by Harlow Grace
“Why, Oliver? Why do you always show up at the worst fucking time? I don’t get it. It's not like I storm in on you and Bianca even when your damn headboard slams against my wall.”
“It's different.” I mumbled. Fuck, I couldn’t even explain it to myself. How would I make Maya understand that seeing another male touch her made me insane—without actually sounding crazy.
“Different? How?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is that you’re one of the biggest sluts I’ve come across. And that’s saying a lot.”
Her lips pursed together and I thought she’d slap me her eyes were that murderous.
“What’s it to you if I were a slut? Who I kiss, who I make out with, and who I fuck has nothing to do with you.”
I sighed. My fucking head was hurting and I just wanted to take her home where I knew she’d be under the same roof as me.
She looked at me from under her lashes. “Where’s Bianca?”
“I sent her back to LA. She didn’t look good in any of your dresses.” That was a lie—I forbade Bianca to even try one on. Asking her to come to Santa Barbara was a huge mistake. I was already bored with her and her clingy ways the minute she’d arrived, so sending her packing was one of the easiest decisions of the night.
As we pulled into the driveway, Maya sucked in a breath when she saw that all the cars had left. “Where’s everyone?”
“You need to ask? Of course everyone left after you did. No point in having a fucking party if you weren’t there. Larissa cried and Alec was white as a ghost. I told your father I was going after you and that he should ask everyone to leave.”
Maya dropped her head, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Oh my God, I keep fucking things up for other people, don’t I? I . . . I’m sorry,” she choked out.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Her hurt and pain was so raw and evident that it took me completely by surprise. I'd only really ever seen the feisty side, never her vulnerability before that day.
I wanted to pull her into a hug and kiss her cheeks. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry, too. I wanted to make it all better for her.
Only I couldn’t.
I couldn’t let her know how torn she made me feel. How I panicked when I didn’t know where she was.
How Bianca meant nothing to me.
How I was relieved and pissed off at the same time when I found her.
How seeing another man’s paws on her twisted my gut.
Chapter Nineteen — Maya
BEFORE: Late Evening
Oliver must’ve taken pity on me because he let me slip back into the house without having to face Daddy or Larissa.
“Go up to your room. Take a shower and go to bed. I’ll tell our parents that you’re safe and I’ve brought you back.” His voice was stern, and I decided not to argue.
During the whole ride home, I'd felt dirty and disgusted with myself. I couldn’t blame Oliver for thinking what he did about me. Yet there wasn’t any point in trying to convince him otherwise.
I ran the shower, feeling completely drained and beyond exhausted. Stripping off, I got under the streaming water, letting it wash away all the dirt that clung to me.
A pang speared my heart. What would Mom say if she saw me now? She’d be disappointed in the woman I’d become. Shame washed over me and I hung my head, sobbing for my mother, missing her so damn much that my heart squeezed in my chest.
I'd fucked up in so many ways. It all is just too much.
My skin wrinkling from standing under the water for so long, I turned the taps off and dried myself quickly. My eyes fell on my blades. I hadn’t cut in a long while.
After Oliver left when I was sixteen, I’d used blades for the first time. I never cut deep, only making faint marks on my skin. It was more the idea of just holding them between my fingers and trying to imagine what went through my mother’s head when she did it.
I was way too much of a coward to actually make myself bleed. Whenever I'd accidentally cut myself, or if anyone else was bleeding, I just about fainted. There was no way in hell I could do a job like Daddy who cut and sliced people for a living. No way I wanted to follow in his footsteps—although he tried to convince me on several occasions that I had the capability to become a surgeon.
Slipping on the new Victoria's Secret underwear that had been untouched in my drawer for over a year, I started methodically combing through my wet hair.
“It's all too much,” I whispered to the image in the mirror. Looking at my reflection was the closest I could ever get to Mom.
I put down the comb and picked up the blades.
I closed my eyes and let go.
