Chapter Text
Almost everyone in the Jackson community were in attendance at the barn dance tonight. Children of all ages were playing and running around the town hall and the streets of Jackson, the crisp autumn air filled with their laughter and the sound of country music playing. The adults danced in pairs on the hardwood floor space of the town hall as a small group of community members with different musical instruments played country tunes. Others stood around the floor drinking cider and beer and talking about the upcoming harvest, how mild the weather had been lately, and how Jackson needed more reasons to celebrate like this more often. It was 8pm and the festive spirit of the night had just begun.
You and your friends sat at one of the round tables dotted around the town hall, glasses of punch littering the table. Your eyes followed the couples gliding around the dance floor as you all spoke. The men and women looked so cheerful as they moved in sync to the music, their actions appearing automatic and effortless, the joy in their smiles and laughs undeniably infectious to the other town folk who were watching from the sidelines. Most of them were married couples but some of them were domestic partners, ranging in age from late teenagers right up to the most senior members of the community.
The courtship and reproductive aspects of the circle of life were crucial points of interest for many people in Jackson. Despite the hardships of the reality of the end of the world, life within the walls of the Jackson commune were quite simple; everyone was assigned jobs to ensure the town functioned successfully, people dated and married and had children, and everyone had a role to fulfil regardless of their skill level.
Your own dreams and hopes for the future were quite traditional. You wanted a life partner who would compliment you perfectly, someone to have children with and grow old with. You had lost your parents when you were only a child and the grief had rooted itself inside your heart, carving a deep well of sadness and insecurity within you. Your yearning for the security of your own family had grown vehemently recently, perhaps punctuated by some of the milestones achieved within your friendship circle - an engagement, a wedding, a new baby.
Your smile curls against the lip of the glass as you take a sip of punch. You had been asked to dance a few times and you had obliged shyly. You had enjoyed the company of your girlfriends, laughing with them and listening to their animated gossip. But there was only one person you wanted to dance with.
And he was never going to indulge you in that desire.
He wasn't at the dance tonight. In fact, he never attended any of the social events in town. He hated socialising any more than he had to. This was evident in the way he carried himself during day to day life living in Jackson; stalking wordlessly to and from his patrolling shifts and eating times at the mess hall, a scowl permanently etched on his face.
His name was Joel Miller. Considerably older than you, father to a teenage daughter, and one of the head patrolmen of the community.
His brother Tommy and his daughter, Ellie, seemed to be the only people who knew Joel well. You did, too, although you knew a different Joel to the one anyone else did. And you knew he wouldn't be at the dance tonight, nor would he be overly happy that you were there
You glanced at the large clock perched on the hall wall. It was getting late. You should really get going - Joel would be waiting for you.
And Joel hated to be kept waiting.
You made a half hearted excuse of feeling tired to your friends. You slipped out of the town hall, leaving behind the cheer and festivity. You trekked to Joel's house under the cloak of the night sky, making sure to avoid the main street.
When you approached the side door of his house the butterflies in your belly were fluttering with anticipation. Even though your clandestine meetings had been happening for the past 8 months, you still felt the swoop of excitement, the thrill of being close to him, of feeling that magnetic, erotic charge between the two of you.
You wonder if Joel feels the same eagerness you do.
Your feelings for him ran deep in your heart and soul - truthfully, you had been in love with him since the very first time you allowed him to devour you. You had never voiced these feelings though. You knew Joel never wanted a relationship, never wanted anything official, although your affection for him was clear. Clear in the way you cuddled up to him after sex, how you baked muffins and banana bread for he and Ellie, how you buried your face in his chest after he returned from a rough patrol shift, the mesmerised, pained look in your eyes when he pounded into you.
You wore your heart on your sleeve. Joel, on the other hand, was always stoic. He would evade all of your attempts at serious conversation, pacifying you with gruff cuddles and mumbled snippets of affection. Your heart was constantly on the verge of breaking, but you couldn't help being tied to him, your body and brain both addicted to him in the alluring and unexplainable haze of chemical, animalistic attraction, the innate need to be protected and fucked and owned by an older, domineering man. If only you could've chosen one more kinder than Joel Miller.
Just a few days earlier you had made the decision that tonight would be the night you confess your feelings to him. Tonight would be when you laid all your cards on the table and ask Joel to be with you, officially.
•••
Doing your best to swallow the anxiety rising in your chest, you stand infront of his door and pause for a minute to take some deep breaths. You then rap on his door lightly with your knuckles, waiting a few moments before opening the door and slinking inside.
