by Beck, J. L.
I walk down the hall to the guest bathroom and raise my arm, using my hand to feel along the doorframe. Bingo. With the key in my hand, I make my way back to her door and unlock it. With a smile on my face, I place the key on top of her door frame to use in the future.
Stepping over the threshold and into her empty room, I find that it is truly empty. There's not a single item inside it to showcase that it’s hers, no personal touches, pictures or even trinkets. The only thing giving away her occupancy in the room is her unique scent, some kind of flowery smell. I can’t pinpoint the scent, it’s just feminine and it makes my mouth water. I’m used to women who wear overpowering perfume and cake their faces with makeup. Of course Ava doesn't do either of those things, making her ten times more appealing to everyone with a dick and eyes.
Now that I’m in the room, my ears perk up at the sound of the shower running through the closed bathroom door. What a shame it’s closed. I wouldn’t mind sneaking a peek. I guess I can wait. Flopping down onto her bed without taking my shoes off and I fold my arms behind my head, waiting so very impatiently for her. I monitor the bathroom door, anticipating the moment she’s going to step through it…hopefully naked.
When the shower finally turns off, I almost lose it from the possible image I’m about to see. The door opens a moment later and she steps into her room a towel wrapped around her slim body. Ahhh… shit.
“I'm disappointed in you. I was really hoping you would be naked.” My lips turn into a pout.
Ava’s eyes flick to mine in an instant and her plump pink lips let out a loud shriek. She clasps the towel to the front of her chest like it has the power to save her from me.
Funny, nothing can save her now. My gaze travels down her creamy bare legs, appreciating at least that small glimpse. It’s not her tits or her ass but I’ll take what I can get. Then again, I didn’t come here to check her out...I came here to keep her on her toes, to remind her who is in control.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” she yells at me, her chest rising and falling quickly, while drawing attention to the swell of her breasts.
“Just making sure you’re uncomfortable, stepsister.”
Her lips pucker like she’s eaten something sour. “Well, consider it done. Now get the hell out of my room!”
I rub at my jaw. “No, I think I would rather watch you change.”
Her green eyes widen, fear flickering in the depths. Yes. Give me your fear, your tears, your heartache.
“What is wrong with you? Get out. There is no way in hell I am changing in front of you.”
Again, somehow she manages to look seriously surprised by my actions. When is she going to stop playing the victim? Stop acting like she doesn’t know what she did or that she doesn’t deserve anything less than my hate. Her ignorance of the heaping pile of shit she put on my life sends me into a barely restrained fit of rage.
“Drop the towel,” I order, ignoring her question.
“No! There is seriously something wrong with you. Do you have a mental disorder or something? You might not be used to women saying no to you, so let me spell it out for you. Get. Out.” Her voice is shaky now.
She’s trying to appear strong, like a lighthouse standing tall against the coastline but what she doesn’t know is I’m so much more than I appear to be and right now I'm a fucking category five hurricane coming right for her.
Her knuckles turn white as her grip on the towel tightens. One single piece of fabric separates us, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her keep hold of it.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I shove into a standing position. At my sudden movement, she takes a step back, colliding with the wall behind her.
Run princess, run as fast as you can….
Prowling across the room, I close the distance between us until nothing but a few inches separates us. I’m inches away from her now and she’s pressing herself flat against the wall as if she’s hoping it will swallow her.
I won’t let her get away that easily.
“Drop. The. Towel.” I enunciate each word. She’s so much shorter than me that I have to tilt my head down to look at her face. Her eyes refuse to meet mine, either out of defiance or fear, but I’m banking on the second one from the way her tight little body is trembling.
Her eyes flicker to the door and I think she’s about to make a run for it. Before she can make up her mind, I grab the towel and yank it out of her hand, tossing it behind me. I grin, amused with her behavior. Her eyes go impossibly wide at the loss of the towel and her arms flail as she makes a feeble attempt to cover herself up.
“Don’t hide,” I growl into her face, my fingers circling her wrists before I pin them above her head and against the wall. Her chest heaves up and down like she just ran a triathlon.
“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice nothing more than a caress against my cheek. My nostrils flare and I inhale her scent again, needing it to clear my head before I do something stupid, like kiss her.
I take both of her slim wrists into one hand and use the other to touch her. She flinches at first contact as if I would use my hands for anything but pleasure on her, though she doesn’t need to know that.
My fingers trail over her collarbone, her skin so smooth it feels like cashmere and for a moment I imagine things are different, that we’re just two normal college kids sharing an intimate moment, but we aren’t, not really. There isn’t anything intimate about us.
This is about fear, about power, about control and I’m going to show her that. She wiggles in my grasp, and my attention drops to her perky breasts, her light pink nipples are hard and begging to be in my mouth. I bite my bottom lip stifling a groan as my gaze sweeps farther down her body, my fingers ghosting against her sternum along the way.
There’s a slight tremble to her body, the muscles of her smooth tummy ripple beneath my fingers.
So soft, so fucking perfect. My cock is aching, the fucker wishing to be deep inside of her. Enemy. Enemy. She’s the fucking enemy. I remind myself over and over again as my gaze travels lower, falling onto the smooth flesh between her thighs.
