Stepdork

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Stepdork Page 12

by Murphy, A. E.


  “You’re just going to let her take the man you like?” Cella asks. “Where’s the Raven gone that I know and love?”

  “Hear, hear,” Molly agrees. “Go over there and break that shit up.”

  “He’s not interested,” I groan, standing and waiting for them to follow. “And even if he was, do you know how awkward that would be?”

  “So make him interested,” Bris whispers, nudging me in his direction. “Who cares if it’s awkward? It’s seriously taboo and that shit is way hot.”

  She has a point.

  “Come on,” Cella urges and gives me a harder nudge than what Bris did.

  “What’s the point? He deserves way better than me.”

  “Martyr,” Molly singsongs extremely loudly, making Bris and Cella giggle.

  I huff and approach his table. They don’t get it and I’m not about to make them right now. They’ll see what I mean eventually. Travis and Sierra are perfect for each other academically and personality-wise.

  I’m nothing but a fucking hurricane. He told me so himself.

  When I reach his table, Preston and Duncan who look like spare wheels to this twosome, both look surprised to see me.

  “Hey, guys,” I say and sit on a chair without invitation. Cella, Molly, and Bris follow suit as Travis and Sierra stop kissing for long enough to look at me.

  Sierra’s eyes flash dangerously, and I can tell she sees me as a threat. This makes me happy.

  I don’t know much about her relationship with Travis. He doesn’t talk about it and now I’m wondering just how well they know each other for him to suddenly start kissing her in the middle of the cafeteria.

  “Travis, I didn’t know you were dating Sierra,” I start, and Travis looks at Sierra who is frowning at him.

  “A lot has been going on,” he replies and shoots me an imploring look.

  “You look so cute together,” I lie. They look fucking awful together. I hate them together.

  “We are digging your new look, Stepdork,” Molly says with a massive smile on her face.

  “Hell yeah,” Bris puts in so I elbow her in the ribs.

  “Thanks,” Travis murmurs.

  My brows pull together. “Where are your glasses?”

  “I got contacts.”

  “Huh.”

  He looks sheepish suddenly. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, you do you, boo,” I say, stealing an apple off his tray and biting into it.

  Really, I want to scream at him that he shouldn’t have changed his looks because he looked perfect the way he was.

  “That’s my apple,” he comments, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I got that for him,” Sierra adds.

  I lick it all around before taking another bite, staring her in the eyes and stating, “It’s mine now.” The girls snort and snigger quietly. Score one to me.

  Travis rolls his eyes but says nothing else. He looks more amused than offended.

  I wonder if that would work on him too? Maybe if I licked him all over he’d automatically be my territory?

  “Are you driving me home?” I ask him around a mouthful of his apple.

  He shakes his head. “Not tonight. I’m going to a party straight after school.”

  My hands clench into fists under the table. “Whose party?”

  “I haven’t heard of any parties happening tonight,” Cella pouts, looking adorably left out.

  “Nobody you know,” Sierra replies for him.

  I want to claw her face. She’s so smug and haughty. “Oh. Well, have fun.”

  He nods and she pulls him back to kissing. Preston and Duncan both make gagging faces which has me stifling a laugh. I’m with them. It’s gross.

  “Well that didn’t go well,” Molly murmurs as we stand.

  “I don’t ever want to talk about any of this ever again,” I insist, giving them all pointed looks. “Leave Travis be.”

  I spend most of my afternoons with Brett now that he’s home and recovering with the help of one of Cali’s best head doctors. His mom makes us amazing food and I eat it without inhibition. His dad lets us take the dirt bikes out onto the land behind his house.

  It’s so much fun. His parents are awesome.

  It’s also a great distraction from home life.

  The girls have really been there for me. Calling me to see if I’m okay, showing up at my house, coming with me to see Brett on the odd occasion. I have amazing friends. I’m so lucky. I hope they feel the same way about me, despite the fact I’ve been the center of their worlds recently.

  When I look around me, particularly at our school there is always so much drama going on. Especially with the girls, they all must fight with each other or stab each other in the back and throw shade. We four were meant to find each other because none of us are about that life.

  They’re my baes, my rocks, and I’ll love them always.

  Travis has suddenly become a social butterfly himself and one of the school’s leading hot guys. What with his stubbled jaw, styled hair, wild hazel eyes and just his complete obliviousness to how handsome he is. That and how sweet he is to everyone, how quiet and calm he is.

  He and Sierra spend every fucking moment together which is devastating and sickening. It’s like I can’t escape them. Though he has yet to introduce her to the parentals.

  I haven’t been back to Travis’ bed since that night and he hasn’t asked me why. Maybe he never wanted me there to begin with.

  It has been two weeks of wedding planning with Shonda, watching Travis suck face with Sierra in school, having fun with Brett and the girls, planning my future in NYC and dying inside because the only guy I’m interested in is smitten with somebody else.

  “Is everything okay with you and Travis?” Dad asks me. It’s a Friday night and I just got back from a gathering on the beach. The cops were called so it ended early. Travis wasn’t there. Travis has his own friends now.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You haven’t spoken in days.”

