Hot Ticket
Page 72
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“Drinking. And whatever other trouble you got yourself into tonight.”
“Get your hands off me.” Jason shoved his father, who stumbled back against the wall. “I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back.”
He turned to go, wondering where he could stay, wishing he could get his bass guitar out of his room, but knowing he had to get out immediately.
Jason should have learned by now that his father wasn’t afraid to beat him unconscious to make him obey. He wasn’t sure why he never fought back. He probably could have taken the old man if he really wanted to. But somewhere inside, he knew he deserved this. This pain.
When Jason regained consciousness on his bedroom floor, it was mid-afternoon the next day. His door had been secured with a padlock from the outside, and his windows had been intentionally painted shut long ago. There was no escaping this room.
He went into the tiny connecting half-bathroom and washed up in the sink. A dark bruise marred his cheek, but it was the only visible evidence. The rest of his injuries were under his clothes. He had a hard time taking a deep breath and figured he had another fractured rib. He fingered his rib cage, looking for evidence of protruding bones. At least, he had no complete breaks this time. Nothing bleeding. He was sore, but he’d live.
As expected, his father had confiscated his bass guitar again. With nothing to do, Jason sat on his bed, leaned against the wall, and dreamed of better days. Days of freedom and playing his bass guitar onstage with his favorite band, Sinners. Nights of making love to the most beautiful girl on the planet, Kara Sinclair.
He’d spaced out like that for hours. When he couldn’t stand the ache in his heart anymore, he cranked up his space heater until the coils glowed bright orange. He’d removed the protective grate months ago. As he’d done numerous times, he pressed his right wrist against the hot coils until his flesh seared and blistered. Eventually, the pain became too much, and he pulled away from the punishing heat. Breathing hard, he tightened his leather wrist cuff around the blistered flesh to keep the pain constant. He needed something to hurt him more than the hurt inside. The hurt he couldn’t dig out, no matter how hard he tried.
Someone knocked on his door, and he kicked the heater against the wall in case his father came in and saw what he was doing. He didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want anyone to know that he hurt himself when no one was looking.
“You want dinner?” his dad called.
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” His footsteps faded down the hall.
Sometime later, Jason heard a car with a big engine pull to a stop outside his house. He went to the window to gaze into the darkness. Across the street, Kara had parked. She honked her horn and sat there, waiting for him with the engine idling. She would think he stood her up. That he didn’t want her.
He fought with the window for several minutes, knowing it wouldn’t budge. Desperate for freedom, he grabbed a boxing trophy from his bookshelf and smashed it against the corner of the window. The sound of breaking glass was louder than he expected it would be. The pieces rained down on the porch roof. He paused, waiting for his father to come charging up the stairs to permanently put him out of his misery, but he never came. He must’ve fallen asleep in front of the TV.
Jason threw his blanket over the broken glass in the window frame. His stepped on his space heater to help himself over the windowsill. He dropped onto the roof, paused to make sure his father wasn’t coming to kill him, and then shimmied down the porch post and into the bushes. He fled across the yard and raced toward Kara’s car. Before he could climb inside, she sped off.
Jason watched her retreating lights—heart simultaneously thudding and sinking.
Her taillights brightened, and then her reverse lights came on. She almost ran him over as she backed up the car at a high rate of speed. She stopped, not looking at him. She stared out the windshield and wiggled in her seat. Jace climbed in beside her, and she sped off into the night.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said breathlessly. “At first, I was mad, and then a little relieved. When I saw you climbing down from your porch, I got scared. Sorry I took off.”
“It’s okay. If you’re not ready…”
“I am ready,” she said. She reached across the car and squeezed his hand. Her hand was damp, but he didn’t mind. He was pretty nervous himself. “My parents will be at a party until late. I thought… I thought we could… in the pool house.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “Whatever makes you happy.”
She smiled, looking timid and shy. He’d never seen her this way. He liked this side of her. Maybe even more than the reckless and wild side. He wasn’t sure.
When they reached her house, she took his hand and led him to the pool house. His heart thudded with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. She opened the door, turned on a light, and they entered an open seating area flanked by two doors, one labeled ladies, the other labeled gents. There was a sofa and two chairs in the common area, but no bed. Not exactly what Jason had envisioned for their first encounter, but he could improvise.
She looked at him, and her eyes widened. “What happened to your face?” She touched the bruise on his cheekbone with her fingertips. “Did you get into a fight?”
“Something like that.”
She smiled, her nose wrinkling as she gazed into his eyes happily. “Oh, Jason, you are so bad. Kiss me.”
He drew her against his body, and she wrapped her arms around him. Pain snaked through his bruised body as she clung to him. He gasped slightly, and when she looked at him in question, he kissed her. She stiffened in his embrace, so he kept on kissing her until her body finally relaxed.
“Can I touch you?” he asked. He wouldn’t really mind if she slapped him again, but he didn’t want to push her if she wasn’t ready.
“You can touch me anywhere you want.”
His breath caught. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
“And can I kiss you anywhere?”
She shuddered against him. “Yes.”
He cupped her cheek and shifted his lips to her jaw, her throat, her ear. She sighed, submitting to his questing mouth. Her fingertips dug into his chest, finding bruises he didn’t know he had, sending him to a strange place between pain and pleasure. When his hand found her breast, she inhaled and then drew away. She surprised him by tugging her T-shirt over her head and then unfastening her bra at her back. She looked at him. He could see her pulse thrumming fast and hard in her neck. Blushing, she let the undergarment fall free, leaving her perfect br**sts naked to his eager gaze. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He traced one pink nipple with his fingertip, fascinated by the response of her flesh as her nipple grew harder with each stroke.