You shut the door behind you and walk into the living room, the space dark except for the glow of dull light emanating from a lamp beside his armchair. He sits there now, drinking whiskey from a shot glass.
You come to stand in the middle of the living room with your hands clasped infront of you shyly, secretly hoping he will compliment your dress and the flower tied in your hair.
Joel sets his glass down on the coffee table beside his chair. He is in his usual attire of jeans and a flannel shirt, and from the small distance between you, you could already smell the faint scent of mahogany and sandalwood mixed with his natural smell. The curls of his dark salt and pepper hair sit atop his head like a crown, the expression on his tanned face not betraying any hint of emotion, the steady gaze of dark brown eyes travelling up and down your body making you shiver.
"Hi," you smile at him. His eyes flicker to meet yours and a slight smirk dances on his mouth. He hauls himself up out of the chair and takes a few steps to close the gap between you, his figure towering over you.
"Hey, baby," Joel murmers in his Texan drawl. You bite your lip as you study his face, admiring the patchy growth of his beard and the masculine square of his jaw. He really is so handsome.
His large hands reach out to grab ahold of your hips. They move up your waist and back down again as he stares into your eyes, the spark of lust already evident in his orbs.
"I went to the dance," you say quietly, your arms moving upward to wrap around his neck. He hums in response and you feel his hands trail up to your breasts, the callouses on his palms rough against the lace trimming of your dress. "It was fun."
He says nothing as his hands settle on the plush of your cleavage and began kneading there, drawing a low moan from you. He leans down and captures your lips in a soft kiss, the taste of whiskey and an underlying sweetness meeting your tongue as his slips into your mouth. You subconsciously stand on your tiptoes and tighten your hold around his neck, encouraging the kiss to deepen.
One of his hands snakes around to your back and down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and pulling you closer to his body. You can already feel his hardness against you.
"Joel," you gasp, pulling away from the kiss. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"
Joel doesn't respond. He roughly tugs one of the straps of your dress off your shoulder, grabbing your bare breast in his big hand and groaning at the softness of your skin. His other hand keeps a firm hold of your ass cheek, his grip leaving you without any strength to move.
You can't help but moan when he bends down to kiss your neck; you tilt your head to the side to allow him better access, running your fingers through his hair as you let your body surrender to the familiar dance of seduction that Joel always tangles you in. You are close to feeling totally helpless to the carnal rapture of attraction between you both.
"Joel," you gasp breathlessly. "I said I missed you."
"Missed you too," Joel mumbles against your throat. He begins to shuffle backwards toward the armchair, his hands still gripping your breast and ass possessively, shifting you with him. He falls back to sit down on the chair with an unceremonious thud, pulling you into his lap to straddle him, making you squeak in surprise.
Joel pushes you down to grind his erection against your crotch, his mouth still attached to your neck, now sucking on your delicate skin. You can't help but moan, sparks of pleasure shooting through your core.
You find yourself rocking against him, your fingers still tangled in his curls, now faintly aware of the wetness beginning to pool in your underwear. The skirt of your dress has bunched up to your thighs and has made it easy for Joel's hand to slip under the material and find the bare flesh of your ass. He squeezes it before giving it a light smack.
You suddenly remember the purpose behind you being here tonight. You need to initiate the discussion before becoming entwined in his web, before you are too distracted by his skilled fingers and warm mouth and the deliciousness of his cock.
"Joel," you whimper. "Please stop for a moment."
He detaches from your neck and leans back in the chair so you can see the drunk look of lust hooding his brown eyes. You sit up straight in his lap, one leg kneeling on either side of Joel's thighs, your core nestling directly over the erection straining behind his jeans. Joel brushs your nipple gently with the pad of his thumb as he stares at you.
"What is it?" He murmurs without a trace of concern in his tone.
Taking a deep breath, you sigh and idly toy with the curls on the nape of his neck, working up the courage to formulate an opening dialogue.
"Okay, so...." You start softly, making a point to keep your eyes fixed on his. "Uhm, so...Cassie is getting married soon, right?"
Cassie was one of your best friends. Joel gives a small nod to indicate he was listening. His hand still caresses your ass, the other still cupping your breast.
"Yeah, well, I just...really I was wanting...," you stumble over your words, the beating of your heart thudding in your ears now. "I wanted to ask you to go to the wedding with me. As my date."
You blurt out the last part and press your lips shut tightly, eyebrows knitting together worriedly in anticipation of his reaction.
"I never go to those kinda things, you know that." He mutters, pulling his hands away from your body.
