A/N: It's been a very long time since I've posted anything on Fanfiction, and I really hadn't planned to. But I've been so stressed because of school, that I needed a release. I came onto here to read, and I found myself thinking about my own stories. I reread Girl, I Need You, and thought myself so cruel as to leave all of you hanging. It almost felt I had left myself hanging. So without further ado, here's one for you guys.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

Warning: This and many other chapters of this story include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.

Note: Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

"How did your father die?" I ask, not raising my voice more than a whisper. I feel my hesitation deep in my throat, almost frightened that I've woken him from his sleep after such a tense afternoon. The question I ask is not so easy to answer, I know, but I'm more curious that afraid of Jacob right after we've been so intimate. My head lies on his bare chest, and I feel the soft ache between my legs, the dull sound of his heart beating underneath the shell of my ear.

"A horse of ours kicked him in the back of the head. Knocked him out cold, and then he didn't move." His voice breaks through anything that has shielded me from feeling, and the way his voice sounds tired makes me feel sorry to have disturbed him. He needs his rest, he's been through enough. I know he was worried before about losing me to the Realtor, but in this moment I'm so confused with my feelings that I need to talk, say something. I need to know what I'm feeling isn't delusional or crazy.

"How old were you?" My hand moves from underneath the left side of my face, away from his chest, then I'm tracing his hand that he has on his stomach. His fingers coil around mine, and with a sigh, he humors me. "Fifteen." I look up at his face, and watch as he closes his eyes, and then opens them to look at mine when he senses my gaze.

"How did you take care of yourself?" There's something dark in his face when I ask this question, and I almost tell him to forget it, it doesn't matter, but then he says,"I did anything I had to do."

"Do you still have that horse here?"

"No." I look away, and lay my head back on his chest, this time taking my hand away from his, before he's able to grab it and make it stay intertwined with his. I figured he wouldn't have let the horse stay on the property but I couldn't help myself. I want to know everything that could have driven Jacob to become this uneasy, controlling person. I want to know what could have happened to him that made it possible for him to take another human being, keep them against their will, and sexually abuse them to the point where I'm not sure whether or not that I'm here willingly.

"Did you sell it?"

"I shot it and buried it along with my father."

"And your mother?"

"Car crash."

I don't speak after he says those words, and feel him breathe heavily thinking back to those events, and assume that I shouldn't push him any further than I already have.

Not before long, he flips me over to lay on my stomach, nudging my thighs apart with his knee, and pushes deep inside making the mere ache that was there before blaze alive with sudden pain before it becomes a neutral affliction.

He's been through so much, I can't even begin to imagine how I would feel if I watched my father die, and had to bury himself myself. He has no one left either.

Funny what it is that we have in common.

"Jacob, do you know where my pink blouse is?" I ask, only wearing my thin white bra, with lace lining around the edges with bows on each strap. It's one of Jacob's favorites, and one of the only bras I own. After the 'move' he discarded anything he didn't prefer me wearing, which was mostly all my boring and run-down items.

Some of which I miss because they were so comfortable, but if I want comfortable now it's either a shirt from Jake or go naked. My options are limited here. But at least he does the laundry. For a guy, he really is home handy so I can't complain on that part. No labor involved, just the fruits of my nature.

"It's hanging in the closest, honey," he yells from the hallway, and I hear a hammer going, pounding on a loose step at the beginning the stairs.

"Thank you!" I finally find it, take it off the hook, and slip into it. Buttoning it along the seam, and shaking my hair out of the towel I've wrapped it in, I walk down the hall and see Jacob on his knees on the third or fourth stepping, screwing nails into the first step.

"When can I come down and eat breakfast?" I ask, sitting down near the railing, and bring my hand to slowly push back some of the hair that's gotten into his eyes. He's really needing a haircut these days, not that he'll go into town again anytime soon. He's stocked up real hefty since the last time we ran out of 'supplies'.

"I'm almost done."

"How old is this house anyway?" All it does it creak, shake and break down leaving Jacob to mindlessly fix and repair each flaw.

"It's been in the family."

"Jacob, what's the day today?" I ask, my eyes trailing along the different colored array of leaves. Muddy red, a dusted orange and tinged yellow. The wind hadn't let up, all night I had heard broken off branches scrap against the edges of the house.

"Wednesday," he says simply, drying the dishes with the same dingy towel that he always does.

"I mean the date." I've been here so long that time melds within itself and I'm lost in between days and weeks. I'm only sure I've been here for a little over a month and a half.

"The ninth of September."

"Where'd you ever go to school?"

