Page 42 of The Pawn
Jet grips a handful of her hair. “Focus,” he tells her, and she gets back to the business of sucking his dick.
I take my seat on the old, worn leather chair across the room and pour myself a whiskey. It’s the only expensive thing in this place. Jet probably brought it. I pick up my tumbler and turn to the couple on the bed. Jet is on his knees, Mina on all fours in front of him sucking him off, waving her ass prettily at me.
“You joining?” Jet asks, looking at me through hair that’s flopped down into his eyes, barely lifting his gaze from her.
“Just watching tonight,” I say, sipping my drink.
“Too bad,” he says, then pulls Mina off him. “Turn around,” he tells her. “Down on your elbows so I can see it all,” he instructs although he doesn’t need to. Mina’s fucked us both enough times to know what we like, how we like it.
With his hands on her ass, Jet splays her open, eyes on the business at hand. I know from her moan when he pushes into her, but it’s not her I’m looking at. It’s him.
His grip tightens on her hips, and I hear the wet sounds of fucking as he turns his gaze to me.
I sip. I watch.
Jet is a beast when he fucks. His eyes go full black, and his face flushes with heat. His mouth opens on shallow breaths and in a minute, he’ll take his lower lip between his teeth. Those lips are the only soft thing about him. His body is chiseled with muscle, the scars faded to silvery-white now, scar tissue rough beneath. I know the way they feel. I know how the muscles move beneath his skin when they’re touched. And I know how they got there.
Despite the scars, maybe more so for them, he’s beautiful to watch. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him like this. And he does give me a fucking show, gripping her hips, ramming into her from behind before pulling out to guide his cock to her other hole. Mina moans. His eyes are on me with every furious thrust. It’s intimate. The closest we can be.
Was this what it was like for him to watch me fuck Allegra?
No. That was different. It wasn’t him I was looking at when I was fucking her. It was her. And I did it for one reason and one reason alone. To drive my point home: Allegra is off limits. She’s mine.
What point is he making? He’s not. It’s rage. Pure, unchecked rage as his eyes bore into mine while he fucks Mina raw.
And from the sounds she’s making, she’s loving every second of it.
I swallow my whisky down and keep my empty glass in hand. I don’t look away. I can’t. I feel every angry thrust and when he comes, he bites his lip so hard that he draws blood. Yet, he still refuses to look away. Still, he refuses to release the lock of our eyes.
Because this is about us.
When he’s finished, he drops back onto his heels out of breath.
Mina rolls onto her side, spent.
I stand, set my glass down and hand Mina her robe which is hanging behind the door. I don’t look away from Jet.
“Thanks, baby,” she says and glances down. “Want me to take care of that?”
I grip her wrist before she can wrap her hand around my erection. “I’m fine. Go downstairs.” I take my wallet out to hand her a hundred-dollar bill. “That Chinese place still around?” She nods. “Good. Order some food for yourself.”
She turns to Jet. He’s the customer, after all.
“It’s fine. Go, Mina. Leave us alone.”
She nods. “Thanks,” she says about the money and walks out, closing the door behind her.
“Whiskey?” I ask him, resuming my seat and pouring myself a fresh glass.
“In a minute.” He gets up and I’m glad to see he used a condom. He walks into the bathroom and closes the door. The shower goes on and I look out the window while I wait. The neighborhood hasn’t changed, not at all. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I wonder if Jet’s been visiting Mina regularly. I realize I don’t know. He could have any woman he wants. He could pay any high-end escort if that’s what he chooses to do, although he doesn’t need to pay for it. Still, he comes here.
The shower switches off and Jet steps into the bedroom, a cloud of steam behind him. He’s got a towel wrapped low around his hips and crosses the room unselfconsciously. His clothes are on the chair in the opposite corner.
“What do you want?” he asks as he gets dressed.
“We need to talk.”
“Do we?” He zips up his jeans before pulling his sweater on. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”
