Bad Habit (Bad Love 1)

He tries a door, but it’s locked. The next one is the bathroom. But the third time is a charm. Or so we think. The room is dark except for a light from the closet off to the right, but I can just barely make out two figures on the bed. I laugh when I hear moaning and go to close the door, until I hear something that stops us both in our tracks.

“Fuck me, Jackson. Fuck me like you want to fuck her.”

Whitley? I’d know that voice anywhere. Like nails on a chalkboard. And Jackson? I don’t even think they know each other.

“You get off on this, don’t you?” The voice that I know to be Jackson’s asks as his bare butt moves between her spread legs, and I can’t look away. Why are we still watching this? “You like knowing you can have what she does? That it?”

“Yes,” Whitley whines.

“Briar,” he growls. “Fuck yeah, Briar.” My eyes widen, and I feel like I’m going to vomit all over my shoes.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Whitley grits out.

“Why not? It’s what you want, right?”

“No!” Whitley smacks him in the face, and to my shock, he slaps her right back. Whitley moans, clearly enjoying their depravity as Jackson pins her hands to the bed. I sneak a glance at Ash to gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t look at all surprised. Disgusted, maybe, but not surprised. It makes me wonder what kind of sex they had together.

I’ve seen enough of their fucked-up little games. Tugging on Asher’s hand, I start to lead him away from the doorway. He’s stiff. Unmoving. And the hard angles of his jaw are sharp enough to cut glass right now.

“You wanna do something Briar never did for me?” Jackson asks, and Whitley moans her response. Asher’s head cocks to the side—like a predator zeroing in on his prey—hands squeezed into fists, and I know I need to get him out of here in about one second, or all hell is going to break loose.

“Suck me off.”

I hear some rustling around, and I try again to pull Ash away, to no avail. He’s rooted to this spot.

“She won’t suck my dick, but she’ll get finger fucked in public like a whore. Do you want to be my whore, Whitley?”

Whitley gives a breathy yes.

Ash lunges forward, and I bring both hands up to clasp his face between them. To force his focus on me. I shake my head, silently begging him to walk away. This isn’t worth it. They aren’t worth it. Who cares what two shitbags say or do together?

“I’ve seen the bite marks he leaves on her. Maybe that’s what she’s into. Maybe she just needs a little more convincing next time,” Jackson says darkly.

Everything happens in slow motion. I see the minute his eyes turn black. I see the second there’s no going back.

Ash rips his face from my hands.

Kicks the door open.

Whitley screams.

Jackson springs away from her.

There aren’t any words exchanged. Asher charges at him in the dark, and I hear the sickening sound of fist meeting flesh and bone. I slap at the wall in search of the light switch. I finally find it, bathing the room in brightness, and see Asher straddling a very bloody Jackson.

I bolt toward them, trying to pull Ash off Jackson without leaving him vulnerable to getting hit.

“Stop!”

“Briar, get the fuck out of here!” Ash yells, not taking his eyes off Jackson, one hand gripping his polo shirt by the collar. Jackson’s jeans are around his ankles now, exposing his boxers. He tries pulling them up, but he can’t reach with Asher crushing his abdomen with his weight. Jackson throws a fist, grazing Ash’s cheekbone, but he doesn’t even flinch.

Whitley takes her time adjusting her skirt, then stands back by the window, arms crossed. Asher lifts Jackson by fisting his collar with both hands and throws him into the desk, sending a computer and a lamp flying.

“I told you what would happen the next time you so much as looked at her,” Ash says menacingly before cracking his forehead against Jackson’s. He pulls back, and Jackson’s head lulls to the side against the wall for a beat, dazed, before he regains control. “You’re lucky you’re even alive, motherfucker.”

Ash cocks back and lands punch after punch. Whitley still stands there, looking mildly entertained, if anything. This isn’t going to end well. If I don’t break this up soon, Asher is going to end up in jail, and Jackson in hell. Because he’s going to kill him.

Coming to a decision I know I’ll regret even before I act on it, I run out into the hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs. I have no other choice.