The more you put me through
The more it makes me wanna come back to you
You say you hate me, I just love you more
You don't want me, I just want you more
I buy you flowers, you throw 'em at me
I know it's sad but it's makin me happy
The more that you slap me, the more that it turns me on
Cuz you love me, and I love you more
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"What?"
"You heard me, Frankie. What the fuck are you doing?" His hand gripped her upper arm and yanked her closer.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm having fun with my friends."
"Since when the fuck is this bitch one of your friends?" he motioned to the man standing behind her.
"Bitch? Who you calling a bitch?" the offending male raised his hands aggressively.
"I'm calling you a bitch, bitch. What you going to do about it bitch? Sit there and cry like a little bitch? Bitch."
"I'll show you a bitch, that's what I'm gonna do about it."
"Bring it, bitch. Do something, you piece of shit," his hand yanked the girl behind his back and out of the way.
Frankie's eye struggled to keep up with their movements through the strobe lights as her significant other moved in toe to toe with the man she'd been dancing with. She could see Justin's arms flexing even beneath the oversized sweatshirt he wore. She'd spotted him through the smoke, across the dancefloor. Baggy sweatsuit, clean white sneakers, white baseball cap. It was hard to miss his daily uniform when you've been looking at it for the past 13 years. He wasn't one of those MTV boys who saw the rappers on TV wearing G-Unit and wanted to be like them, he was hardcore, the real thing. He lived the life everyday, paid his dues to his version of society.
He wasn't quite in 6 pack phase, but his body was tight, especially his arms. It wasn't hard to find a woman willing to stare at him with his shirt off. He got enough of a workout tossing and tumbling with her every night that he didn't even need the gym membership he used every morning. Even if he didn't have all of this secret strength going for him, he would still be a hard man for someone to take down. He had a temper that flared at the slightest spark and when he got enough rage built up, not even a bullet could stop him. He didn't care about the odds or the situation, he'd swing on 30 people by himself if he felt it was neccessary.
He wasn't supposed to be here. That's why she'd come, because he'd claimed to be going to another club. She figured why should he get to be the only one having any fun? He was always going out and hanging with his boys. It wasn't a crime for her to want an evening of fun too. She'd seen his face the moment he spotted her. It was a Friday night, and this was the most popular club in the city. Even with all the people that had been between them, it was like they felt his evil rays as the thought that it might be her ran through his mind and darted out of the way.
The sea parted and she was exposed, short skirt, high heels, tank top, stranger grinding against her and all. His blue eyes turned cold as steel, his jaw clinched, and every emotion in his body except anger fled as he handed his drink to one of his many friends that had accompanied him that night. The poor kid she was dancing with had no idea what he was in for or how her Justin could be. All they were doing was dancing, admittedly maybe a little to closely for a 24-year-old married girl to be dancing with someone who wasn't her husband. But in all honesty, that wasn't anything compared to what she had planned on doing with him in his backseat later on. Now that plan was out the door.
Her ears strained over the loud club music to hear their conversation as the two men inched closer and closer to eachother, both trying to be more in eachother's face than the other one. Justin's friends had successfully blocked off both her view and ability to get to him with their bodies. It was a protective thing they'd all been trained to do. Wherever they were, whomever's girl it was, she was put in the back out of harm's way while buisness was handled upfront. The most she could make out was that someone had moved from being a bitch to a pussy before a punch was thrown and her new boytoy soon found himself on his back, trying to block the blows coming from her husband. Damn, she knew what that felt like. How no matter what you couldn't get away from the sting. The burn. The fire. How his hands could move so fast that you'd begin to try to peek and see if he was getting help from someone else or if he'd grown a second and third pair of hands.
The kid wasn't his main concern, and it was because of that reason alone that he was so easily pulled away. She could see the fire and ice in his eyes even through the dark. He came through the protective barrier of his friends and stood face to face with Frankie as it closed behind him. Frankie peered over Justin's shoulder, not at all surprised with she spied one of the guys finishing the job for him. That's how they rolled, Justin and this little group of his. They'd been born together, rolled together, and would probably die of alcohol poisoning together. They were brothers first and foremost for life, tattoo's and all to prove it. They didn't break up for anything. Hell, if on their honeymoon Frankie had asked Justin to choose between she and the guys, he'd have chosen the guys. Maybe that was the cause for their dysfunctional relationship, because Frankie came third in Justin's life. She came after 1) their daughter, 2) the crew.
"You got a lot of fucking explaining to do," his hand yanked on her again, but this time she stood her ground. His head snapped back to look at her.
"I came here with friends," she said.
"Well you better tell 'em your bout to bounce cause we're the fuck outta here."
"I don't want to leave."
"What?" he put a hand to his ear as if he couldn't hear her.
