longer on the welted skin.
I still was holding myself and I noticed my bag was shaking against my body. I was trembling. I take a deep breath to calm myself. I shouldn't be having such a drastic reaction to Jackson. Except... He struck me. That has me starting to shake harder again thinking about it.
"Melita, please. I am truly sorry." Guilt hangs heavy in Jacksons voice, making me glance up at him and back down.
I try to breathe again to calm my body down, "I can't help the shaking." My teeth clatter a bit as I speak, so I take another breath and try to calm, "I just don't do... I didn't.. expect..." My voice breaks as my emotions try to escape, but I breathe and squash them down again, "you to do that."
My voice is so weak and pathetic, it makes me sick to my stomach. My rear is uncomfortable in this position and I once again attempt to move from his arms. He tightens his grip but I'm quick to speak up this time.
"My ass is uncomfortable on your lap, no matter how I sit it puts pressure on where.." I let my words fade off as he release me so I can sit on the bed. Even that still hurts. I stand needing to see what the hell is going on, and go to his bathroom. I pull up my underwear down and lift my skirt and my jaw drops.
A perfect, hand-shaped, dark-red welt sits perfectly across the lower part of both of my ass cheeks. It's looks angry but also... I have to admire the perfection on it too. You can see every finger and it's almost completely even in color except for the very center of the palm. It hurt like hell, but it was oddly pleasing to see at the same time.
God, something is really wrong with me, isn't there?
I pull my skirt back down and gingerly pull my underwear back up, but take my destroyed pantyhose and toss them in the trash. I walk back out to the bedroom, wanting to just go home still. I feel kind of stupid and immature for getting so upset about earlier, but I still did not deserve to have him hit my ass so hard.
He sits there on the edge of the bed, his body tense, his brows pinched in guilt? Concern? I'm not sure yet. I cross my arms across my chest, my purse still in my hand. I scoff and roll my eyes, setting the damn thing on the table closest to me.
I turn back around to him, crossing my arms again. "I don't like to be teased like that, at all. If I wanted to be built up and let down because I enjoyed it, I would have stayed with one of my idiot exes." I say sullenly. "And you hit me really hard." I add still avoiding holding his gaze for too long. I feel exposed again and I hate feeling vulnerable like this. It's like bugs are crawling inside of me. The thought alone sends a shudder through me, making me shake it off.
"Will you please come sit with me?" He reaches out his hand towards me and I hesitate at the thought of my ass.
"Or you can lay on your side or stomach to keep weight off of your ass." He moves his hand slightly and I walk right past it, and slowly lay on my side, grabbing pillows to help prop my self up.
He turns to face me with a heavy sigh, his hand going to the hem of my skirt. I jolt my body away from his touch, not knowing what he plans on doing. He looks hurt but still reaches for my hem.
"May I see please? I have something we could put on it to help, but I need to see how bad it is."
I stand up and carefully pull my panties off before laying on my stomach and bury my face in one of his pillows. "Please be careful." I warn him before he lifts the hem.
This is so embarrassing! I feel his hand take the hem of my skirt and I can't help it, I look over my shoulder to see his reaction.
His eyes widen, a small smile catching the corner of his lips before his brows furrow again as he takes note of it. His hand goes to touch it and I flinch again, making his eyes dart up to meet mine.
"I was just going to test how hot it is. I wasn't going to touch it yet." He reassures me.
I nod, gritting my teeth, allowing him to hover his hand over it. He stands and enters the bathroom, coming out with a wet washcloth and a little container of something.
He softly places the cool washcloth on my cheeks, making me hiss at first but then sigh as the throb started waning.
"Is that helping already?" He asks and I nod quietly.
He removes the cloth after a minute and takes some of what ever is in the container, and gently rubs it into the welt. Whatever it is feels good once he stops rubbing it on. It's like aloe vera for a sunburn, just different.
As he puts it on, he's so focused, making sure to be gentle but thorough in covering it.
"I had to admit, when I saw it, that you did a damn good job at making it a perfect hand print." I try to lighten the atmosphere even if it's only by a fraction.
Jackson chuckles and I look over my shoulder at him. He nods as he scoops out a large dollop of ointment, "Yeah, I thought so too. Oops!"
The dollop falls off his finger and slide down my crack. He tries to catch it as it slides down to my folds. His finger caressing the area makes a shiver run over my body and my hair stand on end. I'm trying to breathe and steady myself. That single caress made my core tighten with need again.
"Your hair is standing up. Are you cold?" Jackson asks, running his finger against where the dollop was again, making sure he got it all.
I groaned in response at the tease. When I meet his eyes again, he knows that I'm not cold.