Stop it! I scolded myself, my chest suddenly rising as I took in a breath, as I continued to try and dress myself. Giles didn't move out of my way, causing my face to brush briefly against his rough stubble. I jerked away from the contact and put out my arm to shove him back. But he didn't budge. I couldn't look at him. What if he saw the lust in my eyes? I pulled one sweat pant leg up to my knee and did the same with the other. But, in order to get them fully on, I knew that I needed to lift my bottom off the passenger seat. I tried to keep the towel in place, but it slipped off before I could stop it, giving my stepbrother a close-up of my privates. I hurriedly completed the task, but just knowing he'd seen me down there sent a thrill of excitement through me that I couldn't begin to explain. My heart raced, and my tongue felt too big in my mouth. Involuntarily, I licked my lips and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, Giles was still kneeling there, between my legs, the way I'd always dreamed he would.
Our eyes locked again. It was as if there was a new understanding, a new language that only my stepbrother and I could speak. For a moment, I thought I saw yearning in his eyes. Could it be?
But, then a look of abject horror crossed his face, and he turned away from me and jumped to his feet.
"You all better now?" he asked derisively, not looking at me. "Done with your little hissy fit yet?”
He was back in his prick stepbrother mode. I pulled my legs inside the car and slammed the door shut, then crossed my arms tightly around my chest, and used my beach towel like a shawl.
“Are we cool?” he queried loudly, as he strapped the surfboards on the rack. “You're not going to tell me, are you?"
My heart sank.
He wasn't worried about me.
Only himself.
If I told my dad how his stepson's little prank had exposed his precious daughter in public, my dad would hit the roof. And my stepmom would back him up. They’d find a way to make Giles stay home for the night. It didn’t matter that he was over eighteen, and an official adult. Our parents were no nonsense strict. As long as they were paying for a roof over his head, they had leverage. He had to abide by their rules, or else. If I stayed upset and tattled as soon as we got home, I could put a damper on his plans. I could ruin his last night in California.
Hmmm. I pondered the idea. Maybe Giles being stuck at home all night would be a good thing. If he got grounded, at least he'd be home. At least I could see him a few more times before he was gone off to college.
On the other hand, if I acted cool like I usually did, taking his practical jokes in stride - there’d be nothing to hold him in the house. That thought alone made me consider breaking the unwritten pact.
All the other times, whenever he'd got me with one of his practical jokes, I’d never gone running to my parents. I was too busy making plans for how I'd get revenge. Too busy planning an even better practical joke. The last thing I wanted was my parents having a clue what we were up to, and trying to stop me from escalating the war that Giles had inevitably started. But, maybe the time for the old rules had ended. If I did the usual and said nothing, then he'd be gone, off the hook and out with his friends. And the next morning, I knew would be the end of it. That family brunch would happen, a chance for everyone to say goodbye and wish Giles well, and then he'd be gone for good. Out of my life, forever.
My body shuddered again at that thought, and I let out an involuntary sob, just as Giles flounced into his seat and started the engine.
“Oh Christ, Cherise, will you get over it already?! You're not going to be a little cry baby and fuck things up for me tonight, are you?"
“Fuck you," I said crossly, turning away from him. I couldn’t look at him. He didn’t care about me. All he cared about was himself. "Just take me home,” I huffed angrily.
I gave him the silent treatment the rest of the way home.
I talked to myself instead.
Face it, I told myself, you mean nothing to him. You are nothing but his punching bag; a target for his stupid pranks. The sooner he's gone, the better.
Get real, I tried to convince myself. You should find a nice guy who will treat you better. You should find a nice guy you can date publicly. You should find a nice guy who isn’t your stepbrother!
Chapter 2
All the way back in the car I worked myself into a right state, but I summoned my new resolve. I would get that immature boy out of my mind.
I wasn’t going to sit at home pining over a guy who couldn’t care less for me. I'd stop wasting my life fantasizing about a guy that I couldn’t have even if he wanted me back. He was my stepbrother, for pete’s sake; there were laws against that, weren't there?