"I said I'm not leaving. You're not my damn Daddy, Justin."
He chuckled and scratched at his chin confidently.
"I'm not your Daddy huh?"
"That's right." His hesitancy to jump on her gave her some weird kind of confidence boost. She suddenly wasn't as shy about speaking her mind.
All to quickly, while her confidence boost stayed, his grin faded and his hand squeezed her like a vice, "Woman, you better come the fuck on."
This time when he pulled she had no choice but to follow. He paid her no mind as she rushed to keep up with him, more than once tripping over her heels, but he never wavered from his long, quick, purposeful stride. When they burst through the double doors and into the parkinglot occassionally littered with a few groups of loitering partygoers, Frankie decided she'd had enough of his rough handling. She wasn't a rag doll. She pulled away from him, and pushed away his hands when he reached for her again. It eventully ended with him dragging her to the car by her wrists and then wrestling her into the backseat.
As soon as she was in, he slammed the door closed in her face and pressed the button on his keys, locking all the doors and enabling the child safety locks. He walked around to his side and unlocked the door manually with the key. He knew from experience that if he pressed the button, and all the doors unlocked, she'd take full advantage and take off running. While he got in she climbed into the front. He slammed his door and they turned to eachother with intense anger shooting daggers from their eyes. He panted and gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles turned pale white.
It's sick, but who could ever predict
We'd be doin' the same shit
We say we do it for our baby but we don't
We do it for us, it's lust
Cuz neither one of us trusts each other
So we fuck 'til we bust
Then we cuss each other out
We know what it's about
Shout 'til I throw you out the house
You throw me out the house
I throw you on the couch
Punch you in the mouth
Fist fight 'til we turn this mother out
And apologize after
Laughter, pain, it's insane
We're back in the same chapter again
And it's sad but it's true
When I'm layin' here with you
There ain't nothin' anyone could ever say ever do
"Where's Jaden-Lynn?" he refered to their 5 year old.
"With your Mother."
"Wha?" his face violently contorted with confusion, "You left her with my Mom?"
If Frankie was number 3 on Justin's list, then Mrs. Harless was number 4086.
"She was available."
"Fucking irresponcible."
"How is that irrespon-?"
"You were supposed to be home with her! That's how."
Frankie pulled away from him and settled back against the door, praying God would look down, take pity on her, and cause it to fall open. He was in one of his moods, this wasn't going to be any fun. Justin's hands opened and closed repeatedly, looking for a way to occupy themselves. Finally they slammed into the steering wheel over and over, emphasizing his every screamed word.
"What the hell were you doing in there?! Fucking shit!"
"We were just dancing." There was no need for him to know of her later plans.
"Dancing? You looked like you were ready to fuck that kid."
Her eyes rolled automatically, "Shut up-."
"Don't tell me to shut up. Don't fuck with me right now Frankie!" His hand raised and he pointed a finger in her face as a warning. She excepted it and closed her mouth.
"That pussy was all over you Frankie. His fuckin' dirty ass hands were all over you and you were lovin it. You looked like you were fucking him right there on the dancefloor."
He waited for her to protest, or to deny his accussation and when her lips remained perched his eyes narrowed.
"Were you? Huh, were you fucking him, Frankie? Right there infront of everyone were you fucking that dude?!" his hands shot out and lifted her skirt, trying to scan her body for any evidence.
"Get the fuck off me!" Startled, her hands pushed and clawed at his until they relented.
Justin ran his fingers over his head, pulling at the bottle blonde locks before reaching to start the car.
"I can't believe you're pulling this shit again," he muttered before he dropped his foot on the gas. The car jerked forward so fast Frankie's head snapped back against the headrest, bending her neck. Justin didn't acknowledge her cry as he continued to drive.
"I can't believe you're doing this shit again! After last time? I fuckin' love you so much, and you were about to screw me over for that guy?"
His yelling was beginning to wear on her nerves and she couldn't help but yell back though she knew it wouldn't help the situation.
"We were just dancing. You're fucking paranoid!"
"Paranoid?" he snapped, "Was I paranoid when I caught you drunk off your ass at Ronnie's house at 3am? Was I paranoid the last time I had to drag you out of a club?..."
"...Yes...." she muttered.
"...I love you so God damned much Frankie. I do everything for you, and you keep fucking around and fucking around. Why do you have to be such a slut?"
"I'm a slut?" Her body turned in the passanger seat. She was riled up and ready to fight now, painful neck forgotten.
"You hop on dick more than most ho's I know, and you don't even get dough out of it. That I know of."