  I shrug. “We’ve been busy, Dad, we’re part of different social circles.”

  “You haven’t spoken to me either. We need to start discussing your future.”

  “Nothing to discuss,” I lie because I really need to talk to him about NYC. I just don’t want to break his heart.

  The plan is done, the girls and I are on the ball. Their parents all know, but until I tell mine, we’re keeping it on the downlow.

  “That’s what troubles me,” he mutters and cups my face with both hands. “It’s so important that you start looking into where you want to go and what you want to do. You can change your major down the line, but at least pick a place.”

  If only he knew.

  He’ll take it personally and think I’m running away from everything. Which, in a way, is true.

  This place has so many memories for me which I’m fond of, but some that I despise. I need to spread my wings and experience a completely different part of the world and NYC is the best I’m getting at this point.

  “I’m here if you need help with any of it.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I hug him and notice his car keys digging into my back. “Where are you going?”

  “Shonda is at a friend’s, she wants me to join them for a couple of hours.”

  “Have fun, remember your curfew, don’t do drugs.” I grin and duck when he tries to trap me in a headlock. “USE PROTECTION!” I screech as I run up the stairs.

  He laughs until the door closes behind him.

  This leaves me completely alone in this house for the first time since I moved in.

  I don’t like it.

  It’s not fair. I shouldn’t be left behind by anyone. Travis gets a girlfriend and suddenly he doesn’t even want to know me? It’s not okay.

  I want to get drunk so badly and forget the world. I want to forget Travis and Sierra and everything I’m being forced to watch.

  So, I do something extremely selfish. Something I know I shouldn’t do but I
can’t help myself. I pick up my phone, knowing where he’s at and who he’s with, and I type a single word,

  Raven: When.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes or so later, after my shower to rid my body of sand, I’m on my bed in nothing but my thin, pink robe, and toes freshly painted a pearlescent peach, when my bedroom door suddenly opens.

  I stop brushing my hair and stare at Travis in my doorway.

  I could have been naked, but I don’t care about that, I don’t care that he didn’t knock first. I’m too astounded that he’s here at all.

  “You came.”

  His eyes are wild and focused as though preparing for an attack. “I’m sorry it took so long. I couldn’t get a ride.”

  “You didn’t have to come home. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have texted…” I blabber, unable to find the right words. “I thought you’d call first or something?”

  He steps into my room and closes the door after checking the hall.

  “The parentals aren’t here,” I say softly as he stares at me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing… I…”

  Realization sets in.

  “You used our emergency code word to call me here when it’s not an emergency?” He looks pissed. As he likely should be.

  “I didn’t want to be alone,” I reply, feeling stupid. “I’m sorry. If you like, I’ll give you a ride back to the party or something?”

  “No point, Sierra is mad that I chose to leave her to come to you,” he grumbles, and I can’t even begin to feel bad about that one.

  I fake a cringe. “Sorry.” Then, to change the subject I ask, “Have you been drinking?”

  “I had a couple of beers,” he replies, still staring at me.

  He looks so good, with his hair all styled, and his piercing eyes, and his soft lips, and his arm muscles and how tall he is and his vibe… fuck. I need to stop. He has a girlfriend.

  “How drunk are you?”

  “Not in the slightest.” He takes a step toward me. “Why didn’t you call Cella or somebody?” His tone is bitter. “If you’re lonely, you have other friends.”

  “I didn’t want them,” I admit, standing and tightening the belt of my robe. “I wanted you.”

  His hazy eyes travel down my body and he swallows. “You’re not dressed.”

  “I didn’t expect you to actually come home,” I murmur, letting my arms drop to my sides. “Did you have fun?”

  “Not really.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means not really.”

  I dip my head to lock his gaze back on my eyes. They seem to be plastered to the dip of my throat. “Why not?”

  “Why did you call me back here, Raven?” He’s still annoyed.

  “Because I’m selfish and I needed you.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  “I’ve been giving you space,” he admits. “I’ve been giving us both space.”

  My eyes water. “Why?”

  His laugh is incredulous, his face twisted with a look to match. “Like you don’t know?”

  I step even closer and place my hand over his beating heart. “I miss you. That’s what I know.” When I look up at him, I realize how close I actually am. “You’re my best friend.”

  “You’re mine too, but you’re making it impossible for me to be around you.”

  “Why?” I ask, my tone laced with sorrow. “What did I do?”

  “You’re not a guy, so you just… you don’t get it.” His look of annoyance is now one of exasperation.

  “Try me.”

  Hazel eyes search my face as the beholder deliberates on whether to speak what’s on his mind. I’m hoping those two beers he had give him the courage to.

  “The way you look at me. The way you smell,” he breathes, and his hand holds mine over his heart. “The sound of your laugh. The way your lips purse when you’re concentrating…”

  I swallow nervously. “What about it?”

  “You’re intoxicating. You make it impossible to be in the same room as you without—” He cuts himself off and looks up at the ceiling.

  Is he saying what I think he’s saying? That he finds me attractive?

  “I’m trying so hard to be your friend, Raven.”