"Never did, home schooled," Jacob answers, flipping through the limited channels that we have reception for with the TV remote. He doesn't leave it on a channel for more than five seconds before moving to the next one. He settles on something to do with hunting, a typical male-rifle macho show that I have absolute no interest in watching. But I humor myself in watching the fascinated expressions on Jacob's face when the man starts to describe the point of attack.

His arm tightens around my shoulders when the man finally shoots his prey, the buck falling to its knees before laying down on its side, a thick mass of blood beginning to creep up from under the animals silken flank.

"Who taught you? Your dad?" I ask, watching Jacob's eyes never stray from the TV as he answers, almost not paying attention that I'm sitting right next to him.

"Yeah, who else?" I decide that he isn't worth talking to while he's otherwise preoccupied, instead lay my head down on his lamp, the rough fabric of his jeans under my cheek. His hand comes down my hair, stroking it back from my eyes in a steady rhythm.

I think of the long stretch of road that gets covered in ice and snow right around the beginning of October. Charlie putting the tracks on my tires. The separate building at school. One for English, another for Math. Jess, Angela even Eric and Mike.

I think of everything and anything that I might not ever see again.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know the TV's low hum of voices is gone, and Jacob's telling me to hook my arms around his neck, and I'm resting my head on his shoulder.

He takes the steps of the stairs carefully, tucking me under the sheets of the bed after he takes my shirt over my head and the jeans from my legs, replacing it all with what feels like an over-sized T-shirt of his. His fingers trail along the bite-marks that have already started healing.

I reach up and take his hand and press it against my breast. "Make love to me, Jake. Please." I open my legs and hook them around his waist when he comes near enough. I feel the strength in his body and my insides coil in anticipation.

His eyes look as if they're grinning, and his smirk makes me wet. "And what if I chose not to? Would you beg?"

"Would you want me to?" I ask, my hand trailing down the bulge beginning to form in the front of his jeans. He nods, and I feel myself blush. I've never been much of a dirty talker, but Jacob makes me do things I would never have before, whether I end up liking them or not.

"Please, Jake. Give me your cock," I plead, desperately, my voice taking on a breathless pitch. The words come from my mouth easier than I thought they would.

"You want me to fuck you with this cock?" He thrusts into my small hand and I nod eagerly, like a schoolgirl in a fantasy.

"Yes, please, I'm so wet for you."

"Let me see how wet my girl is." I instantly rush to kick off my panties, his words sending a live-wire through my most sensitive bits. I'm not ashamed to show him the honey he sends running wild through me.

He groans as I spread my lips for him, and touch myself. I throw my head back in wild abandon, and squeal when I feel his hand smack mine away. "This is my pussy." I giggle as he nips at my thighs, and moan when he kisses me right there.

"Jake," I gasp as he suddenly lays back, and causes me to straddle him. I've never been on top and it seems almost daunting to take my pleasure and his this way.

"Ride me, sweetheart." I sink down, and feel him become a part of me.

His body is too warm next to mine when I wake, sometime in the early part of the night. I struggle underneath the weight of his heavy arm, but he doesn't seem to notice my jerky movements.

He stirs slightly as I move him to get my clothes from below his feet on the sheets. I pull up my panties and my shirt, and move to put my hand on his forehead. My fingertips trail down to his neck, and his skin burns. I need to wake him.

"Jacob, wake up!" I push at his hunched shoulders, and see his glazed over eyes work to open through his sleepiness.

"What's wrong, Bella?"

"You're burning up. Do you feel okay?" He looks to the concern on my face and smiles slightly.

"Yeah, I just have a headache." I purse my lips and narrow my eyes. Guys and their need to appear in control and strong.

"Well, then I'll get you some medicine to take. I'll be right back." I rush out of the room and down the staircase and the view of kitchen comes in sight.

I spring open the cabinet, and rummage in the dark through all the rattling bottles until I find one labeled Tylenol. I'm back upstairs in a matter of minutes with a bottle of water.

I find him resting his head down on the pillows, his eyes closed, and altogether miserable looking. "Here take this."

He takes the orange pills from my hands and swallows them back, snapping the plastic seal of the bottle with a quick flick of his wrist, with a gulp of water.

"You didn't feel sick earlier?" I ask again, as I rest the water on the bedside table.

"No, I felt perfectly fine." He wags his eyebrows at me, and I blush a deep crimson. How could I forget just how perfect he had been?

"Then what could it be?" He gives my question some thought and when he meets my eyes once more, I can't exactly read the expression in his if I had to take a guess, I'd say he realized something he hadn't thought of before.

