by Parker Ford
The woman opened her mouth and shut it with a snap.
“You think about it,” Jordan said, turning toward the door. “Now get off my fucking porch before I call the police.”
She slammed her front door wanting nothing but anger and stoicism to come through. But inside the house, when she was safely out of sight, she started to shake all over again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jordan slipped the freshly assembled lasagna pan into the oven. In just over 45 minutes, they’d have a nice hot lasagna. She set about making a salad and searching the freezer for the loaves of frozen bread their dad had usually kept in the freezer. If she set one out now to thaw, it might be ready by bed time.
The front door slammed and she jumped.
“Gar! Is that you? You scared the shi—”
“What did you do?” He stormed into the kitchen, dropping his lunch cooler in the archway. His stance was aggressive, his face enraged.
“I…what?”
“What did you do, Jordan. What did you do?”
His voice did not rise. Unlike other people, the angrier Gareth got, the quieter his voice. He was speaking so low she was having trouble hearing him over nothing more than the tick, pop and whoosh of the oven heating up and leveling off.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered. All of her skin had broken out in goose bumps. Her mouth had gone dry and her nipples had peaked painfully hard from the rush of adrenaline.
“Why would you meddle? Why would you shoot your mouth off?”
Her mind scrambled wildly to make sense of what he was saying. Was he talking about Mrs. Phelps and Jordan tossing her out? What did he mean?
“You should have just left it alone. No one asked you to butt in.” His jaw clenched taut with anger, his green eyes narrowed. He looked almost dangerous to her and it made her stomach tumble in on itself and her hands started to shake.
And then she made the connection.
“Oh…oh, Gareth. I didn’t know—” She tried but he cut her off.
“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. Who the fuck wants everyone to know that none of his mothers want him? That he’s a goddamn woman repellant unless it’s fucking.”
He threw his keys at the back door with a growl and they hit the small pane of glass, cracking in.
Jordan felt a burst of shock and cried out. He was advancing on her and she backed up a step in response.
“Why couldn’t you just leave it alone, Jojo?” His eyes were shiny like he might cry, but he shook his head. Tamping down the pain and letting the anger flare. “Get in the bedroom,” he said, pointing.
“What?” She was genuinely surprised.
“Get. In. The. Bedroom.” He ground out each word like he was spitting out rusty nails.
“No,” she breathed.
He took her arms in his hands, squeezing just enough to make her flinch, but no more. “Get in the bedroom, or get the fuck out,” he said. “Your choice.” Then he stalked into the mudroom and started untying his boots.
*****
She was ashamed of herself that she did it. But secretly thrilled, too. A dirty secret she wanted to keep even from herself. The way he ordered her, the anger in his voice, the ultimatum. He’d never been that way with her and Jordan remembered his offer earlier suggestion about paddling.
“You’re not a woman repellent,” she said to him. Her voice was soft and meek and her hands warred in her lap with nerves. She’d never take that tone or orders from anyone else, but this was Gareth. The person she loved more than anything in the world. Who was hurting. Who was alone, or so he thought.
“Be quiet, Jordan,” he growled and pushed his dirty jeans off. He tossed them in the hamper and then shoved his socks down and yanked them off. Every movement was performed with anger. Every breath was exhaled with frustration.
“I’m sorry.”
“Be quiet, Jordan.”
Her throat went tight and she fisted her hands against her jeans. She was fully clothed and she had no idea what he was going to do. None.
“Gareth, just let me—“
“If you say another word one of us is leaving and not coming back. I just don’t know which one yet. You want to test me?”
She shook her head and clamped her tongue between her teeth. She bit hard in frustration and tasted a sharp coppery burst of blood. She was a talker. Especially when nervous. So this was torture. Feeling sorry, being sorry, and unable to express herself was maddening.
“Take your clothes off,” he said. “Everything.”
She gave him a surprised glance and when their eyes met, and she saw the true anger there, she considered saying no. She truly did. But in those eyes was also love. And pain. And she had to trust he’d never hurt her for real.
Not for real.
She stood and pulled off her long sleeved pullover. It dropped into a navy blue puddle at her feet. Bra followed and then her loose faded jeans. No panties underneath so that left her in slouch socks, which Jordan promptly kicked off.
His eyes ate her up but his hands stayed down, straight but rigid, by his sides. “On the bed, face down.”
Jordan took a deep breath, trying to still her rattled nerves. Then she slowly splayed herself on his bed, face down, arms out and legs down. Maybe all he needed to calm down and talk to her was some contrition. Some penance.
The straps were back out and he tied her wrists and then her ankles. Her body was tense with worry and she considered telling him about Mrs. Phelps but thought better of it.
Gareth went to the closet door and opened it. She had her head turned in his direction so she could see everything he was doing. His body was long and lean and gorgeously muscles—and his cock was hard, jutting out in front of him almost angrily.
He seemed to be searching for something. She expected it to be a paddle he pulled out but she felt the blood drain from her face when he pulled out a crop.
“She called me at work,” he said, testing the crop on his own palm. It made a teakettle whistle in the air as it flew and a maddening heavy crack when it landed. Gareth nodded with approval before moving toward her.
