by Chloe Walsh
“Uh-huh. I want you to finish what I started,” she whispered, grinding her body against mine. “Make me come, Rourke.”
Fuck me...
Lowering my mouth to hers, I kissed her hungrily, fucking frantically, as I walked us blindly in the direction of her bed. She tasted amazing, felt like fucking heaven wrapped around me.
My shins hit the bed first, causing me to fall heavily down on her. Six didn’t seem to care though. In fact, she moaned loudly, and pulled me down harder on her, fingers knotted in my t-shirt. She whimpered into my mouth, grinding her pussy against me, making me fucking weak with need.
That was it.
I was going to have this girl.
There was no other way around it.
I needed to fuck Six right out of my system.
I slipped my hand between her legs and moaned into her mouth when I felt how wet she was.
Sliding one finger inside her tight pussy, I rubbed her slowly.
Christ, she was seriously tight –tighter than any girl I’d been with before.
She cried out in pleasure when I stroked her, thrashing herself against me.
I brushed my lips against hers and whispered, “More?”
Her hands were wrapped around my shoulders, her nails digging into my back, as she writhed beneath me. “More,” she breathed, nodding. “Definitely more.”
Reclaiming her lips with mine, I slid another finger inside her, exhaling a ragged breath when her pussy clamped down hard. I was painfully hard now; my dick straining to replace my fingers.
Moving faster now, I plunged my fingers into her tight little pussy and reveled in the way she bucked wildly beneath me.
Unable to hold back a second more, I pulled out of her and dropped my hands to the waistband of my shorts, allowing my erection to spring free.
It was at that exact moment she decided to freeze up on me. “Wait.”
Wait? I bit back a groan. “What’s wrong?” The crown of my cock was pressed to the entrance of her pussy and it was taking every ounce of self-control I had not to bury myself inside her. I knew she’d feel fucking amazing. The preview my fingers had received just now guaranteed it.
“Tell me you love me.”
I froze.
What.
The.
Fuck.
“You don’t have to mean it,” she added, voice soft and barely more than a whisper. “In fact, I know you don’t. That’s okay. I just want to hear it.”
“Are you serious?” I ran a hand through my hair and bit back the urge to roar. I never told anyone I loved them. Fucking no one. I’d spoken those words to a grand total of two women in my lifetime. The first one, my mother, shortly before she died. The second, Britt, shortly before she fucked me over. I shook my head. “No.”
“Please,” she whispered, looking up at my face with those smoky, grey eyes. “Just lie, Rourke. Just lie to me.” Her hands were on my waist, pulling me down on her fucking amazing body. “I won’t mind. I promise.”
“I can’t,” I squeezed out, voice strained from the sheer amount of concentration it was taking to not plunge my dick inside this girl and fuck her brains out.
I wouldn’t lie about something like that. I couldn’t. I didn’t love Six and I wasn’t taking her under false pretenses. I wasn’t a fucking predator. If she wanted me for the night, I was hers, but that was it.
“If you want my dick, it’s yours,” I told her. “But it will be sex, not love.”
Shaking her head, she scrambled out from underneath me. “You hypocritical asshole!”
No.
No.
No.
Fucking no…
Tucking her hair behind her ears, Six pulled her duvet across her body, hiding herself from me. “God, I’m so fucking stupid.” She laughed harshly. “You don’t even like me.”
“Don’t like you?” Standing up, I put my dick back in my pants and readjusted my erection. “Does this look like I don’t like you?” I was harder than I’d ever been in my goddamn life.
“Your dick likes me, Rourke,” she shot back flatly. “But you’ve made it pretty clear that the rest of you hates me.” She touched her cheeks with her hands and groaned loudly. “I’m such a fool.”
“Is this because I won’t tell you I love you?” I shot back, confused as hell. “Because I won’t lie about shit like that, Six. I don’t love you.”
“Good,” she shot back quickly. “Because I don’t love you either. Do you hear me? I don’t love you either, dammit!”
“Good,” I growled. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
“Me too.”
I stood staring at her for the longest moment before throwing my hands up in the air in frustration. “You know what? Fuck this.”
“See!” she hissed. “You can’t even be nice to me for one minute.”
“Because I don’t know how to handle you,” I roared. “Because I don’t know how to deal with the way you make me feel!”
“Mad, Rourke. I make you feel mad,” Six replied, tone shaken. “And you make me feel crazy. So I think it’s best if you leave and we both forget this ever happened.”
“That’s what you want?” I stared hard at her. “You want me to walk out of here and pretend this…” I gestured between us. “Never happened?”
Wide eyed, Six stared at me for the longest moment before whispering, “yes.”
Mercedes
I HAD COME THIS close to losing my virginity to a boy who hated me almost as much as I hated him.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Something really bad, obviously, from the way I’d given myself up to my stepbrother like that.
If Rourke had been on the fence about me being loose before, he certainly wasn’t after last night.
Taking out that vibrator my best friend from Kansas, Bianca, had bought me had been a terrible idea.
