by Ashley Hall
“What’s wrong, hon?” my mom asked, appearing in the doorway of the living room.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I scrubbed a small stain to avoid looking at her, even after I worked the stain out.
She crouched beside me. “Talk to me. I know something’s bothering you. Is it one of your friends?”
“Nope.” Wes wasn’t a friend. Didn’t know what exactly he was to me, and it would probably be best to avoid figuring that out. Maybe ignoring him for the next five months would be ideal. Pretend he didn’t exist. He’d ridden his bike to school today. If he continued to do that, there was that much less time for us to be together alone.
“That boy you like?” Mom pressed. “Adam?”
As much as I had a close relationship with her and told her just about everything, I just couldn’t talk to her about this. She’d never understand.
“Not him either,” I muttered.
“Aha, so something is up.” She reached over and patted my shoulder. “You know you can always talk to me, right?”
I finally glanced over at her. My mom and I were closer than most of my friends were with their moms. And I also had Dad’s other wives to talk to too, if I wanted. It wasn’t always easy, having so many parental figures, but maybe the one I should be talking to was Wes’s mom.
No, that wouldn’t be a good idea either. I mean, I couldn’t come out and say, “Hi, Jacqueline. How are you? By the way, I’m attracted to your son. What do you think I should do about it?”
“Is it your grades?” Mom asked. “Didn’t you do well on your report on the Mayan civilization?”
“It was the Aztecs, and I did fine on that.” But her question gave me inspiration. I had to give her something, otherwise Mom would keep probing. “I guess I’m worried about the future. What comes next. It’s kinda scary, you know?”
The concern on her face melted away. “Aw, April, yes, the future can be scary, but it can be wonderful too. You have a bright future ahead of you. I know you’ll do great, whatever you decide you want to do. Community college is the best way to go.”
She hugged me tight, and I had to admit I did feel better. Wes would only be a part of my life for five months. Then he’d move on, I’d move on, and my stupid attraction would be over and done with.
Besides, with the grades I suspected Wes was getting, he’d never get into a college, whereas Adam was going to the same community college I planned on attending. My dad knew several members of the faculty there and was even friends with the president. It was a great school. If only Wes would keep his hands off of me in front of Adam and everyone else. Not that I wanted his hands on me when we were alone either.
Maybe I could finally make some headway with Adam. Heck, maybe I should just ask Adam out and be done with it. But Dad would find out, and he’d freak. Men were supposed to make the first move. And I wanted Wes to make the first move. No, not Wes! Adam!
Why couldn’t I stop being so obsessed with him? Why couldn’t I forget how I felt when he pressed up against me? I almost thought he might have gotten hard. I didn’t think Wes wore a belt, and I knew I felt something hard pressing against my butt.
When it came to guys and sex, I was a little inexperienced. Maybe that was why I couldn’t stop thinking about Wes. Because he made me think about something hot and forbidden…doubly forbidden because sex with my step-brother was even more illicit than sex with Adam.
Honestly, I shouldn’t be thinking about sex with either of them.
After I waxed every wooden floor in the house, I started to do some laundry, still needing a distraction form my thoughts, only I found myself wondering if Wes wore boxers or briefs.
Hopeless. I was hopeless.
***
By the time dinner rolled around, Wes still wasn’t home. If Dad hadn’t realized before that Wes had disobeyed his rule to come straight home after school, he did now. He kept shooting glances my way, as if he wanted to ask me something. It took me halfway through the tense meal—so tense that even P and P seemed to realize it, and they kept their antagonizing down to a minimum—before I figured out what Dad was thinking: that I should’ve driven him home. Because Dad didn’t know about the motorbike.
Well, I wasn’t my brother’s , or rather my step-brother’s, keeper.
Thankfully, Dad didn’t ask me about him, and after I was excused, I studied and completed homework until I heard the same soft, strange sound I heard yesterday. I glanced out the window to see Wes driving up and hiding his bike. Before I knew what I was doing, I dropped my notebook and pen and opened my bedroom door.
From my vantage point at the top of the stairs, I watched Wes stroll in through the front door as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Then my dad came into view, his arms crossed. Wes’ll start caring now.
“Do you know what time it is, Wesley?” My dad’s voice boomed, echoing. His voice carried so well it sounded like he was standing next to me.
I really hoped he didn’t look my way. He hated when people eavesdropped, but I had no plans on going back to my room, not just yet. I wanted to see how this would all turn out.
“It’s late,” Dad continued. “You missed dinner. The kitchen is closed, so I hope you aren’t hungry.”
“I’m not,” Wes said coolly.
I winced. He’d learn soon enough that you didn’t back talk in this house. Aggravating Dad was never a good idea.