The more you put me through
The more it makes me wanna come back to you
You say you hate me, I just love you more
You don't want me, I just want you more
I buy you flowers, you throw 'em at me
I know it's sad but it's makin me happy
The more that you slap me, the more that it turns me on
Cuz you love me, and I love you more
"Oh fuck you Mr. High and Mighty. Like I don't know what you be doing with all those groupie bitches that ride your jock 24/7."
Justin had spent his life building a music career, that finally looked like it had a chance of working out, and in the process he'd acquired a local fanbase. Fifty percent of it were females who liked to dress in not more than a strip of dental floss with a cork tied to it when attending his shows.
"All those nights you tell me you have a gig and you don't. They're calling your cell at all hours of the fuckin' night. You're telling me 'Oh, that's just my promoter' or 'That's just some chick, I don't know how she got my number.' Or that tramp Jenny I caught you at that hotel party with. How fucking stupid do you think I am Justin?"
"Girl shut your dumb ass up! I don't go around messin around on you in public."
"You don't call the bathroom at E&J's public?"
He stepped on the brake at a red light, "What?"
"Mmhmm, didn't know I knew about that shit, did you? I know all about it, that bitch called me."
"I don't know what you think you know, or what bitches be callin you, but I ain't been fuckin' around on your ass."
"Neither have I, asshole."
"What do you call that shit back there?" he motioned several miles away to the club.
"Dancing."
He let out an aggitated growl.
"You're a fucking liar. We both know you were gonna fuck that dude-."
"Just cause you whore yourself out for album sales doesn't mean everyone else does too."
His hand gripped her upper arm and pulled her closer as he kept his eyes dangerously steady on the road, "Don't you ever fuckin' say some shit like that to me again."
Frankie made a concious effort to calm herself.
"You lie to me and we both know it," she said.
"Prove it."
"What?"
"Prove I was messin around on you."
Frankie's eyes dropped from the side of his face to his fingers pressing into her skin. She didn't have any proof, and he knew it. Yeah, he was messing around with other women, but he was good at his game. He was always two steps ahead of her. Justin was also positive that Frankie was messing around on him too, but all he'd ever caught her doing was dancing indecently with a stranger or being alittle too drunk with another man. She was good at her game too, but he was the master. Neither would ever even consider admitting their betrayals to eachother, no matter how wild the allegations were flying. Whoever would admit it would be giving the other their power, and their relationship was built on the power struggle they'd been having since they were pre-teens.
"Then until you have proof, all you have is me, and I'm telling you I'm not messing around."
Plus, another factor, their crazy love, came into play. As much of a heartless, cold asshole as Justin could be when he was upset, he still had his moments where he was that little boy she'd met at school. Where he'd hold her, and kiss her face, and tell her loved her, and he would never risk losing her to some hook up. It was that Justin that convinced some small part of her that maybe he was telling the truth. She was a crazy woman in love.
"Well then until you have proof all you have is me too," she replied.
"Fuck that. I don't need proof, I know your ass. I know you're running around with your shit for sale." He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine and the lights.
Cuz I hate you, do you hate me?
Good cuz you're so fuckin' beautiful when you're angry
It makes me wanna just take you
And just throw you on the bed
And fuck you like I don't even know you
You fuck other people, and I fuck other people
You a slut but I'm equal, I'm a mutt
We're both evil in our ways
But neither one of us would ever admit it
Cuz one of us would have one up on the other
So forget it
We can make accusations, people spread rumors
But they ain't got proof
'Til they do it's just the two of us
It's you and me, cuz any chick can say that she's screwin' me
But you gotta believe me to a degree
Cuz true indeed if you didn't I wouldn't be hittin' it
Yeah I would cuz the sex is too damn good
If I ran who would I run to
That would be this soft and warm
So it's off and on, usually more off than on
But at least we know that we share this common bond
You're the only one I can fuck without a condom on
I hope, the only reason that I cope
Is cuz of that fact
And plus I can bust in that
And that's why...
Frankie's fist landed a square punch on his bicep, on top of a bruise she'd given him a few days prior. He flinched and all his attention went to to his injury. While he was destracted, Frankie opened the door and began a jog down the block towards a friends apartment.
"Hey! Where are you going? Get back here," she heard his shouting and his sneakers on the pavement. Frankie picked up her pace, however, her heels were seriously hendering her running ability and it was only a matter of seconds till he caught her.
Again, it ended with him dragging her by her wrists, and then wrestling her inside and to the sofa where he dropped her on her butt. He walked over to shut and bolt the front door and saw her get up from the corner of his eye.
"Sit down."
"Don't fuckin' tell me what to do. I'm not your property."
"Sit your ass down!"
She sat, but that didn't stop her yelling.
"Who do you think you are?"
"Who do I think I am?" he pointed an accusing finger into his own chest, "I can't believe you're asking me that shit right now. Do you have any idea what type of shit I do for you? And this is my thank you? What would you have done Frankie? Would you have brought him back here? Picked up Jaden-Lynn on the way?"
