Damaged

12. Shake It Out

Suddenly I’m flipped from my comfy position onto my back, the covers ripped off of us, causing a freezing draught and making me shudder. Marshall looks down at my chest examining my scars intently.
Once he’s done his finger strokes gently down the length of my scar from surgery “What caused this one?” he blows softly on it and I nearly lose my mind.

I can’t think for a moment as he begins planting soft warm kisses up the length of it “Jasmin, the scar?” he reminds me dragging me out of the fog of desire I find myself in.

“Luckily for me I guess, two surgeons were on a ride along that day, the force of the impact ruptured my aorta, they opened my chest on the side of the road, one of them held his hand over my aorta and the other one massaged my heart to keep me alive. This scar saved my life”  I tell him proudly because I am, proud of the people who intervened and saved my life.

“Then I love this scar” he whispers looking up into my eyes, I’m glad I insisted on a change in conversation because this one is making me feel fucking awesome about myself.

Marshall’s fingers move across the others lightly, one by one like he’s mapping them out “You have no scars on your face” he puts out there, “No, apparently I put my hands out in front of me, natural reflex I suppose” he examines my hands then, tracing the very faint silver reminders is scars there, they healed better on my hands and arms than my chest for some reason.

“Do you have any scars?” I ask out of interest, I think I’ll win if comparing but I don’t recall seeing any on him but he surprises me by holding out his left arm, hand palm up and taking my hand he moves it over the tattoo that say ‘slit me’ I feel the raised bump and hold my breath, it’s my one fear that Jack will find some way to end his life, it terrifies me and the thought that Marshall had those thoughts and attempted it frightens me.

“Do you still feel that way” my voice is strained showing my fear but he shakes his head while stroking the palm of my hand.

“No, little one. We’re both damaged, just in different ways” he doesn’t elaborate and I’m not sure if I want to press him any further, I just avoided some awkward questions and I don’t want to talk about me any more.

His arms stretch mine over my head, linking our fingers as he settles the length of his body along mine, I like it when he does this, I like feeling him all over me, he let’s go of one of my hands and I use it to stroke my way from his shoulder, down his back and over his peachy butt, dragging my nails along the way, he groans softly, growing hard quickly and I try to open my legs so he’s exactly where I need him to be, my belly tightening with excitement. Marshall flexes his hips in a gently rocking motion, his soft sighs in my ear telling me I’m not the only feeling excited but suddenly he’s up leaping out of bed leaving me cold and frustrated I watch in shock as he pulls up his boxers and shrugs a hoodie over his head before handing me the t shirt he flung on the floor earlier, I clutch it to me, frowning deeply.
I wanted sex and now I don’t know what he’s playing at.

“Get up and get dressed” he demands “No” is my petulant answer before throwing the comforter back over my head and burrowing back under the warm sheets, how dare he deny me.

My hand is extracted from under the blanket and something hot, hard and velvety is placed in my hand “I know you want this Jasmin but I got you a gift and depending on how graciously you accept my gift, you’ll get it” he speaks into the room, I stroke his dick cheekily before he drops my hand once more and with a lot of dramatic fuss I shrug on his t shirt and get out of bed, still frowning to which he laughs at.

With a roll of eyes he leads me downstairs to his kitchen “I need to put this on you” I’m enveloped in darkness as he covers my eyes, checking if I can see before he leads me out into his back yard.