by Rachel Leigh
I should stop.
But, I don’t. Instead, I give her all of me. She cries out in a mix of pleasure and pain, but I keep going. Faster. Harder. “Fuck.” I groan. It feels so fucking good inside her. I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.
She grabs me by the head and pulls my mouth to hers. Kissing me, as if it’s the first and last time, before I spill inside of her.
Slowing my pace, I pull out of the kiss.
“Thanks,” I tell her.
“Thanks?”
“Yeah. Thanks for giving me your first.”
1
Three Months Later
Sooner or later, everyone is smothered in a blanket of consequences when they choose the wrong path. We did just that. We saw an opportunity, and we took it and ran with it. We made our bed, and now we have to lie in it and hope that we still have our freedom when we get out.
Marni just got her tattoo. She’s one of us now. She gets to stand in line and when it’s her turn, she gets to pull the trigger on whoever she wants and we will all have her back. That’s part of the deal. No matter what, we stand together from start to finish and everything in between.
I pull up to the house that I once called home and the garage door is closed, but I don’t need to see vehicles to know who's here. Chances are, there’s only one person home. The people I call my parents are probably on some sort of lavish vacation in France or basking in the sun on the beaches of Maui. Don’t know, don’t care. I moved out a few months ago when Dad moved his new family in. One month later, he married my bitch of a stepmother, Lynn, and decided that I was simply an inconvenience in his perfect life.
Every once in a while, I drop by just to pay a visit to my new sister because she requires my attention to keep her in line.
“Madison,” I holler before the door even closes behind me. The walls have been painted since I was here last. Dad didn’t waste any time letting Mommy Dearest wipe away the memories of his former wife—also known as my mom. “In your room, right fucking now,” I shout even louder. I could smell her fruity body spray as soon as I walked in, so I know she’s here.
The door slams shut and I kick my shoes off and head down the hall to the staircase. My socks glide across the waxed hardwood floors. “Madison,” I singsong, “I know you’re here.” As I make my way up the stairs, the sound of her pop music gets louder. Taylor Swift, of course. This girl is obsessed. I’m not sure who she’s more obsessed with, me or the pop princess.
Without knocking, I swing her door open. “What the fuck, Lars?” she huffs with her legs spread wide open and her purple dildo still stuck inside of her. I step in her room and close the door behind me. “What the fuck did I tell you about blowing up my phone all day?”
“But I missed you,” she says, with her elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of her. She leans forward and begins sliding the dildo in and out while watching me with her lips curled up. I make a beeline to her with a heavy brow. Without even saying a word, I grab the rubber wand and pull it out. With my eyes on her, I trail my tongue up the length of the dildo, licking her sweet juices. “I was just about to come, so if you wouldn’t mind.” She leans forward with her legs still spread and tries to grab it from my hand.
With my free hand, I give her body a shove and push her down on her back. Crawling on my knees, between her legs, my face hovers over hers. “Since when do you do anything for yourself?” I plunge the dildo in her so hard that her entire body jolts upward, but I don’t stop. Gripping the end tightly in my hand, I drive the full length inside of her continuously, causing the top of her head to ricochet off the headboard.
“Holy shit, Lars,” she cries out. Her eyes roll back in her head as her back arches to gain friction. Just when I feel her body tense up, I pull the dildo out and drop it on her stomach. “What the hell?” She grimaces.
“It’s about time you start taking care of yourself.” I brush my finger over her nose with a smirk.
“Fuck you, Lars!” she screams as I stand up.
“In your dreams, Sis.”
I turn to walk out, but she grabs my attention. “Oh, I’ve been dreaming about it ever since the first time you fucked me, and every time after that. Should I remind you that I could make it happen again if I wanted to?”
Just like that, I spin around, and I’m on top of her again. My jaw ticks furiously as I grit through my teeth, “Don’t fucking threaten me, Madison. I’ll tear you to shreds.”
“Oh yeah,” she seethes, “before or after you spend twenty years in prison?”
