AN: Another 5000 words. I really wonder how I thought that I could fit everything from chapter 12 and 13 into one. All I know is that I struggled to put together 2500 words for Bella's chapters and I can't seem to keep it under 4000 for Jasper's. Thanks to everyone that reviewed last chapter. Your comments made my day, so as promised, I worked hard to get this out to you today.

Anyway, this is Jasper's POV of chapter 14 in "Finding Relief". We're getting there!

I want to thank QueenBeta Cullen818 for all the quick work she does in getting my chapters out to you. WonderWoman has nothing on her. She writes awesome stories, beta's about a dozen other's, and has time to create another amazing blog.

Go check out her latest blog: Jaspersnaughtygirls (dot) blogspot (dot) com. This blog features the dark, dominant, tortured men of Twilight. Whew! "Hell yeah!" Is all I have to say about that!

I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.

"How much has to be explored and discarded before reaching the naked flesh of feeling." - Claude Debussy

Chapter 13 – An Epic Tailspin

I pace the expanse of the small hallway in the apartment. The time is here and now…the meeting that I have dreaded all week. I have ended all my previous arrangements with all of my other clients, well ex-clients. I managed to survive Victoria and Leah. Now, there is only one; Bella.

Bella. How the hell am I supposed to do this?

When Bella called to inform me that she was on her way, I longed to be a coward and take the easy way out by telling her over the phone, or at least tell her to join me at "the post" instead of meeting at the very place we have spent, entirely too few, intimate moments together.

I don't want to do it here, surrounded by memories, of her…of the others, but when it came down to it, the only thing I could utter on the phone was a weak "okay". Fuck, I feel nauseous.

I can do this. I can do this. Shit, who am I kidding? I can't fucking do this.

Jesus, I can't wait to never set foot in this place again. I have tried to psych myself up for this all day. Who the hell am I kidding? I have been trying to psych myself up for this since I made my decision to stop hooking.

How is she going to take it? I have no idea. I don't even know what the hell I am going to say to her yet. How am I going to explain that I can't be with her anymore without her witnessing my own pain?

Earlier, I walked around the house absentmindedly, as I practiced several versions of what I can say, and how I can say it. I laid in bed practicing my speech, I stood in front of the open fridge explaining my circumstances, I shaved while I worked at keeping my eyes and expressions neutral, but the words sounded foreign, my attempts at keeping my expression passive seemed forced, my circumstances sounded defensive and more like I was just making excuses, rather than giving solid reasons.

And when I stared at my reflection in the window overlooking the backyard, actually envisioning her standing in front of me as I made my speech my voice cracked and I stuttered over every other word.

How am I supposed to explain to her that being with her is hurting me, when it is all I want to do? How am I supposed to justify to her that I want this to end, when I can't stand the thought of never touching her again?

The aching in my chest that I have experienced since this morning is still present. I rub it absently, as I rehearse, again, what I will say to her when she arrives.

I already feel bereft, like she is already gone.

More than once I've wondered if I can convince her to keep seeing me…without paying, but I can't put myself out there like that right now. Even, if I could get passed the reasons that I thought of yesterday. If I could live a life with a person that not only knew of my past, but was closely involved, I still don't think I could find the guts to ask her, because I know I won't be able to stand the foreseeable rejection. I have no grounds to feel confident that I am worthy of her, when I have done nothing creditable to prove to either of us that I am.

She has never given me any indication that she would be willing to pursue something with me outside of our current business relationship. Sure, there were times when we are together, I often feel emotions coming off of Bella, but I don't understand them. She always looks like she is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, so I can't tell if the emotions she is expressing are inspired from me or something else going on in her life.

Sometimes I can see what it would look like if we were a couple. Most of her sessions, she arrives, telling me about her day. Sometimes, we share food or a drink before we get down to business, while we discuss a topic that one of us had seen in the news or in the paper.

She also takes over my room now. She sets the lighting, fluffs the pillows and retrieves the condoms from my drawer before she comes to me with a smile on her beautiful face.

Impossible dreams. Now this is the shit I have got to stop thinking about. Besides, how can I take care of Bella, if I haven't figured out how to take care of myself?

Should I tell her I owe this to her? That she was my lifting off point? She inspired this whole process. Would she appreciate knowing that? My thoughts are interrupted by the buzzer. I take a deep breath and buzz her in.

I can do this. I WILL do this.

I close my eyes as I gather strength. I can do this. I can do this. These four words are repeated like a mantra.

