by Brent, Cora
Because I was mortified beyond reason.
Because my body couldn’t quite process what my eyes had discovered.
And because, most disturbingly of all, I was still…sort of aroused.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed, finally sliding back enough so that I no longer felt his monstrously hard cock on my skin. But I didn’t climb off the bed. The room spun in circles around me.
“I was sleeping,” Syler said, kind enough to yank his boxers back up and hide the immense penis I had uncovered. And stroked. And licked.
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!
Finally, I gathered my wits enough to leap off the bed. I paced back and forth. I was on the cusp of hyperventilating.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping in the parlor,” I whisper-shrieked.
Syler sat up and calmly watched my turmoil.
“I’m not,” he informed me cheerfully. “I’m sleeping here.”
“I know that now! Where’s Ryland?” I frantically glanced around the room. Everything had gone so topsy turvey I wouldn’t be surprised if Ryland popped out of a closet or rolled out from beneath the bed. That’s the kind of nonsensical night this was.
“He’s at the Maple Springs Inn.”
“I thought you were-“
“My brother. And when I realized that’s what you thought I turned on the light.”
I chewed my lip. “What about before that?”
“Before that I was having fun. How was I supposed to know you thought I was Ryland?”
I had no answer. He was right. I’d barged into a dark room and fastened my lips to the nearest penis without checking to confirm who it belonged to. Who the hell does that?
“Oh my god.” I covered my face with my hands and sank to the floor with a thud. I’d never be able to look him in the eye again. Or anyone else on earth.
“Oh, Kat-reeena.” He was laughing at me, saying my name in a mocking singsong. “Quit being a drama queen. Have a seat. Let’s talk.”
I peeked through my fingers and saw him perched on the edge of the bed, clad in only his boxers, looking unforgivably seductive.
Unfortunately, we did need to talk. I couldn’t just run out of the room and leave Syler to tell whatever version of events he pleased. This was my fault. And he was an adult now. We both were. Theoretically. We could talk about this like adults.
I got to my feet, smoothed out my slip with all the graceful dignity I was pretending to have, and settled on the edge of the bed beside him. His hands were at his sides and I wished I could decode the look in his eyes. Either he was going to laugh and assure me that these things sometimes happened among friends or he was calculating the best way to prolong my suffering.
Knowing Syler, I feared the latter.
“Syler.” I folded my hands in my lap, hating what I would need to say next. “Please, I’m begging you not to tell anyone about this.”
He shrugged. “The thought never crossed my mind.”
“Really?” I was hopeful. Wary, but hopeful.
Syler sighed. “This isn’t exactly an awesome moment for me either. Here I thought I was getting lucky. Only to find that I was a victim of mistaken identity.” He sniffed. “My feelings are kind of hurt.”
I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting. I proceeded with caution.
“I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings. So I’m sorry if that’s true.”
“I mean, what if that was my first time having sex?”
I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t your first time having sex because we didn’t even have sex.”
“We almost had sex.”
“I think you’ve probably had sex before.” I paused. For years there’d been a barrage of rumors about Syler’s conquests. But now the terrible thought occurred to me that they might have been only rumors. “Haven’t you?”
“Oh sure. Tons of sex. Like, tons. Blow jobs galore. Sixty nine action all over the place. You name it.”
“Great,” I muttered, somewhat relieved that I wouldn’t need to add ‘Deflowering My Best Friend’s Kid Brother’ to my list of sins. “Congratulations.”
He tipped my chin up with his forefinger and stared intently into my eyes. Holy hell, he was good looking. How unfair.
“You’re not in love with Ryland,” he announced.
“Of course I’m not in love with Ryland.” Even in my disjointed mental state I realized I hadn’t stumbled in here without my panties expecting to find forever true love.
“Okay, so you have a stupid crush on Ryland. Or you have a crush on who you think he is. But the truth is he’d bore you to pieces within a day.”
“And I suppose you wouldn’t?”
“I’m a lot of things. Boring isn’t one of them.”
I had to huff out a snort of laughter because that was true. Syler definitely wasn’t boring. And maybe he was even right. Ryland and I didn’t have anything in common. Our conversations were never more than short, polite exchanges. Not fiery banter and sexually charged teasing. Not like the way, for instance, Syler and I were with each other.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.
I could have easily shoved him away, stormed out and left him to take care of that problem in his shorts with his hand. The world had suddenly become a confusing place. I liked looking at him. I liked the way he was looking at me. I liked the gentleness of his hand on my face.
Plus, despite my best efforts to feel otherwise, I was still turned on. And I wasn’t thinking of Ryland anymore. Not even a little bit. I’d known Syler forever. In fact I’d spent far more time around him than I’d ever spent around his brother.
What did it say about me that I was even having these thoughts?
I didn’t care. Maybe no one ever had to know. No one except us.
“Would it make you feel better if you kissed me?” I whispered back. “Since I hurt your feelings and all?”
He nodded gravely. “I’m sure it would make me feel better.”
“Then you can kiss me.”
He didn’t kiss me.