Of the hurt in my heart.
Of the fear in my gut.
Of desolation.
The overwhelming emptiness.
I was tired of feeling that all the time.
My whole life flashed before my eyes.
It had to stop.
PRESENT
Chapter Twenty — Maya
PRESENT
“Let me help you. Don’t be so fucking stubborn.” Oliver’s arm slid around my waist and he lifted me up off the ground and bundled me into the passenger seat of his SUV. He reached over to fasten the seatbelt, pressing his arm against my chest.
“I'm not a kid, Oliver,” I said, still annoyed that he treated me like a child after all these years. I was over it.
Both my arms rested on my lap as I stared at him. We’d come up with a story to tell my father about where I’d been the last few days. I worried that he’d be suspicious when the stepbrother I never had any real form of relationship with suddenly was the one bringing me home.
“Then stop acting like a kid. And stop worrying about your old man. He’s not going to know anything about what happened—unless you don’t keep your side of the bargain, of course.” The smirk on Oliver’s face was the one I knew so well. It was also the expression that drove me crazy—sexy in a wicked way; it twisted my stomach.
“I never agreed to be your fucking sex slave. My answer is no. Find yourself another of those bimbos you used to bring home and fuck all night long when you were in college. The one’s who’d scream your name while your fucking headboard slammed against my wall keeping me awake.”
“I bet you were enjoying it. Wishing it was you I was eating out. I bet you had your hands down your pants.”
I cut him off before he could taunt me further. “You’d lose a lot of money if you bet on that. I’d either put my headphones on and drown the noise out or I’d—“ I clamped a hand over my mouth, realizing I'd just said too much.
Oliver growled in my ear. “Or what, Maya? What would you do while I was fucking a girl with only a wall separating us?”
“I’d climb through the window, smart ass, and leave the house so I didn’t have to be subjected to your evil plans. I know you did it to get to me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, darling. A man has needs that must be taken care of.” He grabbed hold of my chin and squeezed, forcing my face up to meet his gaze. His lips drew into a thin line. “Where did you go Maya, if you weren’t in your bed like a good little girl?”
“That’s none of your damn business, darling stepbrother,” I said, sneering. “The point is that I wasn’t there to listen to you and your sluts fucking one another to death.”
“Maya, don’t test me. I'm not asking again. Where the fuck did you go?” His eyes blazed as he pinned me with his gaze, biting down and clenching his jaw. He squeezed my cheeks so hard that my eyes watered.
“Let go of me. You’re hurting me, asshole.”
“You are going to suck my dick for every time you’ve ever called me a bad name. I’m turning you into my slut from this day forward. And I won’t be easy on you. You thought I was fucking those chicks hard? Baby, you have no fucking idea what I’m going to do to you.”
“Touch me and . . . and—“
“Yeah . . . and what? You’ll tell Daddy? Not if I tell him first.” A vein ticked in
his jaw as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
My eyes widened. “You’re going to call him now?”
He laughed—a deep laugh from his stomach. “No, that won’t be necessary after you see these pictures on my phone. All I need to do is press the send button to tell the old man the story.” He opened a window on his phone and held it out to me. “Look.”
He scrolled through picture after picture—it was all there. Pictures of when he found me in the bathroom, the cuts on my wrists, the bandages still wrapped around them. I sucked in a breath, feeling sick to my stomach. I wanted to pass out or throw up or both. I closed my eyes to block out the images. This would crush my father. It would bring the big man to his knees if I died in the same manner my mother had. Trembling, I rubbed my fist against my chest to ease the pain in my heart.
“It's all a mistake. I never meant to go so deep—it won’t happen again. Please don’t tell Daddy.” I slouched forward in the seat, ready to do anything to prevent this going any further. Anything except have sex with my evil stepbrother. I just couldn’t do it. The man undid me in ways I didn’t understand; having sex with him would be fatal for me.