I needed to not touch myself as I relived the moment when he'd been kneeling between my legs, when our faces had accidentally brushed, the way his eyes for a brief moment seemed to want me that way. No, no, no! I wasn’t going to dream about having sex with him ever again. Especially tonight, while he probably had sex with one of the many girls that waited in line for him every weekend. Fuck Giles!
No, just the opposite. Instead of dreaming about fucking Giles - which wasn't going to happen anyhow - maybe I’d go ‘get some’ of my own.
I’d stop playing the tomboy and behave like a woman for a change. I'd get dressed to the nines and go out. I’d go to a club downtown where no one knew me. I had a fake ID. I’d find some hot guy, perhaps slightly older and more mature, and then I’d get drunk and go home with him. He’d fuck me all night long, and I could forget about Giles.
In the shower, I started to touch myself, a more or less constant shower habit ever since my stepbrother had moved in. I tried to imagine a total stranger, as my fingers slid inside my slit. I tried to get aroused thinking about how it might feel to seduce and then fuck some random guy. But I couldn’t stop thinking of Giles. His chiseled features, his kissable lips.
So, I gave up and focused on rinsing off the last traces of sand. Then I washed my hair and used a sugar scrub over every last inch and shaved everywhere until my entire body was as smooth as silk. Giles was missing out, and the joke for once was on him. So there!
I stepped out of the shower, put on my ugly terry bathrobe, stepped into the hallway and made a beeline for my bedroom.
The house was oddly quiet. Then I remembered that my parents were going out tonight, some office party out in the Valley. They had tomorrow’s family brunch to say their official bon voyage to Giles, so why should they be stuck at home tonight? Maybe I could get my dad on the phone. I could tell on my stepbrother. I could be really upset and make a big deal out of what he did. If I could get my dad sufficiently pissed off,maybe they’d find a way to punish Giles remotely, maybe they’d make him stay home. And then maybe, if Giles and I were alone on his last night, maybe we could…
No, no, that was nuts. I was nuts for thinking such thoughts. He’s not into you like that, I told myself. He'd laugh in your face, he'd call you an incestuous pervert. If you tried to make a pass at him, he’d just say you were gross, and ugly and too fat. He'd reject you. And then you would die!
I told myself all these things, and I was absolutely right. I couldn't risk that.
And besides, I told myself as my thoughts continued to race,no matter what you think you thought you saw in his eyes, it couldn’t be. You know that you're not his type. You know he’s not into you. Stop kidding yourself!
"Shut up, shut up!" I screamed at myself.
There was only one thing to do.
Revenge sex, and plenty of it.
***
“Brandy!” I announced, as my best friend answered the phone. “I’m going clubbing, wanna join me?”
Brandy was thrilled. She was always up for clubbing. In fact, she was already dressed, planning to go out with some other friends, but she quickly canceled on them so she could take me to her favorite places without having to worry about the wishes and whims of her other friends.
“Who’s driving?” I asked her, since I didn’t have a car, and I knew from exper
ience that Brandy liked to get drunk.
“We’ll get a Lyft or an Uber - we can split it, it’s the only way to go.”
“Huh?” I said, ignorantly.
“It’s an app, dearie, I’ll show you in the car. I’ve just ordered the car - I’ll be at your house in twenty minutes.”
I hung up the phone and looked in the mirror. I needed to do something with my hair. I got out the flat iron and smiled at the result. I looked amazing and not at all like a tomboy.
The tight, bright yellow dress clung to my curves, and showed off the effectiveness of my push-up bra and revealed almost all of my thick, but also very long, legs.
I wanted to make sure I didn’t back out of my plan to become an instant overnight super-slut. So, as a last and final touch, I pulled off my panties and left them on the bed.
Wow - that was liberating.
I tugged my dress down, but it barely covered me. I’d have to keep my legs together wherever I sat.