My first time attempting to give myself an orgasm and I’d been caught red-handed, not that it have even fit inside of me. It hadn’t, because I hadn’t been broken in.
Tell me you love me, Rourke.
Ugh, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
How pathetic.
Shame crept through me when I thought of how easily I had almost given myself to him.
Was I completely insane?
What the hell had come over me?
I’d dated boys in the past and never had I lost my head like that. My last boyfriend, Peter, had put in four hard months of wooing before I allowed him to put his hands on me. And even then, it was in the back of a movie theatre, in complete darkness, and it was bra over boob contact.
Rourke, I had allowed to spread me open on my bed. His penis had been this close to the entrance of my vagina. This freaking close.
He was mad at me for stopping… for being so mentally unhinged.
I didn’t blame him.
I mean, who did that?
What girl in her right frame of mind begged a guy to tell her he loved her right before sex?
This girl, apparently.
No, fuck him.
He was the one who asked me first!
I shouldn’t have to feel ashamed for asking him to tell me I needed to hear what I’d told him when he needed to hear it.
Rourke
“WE NEED TO TALK,” I announced on Friday morning when I got back from dropping our parents off at the boat. Six was sitting on her usual stool at the kitchen island, nursing a mug of coffee between her small hands.
Of course, the moment she saw me, she dropped her gaze, choosing to stare down at her coffee with keen interest. “No,” she whispered, face cast downwards. “We really don’t.”
“Six,” I growled, irritated by her dismissal. “We need to talk about it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Well, tough shit, because I do.” Walking over to where she was sitting, I sank down on the stool beside hers and swung her around to face me. “Last night, I –”
“I
can’t talk about it, Rourke,” Six snapped, covering her cheeks with her hands. “I can’t, okay? Jesus!”
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more; throttle her or kiss the shit out of her. “Listen to me,” I growled. Cupping her face, I forced her to look at me. “I was a complete tool last night.” Understatement of the century. “Getting pissed with you for not wanting more?” I shook my head and exhaled a ragged breath. “I was thinking with my dick, not my conscience.”
“Forget about last night,” she squeaked out before pulling her face away from my touch. “I have.”
“You really mean that?” I asked, watching as Six got to her feet and put some space between us. “You really want me to pretend nothing happened between us?”
“Yes, Rourke!” she hissed. “I really want you to forget about the most embarrassing, regrettable night of my life.”
Most regrettable night of her life?
Fuck me.
She couldn’t have hit me harder if she stabbed me in the chest.
“Fine,” I said flatly, feeling wounded. “You weren’t worth remembering anyway.
Rourke
SIX TOLD ME TO forget about her. She wanted me to forget about what had happened between us the other night. She’d been avoiding me ever since.
I had too much pride in me to complain or tell her I thought otherwise.
Besides, I didn’t need the complications that came with messing around with my stepsister.
Tell me you love me.
Those words had haunted me every minute since I left her room on Thursday night.
Six had thrown me.
Fuck thrown me; she’d knocked me on my ass with that request. Had she not asked that of me, I was certain I would have fucked her in a dozen different positons that night and every night since.
I wanted her so damn badly I could hardly focus on much else. But her immediate regret had burned and was the founding reason I dialed Britt’s number tonight.
I needed familiar.
I needed no strings.
I needed anyone but Six.
Mercedes
I SPENT ALL DAY FRIDAY avoiding Rourke. Thankfully, I had to work a double shift which got me out of the house for most of the day. However, Alec was in a horrible mood for most of it which sucked big, fat donkey balls. I was so used to happy-go-lucky Alec that I wasn’t prepared for the cranky asshole Alec I was greeted with. Yeah, that version of my boss was a douche.
All day, my thoughts were seized by the beautiful bastard who slept in the bedroom next to mine. The moment I had laid eyes on Rourke Owens, I knew he was going to be trouble for me. I should have listened to my gut when it screamed warning after warning at me; instead I had listened to my heart and my stupid teenage hormones.
And now?
Now I was in over my head, drowning in feelings I had no idea how to deal with.
Rourke wasn’t for me. He was wrong. All fucking wrong. My brain knew it; I just needed the rest of me to get with the program.
He was my stepbrother, dammit. His father was married to my mother. Getting myself involved with him would be all kinds of crazy, and I didn’t need the trouble that came with a guy like him.
Besides, he was back to being mad at me again.
The way Rourke was treating me now only assured me that I did the right thing by stopping it from going any further the other night. He was back to being cold and indifferent, ignoring me when I walked into the same room as him.
Knowing Rourke wasn’t affected by what happened between us Thursday night, and was quite content to party it up with his buddies, well that upset me more than I cared to think about.
I decided that I should feel glad that he was avoiding me. After all, he was only doing what I asked him to do. Forget it ever happened.
I didn’t care anyway.
I hated Rourke Owens.
I hated him almost as much as I hated myself for pushing him away.
I wanted him the other night, more than I dared to admit. The feel of him touching me, of being in his arms; it was haunting me. He turned me on like no one ever had before. And that kiss? Rourke had kissed me like he was starving for me.