  “Then stop trying,” I whisper and pull his head down to mine.

  The moment our lips touch I feel free. The one thing I’ve been craving for so long is finally happening.

  He groans as though pained, and after just a few short seconds of his lips moving with my own he yanks backwards, pulling away as his arms push and hold me from him.

  “Raven,” he pleads, and his eyes hold so much sadness and desperation. “I can’t say no to you.”

  “Then don’t,” I plead right back and pull his body to mine.

  He moans into my mouth and his eyes squeeze shut.

  I kiss him violently, wanting him to feel how desperate I’ve been for his touch. But he meets it with equal enthusiasm. He’s so good at kissing. So extraordinarily good at it.

  My stomach coils with need. Like a starving beast has unfurled and awakened and I just know this is never going to stop.

  I don’t ever want it to stop.

  His hand braves to travel down my waist before he grabs a handful of my rear and pulls my groin into his. I feel him. Every hard inch of him as his tongue fucks my mouth, reaching for mine to join it. He always tastes so sweet, so clean. I could kiss him forever, but I don’t want to just kiss.

  I want to feel every inch of his body against mine. I need it. My core is aching desperately. I’m drenched between my thighs, absolutely drenched.

  “Touch me,” I whisper against his mouth after turning my head to give him access to my neck.

  He hesitates, searching my eyes for reassurance. When he finds it, his trembling hands reach for the belt of my robe as I walk us backwards and to the bed.

  “I’m a masochist,” he whispers and closes his eyes to gather himself. “But I can’t say no to you.”

  I don’t know what that means, and I don’t want to know. I just need his hands on me now.

  My fingers reach for the hem of his white T-shirt and he lets me pull it up and over his head.

  When I look at him, he tenses as though scared of my reaction.

  I glide the tips of my fingers over his nipples and all the way down, to the waistband of his pants. His skin pebbles and tightens under my touch and I see his bulge grow when I unhook the button.

  He moans a noise of ecstasy when I reach into his pants, beneath the tight band of his boxer briefs and grasp his hardness firmly. He’s so big and thick and warm. It twitches in my hand and his eyes shut.

  “Is this the first time anybody has ever touched you?” I ask quietly and bite the lobe of his ear.

  He nods, the slight bristle of his jaw scrapes the skin of my cheek.

  “Do you want me to stop?” I free him from the confines of his clothing and roll the shiny bead of precum over the head of his cock with my thumb.

  “No,” he chokes out, his voice strained.

  I step back after releasing him and the backs of my knees brush against my mattress. My hands slowly untie the belt of my robe and it falls open.

  He swallows audibly and looks at me with such heated intensity, I worry he might finish before we get to touch again.

  “Touch me,” I plead breathlessly when he stands there just staring at my body for long enough to make me feel equal parts nervous and sexually frustrated beyond repair.

  “I’m scared I’ll do it wrong,” he admits as his hands glide my robe down my arms.

  It drops to the floor, leaving me completely nude to his hungry eyes.

  “Don’t rush it,” I say gently. “Take as long as you need.”

  Take forever, I won’t mind.

  His hands first grasp my breasts, his thumbs roll over my tight, pointed nipples the same way mine just rolled over the head of him.

 
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes and the way he says it makes me feel warm despite my state of undress. I don’t feel self-conscious now. I feel worshipped.

  He kisses me again with eyes pressed shut, likely scared to watch my reaction as his hands explore my body, roaming over every curve.

  It tingles and burns, and I want to make him go faster but it’s his first time doing this. I don’t want to push him.

  We lower to the bed together while still kissing and we shift to the top until my head is on a pillow and he’s stretched out beside me looking down at my body as he explores every inch of me with his hand.

  His eyes come to mine and he smiles with disbelief.

  “Take off your pants,” I order quietly, and he rushes to do that, kicking them from his feet so quickly, one leg gets trapped on his ankle which makes my giggle until I realize that I’m looking at him completely naked. “Why’d you hide this body from me?” My fingers tease the grooves of his abs which are so strong and tight.

  He doesn’t answer, he concentrates on what he’s doing, and I shiver when his fingers stroke across the top of my thighs.

  I lift a leg, bending it at the knee to give him better access and he blows out a breath as though mentally preparing himself.

  I wait patiently for him and then he finally does it. His fingers push between my thighs, gliding through the wetness, searching for my clit. When he finds it, I moan loudly, spurring him on as my hand keeps a tight grip of his cock.

  I don’t pump him, I just grasp him. I’m scared he’ll come too quickly if I do anything else. I’ve never been with a virgin, but I’ve heard they blow quickly. I don’t want to embarrass him.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, strained and tense. “You’re so warm and wet.” His cock twitches happily in my hand. “Tell me how to do this,” he begs, watching my face for a reaction as he rolls his fingers over the sensitive nub between my thighs.

  “You’re doing great,” I reassure him.

  He seems mesmerized as he continues exploring down below.

  I press my lips to his and groan as the burning intensifies. It feels so good. It has never felt so good and I think half of that is just because it’s him touching me. To say I’ve craved this, dreamt it, needed it would be an understatement.

 

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