"I'm sorry I woke you, come. Go back to sleep."

"But," my protects are futile.

"Come, I'll hold you." I move to rest my head on his broad chest, and sigh. I'll get to the bottom of it soon enough.

The bed on left side is cold when I get up again. The covers are drawn back and wrinkled with haste. Jacob hasn't been in bed all night.

I look to the bathroom door in our bedroom and listen to see if he's more sick than he believed after all. The light switch is turned off, and below the door, the space between it and the floor is dark. I rub my sleepy eyes, and decide to venture out into the house to find him.

I can only see the outline of the staircase as I descend upon the steps, my eyes struggling to see with any real clarity. I wonder where he's gone off to, and if he couldn't sleep, why didn't he just wake me?

I start to become anxious when I see the living room vacant in the nightshade of dawn. The couch is as rumpled as we had left it earlier, the thin faded quilt still tucked into the side of the cushions.

I'm cold in only my chemise and shorts so I pull it out and am met with little resistance before I drape the soft fabric around my shoulders.

"Jake," I call out softly, hoping to hear any noise to suggest he's here and he's alright, before I move to enter the kitchen.

The chairs are turned inward under the rounded off table where we sit to eat breakfast every morning, and the cabinet that I had only opened up hours before is still ajar.

I turn towards the front door, and my heart begins to pound. I step slowly until I stand, only inches from the peep hole in the center of the wood. It takes me more than a moment to decide whether or not I should look through, but curiosity gets the best of me.

Hesitantly, I bring my left eye close to the eye piece, becoming more scared that something is going to pop up unexpectedly the closer I get. But all I see is the dry patch of land between the house and the stables.

I don't know what to do. There's never been a moment where I haven't gone outside without Jacob. I feel as if I'm breaking a rule that I know I shouldn't when I reach to turn the knob after twisting the clip downward to open.

I feel my breathing become harder as I pull the door open, and I hiss as the cold wind brushes against my bare legs. My throat is tight and my mouth is dry. Should I be doing this?

"Jake?" I call helplessly. I curse when there's no answer, and call his name out again. I shake my head as the wind answers me with a rough gust. I feel myself becoming more and more anxious as the time passes by. I glance to the side of the house and notice his Rabbit is still parked and he's not inside.

I'm sure the temperature in the house has decreased significantly with the door being left as wide as it has in my grip, but I almost don't notice the cold as my feet touch the worn steps of the porch. I need to find him.

I push the door until it hits the frame with a small thud. It's not completely closed, but I don't look back to firmly secure it. Maybe he's in the barn.

Though there's no reasonable explanation as to why he would be in the stables at this time of night, but it's the only other place I haven't looked yet. He has to be there, I don't know what I'd do if he wasn't.

I hurry, the cold and my fear propelling me forward. I'm not walking, but running at the sight of the wooden doors. I lift the makeshift plank of wood that keeps it closed, and push through the quilt long forgotten as the wind blows it off me.

I immediately smell the hay, the scent heavy in my nose and in my lungs when I breathe. The barn is dark, and I can only see the tops of each horse's head as they sleep. I look to the floor, to see if I can find Jacob's long body, but find nothing even remotely close to his size and stature.

I feel the tears come to my eyes. Where is he?

I turn back and place the plank back, locking up the barn for the night, not noticing as the quilt become caught underneath the doors. I search, scanning for anything in the far off distance and almost start full out panicking until I see a small shape come around the bend of the Rabbit.

My heart picks up and I can't breathe. I start to walk fast now, the shape familiar enough for me to recognize as an animal, but not its exact species. I don't want to disturb it, but come close without it being startled. I am almost to the front door, when it turns its head and I can see that its a wolf. It bares it's menacing teeth at me, and the look in its eyes startles me enough for me to stumble and fall to the ground.

"No, please," I cry as it descends further to where I am laid in the ground, my hands pushing the ground underneath me.

My fingernails dig into the dirt, and I feel my chin quiver. "Don't hurt me, please."

Suddenly the wolf backs off and runs, it's long russet hind legs kicking back with speed behind the house. It howls loudly, the sound of pain and ache and anger loud in the fading night.

It takes me more than a few moments to calm my breathing, and my heart rate to go down before I can fully lay back on the ground, the danger seemingly over.

I realize I have relaxed too soon when I hear the weight of boots on the dry dead grass. I look up and see the hard angry lines of Jacob's face as he stalks toward where I lay. I am too overcome with relief that he's safe that I feel his hard sudden smack on my face almost too late.

