by K. Webster
I’ll be damned if I’m anyone’s revenge fuck.
“Cereal’s in the cabinet,” I say curtly.
His nostrils flare. “I don’t eat breakfast.”
I gape at him. The little monster wanted me to cook and he doesn’t even eat it. “A little early for the bullshit,” I say as I stand on my toes to reach an upper cabinet.
His touch is gentle on the small of my back as he steps close and pulls a mug out for me. I grumble out my thanks while he grabs one for himself. Like two greedy little birds waiting for a worm, we hover near the coffee pot. Once the pot finishes brewing, he pours some into each of our mugs.
“Sugar?”
I jerk my head his way. “What?”
“Want sugar?”
Shaking my head, I take a step away from his burning proximity. “I like my coffee black.” I smirk at him. “Like my soul.”
This earns me a twitch of the corner of his mouth. Like he might have smiled but then thought better of it.
“Be ready in an hour,” he says, his eyes darting behind me. “It’s snowing pretty hard. You don’t need to drive in this shit. I’ll give you a ride.”
I turn and frown at the windows. “I can manage,” I lie. I hate driving in the snow. Yesterday, it’d barely started, and I slipped all over the place.
His body heat burns into me from behind. I bite back a gasp when I feel his hardness brush against me. “No, you can’t,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling my hair. “I need you to arrive in one piece.”
“Why?”
He twists an unruly strand of my hair around his finger and tugs. “Because if you weren’t here, who else would I give a hard time?”
I want to blurt out that he needs to go bug someone else, but truth is, a tiny thrill shoots through me. Something forbidden and dirty. Callie would kill me if I fucked her dad, but man would that be fun.
Until he opened his mouth and slung out his insults.
“I’ll be ready,” I snip. “Thank you.”
Two hours later and I’m staring at the board of my pre-calculus class wanting to jump out the window. Coach Long, while super easy on the eyes, is almost as mean as August Miller. Coach snaps and barks and grumbles to anyone who will listen. It just makes me long to see August again. We’d managed a morning without killing or fucking each other, which seemed like quite the feat if you ask me.
“Miss Burke,” Coach barks out.
“Yep,” I grumble. “I’m here.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and glowers at me. “Lose the attitude.”
This guy. Seriously. I arch my brow at him. “Define attitude. I’m unclear if it was a good one or a bad one.”
His jaw clenches. “I don’t have time for spoiled brats not paying attention in my class.”
“And I’m so over assholes,” I mutter under my breath.
But apparently not quietly enough.
“Out,” he barks. “Take your bad attitude down to Renner and let him deal with you.”
Huffing loudly and ignoring the sniggers of the other students, I gather my shit and push past him. Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away. I don’t want him to call my dad. If Principal Renner calls him, he’ll see what I’ve been trying to hide from everyone.
Dad doesn’t care.
My chest aches at that thought, but it’s true. Dad and I fought hard the other day, and he kicked me out. Sided with that woman and told me to pack my shit. I sat in my room for a good half hour, waiting for it to blow over. It didn’t blow over, though. They meant it. My father chose his skanky wife over me and forced me out. It makes me miss Mom. She died when I was younger and I hardly remember her. But she always smiled in the pictures and it reached her eyes. Mom was lovely and good and wonderful. Unlike the one Dad married next.
By the time I reach the office, Renner is waiting for me. He’s hot for a principal but nothing about his disappointed face is doing it for me right now. I follow him into his office and plop down in a chair across from his desk.
“Coach Long said you were disrupting his class,” Principal Renner says, frowning. “You’re on track for being valedictorian. You know better than to act out and curse in class, Winter. And yet this is the third time in a week that you’ve been here from smarting off to teachers.”
Shrugging, I stare out the window. “Sorry.”
“I’m going to call your father and—”
“Can you, uh, call Callie Miller’s dad instead? Mine’s out of town. She’s my stepsister.” My voice shakes with my lie. Renner sniffs it out but nods as he dials the number.
“August,” he greets. “How you doing, man?”
I can hear the deep rumbling of August’s voice coming through the line.
“Actually,” Renner says, “it’s not Callie. It’s Winter.”
A beat of silence.
Renner continues. “She said her dad was out of town and that I ought to call you. She was disrupting Coach Long’s class and got sent to the office. In-school suspension is punishment for the third offense.” He darts his eyes my way. “Of course. Here she is.”
I take the phone and bring it to my ear. “Hello?”
“You’re being a bad girl and too afraid to call Daddy, hmmm?”
Swallowing, I avoid Renner’s stare and look out the window. “Something like that.”
“Are you going to be good for the rest of the day?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I grumble.
“Then I’ll get you out of trouble,” he murmurs. “But don’t think you’ll go unpunished once you get home.”
The last thing I need is to get suspended. I don’t want that crap on my record. These scholarships are important, especially now that Dad is done with me.
“Just like that?” I ask.
August chuckles and it warms me to my core. “I can make it go away just like that. I’m good at that sort of thing. But it won’t go without a price. Question is, are you willing to pay it?”
When Renner pulls out the in-school suspension form, my heart races.
“Yes, I agree. Just help.”