“She called me at work to tell me to stop sending my crazy friends to bother her.” The crop landing with a whistling crack on the meaty part of Jordan’s ass. Her entire body jumped with the impact. The sharp and biting pain quickly dulled to a roaring throb and then slowly bled into a rush of adrenaline fueled pleasure. She felt a flicker deep in her cunt even as a sob ripped out of her throat.
Sweet Jesus. What was this insanity?
“She thought I sent you. How pathetic would I seem if I sent you? I mean she told me in no uncertain terms that she’d handed me off to dad the moment I was born because she did not want me. And she still did not want me. Nothing had changed.”
Lulled by his voice, she had relaxed some, pained at hearing the sadness and anger in his voice. So when the warning whistle sounded she didn’t react immediately. Gareth striped another blow along her other ass cheek. The meaty bit of her taking the blow and absorbing most of the impact. That sharp bite of stinging pain stealing her breath and making her eyes water. No sound came out of her this time. The pain was too great. She gritted her teeth until that stealthy slow fade arrived and then on its heels a tawdry rush of bliss.
Her cunt flexed tight. She imagined if he pushed a single finger into her she’d come. She imagined if he so much as touched a fingertip to her clit or, sweet Jesus, the tip of his tongue, she’d come like a firework bursting on a hot summer night.
“She wanted me to know that if she heard from me again—or you for that matter—she’d call the police. So thanks, Jordan,” he growled and laid a third blow across both cheeks, hitting the first two striped with a horizontal contrast.
She sobbed on that one. The pain was fierce—with teeth and claws and fire on her skin—and sudden. Her fingers reflexively clutched at the sheet beneath her and when the tears that stung her eyes rolled away, she caught s
ight of him in her peripheral vision.
His face pale, green eyes wide, mouth set tight. She dropped the crop like it had burned him and quickly walked out of the room.
She almost called out to him, but wasn’t sure if she should. Wasn’t sure if she wanted to.
She lay very still as the pain faded away in slow, concentric ripples. As the core of her punishment started to burn like hot, red coals. After a few moments, when he didn’t return, Jordan shifted on the bed, her pelvis driving down into the resistance of the mattress and she was surprised—but not really, not honestly—to feel a blip of pleasure from the contact.
Her bottom was hot and feverish and felt marked, but under all that she was worried. About her brother, about her lover, her friend. About how her meddling had pushed him and made him hurt.
She heard her timer go off but didn’t call out to him. Gareth wasn’t stupid. He’d check the oven and turn the timer off. She strained to hear and finally did hear him open the oven and then the bang of it being closed. She heard the fridge and then the shower cut on, the pipes shaking the wall behind her head.
He was really angry. He was leaving her here.
She pushed her hips down again, feeling the grind of the firm mattress, feeling the slow slide of pleasure in her cunt. She spread her legs even wider than the straps held her and tilted her pelvis as severely as she could. The pressure was remarkable and sweet and she humped against the bed shamelessly.
It didn’t matter that it was something she’d have sworn she’d never do. It didn’t matter that he could catch her if he left the water running and popped in—in fact, the thought of him catching her made her pussy that much wetter and her hips move that much faster. It didn’t matter that she felt the hot blush of embarrassment for her predicament.
None of it mattered. What mattered was the liquid and lazy contraction starting deep inside of her. She ground harder and flexed her internal muscles, gritting her teeth with the effort.
Jordan rolled her hips from side to side-desperate and hopeful—like she was doing the hula. When the water cut off and fear lanced through her, she came. It was a sudden shock and it rocked her hard enough to make her bite her lips so Gareth wouldn’t hear.
Fear. Adrenaline. Punishment.
She was learning a lot. She just hoped she could do damage control with her brother. The thought that she’d truly hurt him made her chest ache.
*****
He came in after another half an hour had slipped away. Jordan had watched the red numbers slowly change until she thought she’d scream. Finally, he came in, hair still damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats. He had a piece of her lasagna on a plate and a fork.
The bed sank with his weight and he took a bite of what was supposed to be their dinner.
“You always did make good lasagna, kid,” he said softly, forking up a bite. “And you still do.”
She had to crane her head over her shoulder to see him. He wasn’t sitting within her easy line of sight. “Thanks.”
“Sorry I had to leave you.”
“No you’re not,” she said, tears she hadn’t expected stinging her eyes. “I was sorry that I upset you with what I did. I didn’t know you’d been there. I was trying…” Her voice wavered and she stopped talking. She didn’t want to cry. Not even a little. Then she would feel stupid on top of angry and sad.
“Were trying to what?” Gareth asked softly. She heard him take another bite. Jordan had to let her head rest or she’d hurt herself trying to see him.
Why wouldn’t he let her see him?
“Do something nice for you. Surprise you. It was wrong, I guess, but it wasn’t with malice.”
“And you think I left you in here alone due to malice?”
She nodded, silent and angry as the next wave of unshed tears assaulted her. Jordan swallowed reflexively to keep them at bay. “Yes. It’s all part of what you’re teaching me. All part of the game.”
