Jazz takes a moment to digest everything. “And how many of ‘those chicks’ are we talking about here?”
I look her straight in the eye, so she sees the truth in my words. "Eight."
“Eight.” Her brows rise. “How is that possible? Are you not counting all the random blowies in the janitor’s closet?”
I flop to the side. "First of all, I've never had a random blow job in the janitor's closet—that's Bentley's thing. But if that's a dirty fantasy of yours, just tell me when and where, and I'd be happy to make it my thing.” I smile when Jazz smacks me playfully on the chest. “Contrary to popular belief, I’ve been very selective with my dick, and I wasn’t opposed to repeats with the same girl. Plus, I was with Peyton for almost two years, and I didn’t assume we had an open relationship like she did.”
“God, I still can’t believe she did that to you.” She tilts her head to the side. “On second thought
, yeah, I can. I don’t know if Peyton’s capable of loyalty in any respect.”
“I’d agree with you on that.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Since we’re apparently doing the number thing, I think it’s only fair you tell me yours.”
“Besides you, one.”
“Taco Truck Shawn?” I can’t help it; I think about the pictures on Insta and frown. “He’s seriously the only dude you’ve fucked?”
“First of all, it’s just Shawn, no taco trucks involved. And yes, he’s the only other person I’ve had sex with, or even fooled around with, for that matter.” Jazz bites her lip. “Well, I guess after last night, there’s two if Bentley counts.”
I groan. “I think we need to set a rule that Bentley does not count. In fact, let’s forget Bentley ever happened.”
Jazz’s eyes are filled with unease. “Kingston, why did—”
I lightly pinch her lips together. “I don’t regret it, Jazz. It needed to happen for multiple reasons, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't hot. But you have to know it was a one-time thing. It took a shit ton of self-control to prevent myself from knocking Bentley's teeth out while he was touching you. Every instinct inside of me was screaming to make it stop. I don't think I could control myself if it happened again."
“I don’t want it to happen again,” she assures me.
“No?”
“No. But I’m glad it did happen. What you did for me last night, what you both did for me, I could never forget. You saved me. I've had a few moments of heightened anxiety since the attack, but nothing close to what happened last night. Losing control of my own body, being consumed by panic like that, was terrifying. I was trapped in this really dark place, and I had no idea how to make it stop, which only exacerbated the situation."
“You don’t have to be strong twenty-four-seven, Jazz.”
She shakes her head. “That’s just it. I do. Or I thought so, anyway. The way I grew up, you had to be vigilant at all times. If you lacked awareness or showed any weakness, you were painting a target on your back. For the most part, I kept to myself, but if it ever came down to fight or flight, I'd almost always choose fight because there was always someone looking to prey on the vulnerable. That's why jumping into a gang is so alluring for some people. You have instant protection. Instant family. They're not always just a bunch of criminals. Sometimes, it's good people trying to make the best out of shitty circumstances.
“But last night taught me that it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes. That I don’t have to shoulder everything by myself. That I can fully trust someone else to take control of a situation. And it also taught me that it's okay to be self-indulgent every once in a while. I can't remember the last time I did something for myself for the pure joy of it, Kingston. I loved every moment of what happened between the three of us, but I'll never want to do that again." Jazz scoots a little closer and traces my eyebrow with her finger. "I know how hard that was for you, and I am so grateful for it. The fact that you could be so selfless only reaffirms my decision."
I run my fingers down Jazz’s spine. “What decision is that?”
“I want a relationship with you and only you. I don't want to fight it anymore, either."
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jazz reaches out and fists my dick, forcing a groan past my lips as her thumb brushes the ridge right beneath the head. “And I think we should celebrate.”
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “Again?”
She nods. “Again.”
“But we have to hit the road soon to pick up your sister.”
Jazz climbs back on top of me. “We’ll make it fast. We can do slow later.”
“Well, in that case, get up here and sit on my face.” I tap my lips.
She laughs and gives me a cheeky wink. “Well, if you insist.”
I’m smiling so hard, my cheeks hurt. “Oh, baby, I abso-fucking-lutely insist.”