With his right hand he reached over to the nightstand where a slice of wedding cake sat and collected a tiny bit of icing on his forefinger. His left hand was occupied in another way, moving from my chin to my shoulder and casually sliding the strap of my slip down. I felt the strap skim over my upper arm, felt the shift of the silky fabric. The cool night air filtered in through the room’s open window and I shivered when it hit my suddenly exposed right breast.
Watching my face, Syler rolled his finger over the nipple, smearing the cake icing, and I shivered harder, not minding at all when the second strap fell too.
“Still want me to kiss you?” he asked.
I nodded, dazed, spellbound, ready to agree to anything.
Syler bent his head and playfully licked the icing off. I couldn’t help moaning. Or throwing my head back and raking my fingers through his hair while my insides melted. He nipped and he sucked, first lightly, then harder and he eased me onto my back. I was glad to cooperate, brazenly opening my legs, not caring that the slip was as good as gone, collected around my waist, bunched up over my hips.
“I don’t like you,” I reminded him through clenched teeth while he sucked my neck hard enough to produce a spasm of delicious pain. “I never have.”
He enjoyed my confession enough to push down his boxers, seize my wrists and pin them over my head, glaring down at me in triumph. “I know you don’t. You can’t fucking stand me.”
I bent my knees and hooked one over each of his muscled hips. “You’re right. I can’t fucking stand you.”
He released one of my wrists so he could snatch one of the scattered condoms that I’d dropped. He tore off the corner with his teeth. “It’s possible you might actually hate me.”
“Yes, I think I do hate you.”
“Then I have no choice but to fuck you until you change your mind, Katrina.”
I smiled. It felt good to be wild, to be filthy. Who cared what the circumstances were? We were both here. We bo
th wanted this. That was enough.
“Fuck me all night, Syler,” I teased. “I still won’t change my mind.”
He rolled the condom on as if he’d done it a thousand times. Then he flashed a wicked smile and my pulse quickened.
Syler finally kissed me. My heart thawed when our tongues touched. He was a shockingly good kisser. Tender and then playful, passionate and then sweet. I threw my arms around him, reveling in the heaviness of his weight on top of my body, the sensation of his hot skin connecting with mine. I was on fire, reduced to begging with every incoherent moan. I buried my face his neck as he eased his way inside my body. He was careful as he moved at first, allowing me to get used to his sheer size until I sighed over the rush of pleasure.
Seconds later I came. It was like being wracked by an earthquake from the inside. Orgasms were certainly nothing new to me. I’d given them to myself. I’d received them from others. Sometimes they crested softly and left delightful waves of bliss in their wake. Other times they rolled through with the speed of a freight train. An orgasm with Syler was neither and it was both. This was so consuming I forgot where I was. I said his name. Over and over. I screamed it until he clamped a hand over my mouth and growled that I’d rouse all of Maple Springs with so much noise.
Syler was insatiable. I was still catching my breath from the first round when he had another condom ready. He flipped me over and took me from behind. He teased. He played. He knew how to give me exactly what I needed without being instructed. And then he tormented me with his tongue until I trembled and pleaded to come again.
We used every condom that night.
We mistreated the hand woven throw rug.
We broke a prized Victorian gothic throne chair.
There was nothing he shied away from, nothing he hesitated to do. Syler was only eighteen for crying out loud. I didn’t know how he’d found so many sexually creative opportunities here in Maple Springs but he obviously had my résumé beat and then some.
By the time I snuck out of his room just before the break of dawn I was slightly sore and extremely exhausted and wondering if I’d ever really hated Syler McKnight at all.
Thankfully, no one was awake yet when I showered upstairs. I reclaimed the comfort of my t-shirt and gym shorts before falling into Gemma’s bed and drifting into blissful sleep for a few hours.
The McKnight household remained tired from the wedding festivities and brunch was still underway by the time I woke up. I nearly left the room in my pajamas, then changed my mind and switched to a blue and white checked dress that I’d dubbed my Sexy Dorothy outfit before wandering downstairs.
“Don’t you look pretty!” exclaimed Gemma’s grandmother, Gloria. I loved Gloria. She was a doll. And she’d always treated me like family. She beamed before handing me a plate piled with pancakes and steering me into an empty chair at the dining room table.
“Isn’t she a beauty, boys?” Gloria fussed, smoothing my hair and addressing her question to her grandsons who, to my mild horror, sat beside one another right across from me.
Ryland glanced up from his plate and offered me a pleasant smile and for once my heart didn’t bounce off the walls of my chest. This morning I barely noticed him. I didn’t care that his short sleeve button down shirt showcased his strong arms or was the same shade as his eyes.
“You really do look pretty, Katrina,” Ryland said with sincere courtesy.
“Aw, thank you,” I said and looked at his brother.
Syler was shirtless, wearing only a pair of ripped jeans and his uncombed hair was still shower damp. He was busily drowning his pancakes in hundreds of syrup calories. Syler even managed to make pouring syrup look sexy. Gloria must have thought he didn’t have enough on his plate because she added another two pancakes.
“Gracias,” he said, smiling at her before she dropped a kiss on the top of his head.
