KICK IT | JENLISA

7

Lisa

Jackson's lecture and cryptic request bothered me during the drive home. Knotted with tension, my shoulders relaxed when my home came into view. My quiet oasis. Past the two-storey, all-brick house, I drove up the driveway. Stomping my foot, I screeched my tires at the heart-shaped ass welcoming me home.

Stroking my jaw, I took a moment to appreciate the view. Hinged over her fire engine red Camaro, Kendall's slender legs looked endless in her tiny jean shorts. The gap between her thighs called for my face to be buried there, offering a view straight up the sliver of white panties covering her sweet little cunt.

Vaulting my pants, my deprived dick cried like she hadn't sucked it dry this morning. Within three steps from my car, I traced the curve of her right ass cheek with my palm. Warm from the sun, her soft, and smooth skin contrasted my always-present, and rough calluses.

"Ahh!" A sharp, and loud shrill scream ripped out of her. Kendall bolted upright, blue eyes round and blazing. A few ebony strands fell from her messy bun, which she brushed behind her ear and stood upright.

"Sorry." My tongue slacked from the pitching motions of her stacked tits. Cleavage spilled out the V-cut of her pink tank top, the same colour pouting on her lips, and I wanted in. "I..."

"You weren't supposed to be home yet." Her chin jutted with her mumbled words.

I gaped at her trunk full of suitcases and small boxes and palmed my hips. "Again, Kendall?"

Third time pulling this packing up shit. Last resort, my ass. Both times, foolish me grovelled. Her car never budged, and her things went back inside.

"It's serious this time." She crossed her arms, pushing up those implants that I paid for. "I'm staying with my parents. Don't contact me."

"Dallas?" My jaw dropped so fast that it almost unhinged. Four hours away? My feet filled up with cement, but I pointed inside the garage. "Please, let's go inside and..."

"And what!?" Her hip jutted out, and her lips pressed into a firm line. "Fuck? That's all we do, Lisa. Don't you dare suggest that we talk."

"We need to talk." How wasn't that obvious to her? I clenched my teeth so hard that my molars rubbed against each other. "Technically, we haven't fucked in six weeks."

"You're such an ass, Lisa." She reached up to her trunk, arching her back and jutting out her ass. The slam shut jiggled her breasts. "I'm tired of giving you chances to regain my trust. All you do is act like I'm supposed to accept what you say, gratefully spread my legs open, and pretend that you didn't cheat on me."

"Pretend!?" My nostrils flared. Being together for four years with no cheating despite the tabloids' best efforts screamed infinite chances. "Hold your tits, Kendall. I've been home, with you, before and after the accident. I didn't..."

"Stop calling it that!" Her hands balled up by her sides.

Since the day we met, Kendall's temper flared faster than lit-off fireworks. Stupid me found it hot. Fuck, I still did, going by the stiffness remaining in my pants. Stupid me also assumed one should trust their partner when they told the truth. In full anger mode, red flushed into her cheeks, down the sides of her neck, and fanned across her chest. Her red nail jabbed the air between us with her finger.

Angry sex would help. My dick throbbed with interest until she banshee screeched, "Those two in your car when you wrapped it around a tree were no accident! Neither was the girl you flirted with before leaving with those desperate sluts."

The reminder that she wasn't there burned the truth on my tongue. Probably not the best idea to point out that was the last time she ended us, which is why I drank myself into a stupor.

Jackson was right. Nancy spun one of the worst nights of my life the best she could, and Kendall knew the truth. Two months later, I accepted my mistake, but she either never believed me and my team or was tired of the cheating rumours. I eyed her hand on the closed trunk. She was too calm, too relaxed and casual. "You planned this today, didn't you?"

Her eyes lowered to my Houston lapel pin on the suit coat draped over my right arm. "I didn't plan to be here when you got back. There's a note in the bathroom."

Frustration burned inside me worse than this damn heat. Red spots dotted my vision, blurring Kendall's impassive, and bored expression. Four years. Electric pulses rushed through my veins and threatened to burst through the sides of my neck. My nostrils flared, and I clenched my jaw until my molars ground. I wanted to break something with my bare hands, but I settled for stepping back.

Glad to know four damn years was good enough for a fucking note. I should have yelled, fought these bullshit accusations, dropped to my knees and begged, or assured my feelings for her again. But I no longer fucking cared. My fuse burst into waves of indifference. If she was done, so was I. "You want to toss away what we have?"

Her arm was small and warm in my palm. She parted her lips, with irritation brightening her eyes. Black and thick, her lashes blinked twice. "And what is that, Lisa? What's left? Love? Waiting for you to get your shit together and adult up? Being with you is like shooting a loaded pistol straight up in the air and dodging the raining bullets." Her voice dropped to a hoarse, and thick whisper.

What the fuck does that even mean? Kendall's unspoken thoughts surfaced, dimming the blue in her eyes, and her body slacked under my grip. My spitfire girlfriend had nothing to offer, with no fight left, and she is quitting on me.

I was tired of being the one who apologised, putting in the effort, and tried while she glared down from an unreachable pedestal of judgment. Exhausted, I was really done.

"We drifted apart a long time ago." she answered in a low, and steady voice, refusing to meet my gaze by staring at my chest. "I'm done, Lisa."

The finality in her voice spoke volumes over any protests that I had. I took her house keys, nodded at the end of the driveway, and let her go.