"Would you let that go? No one did anything to your ass. Thanks for playing the role of the psycho, overbearing man though. Did you have to hit him? I mean, he didn't-."
"I don't believe you and your bullshit! Are you fuckin' defending him to me now?" he moved around the coffeetable to stand infront of her.
Her anger for him only grew as he glared down at her.
"Are you defending that piece of shit to me?" he reached for her and by instinct she raised her leg and put a foot to his chest to keep him at a distance. He grabbed her ankle, violently pulling her from the couch to the floor.
"Are you?!"
"Stop it!" She scooted herself around to the other side of the table, out of his reach, "I said you're fucking overreacting Justin. There was no reason to pick a fight with him, and don't you God damn touch me again."
She could see his hands trembling, twitching at the want to grab a hold of her. Justin reached for the coffeetable and flipped it over, demolishing the wall between them, and squatted over her.
"Number 1, don't tell me to forget it. This beef between me and him, and you and me, we're never gonna squash this. Number 2, I wouldn't have had to hit that bitch if he hadn't been trying to stick his dick up my girl's ass. That fucker got exactly what he deserved.... Lemme ask you something, do you bend over and take it from anyone, or did he have to buy you a drink first?"
It was like her body disconnected from her mind and before she knew it her hand had swipped across his cheek. The sound of the slap echoed around the room like the ding of the attention bell at a boxing match.
Let's get ready to rumble.
His hand raised to his cheek and he smirked at her, "I'll take that as a 'yes'."
"I hate you!!" her voice echoed loudly.
Everything was eerily silent for a moment after her outburst except for the sound of her frustrated breathing.
"I fuckin' hate you too! I can't believe I let you're skanky ass trap me into this marriage."
As soon as the words were spoken her temper hit it's boiling point and she came out of her corner swinging. Frankie reached for Justin's sweatshirt, simultaneously pulling herself up and him to the floor.
"Trap you? Trap you?! Why the hell would I wanna trap your good for nothing dead beat ass? Just get out."
"Get out?" He stood up, disbelieve covering his features.
"That's right. Get out."
"Bitch, this is my house. I pay the muthafuckin' bills around here. You get out."
"You act like you got this shit on your own," she spread her arms to motion to the big screen television, expensive furniture, bookshelf of various videogames and systems, and multiple other luxuries.
"I take care of your ass, Frankie."
"I put just as much shit into this place as you did, and I gave you a little girl, so you get the fuck out."
"You leave Jaden-Lynn out of this," there was that warning finger in her face again, "She's the only pure thing I have in this world."
"Well remember, that pure thing, came from my skanky vagina, which you had no issues stickin' your penis up in last night. Now get the fuck out."
"No, you get out. Jaden-Lynn and I are better off without you."
"Wherever I go, Jaden-Lynn goes, so you put me out, you put her out."
"No, Jaden-Lynn's staying with me. She won't survive with your irresponsible ass."
"No, she's not staying with you."
"Yes, she is. I'm packing your shit," he brushed past her and down the hall that lead to their bedroom.
"Packing my shit? No, no, no, no I'm packing your shit," she moved to go around him and he put his arm out to block her.
She ducked under, but was promptly grabbed around the waist and drug backwards kicking and yelling to be once again dumped on the couch. Frankie grabbed a hold of the hood of his sweatshirt, pulling it from his body. He continued down the hall into their room, and pulled a suitcase down from the closet shelf. When Frankie finally entered the room, she spotted some of her things, hangers and all, sticking out of the Louis Vuitton luggage.
Straight ahead of her was the window and she got an idea. Heading into Justin's closet she grabbed an arm full of items and decided to forgo the entire suitcase idea. She pushed open the window and tossed them out onto the bushes. When she turned back to grab more she walked right into Justin.
"What the fuck are you doing? Are you fuckin' crazy?"
Normally she'd expect him to slam her against the wall, but he hadn't lost his temper yet. He was dangerously close, but she could recognise the signs of his sturggle to keep himself somewhat together. The way his hands trembled and flexed or how he'd start to speak and then stop himself.
He pushed her out of the way and pulled the window closed while she shoved him back. He turned to push her again, and the shoving match again.
"Get out!" she yelled.
"No, you get out."
The couple wrestling back and forth as she tried to get away and he tried to keep a hold of her. Somehow his hand found it's way to her hair and he wrapped the black locks around his hand before he pulled roughly. Her hands let go of the collar she had been tugging on and reached up to pry at his fingers. Justin grabbed the suitcase with his free hand and began leading her out of the room, down the hall, and to the front door.