“Put Adam back on the phone,” he orders in that bossy lawyer tone he has down pat.
I hand the phone back and Principal Renner frowns. He nods a few times and then grunts out his agreement. My heart flops when he places the form back in his filing cabinet. Once he hangs up, he shrugs.
“I’m giving you one more chance, Winter. Don’t screw it up.”
The ride home from school, I try to get a read from August. He’s quiet and calm. I don’t get the usual razzing from him. It unnerves me. I agreed to punishment. He’ll probably make me do something stupid like scrub his already immaculate baseboards. He’s silent as we park and ride up the elevator. I want to go hide out in Callie’s room, but just as I make a beeline for the door, he stops me.
“Drop your things off. Get into something comfortable. Then, come in the living room so we can talk,” he instructs.
Just yesterday I would’ve balked at his orders, but I feel like I owe him right now. He saved my ass from getting in-school suspension and if I have to do some menial task to make him happy, I will. And if I have to do it while biting my tongue, so be it. I can handle anything he sends my way.
I change into an oversized black sweatshirt and a pair of gray shorts that say “PINK” across the butt. My socks are rainbow-striped knee-highs that don’t match my outfit, but I don’t care. If I’m going to have to clean, I don’t have to look pretty doing it.
By the time I enter the living room, August has lost his jacket and tie. His sleeves have been rolled up, revealing his toned forearms.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I say, looking around. Whatever it is he’ll have me do won’t be hard because his condo is flawless. Maybe he’ll make me clean Callie’s messy room. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind organizing all her crap.
He starts unbuckling his belt, a wicked glint in his eyes, and I freeze. Of all the times I imagined rolling around in the sheets with him, never d
id I think it would actually happen. But instead of removing his pants, he yanks out his belt with a swish. I stare with my jaw practically unhinged when he wraps the leather around his fist.
“Bend over the back of the couch,” he instructs, his voice cold. “I get to punish your ass for saving your ass.”
My heart stammers in my chest. “You’re going to spank me?”
His grin is wolfish. “Your worthless daddy never did. Someone has to step up and be the man where you’re concerned.”
I clench my jaw, my first inclination to defend my dad, but then I remember why I’m here. With a challenging stare, I waltz over to the back of the couch and bend over the back of it, making sure to watch him over my shoulder. His eyes rake over my ass, lust burning in them. I push my ass out further to tease him. If I’m getting punished, I may as well punish him too.
“Should I pull down my panties?” I taunt, hoping to rile him.
The leather of his belt rubs between my inner thighs. “Do you want to?”
Heat burns through me at his husky question, forcing me to look away. I’m nodding before I can stop myself. He doesn’t wait for me to do it myself and instead slides his thumbs into the waistband of my shorts under my sweatshirt before dragging the shorts and my panties down. The cool air kisses my exposed flesh and I shiver. The material drops to the floor at my ankles and I step out of the shorts and panties. His sharp intake of air causes heat to pool between my thighs.
“I won’t take it easy on you,” he warns, his voice a deep rumble as he teases my naked flesh with the belt.
“I don’t expect you to,” I breathe.
Whap!
No warning, just a hard whip to my ass. I cry out in surprise, but then his palm soothes away the hurt. As I get used to his warm, firm touch, he pulls away and hits me again.
Whap!
It burns, but it’s not horrible, especially when he rubs my butt again after. He stays away from my pussy and my crack, but I wish he’d venture over there. I’m practically dripping with the need to be touched there.
Whap!
This time, I choke on a sob. It’s like I’m suddenly hit with the realization of my situation. I’m eighteen years old and I’ve been kicked out of my dad’s house. He left me to fend for myself, knowing I don’t have a job because I’m so focused on school. Knowing that it’s freaking snowing and I don’t have a place to live. He left me to the big bad wolf, although something tells me if he knew I was with his wife’s ex, he’d have something to say about it.
August whips me a couple more times. The burn is nothing compared to the ache in my chest. The sob I’ve held onto escapes.
“Winter?” His voice is concerned and trembles.
Hot tears leak from my eyes and I try to bury my face in the couch so he won’t see me break down over my situation. Nobody sees me cry. Not Dad or Callie. No one. I’m still trying to hide when two strong arms pull me to my feet. He twists me around to face him and then hugs me to him. I cling to his vest, trying to hide my tears of shame from him. When he grabs my ass and lifts me, I wrap my legs around his waist, eager for the comfort he is providing. He walks us over to a chair and then he sits, pulling me with him. I relax against his hard chest. I’m embarrassed by the fact I’m halfway naked and straddling his lap. His cock is hard between us and sandwiched between the lips of my pussy.
“Talk to me,” he rumbles softly, his fingers stroking through my hair. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “It’s stupid.”
He grips my shoulders and pushes me so I’m forced to look at him. “It’s not stupid. Talk to me.” His normally cold expression is gone. Warmth bleeds into his features and I like it. Too much. It makes me want to snuggle against him and beg for more.
“I’m just upset…” I trail off, biting on my bottom lip so I don’t cry again. I hate feeling weak. I’m Winter Burke, and usually a firestorm. Today, I feel like an ember getting lost in the wind.
