Page 3 of Jacked and Jaded

“A little after seven?!” She shot up in bed, threw the covers off, and left the bed so fast she almost gave him whiplash. He barely caught a glimpse of her running for the bathroom. He was just swinging his legs to the floor when he heard the toilet flush and Cami exclaim. “Crap! I’m going to be late for work!”

He followed her into the bathroom at a little slower pace and found her looking at herself in the mirror, a look of abject horror crossing her face. Her makeup was smudged pretty badly under her eyes and it wasn’t coming off easily. Thinking to help her move along a little faster, he pulled a wash cloth out of the closet and handed it to her. Proud of himself for being so thoughtful, he made his way to the toilet to take a much needed piss. Leaning down, he raised the seat and took care of business. While he was standing there, he couldn’t understand why she was getting all bent out of shape about the time. “Aren’t you the boss? Does it matter if you’re late? I mean, who’s going to fire you?” He finished up and flushed the toilet. If he remembered correctly, she was the manager of a bank here in town. Or maybe a loan manager? Hell, he couldn’t remember.

He leaned into the shower and turned the water on, waiting for it to heat up. He followed Cami back out to the bedroom, leaning in the door frame while watching her scramble around looking for her clothes. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face when she bent over to find her shoes and he got flashed by her naked pussy. If she wasn’t in such a hurry and he didn’t have somewhere else to be, he’d definitely be dragging her back to bed for another round of fucking.

“Yes, but I have a meeting with a client with a very big bank account wanting to invest it. If I get the account, it could be huge for my company. If I get this one, maybe some of his richie rich friends will let me invest their money for them, too.”

That’s right. She was a financial advisor. She’d just opened up her own company not too long ago. Jackson mentally patted himself on the back for remembering on his own.

Cami buckled her last shoe, hopped up and ran over to kiss Jackson on the cheek. He didn’t have time to react because she was shooting out the door. Holy shit. He wasn’t sure how she didn’t break a leg running in those high heels.

“J? Where the fuck are you? Move it or I’m coming in there to kick your ass!”

Fuck. That was Race. Sounded like the prez was in a bad mood. Double fuck.

2

“So what do you have planned for today, Calliope?” Calliope’s guard went up at the tone of Clint’s question. It sounded only mildly interested, but she knew nothing with him was ever that simple. He was fishing for something, but didn’t know what. She had to tread carefully.

She was pouring herself a cup of coffee when he asked. She squeezed her eyes closed, took a deep breath and hoped for the best as she turned around. “Today is Mom’s birthday. Like I was telling you earlier this week, I was going to head down there to see her. I thought I’d spend the night and treat her to a spa day in the morning before I head back home.”

Her heart rate sped up when he Clint lowered his newspaper slowly and stared at her. “That’s right. I’d forgotten about that. Just make sure you’re back in plenty of time to get ready for dinner with my associates. We’re celebrating Walter’s retirement.” He finished the last behind his paper. She’d been dismissed. He was no longer interested in anything she had to say.

Calliope finished her coffee quickly. She rinsed her cup and put it in the dishwasher. Not wanting to stay too long in his presence, she started for their room so she could get dressed and packed for her trip. Just as she was passing by Clint, his hand shot out and latched onto her arm, squeezing tightly. Unprepared for this, she couldn’t stop her gasp of pain from escaping. Shit. Clint got off on knowing he was causing her pain.

“Calliope? Who is Jackson?”

“Wh-What?” Oh shit. She was in trouble now. How had he heard about Jackson? Any time he thought she might be taking a particular interest in a man or a man appeared to be enamored of her, Clint had to prove who she belonged to lest she forget.

“Last night. You called out the name Jackson. Who is he?” He pulled her closer as he scooted his chair back. “Are you fucking around on me?” he growled low.

“N-no. I’m not fucking around on you. He was a kid a grew up with. He lived across the street.” She tried to smile, to reassure him, but must’ve failed miserably by the way his jaw set with determination.

“What have I told you, Calliope?” God, she hated this tone he was using right now. It was like a father trying to be patient with his child, but was at his wit’s end.

“I belong to you and no one else.” She tried to stand her ground as best she could, but he jerked her arm when he felt her try to resist. He slowly rose from his seat and pulled her in front of him, facing the table.

“That’s right. You belong to me. Don’t move.” The sound of Clint’s zipper being roughly pulled down made her flinch. The coffee she’d just drunk felt like battery acid now in her stomach. She knew what was coming and dreaded it.

Clint, the asshole that he was, pushed her between her shoulders so that she was bent over the table. He didn’t have the decency to move his breakfast plate. She found herself lying on top of a bowl of fruit and a half eaten bagel smothered in cream cheese. She knew he didn’t care that his breakfast dishes were digging into her ribs, all that mattered was his pleasure. She couldn’t remember the last time he even pretended to care whether she got off or not.

She flinched when she felt her robe being shoved up her back and her panties being ripped from her body. She hated having sex with Clint when he was like this. He forced himself on her as a way to punish her and to remind her of her place in this relationship. She always felt dirty and violated when he was finished.

She bit into her bottom lip to keep from crying out as he entered her dry channel. The prick didn’t even try to ensure that she was ready for him. She muffled any sounds she might have made as he hammered into her over and over, her hips slamming into the kitchen table. His hand on her back, he shoved her down, keeping her trapped and unable to lift herself even slightly to relieve the pain his fruit bowl was causing.

“You. Are. Mine.” He punctuated each word with a forceful thrust of his hips. “Say it,” he growled between clenched teeth.

“I am yours, Clint. I am yours,” she dutifully repeated, her voice short of breath. She would do anything to make this go quicker. The only saving grace was the fact that he never lasted long, unless he was high on cocaine. Then, he turned into a horny bastard that thought they could have sex all night long. The problem with him doing coke before sex was that he might not be able to get it up or if he did manage it, he would thrust forever and not get off. He was always sure to point out that his lack of achieving orgasm was all her fault. He’d rant and rave, telling her she wasn’t woman enough to make him come.

His cocaine use started a couple of months ago, as far as she could tell. At least, that’s when she noticed it affecting things here at home. Once he started using it, his personality grew more and more volatile. More and more instances like today were occurring. Without a doubt, it was time for her to get out of this relationship before things turned a whole lot worse.

Calliope lay silently, waiting for him to finish and leave for work. She could hear him grunting as he strained to find his release and knew he was close.

“That’s right. You belong to me. Take it, baby.” He thrust once more before he came inside her. He wasn’t wearing a condom and he knew she didn’t like that. He thought she was worried about getting pregnant out of wedlock and disappointing her mom, but the truth was, she was worried he’d give her an STD. She’d solved the problem of birth control a long time ago when she went to the women’s free clinic to get the shot. She went every three months like clockwork. The last thing she needed was to get pregnant and be stuck with Clint for the rest of her life.

She waited for him to pull his softening dick out and for his usual act of humiliation. He wiped his cum-covered dick on her lower back and butt cheek. “Feel that? I’m marking my territory, baby.” He laughed, thinking he was funny.

God, she hated when he did that and she hated his comment about marking his territory even more. She stood gingerly and smoothed her robe back down, making sure to secure the belt. She stepped away, her head held high, fruit stuck in cream cheese plastered on her robe. Clint smiled broadly thinking it was funny. Unable to stand being around him any longer, she walked off, in desperate need of another shower.

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