"I know, but--"
"They're your friends, not mine." He retorts evenly. "Why would I go?"
"Because the guests bring a date with them, to enjoy the occasion," you try to speak confidently, but you are unable to hide the faint warble in your voice. "Like their boyfriend or girlfriend, or whatever....so I wanted to ask you."
Joel runs a hand over his beard, sighing once more. "Sugar, I hate that shit - dressin' up and bein' around a buncha people I don't give a fuck about. It ain't for me."
"But they are my friends," you pout. "And they mean so much to me. And well, I want you to meet them. I want you to come with me."
Joel just looks at you, his expression tight and stern. You feel exposed, your heart cracking with frustrated rejection.
"Joel, I...I really like you," you whisper through the lump forming in your throat.
"I like you too, sugar," he says smoothly. His hands slide under your dress and up to the top of your thighs, his thumbs sitting at the edge of your panty line. "I like these sexy legs. Like what's inbetween 'em even more."
He isn't paying attention.
He is distracting you.
Again.
No, you have to do this now. No more sex. No more anything until you get it out.
You retract your arms and push away from him to stand up off his lap. You hurriedly fix the strap of your dress back up over your shoulder, stepping back to create some distance between you. You try to collect your thoughts as Joel watches you from his relaxed position on the armchair, a scowl etched on his face now.
"Joel," you sigh, looking at him with imploring eyes. Your fingers twist together nervously. "I don't just like you. I...I love you. And I want to be with you. For real. Like partners."
Joel furrows his brow, slowly shaking his head. "Partner? Are you serious?"
You can only nod your nod lamely, tears beginning to well in your eyes. He runs his hand down the lower of his face and sighs.
"Partner..." He huffs a small scoff, like he can't believe you're actually bothering him with something so trivial.
"What's wrong with that?" You question softly, genuinely curious.
He leans forward in the armchair, shaking his head again, something like irritated disgust written on his features. "This ain't some kinda romance novel. You and me, we ain't ever gonna be like that."
His words feel like a knife slicing through your heart. A single tear breaks free and spills down one of your cheeks.
"You're mine - sure." He shrugs a little. "Mine whenever I want a quick fuck."
You feel the air leave your lungs, a pitiful sob escaping your lips. You take a step backwards, your limbs feeling shaky beneath you.
"But I ain't ever gonna walk down the street holdin' your hand, honey. I ain't soft like these boys runnin' around after you and your little slut friends."
The cruelty of his words and the matter of fact tone of his voice make your stomach roil. You instinctively wrap your arms around your middle as if you have been physically wounded.
"How could you say that to me?" You warble, more tears breaking free and spilling from your eyes. "After all this time...you've don't have *any* feelings for me, at all?"
A low growl rumbles in Joel's throat. He hauls himself up and quickly grabs a hold of your upper arm, his thick fingers sinking into your flesh. The unexpected pain causes you to cry out.
He stares down at you with steely dark brown eyes. "You always knew I ain't that type of man. But you just kept comin' back to get fucked again and again."
"Let me go," you sob, trying to squirm out of Joel's bruising grip. "You're hurting me."
"Don't you like that, baby? Thought you liked it when I hurt you," Joel snarls, momentarily squeezing your arm before releasing you with a force that makes you stumble against the wall.
"Why are you doing this?" You plead, voice choked with emotion, your vision blurred.
Joel turns to pick up his whiskey glass, tossing back the last shot of remaining alcohol. He slams the glass back down on the table and glares at you. You instantly recognise the cruel passion shining in them - a look you have seen many times, one that sends shivers up your spine with both excitement and fear, one that makes you wet yet causes a knot of apprehension in your stomach at the same time.
"Get on your knees," Joel says lowly. His hand flexes at his side.
"What?" You whisper back, your mind too muddled to comprehend what he is asking for.
"You love me?" Joel bites out, bitter and gravelled. "Then you do as I say. So get on your fuckin' knees. Now."
You bow your head and let the years fall to the floor. You do love Joel, and while you had no idea what reaction you were expecting from him tonight, you never anticipated this. You knew he could be harsh, seemingly heartless at times, and he could be downright sadistic during sex.
But the level of Joel's ruthlessness tonight is unprecedented. You suddenly feel so tired; tired of the aching left inside your soul after your nights together, tired of pretending the unrequited affection didn't sting, tired of allowing your body to be devoured, manipulated and abused in exchange for meagre crumbs of attention.
"No," you reply, your voice thick. "I won't."
"What'd you say?" Joel growls.