"When that door closes, you better be on the other fuckin' side of it," Frankie threatened.
Justin gave her a look, "Yeah, right, like you're in a position to tell me what to do," he set down the suitcase and opened the door.
The fridged night air rushed in around them, only helping to fuel the adrenaline their bodies were beginning to pump as their air turned into white smoke infront of their faces. Justin picked up the suitcase and tossed it out onto the grass while Frankie resorted to desperate measures. She learned forward to his exposed inner arm, where the skin was thin, and bite down.
The more you put me through
The more it makes me wanna come back to you
You say you hate me, I just love you more
You don't want me, I just want you more
I buy you flowers, you throw 'em at me
I know it's sad but it's makin me happy
The more that you slap me, the more that it turns me on
Cuz you love me, and I love you more
He gasped out loud, letting go of her to examine himself. She knew the exact moment he kicked into 3rd gear. His eyes blazed and he turned to stone as the back of his hand hit her cheek, spinning her whole body in a 180. Again she was being drug out the door, and Frankie tried to wiggle her way free, thrashing wildly but to no avail. Justin tossed her to the ground just before the porch stairs and turned his back to go inside. Maybe it was the anger, or the alcohol coarsing through her system, but Frankie picked up the nearest thing she could find, a plastic flowerpot, and hit Justin across the back of the head. It didn't do any serious damage -she didn't think- but it dazed him enough to allow her a chance to run around him and back into the house.
Frankie grabbed the door, trying to shut it before he got there, but she wasn't fast enough. His arm snaked through the crack, feeling around for her. She started to push and he pulled back, but not before his hand got caught in the door jam. The door slammed on it twice, breaking the skin. He let out a hollar, snatching his extremity back, and Frankie put her entire body weight into pushing. He was really going to be pissed now. No matter how hard she pushed, he was still stronger than she was, and the door began to slowly creep open again. Frankie started to run, planning to lock herself in their bedroom. The door bursted open, slamming against the wall before it was slammed shut again. A moment later, in the livingroom infront of the bigscreen where the coffeetable had been, she was tackled.
"You bitch!"
Her jaw hit the ground first with a thud. Justin seemed uneffected as he turned her over to straddle her hips. His mind was running overtime.
'I'm gonna kill this bitch. I'm gonna kill her. I'm going to fuckin' jail tonight, because I'm gonna kill this bitch.'
Hands flew in every direction, both of them trying to hit the other while protecting themselves. She had managed to slap him a couple of times and he smacked her a couple of times, but it was one pivital incident that sent everything into the lightening round. Frankie's palm reached up and came in direct contact with Justin's nose. The world came to a hault, like something in the Matrix, and they stared at eachother.
If things were bad before, they were horrid now. His hands came down on her face and torso full force. Closed fist, solid punches that she returned with as much rage and hatred. Soon after -during the struggle of energy, emotion, and frustration being exchanged back and forth- the roles were reversed and Justin was pinned down on his back with Frankie on top of him, worked up and ready to continue. She pulled her fist back to land her first of what she hoped would be a series of really good hits, and Justin's hand slipped around her throat, haulting their world again.
I could never understand it
That's why I don't try
From junior high until we both die
It's silly oh why must we try
Is it really so rough
That we must always call each other's billy goat's gruff
Try to pull each other's legs
Until the other begs
We're lyin' to ourselves
That's the beauty of it yeah
Cuz we truly love each other
That's why we always fight
And all we do is shove each other
Every other fuckin' night
And it's clear it ain't gonna change
It's pent up rage we both have
We both feel like we've been upstaged by someone else
We've both been someone else's someone else
She felt his fingertips lightly squeeze. He felt her pulse echo against his palm. They both knew he could do some serious damage to her if he felt threatened enough. Her eyes searched his carefully as she waited to see what would happen next. Justin's mind had clicked into a whole nother patchwork of thoughts. During this strange moment of peace he was examining her. Her black hair was braided at the roots, but was left undone in loose waved that blew back and forth with her breathe as she hovered over him. Her round chocolate brown eyes stared at his unwaiveringly. Around one of them, her cocoa skin was beginning to darken where he had hit her. Her already plump lips were slightly swollen and the right corner of her bottom one was bright red from the blood seeping from a small cut. He watched her chest heave and glisten with the reflection of the living room lights in her sweat. He became suddenly aware of her bare thighs spread over his hips.
Frankie became suddenly aware of the changing situation as well when his grip on her didn't lossen, but a certain Justin body part she hadn't considered before was now begging for attention. Her eyebrow raised ever so slightly and his expression didn't change at all. Justin had never been shy about his body, her body, or his sexual appetite for her. They'd had sex before passing any other major milestone in their relationship. Sex wasn't a problem for them, it was everything else.