“About getting in trouble at school? It’s been taken care of,” he assures me, his thumbs rubbing me through my sweatshirt.
Tears well in my eyes again and then a hot one races down my cheek. “Why did he send me away?” My bottom lip wobbles. “Why would he do that to his daughter?”
August’s grip is gentle when he takes hold of my jaw. His green eyes blaze with intensity as he stares at me. “Because he’s selfish,” he says coldly. “But you don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of you.”
I search his eyes. At the moment, all I see is genuine concern in them. It spurs me to do something bold. Gripping his wrist, I pull away his hand and then lean forward to press my lips to his. A small groan escapes him as he parts his lips, allowing me access to his mouth. The moment my tongue slides in and swipes against his, he loses control. His palms find my bare ass under the sweatshirt and he squeezes, pulling my cheeks apart. I shamelessly grind against his hard cock, slightly worried that I’m soaking his slacks with my arousal. We kiss hard and frantically as he grips my ass, directing my movements to rub against his dick. Each time it rubs against my clit, I let out a mewl of anticipation. It’s been so long since I orgasmed. When you’re stressed to the max, self-pleasure isn’t high on the to-do list.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, nipping at my bottom lip. “Let it all out, sweet little Winter.”
The moment my climax hits, I let out a quiet yelp, my entire body trembling with pleasure. My lips pull from his as I whimper out his name. His teeth sink into my throat as an answer to the call and he sucks me hard. Those strong fingers of his bite into my ass, pushing me hard against him so I’m once more on the cusp of an orgasm. His tongue slides down my throat and then he latches on again. I can feel his teeth and then he’s sucking, bruising me. All it does is add to the experience.
“Oh, God,” I hiss out as another orgasm steals over me, blacking out my vision. I crumble against him, depleted of energy. My nose nuzzles against his neck and I inhale his scent.
“You got my pants wet,” he murmurs, his voice raw and husky.
I start to pull away, but he grips me tight.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
His cock twitches at his words between us as if to agree.
August
I stare at myself in the foggy mirror and try to tap into my anger. What’s wrong with me? I was supposed to be terrorizing this girl, not ripping off her clothes and dry fucking her in my living room. My cock jolts to life beneath my towel. Earlier, I held her after her two back-to-back orgasms, and then told her to get herself cleaned up. She was quiet as she ran off, her sweatshirt barely covering her red ass.
God, I am so stupid. I shouldn’t have let it go so far.
But she was hurting. And dammit if I didn’t want to ease that pain.
Exiting the bathroom, I find some sweatpants and pull them on. After throwing on a black T-shirt, I walk back into the living room. Pots clang around in the kitchen and it’s a good reminder why I allowed her to even stay here in the first place.
Fuck with her to fuck with him.
I tap into my new resolve as I enter the kitchen. She still wears the same sweatshirt but has changed into some black yoga pants. With her wild fake-red hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, she looks completely fucking adorable. All plans to irritate her fly out the window.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
She jumps at my words and shoots me a nasty glare. Fire in her eyes is even more beautiful than the tears in them earlier.
“Earning my keep,” she says grumpily.
I chuckle as I approach. “By trying to kill me?”
“I hardly think a grilled cheese sandwich will kill you,” she bites back.
“Grilled cheese?” I ask with an amused lift of my brow. “What are we, twelve?”
She rolls her eyes at me as she sets the pan on the stove. “Get the butter, gramps.”
“Gramps?” I snort. “You have no idea how far from a gramps I am, little girl.” Liftin
g the hem of my shirt, I show her my cut abs. I work hard as hell at the building’s gym most mornings to keep this body.
Her brown eyes drag down to my stomach and she licks her bottom lip. I’m grinning triumphantly until she speaks again.
“Is that a gray hair?” she asks as she shoves past me to the fridge.
Jerking my gaze down, I inspect my happy trail and run my thumb through the dark brown hair there. “There’s no fucking gray.”
She laughs, her tone haughty and condescending. “You sure? Maybe you should get your bifocals checked.”
The little girl is poking the bear. Letting my shirt drop, I narrow my eyes at her. She’s no longer teary and sad. Her smile is present and there’s a pep in her step. “Make yourself useful and put on some tunes, grumpy Gramps.”
I walk past her and slap her sore ass, loving the squeal that escapes her. I saunter into the living room to my stereo. Pulling my iPhone from my pocket, I plug it in. Flipping through some songs, I find a Lynyrd Skynyrd album. Old man my ass. As “Tuesday’s Gone” starts playing, I walk back into the kitchen to see her swaying to the music as she butters the bread. I become transfixed on how cute she is. Everything in me says I need to fuck with her so bad she runs home to her daddy and complains. Truth is, though, I just want to fuck with her because it’s fun. Because she gives it right back.
As she works on the grilled cheese, I find some tomato soup in the cabinet and get it started on the stove. For two people who don’t like to cook, we work well side by side in the kitchen. I’ve had to learn from necessity after my wife divorced me. Callie couldn’t survive on takeout alone whenever she’d come see me, so I had to learn to cook some.