You peer up at him from under your long lashes, feeling a renewed determination stir inside your chest. You lift your chin, daring to stare back at him.
"I said no, Joel."
Joel frowns at the audacity of your refusal, a flash of confusion passing over his features. It only lasts a brief moment before being replaced with his usual scowl of displeasure. You both stare into each other's eyes in tense silence, as if challenging the other to initiate the next move. The beat of your heart seems distractingly loud in your ears - you hope he can't hear it.
After what seems like forever, Joel breaks the silence.
"Go."
You stand before him, searching his face for any trace of remorse or sadness. Any sign that he might be regretting what he's doing to you right now. But he gives nothing away.
His jaw ticks and he crosses his arms, looking at the ground.
"Joel--" you start, but he cuts you off.
"Get outta here," he mutters without meeting your eye.
Your eyes rover over his downturned face, uncertain of whether to obey him or stay. Could you try to resolve this, to salvage whatever is left of the ruins between you, this absolute wreck of dysfunctional intimacy?
You hesitate for a few seconds, deliberating.
But for the first time ever, you chose not to beseech Joel. Instead you leave.
You don't look back as you walk out his door. You walk to your home, your arms wrapped around your waist in an effort to stop yourself shivering from the panic coursing through your body. Your breaths come out ragged and unsteady as the tears continue to stream down your face. You are thankful for the dark of the night.
As you make your way to your porch you promise yourself you would never let Joel Miller hurt you again.
•••
Your home was one of the smaller houses in Jackson. A two bedroom weatherboard cottage that, despite desperately needing a new coat of paint, was quaint and perfectly suited to you. It's cosiness was comfortable and the unpretentious simplicity of its appearance felt safe. You had the comforts of a couch in your living room, along with a small bookshelf full of books, a bed in your room complete with a dresser and mirror, and hot running water. Although you didn't have many furnishings and your most cherish possessions were sparse, you were proud to call the cottage your home, your sanctuary.
The morning daylight streamed through the lace curtains of your bedroom window, its warm touch rousing you from your slumber. You managed to find sleep sometime after midnight, after replaying the scene at Joel's in your mind over and over. You cried into your pillow until you were too exhausted to stay awake.
This morning your head was aching and your eyes felt swollen. As soon as you roll over in bed the memory of the previous night comes flooding back to you. Groaning, you throw the blanket over your head and bury your face into your pillow, wishing you didn't have to work today.
Three days a week you work as a teacher at the school and the other two days you are scheduled to cleaning work in the mess hall. You realise you really should talk to Maria about the possibility of switching jobs. If you remained working in the mess hall then you were bound to run into Joel - the thought of seeing him makes you feel sick. Thankfully, today was a teaching shift and one you had been looking forward to - your class today was with the younger children and you had planned to teach them about the difference between insects with exoskeletons and endoskeletons.
Suddenly you remember the library book you forgot to pick up last week, a children's science book with illustrations that you needed for today's lesson. You look at the clock on your bedside table - good, you have enough time to shower, have breakfast and quickly pop into the library before the start of your lesson.
Begrudgingly you drag yourself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom, stepping over the dress you wore last night that you had left discarded on the floor. You give it a half hearted kick to the corner of the room. You don't want to see it.
You stand before the bathroom mirror and strip off your sleep shorts and tank top. The puffiness around your eyes look terrible, and you hope the warm water of the shower can lessen the swelling. Your eyes wander over your naked form, spying the fading hickey Joel had given you on one of your hips last week.
He often marked you with bites and hickies as a way of claiming ownership of your body, hidden underneath your clothes for only you and him to see, your own personal reminder it was Joel that you belonged to. You had never denied him this liberty, only protesting when the drag of his teeth or his sucks became too painful. A memory flashes in your mind then to a night when Joel had been especially rough with you and had bitten the flesh of your ass too hard, causing you to squeal in pain. The bruise had lasted more than a week. You remember the way he had massaged and kissed the area with a kind of gentle reverence, the touch of his large hands and the plush of his lips both soothing and arousing you at the same time.
The realisation that he would never mark you like that again makes your heart sink. But then you spot the bruise blooming on your upper arm where he grabbed you last night, the purple marks outlining the way his fingers wrapped around you. The sight conjures a different memory now; the way Joel's lips had curled into a cruel snarl as his words cut through you, the savage grip of his hand, the sheer contempt that had shone in his eyes.
It sends a shiver down your spine. You quickly turn away from your reflection and step into the shower.
