Ali was quiet most of the drive back to my place, and when we got home, she silently climbed out of the car and went into my room and got changed. She was sitting cross legged on my bed when I walked in, wearing my jumper that she stole at the Gold Coast and tiny black pyjama pants with little pink owls on them. Knowing her, she wasn’t wearing anything under that jumper.
“Maybe you should leave me.” She whispered just loud enough for me to hear. Her facial expression was blank, like a brand new canvas, but her eyes were full of pain. Her eyes looked like someone had poured the ocean into them and a storm had hit. She wasn’t crying, but if I said the wrong things she would.
“Why?” I asked, still standing in front of my closed bedroom door, facing her. She threw her gaze down to the covers on my bed and she played with the hem of her – my jacket.
“You deserve better.” She said, her voice broke and one single tear travelled down her face and fell onto the bed. As soon as the tear fell off her face I moved towards my bed and gently tackled her onto her back, laying on top of her, pinning her hands above her head, my face just centimetres away from hers, our bodies pressed together, our noses almost touching. Her breathing picked up speed noticeably and instantly, and her eyes were wide. The storm in her eyes had calmed and was now replaced with a wild fire, full of desire and lust.
“Do you want to know why I haven’t left you?” I whispered, feeling her legs slowly wrap around my torso.
“Mmhm.” She hummed with a slight nod of her head. Her hum was strained, and I knew what she was thinking.
“Because you’re a beautiful, caring, loving, funny, nice, sweet and tender girl. And I’m no good for you, I don’t deserve you,” I felt her legs tighten around my torso and I could feel my voice drop about 6 billion octaves, “you’re too fucking good for me and I know I should let you go to allow you to be with someone who does deserve you, someone who is good for you, someone who will treat you right, someone who won’t hurt you. But I love you and I’m a fucking selfish prick, and I want you all to myself. You’re mine, and I am never fucking letting you go. Never.” I released her hands and supported all my body weight on my knees. I slowly pushed my hands up under her shirt and rested them on her stomach, looking at her for permission.
“You’re right; you are selfish and you are no good for me. You’re poison.” She purred. Fuck.
“Mine.” I practically growled letting my body press up against her completely and buried my face in her neck, kissing and biting her gently. A soft moan left her lips. Fuck. Her hands harshly travelled their way up my back and tangled themselves into my hair. Her breath was warm on my ear. “That’s it.” I mumbled against her neck. I lifted us up and connected my mouth to hers, her hands still tangled in my hair. We were sitting up somehow, in the middle of an intense make-out session.
“Jarred.” She said into my mouth, slowly removing her hands from my hair and placing them on my chest. Her voice was raspy and she was as breathless as I was.
“Okay.” I mumbled, pulling away and sitting up properly. I was so hard it was uncomfortable for me to sit. “Let’s just eat and watch a movie for now.” I suggested, hoping that she wouldn’t make me go and get the food from the fridge.
“Yeah, that sounds good. Where did you put the food?” she giggled, glancing down at my pants.
“I saw that.” I laughed, her face going bright red, relief washed over me. She mumbled an almost inaudible apology. “But to answer your question, I left it in the plastic bag and put it in the fridge. The food that is.” She stood up with a slight laugh and adjusted her clothing and ruffled her hair so it sat perfectly. I had messed her hair up a great deal, and accidentally twisted her shirt around on her, making her probably about as uncomfortable as I was. She left the room with a soft laugh, leaving the door open slightly.
