Page 13 of Room Eighteen: My Pain, Their Pleasure

CHAPTER 5

JESSA

It’s been surprisingly quiet at Misfit Tattoos. I almost expected the guys to gloat about what happened two days ago when I was getting my tattoo. I haven’t really wrapped my mind around all of it, but I know I can barely look Cameron, Aiden and Brooks in the eye.

I’ve seen too much now. They know too much. It’s all just…too much.

I don’t want to quit because part of me craves being around them, but how can I act normal now? They know what I want and need, and they are more than willing to give it to me. At least they were a few days ago.

Was it a one-off situation? What happens now? When can it happen again? Will it? Do I want it to?

Whenever I wonder if I want it to happen again, I hear Cameron’s words in my head. Fuck consent when it comes to you, Jessa.

Part of me wants to break out the war cry and scream at him for saying such a thing, but my pussy also gets fucking soaked whenever I think about it.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I feel even more fucked up now than I did before. Now, I’ve let a part of me I’ve denied for so long be satisfied and I’m a little bit afraid I can’t go back. How would I even begin?

Everyone seems to be putting their heads down and getting work done. Aiden is back to giving everyone shit, as if I can’t close my eyes and imagine the way his cock filled me up. Or the way his fingers tangled in my hair as he moved my head so I could blow his best friends.

Brooks is his normal self—observant and reserved. As if I don’t know his cum is a little sweeter than Cam’s. Or how much he loved it when he cut off my airway with his length.

Cameron is just as quiet and stoic as he was before, but now I can feel his eyes burning into me from time to time. I know his art is nestled under the curve of my breasts. And how he showed real emotion, even if it was cruel, while he was face fucking me.

I’ve been on edge for the last two days as I’ve contemplated my options. I don’t want to find another job, but not talking about what is going on around here is killing me slowly. Maybe it’s just another form of torture for them. It wouldn’t surprise me if it were.

I had no idea the three of them wanted me as much as I did them. Was I just a toy to be used? Was I just convenient?

That thought has me wanting to stomp into the back portion of the shop and demand answers, but I can’t because Killian is bent over a client right now as he tattoos their back. I might want some answers, but I don’t want Killian to have any idea what happened between us in his shop.

It’s one thing to be with a client, it’s another for some dirty fucking to happen on one of the shop chairs.

I clench my thighs together as I look over the appointments for tomorrow and reply to a few emails. When I shut down the computer, it’s difficult to get up and get my shit together to walk out. Brooks is still finishing up his client, but it’s time for me to go.

I need to get the fuck out of here before I scream. The tension is too much. I’m shaking with the way it wraps around me and demands to be noticed. I want to run from it, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

I lock eyes with Killian and give him a nod in response to him waving goodbye. I don’t spare a glance at the other men. I can’t. I don’t know what I would do if I looked at them. I’d probably embarrass all of us and drop to my knees, my head bowed, and ask them to use me like their toy again. Their pet.

I shiver as I pull my jacket around me a little tighter and slip out. I hope the bell above the door isn’t too loud in the space I’ve just left behind. It’ll alert them all, as if I couldn’t already feel their eyes following me out.

Fuck. I’ve really screwed up. I shouldn’t have asked Cam to tattoo me. It was like I was daring myself to try, to see if I could do it. I knew I couldn’t. I’ve wanted them for too long and the pleasure from the pain inflicted by his needle dragging along my skin is like a siren’s song.

I was always going to fall apart for them. They were always going to see what I needed. It was always going to end in disaster.

As I enter the L station, I feel someone watching me, but I brush it off. It’s not a new feeling. There are creepers everywhere. It’s the reason I carry mace, but I’ve never needed to use it, thankfully.

The stare of whoever is watching me is intense, but it fades away when I step onto my train. I settle into a seat, unable to even pull my phone out and do…something, anything really. I just stare off into space and try and forget the way the three men I’ve been crushing on for a year played my body like they know it better than I do.

Maybe they do.

I shiver when I step off the train and then make the transfer to the line which will take me home. I don’t usually mind the commute. It gives me a chance to read or play a game. It’s mindless and sometimes I need it.

Not today though. After the other day, I fear there is no such thing as mindless for me.

I just keep imagining the same thing over and over. It’s on a loop in my head. My body is screaming at me to figure out how to make it happen again. It felt so good to exist in the place where I just floated, where nothing mattered but the sensations on my skin, right or wrong.

My mind is wary, uncertain about what this means in terms of the person I am. Shouldn’t I want to be cherished? Being called their slut, their toy, their pet…that’s not being cherished. I don’t think. Although, while in it, I felt like it was. Maybe that’s just because I’m fucked up.

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