I stand in the small foyer waiting for the door to open, because Bella never waits for me to open it anymore. She stands at the entrance with her shoulders slumped and circles under her eyes. The weight of the world, and all that. She looks completely drained.

"You look like hell." I tell her. My blunt honesty causes this gorgeous girl to raise her tired eyes to mine and her lips to lift slightly at the corners.

I can't do this. Not now. The look in her eyes tells me she really needs this tonight. If I am going to quit her cold turkey, can't I at least have this one more time? Can't this be part of my goodbye? It would be perfectly acceptable to wait until after we've completed our business with each other to tell her the news.

This is a transaction. A transaction that has a beginning and a decided end, and when we get to that conclusion, then I can tell her of my decision. Convincing myself, rather easily that this will not be a mistake, I walk over to her. My mood improving radically, with each step I take toward her.

"Thanks, asshole." She turns her head to catch my smile. She chuckles and shakes her head minutely. I approach her from behind and wrap my arms around her, lacing my fingers across her abdomen.

My fingers press into the area of her soft, silky flesh, found between the hem of her shirt and top of her jeans. My nose glides along her shoulder, taking in the scent of skin and hair. I am committing all of this to memory. Not ever wanting to forget this exact moment.

This is what I want someday, but not for pretend, I want the real thing. My thoughts turn gloomy once again.

Goddammit, I don't want this to be a fucking sad experience. I need my final time with Bella to be beautiful and memorable. I need it to be like it has been every other time we've been together; a foray of what I can expect in the future.

I also need to thank her for what she has done for me…what she has inadvertently shown me.

I want to pour all my gratitude and love…

What? This is NOT love. It cannot be love.

This is not the time to be having another fucking revelation.

Fuckin' A. Please, please, I beg my heart; don't do this to me right now. I notice that Bella, completely unaware of the mayhem going on in my head, has casually dropped the money on the counter, and just like fucking that, I remember exactly how much this means to her.

I don't give her a second glance as I head back down the hall to my room. I feel Bella pass by me to make a trip to the restroom.

I set the lighting, remove my white cotton tee, and pace as I wait impatiently for her to return. I just want her in here so I can feel her supple body underneath my palms, taste her succulent skin against my tongue, and press her sweet body into the mattress as I fill her with my cock. Sweat breaks out along my forehead.

I don't want to appear nervous, so I stretch out on the bed, my back against the headboard, trying to act casual and nonchalant. However, my mind repeatedly returns to the impending conversation that we are going to have after this. I can't manage to stop or decelerate the pain that is rapidly gaining momentum in my chest, or ignore the sinking feeling that this is a mistake. God, I don't need any more disappointment in my life.

No. I know that this is not a fucking mistake! It just isn't.

Whatever you want to tell yourself, man.

Bella walks in and looks at me strangely. Can she sense what is happening? She smiles; a wickedly delicious smile, and turns to my dresser to get the condom. She must be ready to go. Usually, she waits until I am ready to penetrate, both of us sweaty and panting, before she goes for the condom, but today she thinks ahead, and grabs the foil packet from the top drawer.

She pivots back around, and the only word that comes to mind is that she "struts" over to the side of the bed, swaying her hips from side to side dramatically.

She is trying to cheer me up. Knowing this, makes my throat close up. I practically wheeze as air forces its way in and out of my constricted esophagus.

She is always fucking thinking about me.

Trying to make me happy, trying to find out more about me, and trying to turn me on. I try to smile at her efforts, to let her know that I appreciate it, but I barely succeed, my lips merely forming a tight little smile.

Her brow furrows slightly. She throws the rubber on the bed, and reaches up to push a stray lock of my hair to the side. Her gestures toward me are so intimate, and I struggle not to lean into her touch. These mixed signals have kept me up many of nights, pondering how much value I could actually put into them. The way she touches me is more like how a woman touches her lover, her boyfriend or her husband, certainly not her paid company.

I never let myself pretend for more than a few moments what it would be like to be in one of those other roles, but today I want to. This one time I want to imagine that I am her lover…someone she cherishes and treasures. Will she be able to tell if I put more of my heart into this? If so, I wonder how she will respond.

"Now Jazzy baby, are you ready to play?" The seductive tone of her voice, and that look in her eyes are ridding me quickly of my sour mood. I swear if I didn't know better I would think those chocolate orbs are trying to tell me something. Her eyes are so soulful, always conveying thousands of hidden messages and forbidden secrets. It looks like she is trying to tell me one of those secrets now. I give myself a mental shake, my emo tendencies are in overdrive tonight, so I am probably deluding myself in the worst way.