Fuck. Her pussy is silky smooth, and completely bare of hair.
“Please…don’t.” Her voice meets my ears and I swallow down the arousal that’s building inside me. I could have her if I wanted her. I could take from her until there was nothing left to take, but I won’t. I can’t. I want to hurt her, but I don’t want to hurt her like that. Looking up at her I notice the shaking of her lips. Her fear is real, and it only makes my cock harder.
“I’d like nothing more than to run my hands all over your cunt, to dip my fingers inside and see if it’s as wet as I think it is…” I pause, leaning into her face, my thumb drawing tiny circles directly above her mound.
“But I don’t fuck liars, so…”
Her cheeks flush pink and her lips part. “I don’t care what you like, and I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on the planet, so I guess we agree on one thing.” She curls her lip before pulling her wrists from my grasp, using her hands to shove at my chest. Her weak attempt at moving me makes me grin, and she glares up at me with a fury that could almost rival my own…almost.
It takes her another second before she finally moves. Scurrying to the side as not to touch me, she heads to her dresser. I twist around and watch her bare ass jiggle lightly with each step. My dick is so hard, the fucker has created a sizeable tent in my shorts, giving away my want, my need. She rips open the first drawer, her hands shaking as she plucks a shirt from inside and quickly pulls it on, and over her head. Then she does the same with a pair of leggings, my eyes following the fabric up her legs.
“No underwear, huh?” I lift a thick brow. “Not that I’m complaining. It’ll be easier for me when I come for you in the middle of the night.”
Fuck, what's wrong with me? Threatening her. Scaring her.
She’s driving me insane.
“Fuck you! Touch me again and I’ll cut your balls off,” sh
e yells before dashing out the door.
What the hell is wrong with us? It’s like an intense game of tug of war. I should just leave her alone, but I can’t. I stand there for a long moment, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
I hate her, but I’m not dumb enough to deny the fact that I’m attracted to her. For a second, I let myself wonder where she’s going, but then I shut that shit down. I don’t give a fuck what she does or where she goes.
With an iron rod between my legs, I make my way to my bedroom and then into the bathroom where I strip off my clothing before stepping into the walk-in shower.
Twisting the knob, water sprays from the shower head and the first few seconds are ice cold the beads of water pelleting against my skin like hail.
Even that doesn’t help my painfully hard cock.
Without thought, I wrap a hand around the beast and stroke him a couple times. I’m so horned up and ready to go that I know it won’t take much to get me off. Images of Ava’s naked body shaking with need beneath mine filter through my head, my soft strokes turning to strangling jerks.
Another image of her eyes pleading and her bottom lip trembling. Fuck, I want to suck on that lip, bite it, and lick it. Thinking about that mouth of hers has me conjuring up all kinds of things. Ava on her knees, her lips parted as I thrust my cock all the way into her mouth and deep in her throat until she gags around my length. I wonder if she’s ever been fucked, ever had a man use her throat as a pussy.
I keep stroking myself furiously while thinking about her. The wrongness of it all only heightening my lust. It doesn’t take me long before my balls drag together and an orgasm ripples through me. Tossing my head back, I squeeze my eyes shut as ropes of cum shoot out of my cock and onto the shower floor. Even if I don’t want to admit it, she has some type of control over me. I want to own her fear, her hate, and her anger.
Fuck.
30
Ava
My heated cheeks cool under the soft breeze as I run out the back door and into the yard. I have no idea where I’m going, all I know is that I need to get away from him.
The grass is soft under my bare feet and the breeze feels nice against my skin as I aimlessly run away from the house, trying to make sense of what just happened. My eyes fill with tears as the anger and shock are replaced with confusion and shame.
Confusion because I don’t understand why he is doing this to me and why he keeps calling me a liar. Shame because part of me likes what he was doing, liked how he touched me and talked to me crudely. What the hell is wrong with me? There must be something wrong with me too if I liked him threatening me like that?
When I finally stop running, my lungs are burning, and I can barely suck in enough oxygen to breathe normally. I lean against a tree while catching my breath and let my gaze sweep over the property. It’s beautiful, spacious, and helps me clear my head.
Not ready to go back yet, I sit down behind the tree, leaning my back against the trunk. It might be childish to hide out back here, but right now, I don’t really care what anyone thinks of me, least of all Vance. My brain feels like it has just been through a blender. My emotions are all over the place. I have no idea what to do.
Can I even live here safely? I remember his threat to come in my room tonight and a shiver runs down my spine, but only partly from actual fear. I can’t help but imagine him coming to me in the middle of the night, sneaking into my room through the darkness.
Climbing into my bed… I squeeze my thighs together, feeling the moisture, and warmth build there thinking about him, and what he would do to me.
Yes, there is definitely something wrong with me.
For a long while I sit there, breathing in the fresh air and wondering what my life would be like if I hadn’t played Truth or Dare that night five years ago. Maybe my father would have never found out, he would have never turned into an alcoholic, barely holding onto his sanity. Maybe my parents would still be together, we would still live in our old house, and we would still be a family…and Vance would still be my friend, maybe even more.
