by T. L Hodel
Just as I was contemplating going upstairs to get my supplies, a mug of steaming goodness appeared. I cradled the cup and thanked the coffee gods for this glorious nectar, practically moaning when the hot, bitter liquid touched my tongue. The coffee was followed by a plate of food.
“Eat.”
I eyed the woman’s time-worn face. “Who are you supposed to be? The cook?”
How anybody got an ounce of privacy in this place baffled me? Every time I turned around, someone else was asking if they could do something. I half expected someone to offer to wipe my ass. Even took a bat to the bathroom, just in case.
“You can call me Rosy. Now eat,” she said, nodding at the plate.
I used to get mad when people asked if my Mexican mother was a maid, but seeing Rosy’s obvious Latino features along with the Saint Christopher medallion hanging on her neck, I couldn’t help but buy into the stereotype. She seemed nice enough though. She gave me coffee, and a generous helping of bacon, which gave her extra points in my books. I smiled and popped a piece into my mouth.
Seemingly satisfied, Rosy turned and worked on the dishes in the sink. I’d never get used to that – sitting back while someone else did all the work. It felt wrong. I tried to help the girl who came to clean my bathroom, but she stared at me like I had two heads. My cheek flopped in my palm and I sighed. Even here, in my dad’s house, I was an outcast.
I never felt out of place with Mom. Despite her problems, we had fun. Like the day I taught her how to paint. It took days for us to get all the paint out of our hair. I cherished those moments. When for just a few minutes, I had my mom again. There was no alcohol, or tears. Just us and our shitty apartment. A shitty apartment I’d never see again.
I couldn’t even go back and visit Mrs. Greenway, who we had breakfast with every Sunday before church. The building was bought by Mr. Kessler, and he had kicked everyone out. Mrs. Greenway had to move in with her daughter halfway across the country. But that’s how it went. The rich got everything handed to them, while the poor struggled to keep what little they had. I felt like a traitor, sitting in this big house, having my food cooked for me.
“It was nice to meet you Miss. Riley,” Rosy said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“You too.” I said, managing to give her a meager smile.
“I know it seems like the end of the world now,” Rosy smiled and placed her hand on mine, “but you still have your father, and Mrs. Paisley is a kind lady. She’ll be there for you if you let her.”
I rolled my eyes. Why did everyone think Paisley was so nice? Where was she when her and my dad got married? I didn’t see her trying to include me, and now I was just supposed to accept her? Yeah, I don’t think so.
Rosy released a disgruntled sigh. “A week before you came here, she sat us all down and told us you should be our first priority.”
My brows furrowed. “Why would she do that?”
“She wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”
She should’ve told them to stay away then. All this attention was driving me crazy.
“Mrs. Paisley hasn’t had an easy time,” she continued. “Her first husband wasn’t a good man. Give her a chance.”
Just then, Logan sauntered in. It was sickening how good everyone here looked in the morning. I kind of wanted to walk over there and mess up his hair, but it would probably just make him look better. Bastard!
“Hey, Rosy,” He nodded at her and smirked at me “Love that morning look you’ve got going on, sis.”
I rolled my eyes and grumbled, “Let me guess, I should give him a chance, too?”
She glanced over at Logan, who was pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Like I said, Mrs. Paisley’s first husband wasn’t a good man.” She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and left.
Logan took a sip of his coffee, and leaned back crossing his ankles. What did Rosy mean by not a good man? Was she talking about Logan’s dad? Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen any pictures of his dad, and Paisley had a lot of photos on display. There were even a couple of pictures of my mom, so why none of him?
“You have a closet full of new clothes, you know? Not that I’m complaining about your current outfit of choice.” His jade eyes rolled slowly over my PJs. “It shows off your assets.”
For a second, I seriously contemplate murder. Besides his army of shanks, who would really miss him? I’d be doing the world a favor.
I grabbed my dishes and slipped off the stool. “Stop looking at my assets.”
“Sorry, sis, I was tasked with your new wardrobe.” A large smile spread across his face. “Your assets are kind of my business.”
A closet full of slut gear, fantastic.
I turned on the faucet, letting warm water cascade over my fingers. “Guess your mom was too busy to do it herself?”
“I have better fashion sense.” Logan cocked his head and gave me a strange look. “You don’t have to do that … we have people to clean up.”
I was well aware of how many people they had to do stuff here. “There’s nothing wrong with cleaning up after yourself. You should try it sometime.”
“I clean up after myself.”
“Hosing down your latest plaything, doesn’t count.”
“Why would I hose them down.” He flashed me his perfect white teeth. “My job’s done when the mess is complete.”
What a gentleman.
“Speaking of playthings, isn’t Naomi looking for you?” I wasn’t Bitchy Barbie’s biggest fan, but she had her uses. She was good at distracting pricks like Logan.
“Aw, you miss her already?”
“Well,” I drawled, “I was going to go trip a couple of orphans later. Thought she’d like to join the fun.”