“Get your hands off me.” Jason shoved his father, who stumbled back against the wall. “I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back.”
He turned to go, wondering where he could stay, wishing he could get his bass guitar out of his room, but knowing he had to get out immediately.
Jason should have learned by now that his father wasn’t afraid to beat him unconscious to make him obey. He wasn’t sure why he never fought back. He probably could have taken the old man if he really wanted to. But somewhere inside, he knew he deserved this. This pain.
When Jason regained consciousness on his bedroom floor, it was mid-afternoon the next day. His door had been secured with a padlock from the outside, and his windows had been intentionally painted shut long ago. There was no escaping this room.
He went into the tiny connecting half-bathroom and washed up in the sink. A dark bruise marred his cheek, but it was the only visible evidence. The rest of his injuries were under his clothes. He had a hard time taking a deep breath and figured he had another fractured rib. He fingered his rib cage, looking for evidence of protruding bones. At least, he had no complete breaks this time. Nothing bleeding. He was sore, but he’d live.
As expected, his father had confiscated his bass guitar again. With nothing to do, Jason sat on his bed, leaned against the wall, and dreamed of better days. Days of freedom and playing his bass guitar onstage with his favorite band, Sinners. Nights of making love to the most beautiful girl on the planet, Kara Sinclair.
He’d spaced out like that for hours. When he couldn’t stand the ache in his heart anymore, he cranked up his space heater until the coils glowed bright orange. He’d removed the protective grate months ago. As he’d done numerous times, he pressed his right wrist against the hot coils until his flesh seared and blistered. Eventually, the pain became too much, and he pulled away from the punishing heat. Breathing hard, he tightened his leather wrist cuff around the blistered flesh to keep the pain constant. He needed something to hurt him more than the hurt inside. The hurt he couldn’t dig out, no matter how hard he tried.
Someone knocked on his door, and he kicked the heater against the wall in case his father came in and saw what he was doing. He didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want anyone to know that he hurt himself when no one was looking.
“You want dinner?” his dad called.
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” His footsteps faded down the hall.
Sometime later, Jason heard a car with a big engine pull to a stop outside his house. He went to the window to gaze into the darkness. Across the street, Kara had parked. She honked her horn and sat there, waiting for him with the engine idling. She would think he stood her up. That he didn’t want her.
He fought with the window for several minutes, knowing it wouldn’t budge. Desperate for freedom, he grabbed a boxing trophy from his bookshelf and smashed it against the corner of the window. The sound of breaking glass was louder than he expected it would be. The pieces rained down on the porch roof. He paused, waiting for his father to come charging up the stairs to permanently put him out of his misery, but he never came. He must’ve fallen asleep in front of the TV.
Jason threw his blanket over the broken glass in the window frame. His stepped on his space heater to help himself over the windowsill. He dropped onto the roof, paused to make sure his father wasn’t coming to kill him, and then shimmied down the porch post and into the bushes. He fled across the yard and raced toward Kara’s car. Before he could climb inside, she sped off.
Jason watched her retreating lights—heart simultaneously thudding and sinking.
Her taillights brightened, and then her reverse lights came on. She almost ran him over as she backed up the car at a high rate of speed. She stopped, not looking at him. She stared out the windshield and wiggled in her seat. Jace climbed in beside her, and she sped off into the night.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said breathlessly. “At first, I was mad, and then a little relieved. When I saw you climbing down from your porch, I got scared. Sorry I took off.”
“It’s okay. If you’re not ready…”
“I am ready,” she said. She reached across the car and squeezed his hand. Her hand was damp, but he didn’t mind. He was pretty nervous himself. “My parents will be at a party until late. I thought… I thought we could… in the pool house.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “Whatever makes you happy.”
She smiled, looking timid and shy. He’d never seen her this way. He liked this side of her. Maybe even more than the reckless and wild side. He wasn’t sure.
When they reached her house, she took his hand and led him to the pool house. His heart thudded with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. She opened the door, turned on a light, and they entered an open seating area flanked by two doors, one labeled ladies, the other labeled gents. There was a sofa and two chairs in the common area, but no bed. Not exactly what Jason had envisioned for their first encounter, but he could improvise.
She looked at him, and her eyes widened. “What happened to your face?” She touched the bruise on his cheekbone with her fingertips. “Did you get into a fight?”
“Something like that.”
She smiled, her nose wrinkling as she gazed into his eyes happily. “Oh, Jason, you are so bad. Kiss me.”
He drew her against his body, and she wrapped her arms around him. Pain snaked through his bruised body as she clung to him. He gasped slightly, and when she looked at him in question, he kissed her. She stiffened in his embrace, so he kept on kissing her until her body finally relaxed.
“Can I touch you?” he asked. He wouldn’t really mind if she slapped him again, but he didn’t want to push her if she wasn’t ready.
“You can touch me anywhere you want.”
His breath caught. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
“And can I kiss you anywhere?”
She shuddered against him. “Yes.”
He cupped her cheek and shifted his lips to her jaw, her throat, her ear. She sighed, submitting to his questing mouth. Her fingertips dug into his chest, finding bruises he didn’t know he had, sending him to a strange place between pain and pleasure. When his hand found her breast, she inhaled and then drew away. She surprised him by tugging her T-shirt over her head and then unfastening her bra at her back. She looked at him. He could see her pulse thrumming fast and hard in her neck. Blushing, she let the undergarment fall free, leaving her perfect br**sts naked to his eager gaze. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He traced one pink nipple with his fingertip, fascinated by the response of her flesh as her nipple grew harder with each stroke.
