Their Virgin Brat

by SC Daiko

  “Hmm,” Dad says. “She’s your stepsister, not staff. I don’t want you taking advantage of her.”

  We both hold up our hands, “No way,” and carry on walking. Dad will find out soon enough what’s been going down with Sam. After his call last night, the three of us talked and decided to come clean. Sam said she wouldn’t be able to keep our relationship secret from her mother. As for Dad, I know he’ll go ballistic. But now is not the time for angry words. Now we need to focus on the task at hand, which is to go clear in the first round of the competition. There are sixty-two thousand Euros up for grabs, and we wanna get our hands on some of that prize money to keep Roberts & Sons in profit.

  “This isn’t the most technical course of the Championship we’ve jumped so far,” I mutter. “What’s the damn catch?”

  Dad rattles the top pole of the fence next to him. “This will roll at the lightest of touches,” he says. “I expect the others are just as flimsy.”

  Aiden rubs his stubble-covered chin. “The jumps are full height, well over five feet; Firefly and Sundancer will need massive amounts of scope if they’re to clear them. And we’ll need to counterbalance long gallops with tight turns.”

  “Watch out for the three-stride distance in the final line of water trays,” Dad advises as we leave the arena. “You’ll need to leg it or you’ll end up getting your toes wet.”

  He claps us on the shoulder, wishing us good luck before he goes to join Rhiannon in the grandstand.

  Aiden and I glance at each other; there’s no need for words. This will be a fucking difficult course.

  SAM is waiting for us in the warming up area; we’re timed to compete one after the other in about half an hour. She beams a smile at us, holding both horses by their halter ropes. “I’ll go and watch the start,” she says, wincing slightly from the pounding we gave her pussy last night. “Then I can tell you how the course is being ridden.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” Aiden springs onto Firefly. He urges her into a trot and starts his warming-up routine, transitioning from trot to canter and back to trot again.

  I pause for a moment and watch Sam walk gingerly across the turf towards the ringside, smirking as I remember her clenching tight around my cock while I spilled my jizz into her. Being up close and personal inside her with Aiden made me cringe a little, but it was fucking worth it. It wasn’t his dick that turned me on; it was her beautiful cunt and how tight it felt in there.

  I vault onto Ginge and he lets out a snort. Then he starts behaving like an asshole, spooking like he’s imagining every passing person is a monster out to get him; I’m in for a challenging ride. He carries on acting the clown while I put him through his paces, bucking with each transition. Fuck!

  Sam returns just before I’m due to go into the collecting ring. “The double of verticals has caught out Carl Weber and Britney Hill.” She strokes Ginge’s neck and gives him a peppermint. “The poles seem to be held really lightly.”

  “Yeah, we noticed,” I groan.

  “Take care,” she smiles, waving me off. “I’ll be here when you come out.”

  I wait to be called, watching Emma Rivers have a disastrous round. She’s on the same team as us, The London Victors; she has a pole down at the first element of the double, then crashes through the second. The crowd gives a groan of sympathy. She smiles as she passes me at the gate, tilting her head. “Good luck!”

  The gates swing open and we trot into the ring. Ginge eyes the potted palms winging the first fence and prances sideways, snorting and swishing his tail. “Settle down, boy,” I mutter, sitting deep.

  It’s a fucking miracle, but he does as I ask, pricking his ears forwards at the starting signal and settling into his stride. A cheer rises from excited fans in the grandstand as he clears the first fence, and the next, and the next. We’re in with a chance, I think, as we even manage the double that’s been causing problems. The water trays are in front of us; I urge Ginge on, but a groan rises from the crowd as we land after jumping the last element. The monitor holds up a red flag. Shit, a toe in the water. We’ve fucked up. Fucking fuck!

  Aiden is waiting at the gates, and I salute him as we pass. “Make sure you get the stride right at the final line,” I grunt. “Good luck.”

  Sam takes Ginge from me, her eyes filled with sympathy. “Only four faults,” she says encouragingly. “If no one goes clear you could still be in the jump-off.”