"Yes, ma'am." My voice sounds foreign to me as my accent from childhood makes an appearance without intention.

She removes her shirt slowly, taking the hem and gradually lifting it over her taut stomach, reaching over her pert breasts, clad in a, sexy as fuck, bra. My eyes stop there as the shirt travels over her head. Instead of dropping the garment on the floor she grabs it with both hands, climbs on top of me, and still grabbing both ends of her shirt brings it around my neck so that she can use it to pull me to her.

She sits directly on my very evident arousal. Bella can get me soft to hard in about two seconds flat. Although, I have never really been able to test that theory for sure since I don't think I have ever been completely flaccid in her presence.

Smiling knowingly, she says sexily, "Oh, you are ready to play." She is so fucking awesome. She is patiently trying to pull me out of this funk, and she doesn't even know why.

She doesn't know it is because I am trying to resign myself that this will be our last night together, while also trying to convince myself that this is the best thing…for the both of us. I just hope she sees it that way too…or maybe I don't.

It doesn't take much of a deduction to figure out that if Bella put up even a minimal bit of conflict…if she fights for me in the least, she will own me.

I gently squeeze her hips to show her that I am grateful for her efforts. I have to purge myself of this moodiness or she is going to think that I don't want her.

Using the shirt bracketed around my neck she pulls me closer and places her lips on mine. It is only for a split second, but a lightning bolt runs through my body.

While deciding how much of myself I could put into this last time I never once thought about kissing her, that is something I know I can't dare, but having her lips on mine, even for that instant almost makes me come unleashed. There is no way she could have realized what a chaste peck on the lips did to my state of mind. I don't want to think about what I would do if I allowed myself access to those lips. Innocently, Bella has ignited a fire in my veins.

She already has such power of me. A power I am not so sure that I am ready for her to relinquish.

What I longed for seemed to her like a mistake…a mistake she is trying to cover up for now. Her lips skim over my face, placing butterfly kisses across my cheeks, nose and forehead; steering clear of my mouth. My lips had just been in the way…right?

We watch each other closely as she gyrates her hips over my erection. Her panties have the tell-tale wet spot, showing that she is more than ready for me, but I want to take this last time slow. She has different plans as she moans, pressing harder as she rocks against my cock.

Fuck that feels so good.

Her lips are parted and her breathing choppy, I can't contain my own moan, as I bring my hand up to cover her heated cheek. I gently brush my thumb over her flushed cheekbone.

So fucking gorgeous. If I ever had the opportunity, I would never get sick of looking at Bella. She is a thing of beauty.

Her undulations are becoming more insistent. I don't want to go up in smoke before the fire starts, so to slow things down we switch our positions. I head right for the spot on her neck that she loves; about an inch below her ear, and I bite down gently, a little growl escaping my lips as I do so. My tongue and lips make a journey down her neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva in the wake, as I suck at her skin, with open mouthed and passionate kisses.

Trying yet again to control my rampant desire, that I only seem to suffer when I am with her, I leave her bra on while I soak it with my tongue, laving at her tits through the thin material. Repeatedly and torturously, I suck and nip at her pebbled nipples, until I feel like she is ready to explode. She writhes and groans my name underneath me as I assault her again and again. Her body moving against mine aggressively, and her guttural moans are causing my aching dick to demand immediate attention. I move to her back to strip off her bra. I slide down our already moist bodies, lifting myself up, so that I can divest her of her panties, as well as, remove my remaining clothes.

She is splayed out gloriously naked over my bed as I stare at her. She is looking up at me through half lidded eyes, her soft pouty lips open to allow for the ragged breaths she takes, the tresses along her forehead and neck are wet with perspiration. She looks so wanton, so fucking heavenly.

I love you.

Oh, God. My breath hitches as the words I spoke, only in my heart, register with the rest of my body.

I don't know where that came from, but tonight I am done fighting this. I am done. Just tonight…just this night…I am not going to deny it. Whether my heart just spoke the truth or not, I am going to allow it right here, and right now. I can analyze it later, and then and there, I could find the excuses and reasons why it isn't, and can't possibly be, love.

Reasons that I will so desperately be searching for in my sleeplessness and despair for many nights to come. I would be a fool not to realize that insomnia and desolation are waiting for me in my lonely bed, but it doesn't stop the return of those three potent words.

I love you.