Using the hand holding her throat, he guided her down onto her side and then back onto her back where he rolled on top of her. His body once again pressed into her, but this time instead of straddling her, he rested comfortably between her thighs. Her hand remained in the air, poised and ready to strike. His hand remained on her throat, almost holding her hostage. As his eyes continued to roam over her, Frankie couldn't help having a few indecent thoughts of her own.
Under his sweatshirt he'd been wearing a white wifebeater and now his muscle tone and numberous half-sleeve tattoos were on display. The only real evidence he had that he was fighting with anyone was his minimally bleeding nose, and bruised hand. But even still he was the finest thing she'd ever seen. Blonde hair, crystal blue eyes. His voice was smooth like the Milky way with clear skin to match. Her eyes drifted over his thick neck to his broad shoulders and back up again, trying not to let herself get destracted by his scent. It was masculine and assertive.
All of this laying here saying nothing had allowed their breathing to slow alittle, but other than that nothing else was dying down between them. She still wanted him out, he still wanted to kill her. Her mouth still ached, his hand still throbbed. Her, once a fist-now open hand, slapped across Justin's face. Without missing a beat he slapped her back and again she slapped him. It was okay. He secretly loved it when she got aggressive with him, when she didn't just take his shit and fought back. His fingers tightened on her throat and her hand wrapped around his wrist as she sucked in a breathe. She swallowed and he felt the contracting and expanding all the way down. Frankie's hand squeezed a little harder when his grip didn't let up and her head began to feel a little light. She opened her mouth to speak, but because of the pressure all that came out was a deep gargle.
"Shhh," he said gently, his mind destracted.
His grip let up and Frankie panted quietly, trying to make up for the air she'd been missing. She watched his face as his eyes followed his other hand. It slide painstakenly slow down her side, his thumbs purposefully brushing against the side of her breast, to her hip. Then he moved back up slipping under her shirt and pulling it up to expose her bra. His frigid fingertips left a trail of fire on her skin as he massaged the black lace cups pointing up at him. His head lowered, his tongue making designs on the valley cleavage before turning his head to show attention to just one. He folded the cup down and out of his way, nipping at the pillowy tissue before pulling a nipple into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue until it was taut against his lips
"Jus-."
"Shut up," he cut her off.
His crystal orbs focused in on her smoky eyes, silencing any further protests she might have had. His lips kissed her aching jaw as he made his way to the side of her neck, sucking and licking. Licking and sucking. Her eyes subconciously rolled to the back of her head. A hand slipped under her skirt, kneading the supple skin of her behind before he lifted her hips. He pressed against her roughly, allowing her to feel his growing arousal. Her back arched involuntarily and he knew then her mind was exactly where his mind was at.
Justin leaned down, his face a hair away from hers. The hand released her neck, smoothing up to her jaw where he gripped firmly and tilted her head up to where he wanted it. His face moved closer, his pink lips parting slightly. Just when her eyes fluttered closed he pulled back, watching her attempt to kiss the air where he had been. Her eyes opened, still fire and ice staring back at him. He leaned down again, and she attempted to lift her head to meet him halfway but his hand on her jaw didn't allow her. Her eyes narrowed as her hands slid to his shoulders. He teased her again, smirking when her aggitated sigh warmed his lips.
When their mouths finally did connect, it was like a blazing fire was lit inside of both their bodies. They couldn't move fast enough, couldn't get close enough. Tongues twisted and twirled together in a heated dance between their hot mouths, mixing with the bitter taste her blood. Her hands fisted his shirt, pulling and tugging, before the offending material was pulled over his head. His hands gripped her thighs and lifted them higher, allowing Justin to get closer to her. When he pushed his hips against hers again a highly pleasured, surprised sigh emitted from her throat.
Her hands tugged at his hair, her legs locked his body to hers. She didn't want to be kissing him, she didn't want to give in, but he was just so damn good at what he was doing. He'd always been able to play her body like a finely tuned instrument since they met. He knew exactly how to touch her, grab her, and stroke her to lite a fire under her. And his kisses, it was pure perfection when they kissed. It was an insatiable desire that she had for him, and him equally for her.
The purposeful and forceful rolling of his hips was awakening nerve endings and fueling exotic pulses all over her body. He pushed her skirt up to her waist and yanked her thighs even higher, tucking them against his sides. Her fingers snaked just under the rim of his underwear, lightly scratching at his warm skin. His palm rubbed against the hot dampness gathering at the crotch of her underwear. She got off on the aggression too. The anger, the power, the yelling, the emotion, the heat, the fear, the energy. Hate is just as strong an emotion as love is.