Thinking about his lips on mine still made my toes tingle. I needed to shut it down and fast. Lusting after a boy who hated me was a very bad idea and a sure-fire way of getting my heart broken. I was catching feelings for him. That was bad because he wasn’t even nice to me. He was cruel and mocking and cold and I still wanted him…
Molly called me when I got off work Friday night, asking if I wanted to come over to watch a movie. Glad to have an excuse to avoid going home and facing Rourke, I had happily agreed. It was 2am when we finished a Twilight marathon so I ended up staying the night at her place.
When I walked back into the Owens’ residence just before eight the following morning, it was to a frosty reception and a trashed house. “Mind telling me where you were all night?” Rourke demanded, barreling into my bedroom after me.
“Mind telling me why I should?” I shot back, not bothering to look back at him. “Another thing; the house looks like a dump.” Shrugging, I added, “I hope you’re not expecting me to clean up after you.”
“I had a few friends over last night,” he muttered impatiently. “What about it?”
“Nothing. Just don’t expect me to clean up your mess.”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself when you tell me where you were all night?”
“I was out.”
“Six!”
“Rourke.” Slinging my backpack down on my bed, I flopped down beside it and yawned. Dammit, I shouldn’t have stayed up half the freaking night with Molly. I had an eight hour shift ahead of me and I was beyond exhausted.
“Where the hell were you?” Rourke repeated, blue eyes blazing and locked on mine. “You didn’t come home last night.” Slamming my bedroom door, he prowled towards me, looking both furious and relieved. “You always come home.”
“So, I changed my pattern for once,” I replied wearily, folding my arms behind my head. “I stayed at Molly’s.”
“Molly.” Rourke frowned. “You stayed at Molly Peterson’s place?”
“Yes, Rourke, I stayed at Molly’s place,” I shot back sarcastically. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, but I wasn’t aware I had to fill you in on my whereabouts.”
“My father left me in charge,” he countered, towering over my bed, his heated gaze focused entirely on me.
“Of Amelia,” I corrected. “Not me.” Speaking of… “Where is Amelia?”
“At the Kings’ house,” he replied, still looking at me with a furious expression. “She’s staying over there again tonight.”
“Did you give her this much shit for staying out all night?”
“She called,” he hissed.
“You’re overreacting here,” I shot back. “Making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Well, sue me for actually giving a crap about you,” Rourke shot back angrily, running a hand through his already sexily disheveled dark hair. “For fuck’s sake, Six, you could’ve called and let me know you weren’t coming home.”
My heart skyrocketed at his words.
Sue me for actually giving a crap about you
He gave a crap about me?
He cared?
No, my brain hissed. No, he doesn’t!
“I didn’t think it mattered,” I mumbled meekly.
Rourke released a heavy sigh and sank down on the edge of my bed. “What if something had happened to you?”
“Nothing happened to me,” I heard myself placate, pulling myself into a sitting position. “Rourke, I’m –”
“Don’t…” Pausing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously trying to calm himself down, though why he was getting so worked up over this was a mystery to me. “Call,” he finally said, turning his blue eyes on me. “Next time you plan on not coming home, call one of us and let us know.”
“You mean call you?” I offered, body heating from his intense stare.
Rourke didn’t argue.
“Okay,” I conceded. “Next time, I’ll call.”
“Good.” Rourke visibly sagged in relief. Then he flew off my bed like the covers had scalded him and stalked out of my room.
The moment he slammed my bedroom door shut, I threw myself down on my back and let out a huge sigh.
When had my life become so freaking complicated?
Mercedes
WHEN I PULLED UP outside the house after work that night, I was greeted by a dozen or more shiny cars sprawled all around the driveway, and music blaring from the house.
Rourke was having a party.
Again.
FML.
Overcome with a sudden burst of anger, I leapt out of my car and stalked up the driveway, stepping over scattered trash and Dixie cups along the way.
He was cleaning this shit up.
I was not being held responsible for this one.
Goddammit. It was bad enough walking into house to the stench of stale alcohol and vomit this morning. I was not waking up to it.
I let myself inside and immediately had to clamp my hands over my ears; the sound of the music so loud I feared it would burst my eardrums.
Slowly, I accustomed myself to the obscene volume of noise, and dropped my hands from my ears before shoving past several random, near naked teenagers; my thirst for answers focused on one in particular.
I found Rourke, several moments later, in the corner of our dimly lit kitchen where he seemed to be thoroughly investigating some blonde girl’s tonsils – with his tongue.
Pain.
Pain like I’d never known existed pierced through my chest, winding me.
God, this hurt.
This hurt so bad.
“Rourke!” I snapped, thoroughly shredded at the sight of the leggy blonde in a pink, sparkly bikini sitting on our countertop with her legs wrapped around Rourke who was pressed up against her. I’d cleaned this whole house up and buttered toast on that surface less than twelve hours earlier. Bastard. “Goddammit, Rourke!” I screamed when he didn’t answer me.
