No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2)
Read No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) Online
Authors: Kelli Jean
Copyright © 2015 by Kelli Jean
All rights reserved.
Cover Designer: Renee Ericson/RE Creatives
Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing,
www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except
for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at
www.kellijeanauthor.com
For Dad.
For Jon-Erik.
For Jackie, Landyn, and Freya-Jean.
Kenna
Sitting up, I dragged the towel over my skin, hoping I got all of Phil off of me. I felt filthy and used, like trash. And that was exactly how he’d wanted me to feel.
It’s how he feels about himself.
I no longer cared. If he could treat me like that, then he deserved to feel like trash, too.
Quickly and as quietly as possible, I grabbed my dress off the floor and shrugged it on. I didn’t bother with my bra, panties, or my pumps. I left them where they were. I opened the bedroom door and shut it. Without a sound, I slipped down the stairs, grabbed my purse from the island counter, and headed out the side door.
Through the backyard, I sprinted, spurred on by the cold wet grass beneath my feet.
Open the gate. Shut it.
These were the soft motions of a broken mind.
It was three in the morning, so the house was dark and silent. I crept up the stairs, desperate to avoid any explanations to my two dearest friends about the fucked up episode I’d just suffered at the hands of the man I had given my soul to.
In my room, I turned on the lamp on my nightstand and opened my balcony door in the hopes that some clean air would come in and purify my putrid frame of mind. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I pulled out my ashtray and a spliff before smoking it down to the tiniest of roaches. I just needed to dull my wits at this point.
On the balcony, I heard branches rustling against the railing.
Stoned and numb, I got up. As I took off my dress, I could feel where I’d missed spots of his semen. The fabric pulled at my skin with the movement, making me itch. My chest was so tight that I felt the need to scream at the top of my lungs until it loosened up. I was so gross, so cheap, and so disgusting.
I think I hate him.
That was what hurt the most.
Heading into the bathroom, I saw my reflection in the mirror, and I
loathed
it. I hated the sparkly green eye shadow, the clumped mascara, and the smudged eyeliner that had streaked from the tears I couldn’t hold back. I opened my medicine cabinet, took out my jar of coconut oil, and smeared a glob of it all over my eyes, scrubbing a little too hard.
Get it off, get it off, get it off.
The dried patches of cum stretched and cracked over my skin and I tried to scratch at them.
Stupid! Get in the shower.
The water was scalding, and I hoped it would boil some of the filth out of me. Sinking to the bottom of the tub, I rested my face on my knees as I wrapped my arms around my shins and wept. Once started, there was no holding back. God-awful sobs tore their way out of my chest, and I wailed, snorted, and choked around them.
What do I do? Do I leave him over this? Am I even capable of leaving him? The next time I see him, do I try to explain to him what I was trying to tell him? Do I even
want
to see him again?
Of course, I want to see him again. I want to kick him in the nuts and punch him in the throat! I want to tell him he’s a horrible son of a bitch with psychotic tendencies!
He snapped like a fucking twig! We had a
perfect
fucking date until he completely
misunderstood me and flipped right the fuck out. He’s a fucking head case! I
never
wanted to know how those women had been treated at his hands. I wanted to know if they had wanted what I had with him. I wondered if any of them had given him a sense of happiness or love.
How could he do this?
The water turned tepid. On and on, I wept.
By the time I had cried enough, the water was icy. My skin erupted into goose bumps, and my teeth chattered. Too tired and emotionally depleted to move, I made the decision just to wait until I became acclimated to the cold temperature.
However, I wasn’t allowed to acclimate.
Silently, someone shut off the water and draped a towel over me before lifting me into his arms.
Phil.
Burning with self-righteous fury yet filled with great elation that he was here, I realized,
I’m officially as fucked in the head as he is.
He sat down on the toilet and cradled me to his chest, pressing my soaking wet head to his shoulder. Holding me, he gently rocked us back and forth. Pressing his lips to my Third Eye, he filled me with his sadness, regret, and a sense of unconditional deep love.
My chest loosened entirely, and I drew in an enormous breath. “If you ever treat me like that again, I will leave you.”
“I know,” he replied softly.
“I never wanted to know what it was like to be them. You didn’t let me finish what I was saying. You let your fucked up emotions take over and went into a rage.”
“I did,” he admitted.
“You ruined one of the most beautiful nights I’ve ever had.”
His heart began to pound beneath my cheek. “Baby Girl—”
“You made me feel like I was
garbage
,” I continued, my tone dull and matter-of-fact. “You made me feel used, and worse, you made me feel
unloved
. There was no joy or pleasure in being with you. And then you made sure I was humiliated by jizzing all over my back.”
He swallowed thickly. “Yes.”
“I never deserved that.”
“No.”
“That…that was some diabolical shit, Phil.” No, I still had some tears left in me. “You called me a coward
again
. You made me want to leave and never, ever come back. You made me
hate
you—”
His arms tightened around me, and he sucked in a deep breath. “Kashmir!”
“What?”
“Stop,
please
!” he begged. “I deserve this pain—I know I do—but you’re fuckin’ terrifyin’ me!” His breath was rapid and shallow. “How do I fix this? Tell me how to fix this!”
“I don’t know.”
Abruptly, he stood up and walked us into my room, gently laying me down on the bed.
He straddled my hips, taking my face in his hands. “Look at me,” he begged. “Please, Kenna. I know I don’t deserve it, but
please
…”
Reluctantly, I met his gaze. He had been crying. He was
still
crying, and in the face of his suffering, my heart constricted painfully in my chest.
“I love you,” he said, his tone pleading for me to believe him. “You are
nothin’
like them. When you said you wondered what it was like for them, I…I fuckin’ lost my shit. I couldn’t even begin to wonder myself as to why you felt the need to understand them, and I was so fuckin’ furious that you did.”
“I was only thinking of how they could have been with you and not loved you and wanted what you and I have.”
He was stunned into silence. I couldn’t imagine him looking more taken aback than he did right then.
“
That
was what I was wondering,” I told him softly.
One of his tears slipped from his eye and splashed down onto my cheek.
“Do we still
have…” His chest jerked with a violent spasm. “I’m so sorry, Kenna. I’m so, so sorry! Please—”
Incredibly, I could already feel my heart healing from this hot mess. Reaching up, I cradled his face in my hands. At my touch, he closed his eyes, and more tears rained down upon my face. I pulled him closer until our lips brushed softly. With a thick moan, he deepened the kiss as my mouth opened beneath his.
“I need you more than my next breath,” he told me. “You’re my other half, my reason for existin’ at all.”
Phil pressed his Third Eye to mine, infusing me with his overwhelming emotions. It was hard to believe all of that was inside of him. Brushing his mouth against mine, he said, “Never again, Kenna. I promise. I’ll kill myself before I ever hurt you like that again.”
My eyes rose to his, and what I saw in them snatched the breath from my lungs.
“How do I fix this?” he whispered. “What will fix this?”
“Forgiveness,” I replied.
“Do you forgive me then?” He bit his lip to keep it from quivering.
“I can forgive you, but…can
you
forgive
me
?”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “For what?”
“For letting you go.”
My Dark God of the Universe sank back on his heels, his gaze searing into mine. “I think so. I want to.”
Pushing myself up, I drew my legs from between his thighs before bending my knees and wrapping my arms around them. It made me feel less vulnerable. “If you can’t or won’t, then there’s no point to this—
us
. It’s broken before it even starts. Our whole relationship, up to this point, you’ve blamed me for something that I’m not even sure I understand. It’s preventing us from moving forward.”