  Except, it’s not to be. In the end, there are three fault-free rounds, including one from Aiden. He’ll be up against Clark Smithton of the USA and André Lublin of Canada tomorrow. At least he’ll be guaranteed a place on the podium and Roberts & Sons will be in the money. Especially if we do good in the Grand Prix afterwards.

  In the meantime, there’s tonight to get through, I think as I march back to the lorry. Coming clean with our parents won’t be easy. Needs to be done, though. For Sam’s sake as well as ours.

  Samantha

  With the horses settled for the night, I’m getting ready to have dinner with Mam, Michael, Aiden and Liam in the VIP tent. I shower and then put on my floaty white halter-neck dress.

  Wolf-whistles greet me from the guys as I step into the sitting area, making my sore pussy throb. Smiling to myself, I think about our lovemaking last night, how proud I’d been to have taken the two of them together. Then that sudden phone-call from Michael, bursting the bubble we’d been living in. Reality bit, and it bit hard.

  Mam stopped by this morning and we hugged each other, but there wasn’t time for a chat. I had horses to groom and exercise, and she was about to go up the Eiffel Tower with Michael. My mouth is dry now as I think about coming clean with her at dinner.

  However, when we get to the VIP tent, we find Emma Rivers and her parents have joined her and Michael at our table. I’m stoked to meet the famous actor, he’s been in some awesome films and he’s freaking good-looking. Emma’s mother is also a film star, and I wonder why they’ve joined us to eat. I mean, we’re not Hollywood royalty or anything like that. I stop wondering when I notice Emma eyeing Aiden and Liam. I grit my teeth. They’re mine, I wanna tell her…

  Mam catches my eye, and smiles. “Be nice,” she mouths the words. How well she knows me! I wipe the bratty pout from my lips and meet her eyes. She looks awesome, her blonde hair in a swanky bun with tendrils framing her lightly tanned face. Michael is holding her hand in his, resting it on the tablecloth. Sudden envy floods through me at the ease with which they can show the world their love.

  Waiters hover to take our order of duck confit, which Michael says is one of the best dishes you can eat in France. Conversation revolves around Aiden’s clear round this afternoon, and his chances of a win for the team tomorrow. Emma will be riding in the Grand Prix afterwards, competing individually against both my boys on Duchess. “I’ll have to tie a red ribbon to her tail,” she laughs. “She’s temperamental, and likely to kick any horse that comes close while we’re in the warming-up area.”

  “All the money in the world couldn’t buy your talent,” Mam says, smiling at Emma. “You’ve certainly made the best of yourself.”

  “I’ll second that,” Michael says. “You can’t get to this level without a massive amount of work, dedication and ability.”

  “We’ve provided her with the best horses and training,” Brad Rivers says, “but they were no guarantee. Emma achieved success entirely on her own.”

  She smiles at me and tosses her shiny brown hair. “How about you, Sam? Do you have a horse?”

  Our food arrives and I tell her about Jason while we eat. Talking about him makes me miss him even more than I have been. “He has amazing potential,” I say. “I just hope I’ve got what it takes to bring him on.”

  Aiden reaches across the table and touches my hand. “You should have every confidence, Samantha. You’re a highly talented rider, and you’ve got the drive it takes to succeed.”

  I lift my gaze and catch Mam staring at me. What’s she thinking? Her expression is weirdl
y unreadable.

  We finish the main course, which is just as good as Michael said it would be, and move on to tarte tatin, a delicious caramelized upside-down apple pie. Totally yummy.

  “Well, I guess we’d better get Emma back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep,” Brad Rivers announces when we’ve finished eating. He gives his daughter a proud look. “Tomorrow is another day, as they say.”

  Michael signals our waiter for the check. “Looks like rain is forecast, unfortunately.” He glances at Aiden. “A tough course will be even tougher, son.”

  I think about suggesting we go for a drink somewhere so we can talk. But it’s late, and my boys have a tough day ahead of them. We say goodnight and make our way to the trailer.

  “Well, that didn’t go according to plan,” Aiden says, glancing around and then taking my hand.

  Liam holds my other hand. “We’ll spill the beans tomorrow,” he says, “before we head back to England.”