I don’t humor her with a spoken response. Instead, I grab her by the throat and squeeze. Not as hard as I should, but enough to get her attention. My mind says to just fucking do it, end this madness. But my conscience isn’t there. Not yet.
“One word. Josh,” she mutters with my fingers still snaked around her neck. She doesn’t fight me off; she just lies there with a fucking smirk that I wanna dig my teeth into and peel off her face.
Lucky for her, I’m in need of some reprieve. Which is why I came in here in the first place. I seem to have forgotten that because every time I look at her fake tan and face full of overpriced makeup, I wanna vomit. The girl’s a fucking earthquake. She’ll sneak up on you and shake the hell out of you while laughing her ass off in the process.
Stretching my hand down between us, I pop the button on my jeans. Her eyes light up, like the whore she is. If only she were a whore somewhere else. She’s hungry for cock, but it’s only mine she wants to fill her up. My stepsister is infatuated with me. Not just a high school crush. She’s full-blown, crazy obsessed. And she’s got me wrapped around her boney little finger.
I unzip my zipper and don’t even bother taking my jeans all the way off before I shove my cock inside of her. Her fake nails dig into the skin of my shoulder blades as I rock myself in and out of her pussy. Grabbing her neck again, I squeeze tighter with every thrust. “Is this what you want, you little slut?”
Grabbing the back of my head, she pulls my mouth to hers. As much as I hate Madison, she’s satisfying. She’s got the perfect body. A tight pussy and a mouth that can suck the cum out of me like no other. That’s why I keep coming back. That, and the fact that if I don’t, she’ll tell everyone what she saw that night.
The night me and the guys stuffed Josh’s dead body into the back of a car. As usual, she was stalking me, putting her fucking nose in my business, and now she has me by the balls.
2
It’s eleven o’clock in the morning when I roll outta bed. Since my dad and his gold-digging wife are out of town, I crashed in my old bedroom. It’s probably best. Marni says she’s forgiven me, but how could she fully? I held a gun on the girl and fed her to the lion. Part of me knew that she would be ok, but to be honest, I wasn’t completely sure. I just knew that I couldn’t let Zed open his mouth about what he stumbled upon—that I fuck my stepsister behind closed doors.
What started off as just fooling around, has turned into this full-blown mess of emotions on her end. It was innocent. Well, as innocent as it can be. We screwed a few times and it was nice, but then she started sprouting these feelings for me. She got crazy possessive. Watching me from afar, texting me nonstop.
When I tried to stop it a couple weeks ago, she told me that she had proof that me and the guys were a part of Josh’s death. I told her we didn’t kill him, but she doesn’t believe me. The truth is, even we don’t know what the hell happened to him. Now, she has me on a short leash and while I get laid whenever I want, if I so much as look at another girl, she flips the fuck out and begins making threats.
She can blackmail me now, but soon, she’ll be the one begging for this to end.
My footsteps echo through the empty hall and I would like to think that they were cleared just for me, but in reality, I’m late for class. I do all of my schooling online because I hate being here, but since I’ve fallen behind, there is one class that I have to take in person and I hate it with a passion. At least it�
��s the last period of the day, so I don’t have to drag my ass out of bed too early.
“Glad you could join us, Mr. Titan,” Mrs. Rhys says when I walk through the curtain onto the stage.
“Yeah, I was busy with a math test,” I blatantly lie.
“Please have a seat. Willa was just about to start her audition duet with Trent,” Mrs. Rhys says as she looks out at the rest of the stagehands who are sitting quietly in the front row.
Pretty sure she was insinuating that I join them, but instead, I grab a stool to the left of me, spin it around and sit down right on the stage. This should be interesting.
Mrs. Rhys clears her throat. “Lars, please join the rest of the class.”
Looking back and forth from her to the crowd, I keep my ass planted. “Actually, I prefer to listen from up here.” I twirl my finger around my ear. “It helps to get a feel for the sound.” I totally just pulled that out of my ass, but I’m not too keen on getting sandwiched between Allergic Alan and the chick who doesn’t stop talking about her scholarship to Julliard.
