I Remember The Hard Truth

That was only a dream, only a memory. None of that was real.

Blake can sense that I'm distracted and he knows, frankly, that I'm here with Jake. Jake is the good man in all of this, practically innocent. He probably deserves better.

Far better than me.

But Blake has every intention of dragging me down into the mud and making me hate myself enough that I'll either love him or just conscend to submit to him. He knows what he's doing here, had a plan all along just as much as the rest of us.

And if I don't do anything to stop him then he's going to see it through.

When I am distracted from the moment by fantasizing about a future I will not have tonight, Blake knows it. He feels me slipping or at the very least knows that my attention is now more divided than it was before and he decides to rectify that, in what is quickly becoming Classic Blake Fashion.

His hand releases my body but only for a moment as it grasps my wrist and tugs my hand over. He pulls my hand and quickly places it over the bulge in his pants, my palm filling with the throbbing warmth of it and it is easy to comprehend, even through the fabric of his pants, what his intentions here are.

The moment he gives me a little bit of leeway I twist my hand and manage to free myself from his grasp. I pull back to me, turning away from Blake and starting to move to Jake instead.

My intention is to fully turn to Jake, twisting away from Blake and denying him my body. Put my back to him and while there is still some things that he can do to me, it will be awkward and hard for him to manage. If I pull it off, I will effectively cut him off. And Blake knows that, which is why I only get one small bit of the way there.

Jake has his hand on my thigh, and the other is on my breast. His lips are buried in my chest and I use my one hand to keep him there, holding him to me as I moan lightly but loud enough that he can hear me.

Blake doesn't let me turn fully away from him. He shifts just enough that his hand can slide up and press just above my other breast, between my breast and my shoulder. With a firm touch he keeps me from turning too far and he leans over and croons in my ear softly, so that only I can hear.

"Now where do you think you're going?"

His tone is playful and his voice is honeyed and god I hate that it works on me but it does. It makes me moan even louder and I lie to myself, telling myself that I'm only playing into this because if I'm moaning then Jake won't hear Blake but that's a lie. I'm moaning because I want to moan, because as much as I want to deny it I can't.

I'm moaning because a part of me wants Blake. A part of all of me wants him.

My body. My heart. My head. My soul.

So my movement falters, shuddering for an instant before I can fully commit to denying him. This gives Blake the opening that he's looking for as he pulls me back a little and opens me up.

His hand darts quickly between my legs and it doesn't touch me but instead it shoves the blanket down to my knees and pulls the hem of my dress up. The movement is deliberate and it's insistent and I know that it's a powerplay. It's telling me, reminding me, that I belong to him. And the fullness of my milky thighs are exposed, the dark patch of my panties visible for anyone who wants to look at me.

Oh god, this is real now. That blanket which had been supposed to be doing duty as coverage is nowhere to be seen and not only my legs but my panties are exposed and I can feel Blake smiling, knowing that he has me and that soon everything will come crashing down.

Because Jake knows what just happened. He doesn't know how but he knows that it happened.

And that means he's going to look, he's not going to be able to help himself.

And when he looks? What will he see?

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