His voice was gruff. “You’re begging. Good, I like that.”
“Yes, I'm begging. Please don’t make me have sex with you. Please. Please don’t fuck me.” My chin rested on my chest. Suddenly I was tired to the bone, all my energy drained. I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep for a hundred years.
“I’m sorry but that’s not going to cut it. For years I’ve been taunted by your tight little body. You’ve teased me with your skimpy outfits, flirted with my friends in front of me, fucking touched yourself while I watched—driving me insane because I couldn’t touch you.” The harsh tone in his voice cut through me, bitterness lying just beneath the surface. “You belong to me and there’s nothing you can do about it. I saved your wretched life—it fucking belongs to me. You’re mine to do with as I please, little bee. Get used to it. I’m never letting you go.”
Stunned by his words, my head jerked up. He meant every single word. I was totally fucked and I knew it. Oliver always managed to get what he wanted, and now he wanted me.
Why? I didn’t know.
A plaything for his perverted pleasure? There were so many women willing to fall into his bed; he had no problem getting whoever he wanted. And he always had Bianca. She was already his plaything, eager and willing. God, that damn headboard had reminded me enough times of how he fucked her.
To get me back for something I’d done to him? Nothing could ever have been that bad. For fuck sake, I was only a kid most of the time. He’d said so enough times himself.
“Why, Oliver? It's so wrong.”
He stared down at me in silence for a long moment. My heartbeat sped up in the hope he’d reconsider his demand. Surely he’d realize this couldn’t go anywhere. He’d use me, abuse me, break my heart and throw me aside when he was done. I couldn’t allow it. I had to fight—for my own protection if nothing else.
“Because I can. All these years I’ve watched you act like a slut around other boys. I watched them kiss you. Touch you. I watched you put your lips around another man’s dick. But now—now it's my turn and you’re my slut. Your life belongs to me.” The tips of his fingers brushed over my lips. “Hell, all of you belongs to me—these lips,” the back of his hand traced down my neck to my chest. He cupped a breast in his palm and squeezed. “These tits.” His hand slid downward over my ribs ”This pussy, your ass. Mine.” His hand slid between my thighs, cupping my mound. It felt warm, even as it sent a cold shiver up my spine. He rubbed his fingers against my pussy, the friction driving me crazy. I wanted to scream; instead I clamped my legs together.
His tone softened. “Don’t fight it, little bee. It's going to happen—just go with it; accept it. There is no escape.”
His mouth came crashing down on mine, bruising my lips as he stole the breath from my lungs.
Chapter Nineteen* — Maya
PRESENT
“Let me help you. Don’t be so fucking stubborn.” Oliver’s arm slid around my waist and he lifted me up off the ground and bundled me into the passenger seat of his SUV. He reached over to fasten the seatbelt, pressing his arm against my chest.
“I'm not a kid, Oliver,” I said, still annoyed that he treated me like a child after all these years. I was over it.
Both my arms rested on my lap as I stared at him. We’d come up with a story to tell my father about where I’d been the last few days. I worried that he’d be suspicious when the stepbrother I never had any real form of relationship with suddenly was the one bringing me home.
“Then stop acting like a kid. And stop worrying about your old man. He’s not going to know anything about what happened—unless you don’t keep your side of the bargain, of course.” The smirk on Oliver’s face was the one I knew so well. It was also the expression that drove me crazy—sexy in a wicked way; it twisted my stomach.
“I never agreed to be your fucking sex slave. My answer is no. Find yourself another of those bimbos you used to bring home and fuck all night long when you were in college. The one’s who’d scream your name while your headboard slammed against my wall keeping me awake.”
“I bet you were enjoying it. Wishing it was you I was eating out. I bet you had your hands down your pants.”
I cut him off before he could taunt me further. “You’d lose a lot of money if you bet on that. I’d either put my headphones on and drown the noise out or I’d—” I clamped a hand over my mouth, realizing I'd just said too much.