Mrs. Rhys’ eyebrows pinch together, but she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she turns to face a flustered Willa who is standing front and center. Willa is many things, but the center of attention is not one of them. She’s quiet and shy, a Bible hugger who has the self-esteem of a potato.
I lean forward, getting comfortable, and press my elbows to my knees, causing the legs of the stool to move a few inches. The sound of the metal against the linoleum floor draws Willa’s attention. Her eyes shoot to me and when they catch mine, I don’t see the shy girl in a knitted sweater, I see orbs of fire and fury. Pure hatred.
Yeah, she hates me. Naturally so. I took the girl's virginity—stole it rather—then stood by idly as my friends blasted a video of the entire thing to all our classmates. Everyone assumes that I shared the video, since my asshole friends sent it from my phone. So yeah, she hates me.
The way her brown-sugar hair cascades around her face leads me to believe that she does so to purposely hide herself. She’s a pretty girl, don’t get me wrong. With a complexion that’s flawless, a cute little chin dimple, and small but perky breasts, she definitely has potential. But for some reason, she prefers to live under the radar. Except for in this moment. In this class, she wants to shine.
I smirk. “Sorry about that.”
Her eyes roll back to her audience, and I wait for the background music to begin, but there is none. Her melancholy is the only sound as she begins singing “A Tale as Old as Time” from Beauty and the Beast.
Holy shit, Sweater Girl can sing.
She looks over at me as she continues.
Why the hell is she looking at me like that? My eyebrows pinch together as our gazes hold and she keeps on with the song that she’s apparently singing to me. I always knew she was a little strange, but this is downright uncomfortable.
Finally, she turns back to the crowd. Her delicate voice is packed full of emotion and I’m pretty sure the entire class is moved by her performance. Hell, I think I even felt something tickle inside of me.
Trent joins her side and takes her by the hand as they turn to face each other, and he joins her in on the final line of the chorus.
I have no idea what this play is even about, other than a girl who falls in love with a beast. I’ve never watched the movie and don’t bother watching them practice. I’m usually backstage for the hour-long class working on sounds. Don’t even participate in the evening rehearsals because that wasn’t part of the arrangement.
Counselor Goodman said to show up three days a week and participate and I get the grade. The end. I’m not putting any extra effort into this, and I certainly don’t have the heart for drama club. Willa and Trent can have the spotlight. The little elves can have their moment flocking around on stage, pretending that fame is just around the corner. I just need to finish this shit so I can graduate.
When Willa wraps up the song and everyone claps, I join in on the cheer. Clapping my hands together so loudly that it drowns out the sound of the others. “Bravo,” I shout. My voice is laced with sarcasm. I slide the stool back and get to my feet as Willa shoots daggers in my direction.
When I walk behind the thick red curtain, I assume I’m alone, until someone grabs ahold of my bicep. I thrust my arm back in a knee-jerk reaction as my fists clench. “What the hell are you doing?” Trent’s voice is extra gruff and masculine and it makes me laugh. Trent Peters is anything but a tough guy, though it seems he’s all about putting on the mask of a beast for the girl. He’s this tall and lanky dude with a bowl cut and braces, and I’m pretty sure he doused himself in an entire bottle of Axe Cologne.
My thumb points over my shoulder. “Was sort of thinking I might come back here and take a nap.”
“No. I mean, why are you in this class? Is it just to taunt her? To make a scene?”
Instinctively, I chuckle. It starts out hushed, but escalates quickly into full-blown laughter. “Who? Willa? You fucking kidding me?”
“No. I’m not kidding. I’m onto you, Lars. Stay the hell away from her.”
I try to stop the laughter. I really do, but is this kid for real right now? Planting my palm gently on his chest, I give him a little shove. “Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’m not in the mood.” I’ve got Madison hot on my ass. Things with the guys and Marni are still a mess. And to top it off, the cops have widened the search for Josh, and we still have no idea where the hell Zed took him.