“Wrong.” He stood and set the plate on the dresser. When he came back, he sat right at her hip and smoothed his hands over her bottom. The tender places jumped with blood and Jordan couldn’t help but sigh.
“I’m embarrassed. I’m sad. I’m angry. I know you didn’t know, but I wish you didn’t know that yet another woman didn’t want me.”
“I want you,” she breathed.
Gareth straddled her, his body not pressing down on hers but his knees brushing her outer thighs. He touched her neck and she shivered. His fingers stroked delicately over her shoulder blades.
“I was angry and it started to come out in my punishment of you. You deserved a punishment for meddling…” He trailed a finger down her spine and Jordan chewed her lip to try and keep still. “But you didn’t deserve my anger. No one topping should ever ever punish you when angry. You remember that…” His voice wavered for a moment. “For when you’re not with me.”
Her heart dipped and ached when he said that. It felt as if it had fallen into her stomach like a rock. More embarrassing tears pricked her eyes but she managed to blink them away. What had she expected? A happily ever after for brother and sister? Whether there was blood or not, it was laughable.
Gareth shifted her focus by reaching between her legs and testing her. “My goodness, little sister, you’re wet. What have you been doing, Jojo?”
Her face blazed and she said nothing. Silence was her best defense.
He climbed off her and sat by her side, his fingers probed her, spread her outer lips, tickled over her still tender clitoris and Jordan could not suppress the gasp and jump that came with contact.
“Did you get yourself off, bad girl?”
She had no idea what to do. She had no idea what to say. So again, Jordan opted for silence, chewing her lip until she was sure it would bleed.
Gareth slid three fingers at once deep inside of her and her cunt grabbed up at his fingers eagerly. “You came didn’t you? Didn’t you?”
He pushed a wet finger into her back hole and she froze. “Tell me, Jojo.”
“Yes. When you were…” Her words trailed off in a low moan as he shoved that finger into her bum up to the hilt. He wiggled it and the pressure was sweet and odd all at once. Taking his other hand, he pushed his fingers inside her pussy and when he flexed his fingers in both her holes at once, managing to tickle at her clit with his pinky, she cried out.
“When I was?”
“When you were showering. It was an accident. I was all…there was pain and then the pain wasn’t pain anymore. And there was, oh God…”
He thrust slow and easy as he listened, tsking when she stopped. “Go on.”
Jordan had trouble focusing. Her entire body was thrumming with the need to come. It was ridiculous and fabulous and awful all at once.
“There was so much pressure in my…” She shook her head, her shoulders starting to ache form being bound. Her neck muscles were getting tight and she wanted him to just unbind her and hold her. But she was afraid to ask.
“In your what?”
Deeper, faster, he fucked her with only his hands.
“Say it,” he said.
“My pussy. There was so much pressure in my pussy. So when I moved, it was an accident, the friction it—”
“Felt good.”
“Yes.”
“Something you want to ask me, Jojo?”
A sob ripped out of her and she started to shake. “Please don’t be mad at me. Please untie me and just hold me. Please, Gareth,” she said in a rush. Her words tumbled all over each other and she started to shake with a tremor that had her shoulders screaming as she pulled involuntarily at her bonds.
“Oh fuck,” he sighed. “Sweetheart.”
And then he was untying her ankles and when he got around to her hands she was blubbering and he was talking to himself. When he gathered her in against him and held her, it was the first time since he’d come home she felt as if she’d taken a real and true deep breath.
“I love the sex. I lo
ve that…stuff,” she whispered as he brushed her hair out of her face. “But it hurts my heart to think you’re mad at me. I’d give it all up for you not to be angry with me, Gareth. I can’t handle that. You’re all I have left.”
He shook his head and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I’m an asshole,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jordan turned into his embrace, molding herself to him. She was shaking but was too relieved that he was holding her to care. Gareth reached down and pulled the extra quilt at the foot of the bed up over them to keep her warm.
“You’re not an asshole,” she said.
“I am.” His voice was full of menace aimed at himself. Jordan had never heard him sound so down on himself.
“No, you’re good and I never should have—”
He cut her off with a kiss. She cupped his face in her hands, returning the kiss. Pushing her tongue against his when he penetrated her mouth. She could taste sweet tomato sauce and beer on his breath. The whole room smelled of him. Spice and suede and sunshine.
“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I should never have punished you in anger. Anger is not a part of play. Ever. You remember that if—”
“Don’t say it, don’t say it!” Jordan sighed. “Please. It hurts my heart when you say when you’re not with me. I know that there can be no—”
“Jordan—”
“Let me finish, God damn it, Gareth!”
“There is no fairy tale ending for us. You don’t want that stuff. And I’m your sister for fuck’s sake and—”
“Jordan,” he growled, pulling her completely flush to him. His cock hard between her legs. His body seeming to hum with something he had yet to express. She could feel it working through his muscles like a fine tremor. Like touching a high tension wire and feeling all the energy that zipped and flitted within the casing.
“Shut up,” she sobbed. “I know that when you say you love me you mean you love me and not that you love me. Like happily ever after or white picket fences or babies or…”
“But it does.” He shook her so she’d look at him.
“I—”
