Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 26: Harper

A/N: mature content (even if a dream 😴🤪).

Each day after I'd seen Jake, my sobering embarrassment over how just one in-person exchange with him was replaced with irritation. We hadn't even started a conversation but exchanged more of a heated eye-fuck stare down that still inspired a shower finger flick session with my largest dildo and Li unfortunately witnessed as my DP dildo revved up its magic on my lady bits.

The more days that passed, the more both my irritation and physical dissatisfaction grew and grew. Even worse, just one shower session apparently wasn't enough torment for my fucked-up brain as I moaned his name and stroked myself off more than once with Jake Fucking Harrison in mind.

As the week progressed, the telltale signs of sexual withdrawal slowly surfaced within my traitorous body like mold that grew over spoiled food. My focus level dropped, the three hours I sat in class every day stretched longer and longer, my homework took longer before I completed it, and my mind was easily distracted.

Whatever Jake's intentions were, which his one-liner text messages hadn't revealed, they bothered me enough that my sleep became restless. So, by Thursday night, four days and two fingered orgasms later, I tossed and turned in my bed so much I was surprised I hadn't rocked it off its lofted furniture ends.

In a horrible state of sleep awareness, a flashed back memory sucked me down into a dream like a bad horror film. I blinked at the familiar scene of Santa Cruz High, the white-walled main hallway lined with students and Ellie at my side. Once Jake stepped into my line of vision, I was painfully aware of the fact that this wasn't real but couldn't tear myself out of it.

The fucker's now in my dreams.

Our senior year of high school, after Jake had one flashed moment where he was a decent human and held me while I cried over how shitty of a person I was when I broke up with Ryan, he bombarded my phone with suggestive messages. They weren't dirty or teased me, they were worse and sounded horribly similar to whatever cheesy-approach Jake attempted in his most recent text messages.

dickhead: Go out with me.

dickhead: Friday. You and me.

dickhead: A real date.

Since back then I couldn't have blocked his number without Ellie knowing, I deleted every message as it hit my phone.

My favorite part of when I dated my actual boyfriend Ryan, his sweet, safe nature and the sex aside, was how jealous Jake was. Even as the school's bully, with the weight of his dark, narrowed eyes, jaw ticked, and fists clenched, I'd always found angry Jake both ridiculously sexy and empowering.

I know, I'm fucked up in the head. Especially the part that comes next in my pathetic non-love story.

Love was never an option for me, so I settled for second best. My fucked up outlook on love combined with my repressed anger and pain from how Jake crushed my naïve heart our freshman year of high school and unleashed in unbridled insults every chance I had.

Forget sticks, I picked up a whole bear trap and clamped it onto his balls at every opportunity.

And I'd do it again in a split second.

Sadly for me, my insults only turned that fucker on, which combined with the appeal of me being untouchable, Jake only wanted me more. I knew it, he knew it, and I exploited the fuck out of it.

Depending on whose perspective was taken, one slip-up, one moment of weakness from me, or one opportunity was all Jake needed. He took his cock and rammed it right into the chance my legs opened up.