When Trent takes another step toward me with balled fists at his side, I put him in his place by shoving him harder. His ass hits the floor as he slides beneath the curtain.
The thudding of footsteps comes closer and the curtain is ripped open. “What’s going on back here?” Willa’s frail voice cracks as she extends her hand to Trent, before turning her attention to me. Her forehead crinkles in an array of lines. “Did you push him?”
There’s no use in lying. “Sure did.” She begins huffing and puffing over him as she tries to pull him up and I sweep the air with my hand and continue to the oversized recliner that has my name written all over it.
“Wait a minute.” Willa scurries to my side like a puppy. “You can’t just go around pushing people, Lars.” Her eyes blink repeatedly and it’s something that I’ve noticed she does a lot. I’m not sure if it’s a nervous reaction, or if she just needs glasses. She’s like a timid little mouse and her voice squeaks even when she tries to be angry. I say try, because I don’t think she’s capable of full-blown anger. If her sweet voice and the cross around her neck don’t scream purity enough, the perched robin on the corner of her baby blue sweater sure as hell does.
One of the buttons in the middle of her sweater is undone, so I begin to pop it back in place. “I can and I did.” I look up and her cocoa colored eyes beam into mine as she shivers under my touch.
In a delayed response, her hand swats mine away. “Don’t touch me.”
Throwing my hands up in surrender, I grimace. “Just trying to help. Wouldn’t want anyone trying to sneak another peek under that sweater of yours.” That was cruel. Probably went too far. I’m sure the memories of that night are still in the forefront of her brain. I’ve pushed them aside and almost forgot about the entire thing until I joined this class a couple weeks ago. Seems my dick still reacts to the wallflower because the minute I saw her on that stage for the first time, I remembered what it felt like as I stretched her pussy and popped her cherry. Tight, wet, and so inviting.
“If you’d like to help. Go apologize to Trent.” Her arms cross over her chest, as if she’s shielding her covered breasts from me.
“Nah, I’m good. Got shit to do.” With that, I walk away. This time, she doesn’t follow. I turn around a couple times to make sure, but she’s now kneeling at Trent’s side while he plays victim.
Dropping my ass into the recliner, I kick my feet up on a box in front of me and stretch my hands behind my head. I watch as Trent feeds Mrs. Rhys his sob story, and I’m pretty sure my comfort in
this chair is about to end abruptly when she glowers at me from across the room.
“Lars,” she hollers, “a word please.”
Fuck my life.
Kicking the box away, I get back up. Slow and steady steps lead me over to the circle gathered around the little pussy and his posse of drama nerds. But what pisses me the fuck off is the shit-eating grin on his face that he dishes out as he takes Willa’s hand in his. I’m not sure why it irks me, but it does.
“Class, please go back out and start from scene one while I speak with Lars and Trent.”
Once the room clears, Mrs. Rhys demands answers. I could throw Trent under the bus and tell her that he started this shit, but he’d deny it, and she’d believe him. Instead, I play nice. “I’m sorry, Trent. Didn’t mean to push you.” I pat him on the back with extra force, causing him to gasp. “Is this settled?”
“Don’t let it happen again or you’re out, Lars. I mean it.” Mrs. Rhys threatens, but I take it with a grain of salt.
I hold up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
When she disappears in front of the curtain, I step up to Trent. “This isn’t over, Choir Boy.”
3
You’d think that I’d be the first one out the door when the bell rings, but I’m actually the last. The thing is, I don’t like people. I prefer to avoid interaction with others as much as humanly possible. There are only a few people I trust, and not many that I tolerate. Trent just added himself to my shit list. Right next to Zed. The guy used to be my best friend, until he turned on me, blackmailed me, and threatened me. I’ve come to realize that he’d throw me under the bus just to save his ass.
Talon and Tommy, on the other hand, they’ve earned every bit of my trust. Marni is getting there, but I’m still not sure that her intentions are pure. I mean, who falls for a guy who was only using her in the first place? I’m still not convinced that she won’t try to turn the tables on us to protect her dad.