His hand squeezed between their bodies. She felt him fiddling with the elastic band of his sweatpants, and her underwear being pulled to the side. This time when he pressed against her they were skin to skin. Hot stretched flesh against warm moist skin. Frankie wrapped her arms around his neck, gasping against his shoulder as he lined his body up with hers. Without warning or hesitation he pushed into her, spreading her body open. Frankie's head tossed back against the floor with a moan, her back curved and her hips pressed him deeper though she knew it still wasn't close enough. Listening to the erotic moans that escaped her mouth with his every movement, he started a rythmn, not giving her a moment to get used to him and his excessive size.
They never made love. They didn't use protection. Their sex was always hardcore. It was fast, hard, rough, intense, rushed, rugged, furious, penetrating. His main objective was to get them both the most orgasmic release possible. Her main objective was to hang on. Justin sat up on his knees, pulling her thighs over his, lifting her hips into the air. His rythmn started again, pressing deeper and deeper as he pulled her hips to meet him. Frankie struggled to keep her lazy eyes open, watching him in all of his sexual glory. His head was dipped back, his neck on full display, his arms flexing as he held her body.
She slid her hands down herself to rest on top of his. He looked down at her, licking his lips as he too let out a moan. Their eyes locked and all the world around them seemed to blur and disappear. This was the moment they'd been building up to. This was the moment they were always building up to. One of his hands pulled away, moving to her most intimate of areas, toying with the engorged button if nerve endings there. He watched her twist and contort. Her torso elongated itself and her thighs flexed against his sides.
"Justin," she whispered, "I...."
He pulled her hips closer, thrusting in as deep as possible. Her body had reached it's limit and his solid member began to make her burn everytime he pushed in. It was painful, but the kind she enjoyed, the kind that helped awaken the butterflies in her stomach. They fluttered and expanded, raised up into her chest and sinking down into her calves. She could feel it all over, the empending sweet release.
His fingers continued tweeking and toying, and he knew when she was there by the barbaric scream that sounded throughout the room. Her hips bucked wildly as her insides spasmed. She gave him the most provocative expression, something almost like it felt so good she wanted to cry. He continued moving, allowing the view infront of him to work him over the edge. She knew he was there was he pushed into her completely and held himself there, grunting and groaning. His fingers pressed into her so hard that round red cirlces remained when he let go. She drug her hands down his arms so hard that flakes of skin remained under her nails.
It seemed like the moment went on for hours, but when it began to end and the butterflies had all been released, Justin collapsed on top of his wife. She wrapped his sweaty body in her arms, still trying unsuccessfully to catch her own breathe. The endorphines made everything hazy, and peaceful. After several minutes he sat up again, withdrawing and tucking himself back into his pants while Frankie adjusted her skirt. She sat up slowly, her back cracking as she did so. Her eyes surveyed the room, taking in the broken coffee table and rumpled sofa. A chuckle escaped her lips, followed by another, then another till she heard Justin join in too.
The chuckling soon migrated into full-fledged laughter. By something more like coincidence than irony, they always said they’d never be here again, that the circle had to end, and next thing they knew they were right back here. Her smile shockingly turned bright, catching Justin’s attention. He put his hands to her face, his thumbs softly stroking her cheeks. This was when he got to her, now, with that face. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, wanting to bite down on girlishly like she always did when he looked at her like that. Lovingly, tenderly. Unfortunately the endorphins from the sex had caused the throbbing from her lip to fade and she’d forgotten about the cut, until one of her teeth hit it, causing her to flinch. Justin’s hands held her in place as he studied her and her bruises.
“Shit,” he whispered to himself, regret evident on his face, “Damn, I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
He smirked at her, his gentle gaze unwavering. His mind frame was different now, their problem somewhat worked out.
“I’m sorry too,” her hands tickled across his ribcage before pulling him closer.
“It won’t happen again,” he assured, crazy drunk off of his feelings for her.
She nodded in agreement, “It won’t.”
They embraced each other. This time his hand slid into her hair, but didn’t tug. She allowed herself to feel safe and secure. When his anger wasn’t directed at her, she was kept what was her definition of warm and well protected. He did whatever he needed to when it came to her. She and Jaden-Lynn never really wanted for anything. No one gave her any grief for anything, for fear of what the consequences would be. He went to bat for her, to jail for her, bent over backwards for her. In her mind she was his number 3, but in his she’d been number 1 for the past 13 years and she always would be. He believed the fault lay in the fact that he was her number 3, after 1) Jaden-Lynn and 2) her girls.
“You still love me?” he asked, his voice darkened with exhaustion and leftover lust.
“I love you,” she assured.
“I love you back.”