I reach up with my hand to feel my burning skin, the blood rushing to the surface. "Jake," I cry in both hurt and relief.

He doesn't let up as he hits me again, this time hitting the side of my head as I move into the fetal position, my arms held up in defense. I feel my sobs as they move through my body, forceful and loud.

"Please, please stop!" His legs come on either side of me and his hands grip my forearms roughly, his fingers leaving bruising pains. He delivers another smack and the whole left side of my face feels too big, too swollen for me to even speak another word.

"What did you think you were doing, Bella? Huh?" His hands reach for my face, and his touch hurts as I try to pull away.

"Jake," I barely make out, my lip bleeding, the salted blood pooling on my tongue. The metal taste makes me almost gag.

"You were trying to run, weren't you? The moment I'm out the house, you think you can get away. You can't." His eyes are searching mine, trying to tell me that there's no way to rid myself of him. They look past his abuse and into my soul. Ingraining his ownership.

I keep on with my crying, and don't stop even as I feel him dragging me into the house. I don't kick or scream but accept that this is happening.

He pulls me forcefully to stand and I stumble all the way up the stairs and into our bedroom. The door slams with a swift kick of his boot.

He pushes my frail body to the bed, and adjusts me so I'm on my hands and knees on the bed, my head down. "Hold the headboard." I cry harder now, knowing what's to come next.

I hear his belt moving against the loops of his jeans before he doubles it in his grip. He toys with me as he lets the leather touch the skin of my thighs with light feather touches. "Please Jake, it's not what you think," I beg.

"Shut your mouth, Bella. Right now or I'll give it to you harder." My hands shake on the wooden bars of the headboard, and I almost collapse when I feel him hit the bed with a hard swing of the belt in warning.

I scream when the first lash hits the backs of my thighs, and feel the second soon follows. My tears have mixed with the liquid that runs from my nose and follows into my mouth to mix with the blood from my lip.

I can't keep my body up, and it jumps in anticipation when the belt cuts through the air before hitting my skin. When he's hit me so many times I don't know the number, I'm doubtful that I'm not bleeding. My skin is raw and burning. I can make out nothing but the pain. Blistering hot, and pulsating.

His belt buckle clanks as it hits the floor. His knees dip into the bed, and I shake from having him so close. His hands are cold when they touch my reddened flesh, and I cry out in hopes he's finished. But as his hands reach for my panties, I realize it isn't over.

He tugs them down, leaving them to tangle my knees together, and then his fingers are probing at my entrance. His touch is degrading, and bile rises in my throat as he feels me through my lips. His thumb brushes the button that usually brings me over the edge.

"Jake, please stop." His hands move to take my hands off the headboard, and to lift the shirt off my back. A loud sob stops him in his motions but he continues to reach for my breasts regardless.

"On the headboard." I lift my weak arms up, and grip the wood once more. I think of the wolf, and wish he had finished me off when he could.

His hand smacks me on my behind, and I see dark eyes of the wolf. Jacob pushes down his zipper, and tugs his jeans off, his muscular legs hitting mine. I wince, and hear him stroke his shaft, his breathing hard.

His takes himself in his hand and strokes his head through my lips. I whimper as he pushes his hips into mine, and takes me.

He starts pounding into me from behind and I know I'll have hand prints on my hips tomorrow. I bite my lips as I feel him going harder on me, making me hurt inside from his brutal and numbing thrusts.

He smacks me on the behind again, his hand leaving a stinging sensation. He pulls out and just as I think he's done with punishing me, he pushes back in, balls deep, until my head starts to hit the wall under the hallowed post of bed frame.

"Jake," I've never felt so impaled, full and breathless. I'm shaking, and my body feels like it's burning from the inside out. It feels like I've cried all night, but he's still stabbing, hard and fast, leaving his mark so deep, I know I'll belong to him forever.

"Say it, Bella."

"I love you." His hand comes down, and smacks me on my rear.

"What else?"

"I'm sorry." His nails start cutting into my thigh, with the force he's squeezing my right leg with.

"Come on, Bella. You know that's not the only thing I want to hear." He smacks me this time on my thigh, and I can feel the blood push down and then rise back under my skin, from his blow. The belt marks glow with hurt as he thrusts and brushes against them with his weight.

"I'm yours," my voice breaks. I remember the tortured howl of the wolf as Jacob bites my neck, and finds his release inside me. I'm lost in the sound.

A/N: I can't promise when I'll post again. I'll write bits here and there, but will only post when I have enough for another chapter. I hope this gave you something to think about, the plot is building tremendously in my head. Please leave a review if you appreciated my efforts.