I could see now that Syler was capable of being very sweet when he wanted to be. His grandmother adored him. And he’d always shared a special bond with his sister. Gemma had never been able to figure out why Syler and I didn’t get along. Suddenly I couldn’t figure it out either. I had to admit he was often funny, even when I wanted to strangle him. Plus he really cared about his family. Gemma told me ever since their grandfather died it was Syler who took care of both the house and Gloria. She also said he’d suffered some misgivings about going away to school because it meant their grandmother would be left alone but Gloria wouldn’t hear of him turning down the chance to attend MIT.
Syler wasn’t all bad. Not even close.
In fact he might be more good than bad.
Not to mention the fact that he was ridiculously hot. And fun. And exciting. I could imagine having a lot of good times with him.
In a few weeks he’d be at school just outside Boston, while I’d be returning to NYU. The two cities weren’t so far away. An easy train ride. Maybe the idea that we should spend more time together wasn’t crazy. The kind of ravenous fire I’d felt last night with him didn’t come around often. At least, I’d never found it before. I’d be a fool not to chase it.
“Syler, can you pass me the syrup, please?” I said.
He glanced up from his plate only long enough to shove the syrup across the table. I couldn’t blame him. After all, I’d beseeched him to make no mention to another living soul what had happened last night. He probably thought he was honoring my wishes.
I dribbled syrup on my plate. “What are your folks doing today?” I asked. I was really addressing Syler but he was busy studying the food he kept shoveling in his mouth so Ryland was the one who answered.
“They found a flight out of JFK this afternoon so I drove them to the train station in Albany early this morning.”
“So soon?” I kept my eyes on Syler, who was now staring out the window with a grim expression.
Ryland was surprised I’d asked. “They had to get back. They left a lot of important work behind.”
“And what are you doing today?” I wasn’t really talking to Ryland but Syler wasn’t interested in speaking so Ryland kept answering.
“I thought I’d escort my Grandma out for ice cream. Maybe take a short hike. You’re welcome to come along, Katrina.”
Oh, how I would have loved that. Yesterday.
“Yes, you should come, Katrina,” Gloria urged. “I don’t get to see you often enough now that you’re at school in the big city.”
“What are your plans?” I asked Syler, trying to catch his eye.
He didn’t hear me. Or he didn’t understand that I was talking to him.
Ryland nudged his brother in the ribs. Syler swallowed a mouthful of food and glowered at him.
“What the hell was that for?”
Ryland rolled his eyes. “You were asked about your plans for today.”
Syler shrugged. “Some of us were talking about having a barbecue down by the lake and then a bonfire tonight. One of the last big parties before we scatter off to college. Maybe I’ll find a girl or two to roll around in the grass with.”
“A girl or two?” Ryland was displeased. “What are you, a caveman? You make girls sound interchangeable.”
“Eh, one is the same as the next in a lot of ways.”
“Syler,” his grandmother scolded. “You don’t mean that.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I have fun and I move on. That’s all there is to it. Not my fault if they get their hopes up and expect more.”
Then, for the first time since I sat down at the table, Syler did look straight at me. And he grinned. The cold victory in his smile chilled my blood.
A tender bubble that had been cautiously rising in my chest now skidded to a halt and cracked into fragments. Syler was still Syler. A callous eighteen-year-old punk who played with people. I’d allowed him to play with me, supplied him with a cache of ammunition he could fire at my heart anytime he liked. Last night had been nothing but a joke to him.
I was nothing but a joke to him.
My fist clenched around my fork. I’d never considered stabbing anyone before but I was ready to make an exception. This was a bitter pill. Especially because I knew I only had myself to blame. I’d made a mistake. But then I’d gone ahead and made it much MUCH worse. I knew exactly what Syler was like was when I told him to kiss me.
I pushed my chair back from the table so abruptly the sound turned everyone’s head.
“I’m sorry, but I should really be going. Um, I promised my mother I’d look in on her animals since she’s away. Gloria, thank you for everything. Ryland, it was nice seeing you again. Syler…”
My voice faded because all the words that wanted to follow were profane and that would have raised some questions.
“Goodbye,” I finally sputtered and hurried up the stairs to pack up my things.
And as I fled I could have sworn I heard Syler McKnight’s cold laughter chasing me all the way up the stairs.
11
Arctic Circle Bliss
Syler
“Tell her you love her.”
“Uh, I don’t think she wants to hear that.”
“Yes she does. Tell her. Please please please!”
“All right, all right,” I sighed and prepared to declare my affection for a creature that despised me.
“You have to come down here to do it.”
Obeying was easier than arguing so I dropped to the floor and crawled over to the hearth where Florence was curled up on a throw pillow and balefully examining me with her single eye.
Gretel, who’d been issuing the commands about Florence’s love requirements, whispered something in the cat’s ear and then turned my way.
“She’s ready,” Gretel confirmed.
Her twin brother looked up from his painstaking artistic pursuit. He’d been determined to apply Christmas stickers to surfaces around the house. Those things weren’t so easy to remove. I didn’t want to stress Gemma out when she came home to find her floors decorated with reindeer and snowmen so I dug my old high school sports trophies out of the attic and told Evan he could decorate those however he please. He was delighted.