  We unfold the sofa bed, strip off our clothes and snuggle up together, me lying between them. They kiss me and hold me, but they don’t fuck me. “We wanna give you time to recover, babe,” Liam says.

  Despite the ache in my pussy from being stretched by the two of them last night, I’m wet for them again. It’s my default mode when they touch me, and I can’t help feeling a tad disappointed. It will be the first time we’ve slept together without fucking. A warm feeling of love for them spreads through me. They’re such gentlemen. Gentle being the right word. And they’ve gentled me so much, I hardly know myself. Maybe that was why Mam was looking at me so strangely earlier on?

  IT’S the following afternoon, and I’m standing at the ring side next to Liam. Rain sheets down, plastering my hair to my face and wetting my riding waterproofs. Aiden has just gone in for his round. The ground is all churned up and slippery. Clark Smithton’s grey gelding, Angel, skidded on take-off at the wall and sent all the bricks flying. André Lublin rapped the upright and had a pole down, but his time was slower than Smithton’s. If Aiden goes clear, he’ll win the event. If he lowers a fence, time will be the deciding factor. My insides flutter with nerves and I get as close as I can to Liam; his powerful presence soothes me.

  Aiden salutes the judges and Firefly springs into action. There are only seven jumps. She manages the first and second, and even the wall. Then she raps the upright, which wobbles but doesn’t fall. Now Aiden is coming down to the midway vertical, which is close to where we are standing behind the barrier. There’s a clap of thunder, and lightning streaks the sky. It’s like the heavens have opened as the downpour increases in intensity. Ears flattened against the rain, tail swishing in irritation, Firefly looks for a second like she’s going to stop. “Go on, baby, go on,” I hear Aiden urging.

  She rocks back onto her hind legs and lifts off.

  Shit, she’s too close.

  Fuck, she hits the poles with her chest and, in slow motion, somersaults right over them.

  Oh, my God, she’s crashed down on her side. Aiden’s leg is squashed between her and the ground. I swear I can hear a bone crack. I let out a gasp.

  Firefly scrambles to her feet and shakes herself free of the debris of coloured poles. She gently nudges Aiden with her black muzzle, alternately looking down at him, and then glancing over her shoulder as if to say, Where the hell is everyone? We need help.

  Liam doesn’t need any encouragement and neither do I. We leap over the barrier and run, every muscle in our bodies taut with the need to get to him. He’s lying there, pale and unconscious. My heart thuds. Shit!

  “Come on, bro’, up you get,’ Liam says. “There’s a horse show going on here.”

  Silence.

  My blood turns to ice.

  One of the show monitors clips a rope onto Firefly’s bridle and leads her away.

  A team of two paramedics, a middle-aged man and a younger woman, rush up. The crowd has gone completely silent, as if everyone is holding their breath.

  “Please leave us to do our job,” the man says.

  “We’re family,” Liam announces. “Let us stay with him.”

  They nod and erect screens around us. Then they check Aiden’s pulse and slip an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. They carefully put on a neck support before applying an inflatable splint to his leg.

  I kneel beside Aiden’s head. “Liam and I are here, my love. Can you hear me?”

  Silence again.

  Oh, shit!

  “Keep talking to him,” the lady paramedic says. “It will help.”

  “Hey, bro’,” Liam whispers into his ear. “We’ll go with you to the hospital. Get you fixed up in no time.”

  I stare at Aiden’s pale face. Did he hit his head on landing? His hard hat should have prevented any serious injury. “You can wake up, now,” I tell him.

  His breathing is shallow, and he’s lying so freaking still. Tears stream down my cheeks; I wipe them away with the back of my hands. It’s like my heart is being torn from my chest.

  Liam’s gaze clashes with mine, and I read the fear in his eyes. I reach for his hand, squeeze his fingers and try to sound positive. “He’ll be okay. He just needs a little time.”

  The paramedics lift Aiden onto a stretcher. We come out of the screened off area and the crowd breaks into applause. What they hope that’ll achieve is anyone’s guess. Michael is by the waiting ambulance with Mam, their fearful expressions mirroring our own.