“Disobedience won’t be tolerated in my home.” Dad’s voice sounded level and even, but I could hear the undercurrent of anger there. “Do you understand? This is my home. While you’re staying here—”
I winced again. Staying here sounded so temporary. After all the foster homes Wes bounced around from, that had to be an intentional slight. Don’t interrupt him. Don’t talk back.
Wes was staring at the floor, and it looked like he wasn’t even listening. Better than talking back, but it would be even better if he were looking Dad in the eye.
“You will obey my rules,” Dad barked. “All of them. Without fail. Do you understand?”
Dad never talked to me in such a harsh tone, and his lashing out seemed a little over the top. Wes was eighteen. He was his own person. He wasn’t going to think of Walter as his step-dad, especially if all Dad did was yell at him and critique him and nitpick over every little thing. They were going to clash and clash and clash.
Unless my dad kicked him out before Wes was supposed to leave. Or maybe Wes wouldn’t accept his demands and would leave early. What would Wes do then? I hated to think he’d be stuck out in the world without any support from family, but right now at least, I had a feeling that would be the case regardless after he graduated from high school. Wes kept to himself too much, and he didn’t seem to want to get to know his mom, let alone the others. He probably talked to me more than her. And I didn’t know what to think about that. His mother hadn’t been there for him for so many years. He had a lot of hostility and anger, I was sure, and it wasn’t without good reason. He would hate it if he knew, but I felt badly for him.
For another two minutes, my dad yelled at him. Wes remained quiet throughout—so smart on his part—and then headed upstairs.
Although I knew I shouldn’t bother—that it wasn’t any of my business, that he wouldn’t be in a good mood right now—I couldn’t bring myself to go back to my room without talking to him first. I confronted him when he reached the top of the stairs, shooting off questions like they were bullets a trigger-happy person was firing. “Where were you? Why were you so late? Why don’t you wear a helmet?”
He made a scoffing sound and held up his hand. “Don’t. Don’t pester me.”
Pester? I bristled until I realized how I was coming across. I was pestering him. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, a little sarcastically. I crossed my arms. “I only wanted to save you from my dad’s wrath. Trust me. I’ve seen him with P and P. You don’t—”
“P and P? That’s how you refer to Peter and Paul?” His lips quirked into a teasing smile, but he still looked
a little pissed off. That dangerous, alluring edge to him was still there. “I like that. Stealing it.”
“Fine. They like it. They won’t mind.” I wasn’t about to let him change the subject. Glaring at him, I waved my arm to show we were done talking about the boys. “But when my dad gets mad, he gets really mad, and if you don’t like him already, you’ll hate him when he’s furious. Just wanted to give you a warning. That’s all.” I shrugged and crossed my arms again. “I don’t care where you went.”
He was staring at me, through me, reading me like I was a book. Every part of him—from his smirk to his raised eyebrows, his own crossed arms and tilted head—screamed she must be kidding.
My tempered flared. I normally never allowed someone to have so much control over my emotions, but Wes affected me like no one else. Which was bad. So very bad.
“You think you’re so attractive and charming and cool, but…but that’s not the case at all.” I took a deep breath. My cheeks were so hot right now, almost as hot as Wes. Ugh! I had to stop this awkward dance between us. He had to realize I didn’t want him that way, that I didn’t see him that way.
If only that was the truth.
“In fact, I-I can’t stand you, I think you’re a-annoying, and it’s all an act. All…all of it.” I held out my hand and gestured from his head to his feet. “I-I was only trying to be a…be a good person.”
Why was I stammering? I never stammered!
His eyes darkened, blue turning almost black, and he was grinning like he was pleased to see me so off kilter, so angry. I backed up, but a few steps from him closed the gap.
“You’re so pretty when you’re lying,” he said smoothly, his grin stretching even wider.
I blew air out of my nostrils. How dare he mock me! I backed up a little more, until my rear bumped against the wall. I so should’ve gone to bed.
“And I love the way you look when you’re mad,” he continued, his voice.
I glanced around. The hallway was empty, but Dad wouldn’t stay up for much longer. If he saw us standing so close together, with Wes leaning toward me—or if anyone saw us for that matter, we’d be…what? What would happen? I didn’t want to think about it. My stomach was all twisted with butterflies, and I couldn’t think properly.
“I—” I started to say.
“I’m not finished.” He retreated a step, and I moved away from the wall. Bad idea, because then Wes walked around me, looking me up and down. Although I was glad we were alone, I found myself wishing P and P would make an appearance so Wes would be forced to stop.
Wes. When had I stopped thinking of him as Wesley? Wes felt so much more personal. Which was the last thing I needed. I needed boundaries between us. He shouldn’t be an issue. I knew what it was like to have half-brothers. P and P had been in my life since they were born.