Problem is neither one wants help
It's an addiction and it can't be fixed
Our family's mixed up
There's a baby sister in the mix
And it hurts cuz the pieces to the puzzle don't fit
And anybody who thinks they know us doesn't know shit
And they're probably just tired of hearin' it all the time
On every song, every lyric, and every rhyme
All the hoopla, all of the whoopdy whoop
What you put me through, fuckin' whoopdy doo
But I won't be made a fool of
If this is true love
You wouldn't do what
You did last time
You wouldn't screw up
This time
Cuz this time girl
I'm tellin you what...
He leaned back to see her, a hand gripping her jaw, squeezing intently as he turned her to face him, insuring he had her complete and undivided attention,"...You do it again I'm fuckin' you up. No matter..."
...What you say, what you do
I'mma hunt you down 'til I find you
No matter where you run, I'll be right there
Right behind you, in your nightmares
Does this remind you of flowers, all your candy
All the times that you threw it back at me
You told me you hate me, you gon' hate me more
When you find out, you can't escape me whore
He placed soft kisses on her bare shoulder, squeezing her waist tightly as he enjoyed the moment, feeling the calm before the next impending storm began to brew.
“Justin,” one of Frankie’s hands smoothed down the back of his head, “We can’t keep goin’ on like this. This shit is crazy. We have to stop.”
He pulled back to look at her, soft hands to her face again.
“I know, I know. It’s fucked up ain’t it?”
“So what are we gonna do? What are we gonna change?”
“I don’t know.”
Frankie’s eye lowered sadly as she began to pick at imaginary lint on his pants, “Maybe we should…. Maybe it’s time that I think about…” her voice stopped when his head started to shake.
“No. I won’t let you.”
“You wouldn’t let me?” She didn’t like where this was going. This is how they got into trouble. She didn’t like feeling controlled or like someone else was leading her life. Whenever he started that, ‘I wear the pants, I’m the man of the house’ talk was when the storms would begin to brew again.
“Nope. I wouldn’t let you go.”
“What if I just left? Didn’t say anything?”
“I’d find you.”
“I could hide.”
His head shook confidently, “If you ever left me, no matter where I had to go to do it, I’d find you. I’d find you and I’d bring you back. “
“How would you find me?” She pushed, half interested in hearing his method, but mostly enjoying hearing him confess his love and need for her in his own way.
"Yo, why you tryin' to get away from me?" Despite the obvious answers to that question, for them it was meant in a joking manner and she took it as such, smiling shyly.
“I'd find you cause I’m in here,” he put a hand to her chest over her still rampid heart, “and in here,” a hand to her head, “I’ll always be able to find you. You belong to me.”
Something about the way he said it, she wanted to feel flattered but didn’t completely. Her mind was twisted like his and she knew how he had meant it. There was a certain ‘If I can’t have you no one can have you’ tone to his voice. A normal woman would have shivered under his stare, but Frankie chalked it up to her strange ‘ol man Justin.
The more you put me through
The more it makes me wanna come back to you
You say you hate me, I just love you more
You don't want me, I just want you more
I buy you flowers, you throw 'em at me
I know it's sad but it's makin me happy
The more that you slap me, the more that it turns me on
Cuz you love me, and I love you more
It was Friday night and the place was packed. Bodies were moving everywhere you turned, grinding and gyrating. The smell of alcohol and sweat filled the air and Frankie raised her glass during a toast with her girls, thanking God for the half naked man in the cage suspended above them. Her rough and tumble round with Justin was long forgotten, bruises all healed. They were still together of course, not wanting to lose each other to something as minuscule as a little argument. After all they had a lot of years invested and a child in the mix to think about.
Frankie didn’t exactly have his approval to be out that night, but then again who cared? He was off working on something in the studio, probably smoking a blunt. After finishing her drink, she began to survey the crowd, looking for her new boy toy of the night. A crowd at the table in the back caught her eye. Obviously there was high roller present. Buckets of champagne were littered around and scantily clad women were dancing, teasing the men. She’d have to check out that group out later on, see if there was anyone good. She’d begun to turn away, excited to continue her hunt for the perfect pray when someone interesting caught her eye.
Black do-rag, black and red sweatshirt, flashy platinum watch on his wrist. Her eyes squinted, trying to make out exactly who it was. Once she realized, her eyes opened wide, sucking all the air out of he lungs. Justin, her strange ‘ol man Justin, sat in the middle of the booth, surrounded by his boys as one of his groupie bitches sat grinding in his lap. Her body turned into a furnace, her blood boiled, her hand twitched and trembled, itching to slap the smug smile off of his face.
'Oh no that muthafucker did not.'
When their eyes locked, the crowd felt the rays of anger and the seas parted. Justin quickly pushed the female off of him, straightening his clothes while his wife stomped over to the table.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What?”
“You heard me, Justin. I said what the fuck are you doing?”
Song Credit: I Love You More by Eminem