I let the feeling run through my body. For now, it feels empowering. I didn't need to say the words aloud to recognize another significant step that this woman has helped me overcome.

Hell has frozen over, pigs have flown, and black just became white, because I can and will love again.

I am capable of the emotion, I want to feel it, I need to have it.

I search frantically for the condom lying on the bed and apply it. I briefly wonder why she didn't do it for me, as she normally does. My eyes flicker to hers and I see that her eyes are squeezed shut.

What the fuck. I just had this life altering epiphany…that I love…and she can't even look at me. I am pissed, and I know it is irrational, but when pleasure is heightened, whenever I am deep inside her, fulfilling her desires she can never look at me. Her eyes are always shut. I am professing my love for her, while she is trying to forget who she's with.

She is thinking about him. She wants to envision that it is him bringing her to the point of ecstasy. Edward. I am repulsed by the part of me that is consumed with jealousy over a man that had lost his life, so young, leaving behind this beautiful and wonderful girl, but my resistance is weak in comparison to this ugly green-eyed monster.

I push two fingers into her wet cunt. She is scalding, making my fingers swell and pulse inside of her. She whimpers and arches her back, pressing her pussy against my fingers. "Look at me." I whisper fervently.

I pray that she will open her eyes, and look at me so that maybe it will extinguish this bitterness at being second place for her, as she has always been and will remain my first choice.

Give. Me. A. Reason. I beg her silently.

Give me a fucking reason not to say goodbye.

But, as expected, she doesn't.

So, it is just as well…right?

"Bellaaa." Clearly frustrated, I attempt again to get her to see me. I remove my fingers and position myself above her. I enter her swiftly, taking her roughly. I ride her hard. Each time, I withdraw almost completely before slamming back into her, and grinding our hips together. I watch the rapture cross over the features on her face in waves, after each forceful thrust. Her chocolate orbs nowhere to be found. Her eyes remained tightly shut, wanting to hide the fact that she was with me and not her dream guy.

A guy that is just as unattainable to her, as she is to me.

I can feel her tightening around me, signaling her forthcoming climax. I retreat and press back into her at an even slower pace now, dragging this experience out as far as my tormented balls will consent to holding off. I need her to look at me before she has this orgasm, and that need, at this moment, is stronger than my need to empty myself inside of her.

"Look at me, Bella." My words have an opposite effect. Not only is she clenching around me like a vice on my dick, but it makes her eyes pinch shut more than they have been, scrunching up and creating lines in her perfect forehead.

I can't identify every emotion that comes crashing down on me at that moment. The most obvious and discernable are jealousy, despair, desire, doom, pain, love…

The maelstrom of these emotions speaks for me. Clearly hissing words I would have never been able to say with even a modicum of control. "Why can't you look at me? Is it because you are thinking of Edward right now?"

I know what I said was wrong, and I search under the mountainous emotions I am experiencing for remorse, or regret, but I can find none.

I feel the crack of her small hand against my cheek as she lays her open palm against my face in a sharp sting, the new emotions surfacing from the ever-growing mound is a deep-seeded agony. This new feeling fuels a rage so intense, I think I am about to burst.

She prepares herself to slap me again, but as she brings her arm back to achieve maximum velocity, I pin it to the bed. She attempts to swing her other arm, but I snatch that one from mid air, and pin it to the other side of her head.

Helpless, she lies underneath me, panting as our chests rise and fall with the demands from our lungs. The air is thick between us as I try to grapple for some control over this situation. I am brought out of my search when I feel her pussy contract, reminding me that I am still balls deep inside of her. Fuck, how could I have forgotten that minor detail? My cock still throbbed insistently, begging for some relief.

My fury of emotions, mixed with the sudden reminder of a much needed release swirls and twists my mind, and the next thing I know my body takes matters in its own hands and my lips crash down on hers with a voraciousness I have never experienced before.

I am a starving man. I feed off of the interior of her mouth. Her lips had parted in shock at my invasion, but she doesn't remain dormant for long, participating with a hunger of her own.

She wants this too. As our lips devour and our tongues explore greedily I let go of her wrists. Both of our hands entangle in each other's hair, fisting it. Neither one of us seemingly minding the delicious pain we are inflicting upon each other.

I resume my thrusts into her, but I am quick and lithe, both of us requiring a respite from the prolonged suffering of not obtaining an orgasm.

My lungs feel like they are going to burst, but I can't pull away from her delectable mouth. I start to feel dizzy, so I settle for placing hot wet kisses all over her luscious lips. She responds in kind, licking and flicking her tongue against mine. When I receive a sufficient amount of air to sustain me for some time, I delve back into the sweet recesses of her mouth for more. I proceed to rape her mouth, taking what I can never have again.