And I thought that was some of the problem. Wes had just come into my life now, and he was my age, and if we weren’t related, if we weren’t living together, I would not have to feel this way about being attracted to him. And unlike with P and P, we didn’t share a blood relative. We were only step-siblings.
A small distinction, and one I shouldn’t desperately cling to.
“I’m just gonna…” I jerked my thumb toward my bedroom door.
“I know what you did in bed last night.” The combination of his words and his husky tone of voice left me wanting to melt into a puddle.
I tried to not react. I tried to keep a straight face. I tried to avoid looking at him.
But I winced. I bit my lower lip. And I looked at him.
His grin was even wider now somehow. “I would very much like to see your true self come out, unconstrained by your family’s chains.”
What was he offering? And did I want it?
“My family doesn’t have chains,” I whispered. “Look at my dad. Look at his wives.”
“Look at your dad. Look at his rules. Look at how you live your life. On your terms? Or his?”
I couldn’t believe it, but I was actually considering it. To see what he meant, what he could offer. Because he did have a point. I almost always played by the rules.
And I never wanted so badly to break them.
But I couldn’t.
“I need to play it safe,” I said, grateful I wasn’t stammering anymore. “At least until I leave. Stirring things up now will only cause trouble.”
Stirring up trouble was the last thing I wanted.
But Wes just might be the thing I wanted most.
The look he gave me stole my breath away—it was a promise and a threat, all mixed with desire, forbidden and wild. “You have more freedom than you think you do, freedom to push the envelope.” He pushed my hair away from my face and smiled down at me. “Come to me when you decide you want to.” And he turned and walked away to his room, closing the door behind him.
“Come to me,” he had said, “when you decide you want to.”
When. Not if.
Arrogant, cocky son of a gun.
Cocky.
He was probably right with that when.
Chapter Eight
Wes
In my room, I paced back and forth, pulling on my hair, ready to go out of my mind. April had so much fire in her, so much courage and determination, but she was burying it, ignoring it, trying to ignore it. It pissed me off to see her suffocated by her strict family. She could do whatever she wanted.
Whoever she wanted.
Worse, I had never wanted someone so much in my life. Whenever she walked into the same room as me, my cock would always stir. Made for some awkwardness at school, but here, at the house, it was a thousand times worse.
And I knew she wanted me too. When I first heard her heavy breathing last night, I wasn’t sure what was going on, if she was hurt or needed help, but then she gave a loud cry, and I knew then exactly what she’d been doing. I knew—all right, I suspected—she had been thinking about me.
But seeing her talk to that guy after school made me wonder if she’d been thinking about him instead of me. She had been looking at him like she sometimes did with me, and I actually felt jealous. I knew all about jealousy—had felt it plenty of the years with kids and their perfect families and homes. But with a girl? Never. Sure, a few had resisted my charms, but I had decent experience with several girls over the years.
And none of them, even the girls I hadn’t kissed, had driven me as crazy as April was. There was something about her. Maybe I wanted to be a hero finally instead of the bad guy, but I wanted to free her, for her to see her true potential.
So when I saw her with that guy and looking at him that way, I had to interrupt them, and then I had to bring up her masturbation just a few minutes ago. I had to know who she’d been daydreaming about.
The look on her face said it all—that, yes, she had been touching herself—like I had thought—and, yes, I had been the one she’d been daydreaming about—like I had hoped.
April. Such a good girl. With such a bright future ahead of her. I needed to stop. I had to stop. As much as I wanted her, I didn’t want to ruin her life. Because that was what I always did. I ruined everything. Even if I had made a few friends here and there at some of the many schools I’d gone to, I never had those friends for long, just like I never stayed at a foster home for long. I just wasn’t meant to have good things. I could never have someone like April and not destroy her.
That’s why I hung out with my new friends after school, to put some distance between us. To forget about wanting to rip her skirt off and put my hand up her shirt, to kiss every inch of her body, to bury my face between her boobs, to have us orgasm at the same time.
I had to stop thinking about her.
This school actually wasn’t that bad. The teachers weren’t on my back yet, being lenient on me because I was entering the school year late. Most of the kids were cool. My friends were seniors who already had senioritis—they just wanted the school year to be over so they could get to their last summer of partie
s and fun.
I was all about parties and fun.
And they helped to keep me from thinking about April. A distraction. But here, in my room, knowing she was right next door, I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop thinking about her, daydreaming about her, imagining her bent over like she had been at the water fountain.
I sat on my bed. Nothing could prevent me from thinking about her hips flush against mine. I’d been with other girls before, but something about April—maybe her innocence—drew me to her.
Her hair had felt so soft. How would it feel in my hands while I controlled her head bobbing up and down on my cock? She’d be so embarrassed to be doing it while I was watching her, but I would watch. I’d enjoy watching her as much as I’d enjoy her sucking me. She didn’t have experience, that much was clear, and I could teach her so many things.