The morning sunshine warms your skin as you stroll down the street toward the town centre. You take a deep breath of fresh air. Today would be a new beginning. No more arranging your schedule around Joel's demands. No more sneaking around the backstreets of Jackson. No more being at his beck and call whenever he wanted you.
You have your day planned out. After your teaching shift you want to spend some time preparing for tomorrow's lesson, then you can find Maria and talk to her about changing jobs. You know you will still have to see Joel around town occasionally, but you want to limit the possibility of running into him or having any potential chance encounters. You need the distance in order to heal from him, from everything you had shared.
The town was already bustling with community members going about their daily business, children playing games in the street, men and women on their way to their jobs, shopkeepers opening their stores. As you walk through the town people greet you with friendly smiles. Some of the children call out to you and wave. You feel grateful for their affection and the sense of community around you, and deep down you hope that this comraderie and the sense of purpose your job gave you was enough to soothe the ache of your broken heart.
The library was a small building tucked away in a nook on the main street. It was a relatively small space comprised of several rows of neatly arranged shelves, two couches, and a very worn arm chair. Over the years the patrols had managed to collect an impressive catalogue of books from their raiding missions. Maude, the elderly librarian, managed the library three days a week and took her role quite seriously. You had always loved to read, books being an escape from the precarious world you lived in.
The library was a peaceful niche of Jackson that you enjoyed delving into, often curling up on one of the couches to read a novel in your spare time, Maude's quiet nature being the perfect company for your visits.
You enter the library and smile at the little jingle of the bell that sits above the entrance. You expect to see Maude standing at her usual spot at the counter, writing something down while muttering to herself. But this morning she isn't there. Instead, there is a man.
The unexpected presence makes you freeze still by the door. At the sound of the chime he looks up from the book laid out infront of him on the counter. You recognise his face as someone you've seen around Jackson before, but have never spoken to.
He is of average height and has short curly black hair. His short facial hair is thick - unlike Joel's patchy beard, you randomly think. His skin is very lightly tanned olive. The small round glasses he wears give him a studious quality, and his large dark brown eyes seem kind and welcoming. He is older than you, though not as old as Joel. He wears a dark knitted sweater and his overall appearance is bookish.
He is gorgeous.
"Good morning," he greets you, offering you a soft smile.
"Good morning," you reply, a little stiff. You cautiously step up to the counter, uncertain if you should be suspicious of Maude's absence. The man pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"How can I help you?"
"Oh," you frown and shake your head slightly, as if trying to shake off the awkwardness you feel. "Uhm, there was a book that I was supposed to borrow the other day. Maude put it aside for me."
"Oh, yes," he clicks his fingers and nods eagerly. "You're the teacher, right? Maude told me you'd be in. She put it under the counter. Something about bugs."
"Yes, that's right." You eye him cautiously. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"
The man bends down behind the counter and retrieves a hardcover book with the title Kids Bug Science Volume II in large letters on the front, the one Maude had told you about last week. He places it on the counter and gives a small chuckle.
"I'm sorry, I should've introduced myself by now. Guess I get a little carried away at times." He smiles at you again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'm Oscar."
He holds out his hand to you. You accept it gingerly and gave it a light shake, telling him your own name. His hand is warm and soft, but strong, masculine. You have not had another man touch you, even formally like this, since before you gave yourself to Joel.
The contact makes you blush and you avert your eyes to look down at the book instead of his gaze.
"Maude hasn't been feeling well, so Maria assigned me to help out in the library," Oscar explains as he braces himself against the counter, his tanned hands splaying on-top of the wood. "One of the patrols brought a load of books in just the other day, so there's some work to do."
"Oh," your eyes flicker back up to look at him, your interest piqued. "What do you usually do?"
"I work in the stables and sometimes on patrol," Oscar replies. "But I injured my ankle and I'm not really of any use at either job at the moment." He smiles ruefully. There is a benevolent air about him, a gentle humility that shines through as he speaks. You begin to relax, no longer wary of him.
"I'm sorry to hear about your injury," you say shyly, "but this job must be great. It's quiet, you don't have to talk to many people, you can read as much as you like..."
Oscar grins at you and pushes himself away from the counter to stand up straight. "Yes, it's a nice change of pace," he agrees with a nod, "I like the peace, and reading, too. Do you like to read?"
"Yes, I do," you reply. You look down and shift on your feet awkwardly, inwardly hating the curse of your shyness.
"What do you like to read?" Oscar asks. "I can keep an eye out while I sort through the new books we got. So, if I find something I think you might like, I could keep it behind the counter for you."