I try to commit this to yet another memory, knowing full well that I will never be able to retain the abilities to replicate this in a fantasy, or real life, ever again. This is it.

This is it.

I surrender her lips reluctantly, as I feel her explode around me. I bury my face in her neck as I feel the remnants of her orgasm, wanting to feel every last compress before she drains me. I lay in the crook of her neck gasping for air, as my cum shoots stream after stream into the condom.

Everything that just happened surrounds me, finally sinking in to ever pore. What I had said and done claws at my insides. The remorse and regret I searched for only moments ago comes forth in a torrent, drowning me in guilt and shame.

I can't believe I brought up her dead, and fucking beloved, husband while she was at the cusp of an orgasm with me inside of her. Yeah, Jasper Hale. Total fucking monster extraordinaire.

How she had managed to follow through with it after that, I will never fucking know. All I know is I have to get the fuck out of here and get some fresh air, I feel like I am suffocating on my thoughts.

I manage a quick, "I'm sorry", and then I scurry out of the room without making any eye contact.

I walk out onto the little patio. I brace my hands on the railing and lean onto it for support. Every part of my body is trembling now.

Well, this should be easier than I had previously thought. I just figured out that I am not going to have to do shit. She is going to be the one to break it off with me after that little display I put on in there. Bella will end it for me. Now, I just have to gather my strength not to beg her to change her mind and keep seeing, what she must now see as some deranged lunatic.

The emotions of this whole evening, fuck, the whole week had come barreling down on me like a freight train. I can't remember the last time, if I have ever had been controlled by such emotions. Rage and hate, lust and love, mixed into a lethal cocktail.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I can't help but jump because, to my utter amazement, I feel Bella's arms wrap around me as her fit little body molds up along my backside.

Christ! You have got to be fucking kidding me.

"Jazz, I'm not mad. I was at the time, but it's over and it's forgotten." She tries to turn me so that I am facing her. "Please, look at me." She beseeches.

Now I know someone is kidding me. She wants me to look at her. If she would have just looked at me…peeked at me, this evening wouldn't have ended so disastrously.

I have to just get this over with.

Even though I haven't shed a tear since the days following Claire's death, I feel like weeping. Feeling way to rundown to explain the actual reasons for ending this fucked-up, one-sided love affair, I just decide to keep it simple and direct. "Bella, I think you should stop coming to see me."

I look down at her face, but I don't look at her. I purposely don't focus on her face as I wait for her acquiesce. When she doesn't respond immediately, I focus.

I see the confusion in her eyes as she tries to decipher why. She confirms this when she asks me that one word question. "Why? Is it because of the kiss? It won't happen again, I promise." She states adamantly.

"It's not like you had much of a choice." I mutter, disgustedly.

She still wants to see me. I can't fucking do this…I can't tell her. I put my hands through my hair in frustration. I can't tell her now, after I just totally fucked up what could have been a very cordial and amicable separation. It isn't supposed to end like this.

Maybe, if I have one more time, I can make this night up to her. In my mind, I try hard to justify it, and just as I am about to relent, she speaks. "It's not that time yet. I'll let you know when I am ready to be done." She presses her lips lightly to my cheek, turns on her heel, and leaves without another word spoken.

Can I do that? Can I wait for her to tell me? Even if it fucking kills me can I try? Can I keep taking her money? No.

I will give her next week…I will have next week. I will make her forget this night, and then that will be it. There will be no excuses next time.

For some reason I cannot compel myself to promise that I will break it off next week, the only thing I can manage to promise is that next week Bella will no longer be paying for my services. Although, I have no idea what the difference between the two is.

I pull into the driveway, looking forward to one thing…bed. I just want to disappear in a mass of pillows and blankets, while I try to uncover just what the hell happened to me today, and to find the resolve to make this right for Bella's next appointment.

And if I let myself…dwell on those kisses for just a little while.

My plans are thwarted when I walk into the house and see James pacing the living room.

What now?

I must have been asking that question with the expression on my face because James thrust a piece of paper at me.

"What's this?" He sneers.

Fuck.

In my hand I hold my class schedule.

AN: So…wow, that was intense, even for me. I thought this chapter turned out much better from Jaspers POV. Who would have thought he was thinking about all of that in "Finding Relief"? As usual, I can't wait to hear what you have to say.