Oliver growled in my ear. “Or what, Maya? What would you do while I was fucking a girl with only a wall separating us?”
“I’d climb through the window, smart ass, and leave the house so I didn’t have to be subjected to your evil plans. I know you did it to get to me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, darling. A man has needs that must be taken care of.” He grabbed hold of my chin and squeezed, forcing my face up to meet his gaze. His lips drew into a thin line. “Where did you go Maya, if you weren’t in your bed like a good little girl?”
“That’s none of your damn business, darling stepbrother,” I said, sneering. “The point is that I wasn’t there to listen to you and your sluts fucking one another to death.”
“Maya, don’t test me. I'm not asking again. Where the fuck did you go?” His eyes blazed as he pinned me with his gaze, biting down and clenching his jaw. He squeezed my cheeks so hard that my eyes watered.
“Let go of me. You’re hurting me, asshole.”
“You are going to suck my dick for every time you’ve ever called me a bad name. I’m turning you into my slut from this day forward. And I won’t be easy on you. You thought I was fucking those chicks hard? Baby, you have no fucking idea what I’m going to do to you.”
“Touch me and . . . and—”
“Yeah . . . and what? You’ll tell Daddy? Not if I tell him first.” A vein ticked in his jaw as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
My eyes widened. “You’re going to call him now?”
He laughed—a deep laugh from his stomach. “No, that won’t be necessary after you see these pictures on my phone. All I need to do is press the send button to tell the old man the story.” He opened a window on his phone and held it out to me. “Look.”
He scrolled through picture after picture—it was all there. Pictures of when he found me in the bathroom, the cuts on my wrists, the bandages still wrapped around them. I sucked in a breath, feeling sick to my stomach. I wanted to pass out or throw up or both. I closed my eyes to block out the images. This would crush my father. It would bring the big man to his knees if I died in the same manner my mother had. Trembling, I rubbed my fist against my chest to ease the pain in my heart.
“It's all a mistake. I never meant to go so deep—it won’t happen again. Please don’t tell Daddy.” I slouched forward in the seat, ready to do anything to prevent this going any further
. Anything except have sex with my evil stepbrother. I just couldn’t do it. The man undid me in ways I didn’t understand; having sex with him would be fatal for me.
His voice was gruff. “You’re begging. Good, I like that.”
“Yes, I'm begging. Please don’t make me have sex with you. Please. Please don’t fuck me.” My chin rested on my chest. Suddenly I was tired to the bone, all my energy drained. I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep for a hundred years.
“I’m sorry but that’s not going to cut it. For years I’ve been taunted by your tight little body. You’ve teased me with your skimpy outfits, flirted with my friends in front of me, fucking touched yourself while I watched—driving me insane because I couldn’t touch you.” The harsh tone in his voice cut through me, bitterness lying just beneath the surface. “You belong to me and there’s nothing you can do about it. I saved your wretched life—it fucking belongs to me. You’re mine to do with as I please, little bee. Get used to it. I’m never letting you go.”
Stunned by his words, my head jerked up. He meant every single word. I was totally fucked and I knew it. Oliver always managed to get what he wanted, and now he wanted me.
Why? I didn’t know.
A plaything for his perverted pleasure? There were so many women willing to fall into his bed; he had no problem getting whoever he wanted. And he always had Bianca. She was already his plaything, eager and willing. God, that damn headboard had reminded me enough times of how he fucked her.
To get me back for something I’d done to him? Nothing could ever have been that bad. For fuck sake, I was only a kid most of the time. He’d said so enough times himself.
“Why, Oliver? It's so wrong.”
He stared down at me in silence for a long moment. My heartbeat sped up in the hope he’d reconsider his demand. Surely he’d realize this couldn’t go anywhere. He’d use me, abuse me, break my heart and throw me aside when he was done. I couldn’t allow it. I had to fight—for my own protection if nothing else.