His voice is gentle with sincerity but there is also an edge of eagerness in his tone, as if he yearns for conversation, as if he needs to prove his usefulness. You realise that no one has shown interest in you like this for a very long time, if ever, and it makes you feel nervous. You pick up the science book and hug it to your chest, comforted by its weight against you.
"That would be really nice," you respond quietly. You gather the courage to look up at Oscar and find his cheeks tinged pink, the corners of his mouth curled into a tender smile.
You spot the sight of the clock hanging on the wall behind him and the time makes you gasp - your class is due to start in 5 minutes.
"It was really nice to meet you Oscar, but I've gotta go," you smile apologetically at him. "Thank you for the book."
"Oh, no problem," Oscar waves his hand. "How about you write down a list of any books you might be after?" He suggests, holding his hand out palm up. "I mean, whenever you're free, or if you even want to. No pressure." He stumbles over his words as if he were nervous and it makes you giggle.
"That's a good idea, I'll do that. Thanks Oscar." You nod toward him one last time before turning to walk out of the door.
"It was nice to meet you, too!" he calls out to you as you pass through the threshold. You step back into the sunshine and smile to yourself.
I can do this, you thought, there are other people in Jackson besides Joel, more friends to make. Life can be exciting without him, I can be happy without him.
You hope that if you repeated these things inside your mind enough times that you would eventually believe it.
•••
The next three days pass by uneventfully. You teach your class, make notes for the next lesson, have dinner in the cafeteria with your friends and spend some time hanging out with them, then go home for the evening.
You know Joel's patrolling schedule like the back of your hand, so you're able to avoid the main street and the cafeteria hall and the local bar, The Tipsy Bison, when he's likely to be around. You talked to Maria about switching jobs and she said she needed to check the rosters to see what was available, but ultimately she granted you the relief of no longer working in the mess hall. When Maria questioned your decision to quit, you gave a mumbled, noncommittal response about needing a change. She didn't need to know your real reason, although the answer you offered wasn't necessarily a lie; you truly were determined to rebuild yourself, to start living your life how you wanted, and you really did need a change.
Tonight you sat with three of your friends at a table in the hall to eat dinner. You ate dinner together most evenings, catching up on gossip and discussing the events of the day, the plans for the next town event, what men your friends had their eye on. You were fortunate enough to have some friends the same age as you in Jackson and over the years your small circle of girlfriends had proved to be one of the main sources of happiness and comfort in life.
Kate, your closest friend, sat beside you at the table, scraping her spoon around her tray as she listened to the conversation happening infront of you. Your friends Jess and Rhi sat opposite you, engaged in a debate about some subject you weren't paying attention to. You were deep in thought about your lesson plan and what research you needed to finish before next week's class.
"Are we going to the Bison tonight?" Kate interjected.
"Yes!" Jess cheered, immediately abandoning the argument. "After the week I had, I need a drink."
"Ugh, same," Rhi groaned. "Let's get drunk and dance "
They all looked at you expectantly for confirmation but you were quiet, lost in your thoughts. Kate nudged you out of your trance.
"Hmm?" You hummed, head snapping up to look around the table."What?"
"The Bison tonight, you coming?" Jess asked eagerly.
It was the last place you wanted to be tonight. You had always enjoyed the occasional nights spent at the bar dancing and drinking with your friends. You would laugh with them as you danced and drank beer and tried to play darts, all the while secretly being watched by Joel across the bar, both of you pretending to ignore each other until the end of the night when you would rendezvous somewhere and Joel would fuck you senseless. It had always been so fun and exciting. But now, the thought of the mere probability of seeing Joel at his favourite hang out caused a knot of dread in your stomach.
"I'm pretty tired." You mumbled. ""Just going to have a quiet night at home."
"Boring!" Rhi declared. "Come on, we haven't been out in forever!"
"The barn dance was just a few nights ago," Kate laughed.
"But we didn't get drunk," Rhi corrected her. "And I didn't go home with the blonde ranger, either. So that doesn't count."
Your group continued talking about the plans for the night and what everyone was going to wear when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Maria standing beside you.
"Hey Maria." You greeted her.
"Hey. Just letting you know that I took a look at the job rosters and all I've really got are patrol shifts."
"Oh," you mumbled, deflated. "Sorry Maria, I don't think I'd be very good at patrolling. I can't even shoot a tin can to save my life."
Maria laughed a little, nodding in agreement. "I know. Well, the only other option is the library. Maude isn't sure she will be up to working anytime soon, and Oscar might need some help. He was talking about doing some painting in the interior. Is that something you'd be willing to do?"