He probably wouldn’t hate me.
What if…
Feeling that it must be safe to go back inside, I walk back across the yard, and enter through the backdoor, closing it quietly behind me. The entire house is quiet, too quiet as I tiptoe through the kitchen and into the hallway, going completely unnoticed. That is until I turn the corner to head to the staircase and my body crashes into another. Startled, I stagger backward, almost tripping over my own feet. I’m seconds away from beefing it on the polished floor when someone grabs my arm, steadying me.
My mouth opens to yell at him to take his hands off of me. I would rather fall on my ass than have Vance catch me, but I realize a second later that it’s not Vance holding onto me, it’s another guy. He looks oddly familiar. High cheekbones, chocolate colored brown hair that’s cut stylishly, and a pair of hazel eyes filled to the brim with mischief.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice friendly and his eyebrows drawn together with concern.
“Yeah, sorry, I uhh...” I apologize and he lets go of my arm. My tongue feels heavy inside my mouth.
“You’re Ava, right? I’m Clark,” he introduces himself with a grin showing off his perfectly straight white teeth.
“Yes, I’m Ava. It’s nice to meet you, Clark.”
“I was actually looking for you. Looks like you found me first,” he says playfully, his eyes twinkling.
“You were?” I squeak, unsure why he would be looking for me.
He nods. “Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. I know how hard it is to be the new kid, plus Vance can be a pain in the ass, so I thought maybe you could use a friend to hang out with.”
I get the feeling he doesn’t just hang out with girls often, not without having his dick inside them and if he’s friends with Vance well that’s enough said.
“Oh, that’s…well, that’s sweet of you. I would like that.” Clark’s smile turns wolfish and only then do I remember my lack of underwear and bra. Of course I would run into a gorgeous Greek god without either item on. All the blood inside my body rushes to my cheeks, giving my embarrassment away.
“If you’re free tonight, you could come out with us…” Clark’s voice trails off.
“No fucking way. She’s not coming out with us.” Vance’s voice booms down the staircase a moment before he appears at the top of the stairs. He’s changed and is now dressed in a dark pair of jeans and gray button-up shirt, looking annoyingly handsome as always.
Beads of water cling to the strands of his russet brown hair. My eyes are drawn to his pink lips, and even after what he did to me earlier, I still want him. It’s stupid, and wrong beyond measure since he’s not only my stepbrother but obviously the enemy.
“What are you even doing here? I told you I’d come to your house,” Vance says bitterly.
I wonder how he keeps friends when he talks to them like that.
“I was tired of waiting, asshole. You took forever and I have zero patience, so here I am. Also, she can come if she wants to, it’s a party that the entire campus was invited to. Let the woman choose for herself,” Clark responds to Vance who snorts before turning to me.
“Ava, do you wanna come with us? I promise to keep Vance’s asshole tendencies to a minimum.”
My lips tip up into a small smile.
“No, thank you. I would rather stay home tonight...” or nail my hand to the wall. Clark gives me a small pout.
“Maybe, next time?”
“Sure,” I mumble, trying to avoid another confrontation with Vance who is walking down the stairs, heading straight for me.
“Maybe you’ll put on a bra then, unless the super slutty look is what you were going for,” Vance sneers in passing and I curl my hand into a tight fist.
All I need to do is land one punch, one…
“Just ignore him,” Clark whispers before surprising me by leaning in and giving me a light kiss on the cheek. When he pulls
away, he gives me one more smile revealing two dimples that make him look even cuter. With a wink, he turns and follows Vance, who is already at the door. I wait until the door closes behind them before I turn around and walk up the stairs. Back in my room, I flop down onto the bed, the smell of citrus, and soap filtering into my nose. My blankets smell just like that bastard.
Can’t I get away from this guy?
* * *
It’s the middle of the night when I hear the door open and someone walking in. I go from being half asleep to being wide awake in less than a second. Silently I curse myself for not pushing the dresser in front of the door like I had considered doing.
“Have you been waiting for me?” Vance slurs, walking toward me, his movements sluggish. Oh God no, he’s drunk. My heart sinks even farther. Too many nights I watched my dad come home drunk. It’s a memory of my last I would much rather not relive.
“Get out!” I try to keep my voice strong, while getting out of bed. I can smell the liquor on him, the distinct scent making me recoil.
“Don’t be like that…lie back down,” he mumbles as he staggers toward me. When he’s close enough for me to touch him, I lift my hands and press them to his chest to give him a gentle push toward the door, but his body’s firmer than a brick wall and my tiny push doesn’t even make him budge.
I don’t know why but for some reason, I thought in his drunken state I would somehow be able to overpower him. Unfortunately, I underestimated him. I was wrong…so very wrong. I shove against his chest as hard as I can, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he grabs me by the arms and pushes me backward and toward the bed.
Alarm bells go off in my mind. This is bad, very bad. I’m completely alone with him. He’s much stronger than me and on top of that, he’s drunk. I’m so fucking stupid for believing that staying here would be a good idea.