  Emma Rivers is holding Firefly’s lead rope. “I’ll take her back to the stables, and my staff can keep an eye on your team,” she says in a kind tone. “We’ve got your back.”

  We thank her, and start to follow the paramedics, our parents at our heels.

  Mam touches her hand to my arm, but I shrug it off.

  I plant my feet firmly. “I wanna go with Aiden to the hospital.”

  “I hardly think that’s your place, Samantha,” she says firmly.

  I fold my arms. “It is my place because I love him.”

  “And he loves her,” Liam adds. “He’ll want her there when he wakes up.”

  Mam lets out a squeak, and Michael’s eyes widen.

  “Meet us at the hospital,” Liam barks. “I’m going in the ambulance too.”

  We don’t wait for any argument, and climb into the back of the vehicle. The ambulance sets off, sirens shrilling.

  Taking care not to disturb the straps holding him immobile, we touch our fingers to Aiden’s.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I say to Liam. “It seems surreal.”

  “I can’t believe it either,” he echoes, shoving a hand through his tousled hair. “This is a first for us. I mean, we’ve come off our horses loads of times, but we’ve never suffered more than a few bruises.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I lie. I’m not sure at all. How can I be sure with him lying so still, his handsome face so pale and his skin so clammy?

  I fight to swallow the lump blocking my throat. “At least Mam and Michael know I’m in love with Aiden and that he loves me,” I say unblinking.

  Liam’s eyes lock with mine, and he grins apologetically. “It didn’t seem the right moment to fess up about us as well.”

  The ambulance comes to a halt, and the doors are opened. “We’ll take it from here,” the male paramedic says. “A nurse will accompany you to the family room, and a doctor will speak with you as soon as your brother has been assessed.”

  I bury my head in Liam’s chest, and he puts his arm around me. My body is suddenly racked with sobs and I cry as if my heart will break.

  Liam bends and kisses the tears from my eyes. “Where’s our feisty Sam gone?” he says softly. “Aiden wouldn’t want you to be upset like this.” He pauses to marshal his thoughts. “They’ve brought us to an excellent hospital, the Georges Pompidou. He’ll get the best of care here, I’m sure.”

  I suck in a ragged breath. He’s trying to keep my spirits up, I know he is. I have a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

  14r />
  Liam

  I feel like I’m trapped in some kind of terrible nightmare as I sit in the family room with my arm around Sam. How can my twin be lying so fucking still on a hospital gurney, wheeled God knows where for a shit-load of tests without me by his side? They took him away before I could utter a word of protest. I give shudder, and a spiral of pain unravels deep inside me.

  Sam lifts her head up to kiss the corner of my mouth. “Try not to worry,” she consoles me like I was consoling her before we came in here. “Aiden is tough. He’ll get through this.” Her words are positive, but her eyes are filled with doubt and her body trembles against mine.

  We wait in silence, staring at the sterile white walls, scared to speak the unspeakable, and my heart fucking aches.

  I still have my arm around Sam when Dad and Rhiannon come through the door. Dad quirks a brow, but doesn’t comment. Rhiannon gives us a surprised look. They sit opposite, and we take each other’s measure.

  Dad shifts forwards, opening his mouth to speak. Before he can say anything, a dark-haired doctor, dressed in scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck, comes into the room.

  The doctor’s expression is serious, and my heart sinks. Then he smiles. “Monsieur Roberts is awake,” he says. “We’re fairly confident we can rule out serious brain injury, but we’ll scan his head again in the morning to be sure. His leg is fractured in several places and will need to be pinned.”

  Letting out a whoop, I hug Sam and she hugs me. “Can we see him?” I ask.

  “Only for a couple of minutes. We’re about to take him to theatre. Bear in mind he’s in a lot of pain. He’s also a little confused following the concussion.” The doctor pauses at the door. “Please follow me.”

  We troop down the corridor to the lift, which takes us up to the eighth floor. Down another passageway and into a two-bedded room. Aiden is lying propped up on pillows, his leg encased in some sort of cage and covered with a white sheet. “Hey, bro’,” I quip. “You scared the crap outta me.”