You couldn't help the broad smile of relief that broke out on your face. "That would be perfect, actually. Yes please, Maria."
"All sorted then," she nodded. "You can start tomorrow."
"Whose Oscar?" Jess asked in a whisper as Maria left the table. The girls look at you with raised eyebrows.
"Oh, he's looking after the library while Maude is sick," you picked up the bread roll on your tray. "He used to do patrolling and some other stuff, but he got hurt."
"Ooooh, I know him," Kate chirped. "He sometimes patrolled with Matt." Matt was Kate's older brother. "Kinda nerdy but cute, right?"
You pursed your lips together bashfully, unsure what to say in response. Oscar certainly was cute, infact he was quite attractive, but you didn't want to admit that to anyone. To your relief, Rhi suddenly squealed and leaned against the table to hiss excitedly about the blonde ranger who just strolled into the hall. Kate rolled her eyes.
"Could you be any more obvious?" Jess chuckled.
"By the way, I have a great idea for Cassie's wedding gift," Kate leaned against you affectionately. "You're gonna love it."
"Fantastic," you smiled. "I'll walk with you when we're done, and you can tell me all about it."
•••
After dinner Rhi and Jess went back to the house they shared to get ready for drinks at the bar. You walked Kate across town to the house she lived in with her brother and his wife, chatting along the way. The sun had already set and the sky had faded into twilight. The streetlights would alight soon. Not many people lingered on the streets of Jackson at this time; they were either eating a late dinner in the mess hall, or already settled into their homes for the night, or at the bar. A few teenagers stalked around the streets in small groups, presumably on the hunt for mischief.
"Are you sure you won't come out tonight?" Kate asks you gently as you both approach her house. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," you flash her a small smile. "I'm fine. I just need an early night. You guys go have a good time."
"Okay, well, get some rest." She embraces you. "Let's do some more gift planning tomorrow, yeah?"
You agree to meet Kate after your first shift at the library before saying goodnight. You leisurely stroll through one of the residential streets with your hands in your jeans pockets, marvelling at the first twinkle of stars appearing in the black night sky above you.
You turn a corner into another quiet street, occupied by your thoughts as you sift through the events of the day in your mind. You were enthusiastic at the prospect of starting work at the library, although you felt bad that Maude was so unwell; you made a mental note to visit her sometime in the next few days to check in on her health. You decide you would try your best to gather a small arrangement of flowers to give her, thinking that it may help to cheer her up a bit.
Halfway down the street you divert from the sidewalk to cut through a bunch of shrubs inbetween two houses, taking a short cut to lead into your own street. You are only a few houses away from your home when suddenly a hand clamps down over your mouth and nose, stifling your shocked squeal. An arm snakes around your waist and pulls you into the dark shadows between the neighbouring houses.
The air leaves your lungs as you are shoved hard against the side of one of the buildings. You recognise the scent of Joel's skin and the callous palm of his hand straight away, but the rush of fear continues to course through your whole body.
He has your back against the wall, his hand still covering your mouth and his arm around your waist, his body pressed flush against yours. Your eyes widen at how close he is, his warm breath fanning against your cheeks, his belly and hips digging against your lower half. The clear discrepancy between your height and size makes you feel like trapped prey, helpless and weak in his grasp with no hope of escape. You feel suffocated and frightened.
"Why weren't you at home? I was waitin' for you." Comes the rough drawl of Joel's voice in your ear.
He uncovers your mouth and you quickly swallow a gasp of air, the oppressive press of his body against yours making you feel like you have such little room to breathe. You shove your hands against his torso in a futile effort to push him away.
"What are you talking about?" You hiss, craning your neck to meet his intense gaze, your mind bewildered and disorientated. "Why would I be waiting for you?"
Joel's brow furrows, his features hardening with displeasure. His eyes dart between yours, searching for some kind of explanation. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
"We broke up, " you stammer, confusion in your voice. You try to remain composed and assertive but the unsteady tone of your voice betrays you. "Don't you remember?"
Joel's jaw ticks. "You think I'd let that happened? Just cos you say so?"
Your heart pounds in your chest. Your mouth feels dry. "I just..." You whisper meekly. "I..."
His large hand skates up to rest on the column of your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point. "You think you make decisions between you and me?"
"I want more," you manage to croak, your voice soft and sorrowful.
"More?" Joel spits. "I don't give you enough?"
"I want more than just sex," you whisper back, angry at yourself for the tears springing to your eyes. "It's over."
"We ain't over til I say we are," he sneers.