My cell phone made a buzz in my small evening purse, and I checked it. Brandy was in front of my house, sitting in the Lyft, waiting for me.
As I came down the stairs and turned the corner to step into the hallway that led to the front door, I almost ran straight into Giles.
“Cherise?” Giles said, stepping back in surprise.
My body rippled with heat as his eyes took me in.
“Where are you going?”
“None of your business,” I said loftily, then brushed past him and out the door, trying not to fall as I ran to the car in my four inch heels.
Chapter 3
Two hours later, I was regretting my decision. I wanted just to go home and put on some underwear. It was awkward as fuck being inches away from that kind of exposure. And no, you can’t buy me a drink, and no, I don’t want to dance, oh and if you don’t mind not sitting so close to me.
All of the guys felt like creeps, and I’d lost all interest in becoming a slut.
Brandy was kissing some guy, giving him tongue as they dirty danced to the electronic beat.
"Unce, unce, unce, unce," thumped the beat of the music, each new song exactly like the last.
I just sat at my table alone, wishing I’d never come. Every two seconds, I checked my phone, trying to tell myself that it was late enough, late enough to convince Brandy that we should leave.
Brandy didn’t look like a girl who wanted to go anywhere, so I made the decision to leave without her, if necessary. I was just about to figure out how to download that catch-a-ride app myself, and leave without her, when I saw something that made my heart leap in my throat.
Giles and a group of his friends had just wandered into the club. Some hot brunette, skinny as a rail, with perfect skin, was hanging on him like he was the pole and she was the exotic dancer. She reached her hand up to his face, and he bent down, rewarding her with his tongue.
I wanted to puke.
“Another drink?” a cocktail waitress asked as she appeared before me, blocking my view of him. I sat up in my seat and bent over to look around her just in time to see my stepbrother squeezing the slut’s tiny ass.
To hell with going home, I’d show him.
“Three tequila shots!” I said, and five minutes later, the waitress returned and lined them up in front of me.
I took the first one and downed it. It burned and made me shiver. I liked it.
“Whoa!” I announced to no one in particular, then repeated the process.
I was reaching for the other one, when a hand pressed on my wrist, pushing it away from my next drink.
“Cherise, what the hell are you doing?” Giles asked.
I jerked my arm away from him, grabbed the drink and downed it before he could stop me.
“What does it look like I’m doing, hot stuff?" I retorted, glaring up at him defiantly. "I’m getting drunk!”
Then I shimmied out of the booth and stormed away from Giles.
“Wait,” he called out, coming after me.
I kept moving away from him.
“Cherise, wait!” he cried out. He wanted me to wait? Well, it was too late. Too late!
I turned towards him. Hot tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want to tell him how I felt about him. Not here. So I lied.
“Leave me alone. I never want to see you again! I hate you!"
I was shocked at the words that came out of my mouth. But, I could see that my words had hit Giles even harder. He was standing there, frozen in place, the multicolored strobe lights flashing all around him. Bodies gyrated into him, and he didn't move. He just looked at me for a moment like I'd tortured and killed his dog. Then his shoulders slumped, and I saw sadness and hurt, sorrow and pain, and insecurity. I’d never seen him like that. His cocky smartass demeanor was cracking like chocolate dip on an ice cream cone.
I couldn’t look at those eyes anymore. I felt guilty for hurting him, but it was true. I did hate him. He’d never cared about me, so why should I care about him?
I turned my back on him and lost myself in the crowd. I’d come here to start my career as a slut, so it was high time to implement that plan. The alcohol was having its effect on me, but I'd need more. I'd need a lot more if I was going to follow through with my plan to find solace in the arms of another.
I went to the bar and ordered three more shots. I downed them in quick succession, then turned around to scan the room for someone to go home with.
I didn't have to look very hard.
Chapter 4
“Hey, how are you?” I turned. A guy stood there, yelling. Yelling was the only way to be potentially heard in a club like this, even at close quarters. I turned and looked up at a big man, had to be at least twenty-five, but he wasn't unattractive.