His grasp on your neck tightens, stealing your breath and causing more panic to flood through your body. You whip your head away to break free from his hand, but it's impossible.
"Stop," you whisper hoarsely, your tear filled eyes widening.
Joel keeps you pinned against the wall as his other arm uncoils itself from your waist. You feel his hand roam over your stomach and down to your jeans. Humiliation washes over you as he starts to unbutton your jeans, his breathing now becoming slightly ragged. His threatening hold on your neck has robbed you of the ability to protest any further.
"Little bitch," Joel snarls, his hand dipping into your underwear. "You want more, huh?"
He pushes two of his thick fingers directly onto your clit, making you twitch. When his fingers start moving in light circles, you can't stop your mouth from falling open and your eyes from rolling back in pleasure.
"This ain't enough?" Joel huskily. "You feel that, baby? Yeah, you do. You fuckin' love it. 'Soon as I touch ya, you turn into a whore."
The bite of his words force your glassy eyes to recenter on his face, the tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. Joel stares at you intently, his eyes appearing black under the glinting light of the lamp post.
He continues massaging the pads of his fingers on your clit, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. You sob helplessly, hating yourself for the wetness that was gathering in your panties despite the depravity of what was happening to you, despising the fact that Joel knew your body so intimately and was so adept at making you come undone. His fingers inch further to brush over the entrance of your pussy and instantly become coated in your slick.
"See?" He purrs, his Southern accent rich with his own desire. "No one knows you better than I do, baby."
Joel slowly slides his two fingers inside you, your wetness allowing his thick digits to stretch you open in a way that is exhilarating.
"Fuck," you moan, your eyebrows knitting together from the pleasure. He fucks you with his fingers, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Without thinking, you instinctively part your legs and grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself. He relinquishes his hold on your neck and shifts his hand to loosely cup your chin, his thumb stroking along your jaw. You shut your eyes and allow yourself to be consumed by his touch.
"That's it, baby," Joel drawls. His fingers sheath all the way inside you and expertly curl up against your g-spot. You bite your lip in an effort to suppress your moans and dig your fingers into the rounded muscles of his shoulders. Your legs tremble and you feel that familiar intoxicating swirl of ecstasy coil in your belly.
"Joel," you whimper.
With his fingers deep inside you stimulating the spongy ridge of your sweet spot, Joel rubs your clit with his thumb. Your resolve was starting to break, tempting you to forgive him and succumb once more to his control. His eyes are zoned in on your features, darting over your mouth and eyes, drinking in every mirco expression that passes over your face.
"My little slut."
Your eyes flicker open. You see the warmth has left his eyes and has been replaced with something more animalistic. You can feel his erection digging into you.
He's going to fuck you. Right here, right now.
The realisation snaps you out of your trance.
"Stop," you whine. You push your palms flat against his chest and try to shove him back, even though you know it is pointless. "I said stop, Joel."
"Ain't goin' anywhere," Joel grunts. His thumb continues circling your clit as his fingers fuck in and out of your wetness. You randomly contemplate screaming for help, to slap him, kick him, to fight back somehow, but realistically you knew it would only enrage him. And that would make things a whole lot worse for you.
Without warning, the loud sound of glass shattering rings through the quiet street. It is followed by the sounds of teenage voices nearby, their laughing echoing. Both your heads whip around towards the direction if the noise.
Joel claps his palm over your mouth, his movements coming to a halt, poised to see if anyone is approaching. The voices grow louder. You guess there must be atleast three of them close by.
When Ellie's distinct voice sings out to tease one of her friends, Joel quickly pulls his hand out from your underwear and steps back from you. He adjusts his hard cock in his pants. You hurriedly button up your jeans, staring at Joel. He shoots you a scowl, his eyes dark with warning.
"I meant what I said. Ain't over til I say it is." He says bitterly.
The voices grow closer now, Ellie's lilt loud and unmistakable in the chorus. You know the possibility of Ellie discovering you and Joel in such a compromising situation would force him to abandon his pursuit of you. Without saying another word, Joel turns his back on you and stalks away, the leaves and gravel crunching underneath his heavy work boots.
You remain in the shadows as you race to your cottage. You are in desperate need of the quiet haven of solitude of your home. Once inside you curl up in bed under the weight of your blanket and cry. You weep at the overwhelming mixture of disgust and sadness that twists in your gut. You weep for the deep ache inside your heart that Joel's callous attitude has left you with
But perhaps the most painful thing of all was the self hatred you feel at the way your body still yearns for Joel.