“Hi,” I said back at him, smiling my sexiest smile. I had to start somewhere. I hoped that Giles was watching; I turned around a bit to try and see and felt a little dizzy. I'd keep my head pointing straight for now. I moved my body to face my admirer, and gave him the fish eye. I looked up at him, then lifted my hand to jab my index finger against his chest.
"You’re kinda cute,” I said, my words coming out rather soggily. “You wanna fuck?” I asked, getting straight to the point.
“Uh, ah, well, yeah, sure,” the man said, his eyes lighting up with delight and surprise. “But can I buy you a drink first, and maybe get your name?”
“Yes, and yes!” I replied. Another drink sounded good. My face was flushing with embarrassment from my forward pronouncement, but the guy didn’t seem embarrassed at all. Just interested in directing the production.
“Let’s dance,” he said, pulling me off of my bar stool and holding my arm, guiding me towards the dance floor.
What happened to the drink idea?
What about finding out my name?
When we reached the dance floor, I stopped to start, well, dancing, but he grabbed my arm, saying “not here.” He guided me to the other end of the dance floor to a door that led out into an outdoor patio. Several people were outside, smoking, but one end of the patio was empty, save for round tables. Except for a glow from street lights, the patio was shrouded in darkness.
“Where are we going?” I asked, suddenly feeling afraid. I tried to pull out of his grasp.
“You said you wanted to fuck, well, I’m taking care of that for you,” he said, leering at me. Then he nodded towards the darkest part of the patio. I could see the vague outline of dumpsters and detritus silhouetted in the dark. My fear turned to panic. I dug in my heels to stop allowing him to guide me forward. He yanked on my arm and squeezed it harder. “What’s the problem little lady, changed your mind? Don’t want to fuck me anymore?”
“Stop it, you’re hurting me,” I said, as he squeezed my arm so hard I could feel bruises forming. He was a strong man who wanted me to know he could overpower me.
Oh shit, oh shit, my mind reeled. He was going to rape me.
“Help!” I started to yell, but he pulled me to him and bit down my cry for help with his mouth. His l
ips and tongue forced themselves inside me, hurting me with the force. There was nothing arousing about it. This man intended to rape me. But I’d asked for it.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
I gritted my teeth and tried to keep my lips shut against his onslaught, and then I felt his hands gripping my ass. A moment later, my short dress was lifted and he released my mouth long enough to let out a yell of triumph.
“You are a little slut,” he announced viciously, as his hands groped me about my sex.
“Stop it, help!” I tried to yell for help again, but that pissed him off. "Ah!" I yelped in pain as he back-handed me across my face, and the force of it sent me sprawling onto my ass.
He hauled me up by my arms, squeezing them so tight I wanted to cry.
“Shut up you stupid bitch, or I’ll hit you again,” he hissed as he shook me.
My face was burning from where he’d hit me, and I could taste blood on my lips, and salt from my tears. The man had total power over me. He scared me shitless. I couldn't see anything more than his threatening presence. He dragged me around the corner, and then it was too dark to see anything. I wanted to scream, but if he hit me again like that... I was terrified, helpless, tears gushing out of my eyes.
He pushed me onto the floor.
No, I couldn't just accept this.
I tried to scramble to get to my feet and run away, but he shoved me down again and kicked me hard in the boob.
"Ouch!" I groaned curling up in a ball. That hurt like a motherfucker!
"I told you to stop fighting me, you stupid cunt," he hissed angrily. "I’ll teach you to be a tease with me, you filthy whore! You try to make one more sound, or try and fight me again, and I swear I’ll kill you!”
I didn’t doubt him. Not for a second.
“I'll snap your neck and then I’ll fuck you,” he continued, warming to his subject. I could see from the flash of white in the almost total darkness. He was smiling. He was enjoying this.
The Quarterback's Love Child (A Secret Baby Sports Romance Book 1) Page 9