“Sorry, sis,” he barked out a laugh, “you’ll have to see your new best friend another day. I don’t do sleepovers.”
Of course, he didn’t. Guys like Logan never did. Yet girls still swooned. It was disgusting really. And that had nothing to do with how Tucker Monroe pretended to be interested in me last year, only to humiliate me in front of his friends.
“Do you treat all women with this much respect, or is Bitchy Barbie special?”
Logan shrugged. “She knows the deal. Why? Jealous?”
“Hardly. And if you keep looking at me like that,” I lifted my arms to display a fork in my wet hand, “I’ll gouge your eyes out with this fork.”
“You hear that, bro?” He chuckled over my shoulder. “She threatened me with a fork.”
I pushed back urge to take a peek. He got to me once, and I wasn’t about to let it happen again. “Ha, ha, very funny. I didn’t fall for it last night, and I’m not falling for it now.”
All he gave for a response was a small shrug, which didn’t help settle my nerves any. Maybe I should look? No! Home was the one safe place I had, and no one was going to take that from me.
“You know what? I hope Micha is here,” I growled, shutting off the water. “Then I can shove this fork –”
The threat died on my tongue when I spun for the dishwasher and jarred to a stop. Not more than an inch from my face, was a broad chest covered in expensive red fabric. The dishes slipped through my wet fingers, crashing to the floor. My brain barely registered the sound of breaking ceramic, or the tiny pieces bouncing off my feet. I knew who it was before he spoke.
“Hello, Mouse.”
Micha Kessler.
This was an evitability. There was no escaping Micha in this house. I knew that. Still, I was completely blindsided. I closed my eyes like I did when I was a child and there was monster under my bed. But when I opened them, that penetrating gaze was still glaring down at me.
Micha tilted his head, shifting his gaze to the floor. “You dropped your fork.” Hatred dipped off him like venom as his chocolate eyes rolled back up to mine. “Where were you going to shove that?”
“Give me a second to grab another, and I’ll show you.”
I swear it was some unwritten rule that the
bigger the asshole, the better they looked. And Micha was the biggest asshole I knew. If his tall body and well-built physique wasn’t enough to make people want to look at him, then his angular jaw coated with the right amount of dark stubble, thick lips, and molten chocolate eyes drew them in.
“There’s one right there,” Micha tipped his chin, causing a lock of dark chestnut hair to flop over his forehead. “Pick it up.”
I swallowed my nerves and struggled to calm my fluttering heart. Even now, after years of torment, his beauty was disarming.
My eyes narrowed, meeting his challenging gaze. “I prefer to stand, that way I can see you coming.”
His brow arched. “Did that sound like a fucking request? Pick. Up. The fork.”
“Sorry, I don’t take orders from assholes.”
“Is that right?” Micha sighed and clicked his tongue. He was getting impatient. “Tell me something Mouse, when exactly did you think it was okay to prance around with your ass on display?”
I opened my mouth but no words came out, stunned by the way his eyes drifted down my body, pausing on the swell of my breast. I swallowed nervously and took a cautious step back, narrowly avoiding the pieces of ceramic littering the floor.
“I-I-I’m not …” This was all wrong. I needed to get out of here. “No one’s looking at my ass.”
Micha followed, causing my heart to tighten in my chest with the sound of ceramic crunching under his booted foot.
“Logan is.”
If someone was staring at my ass, it sure as hell wouldn’t be Logan. They were constantly reminding me of how pathetic I was. Besides, why would Micha care? I quickened my steps, not liking the dark glint in his eyes.
“No, he isn’t,” I argued, tugging down on the shorts I suddenly found too short.
My retreat came to a crashing halt as I backed into a wall of muscle and Logan’s voice wafted in my ear. “Yes, I am, sis.”
Micha stepped in before I could move away. My heart stopped dead in my chest. Either that or it was beating so fast, I couldn’t feel it anymore. I never thought I’d want the cruel pranks, or hurtful taunts, but I did. Humiliation was easy. But this … being sandwiched between two hard bodies while Micha stared down at me like he was starving, and I was his next meal. I didn’t know how to fight that.
“I like you nervous, Mouse.” Micha purred and reached out to twist a loose strand of my hair between his fingers.
Logan rested his chin on my shoulder, and looked up at me with those deep green eyes. “You’re not nervous, are you?”
Of course, I was nervous. I was downright terrified, and they knew it. Hell, they got off on it. Micha and Logan’s brand of unhinged didn’t just border on the immoral, it crossed right over into the dark abyss of debauchery.
“Stop it,” I said, shying away from one, only to press into the other.
Micha lifted his hand and watched his finger graze a trail over my collarbone and down to the swell of my breasts. “Or what?”
I jutted my chin upward. “I’ll scream.”
“Go ahead. We like it when they scream.”
Logan smirked and brushed his thumb over my cheek. “We like it even better when they cry.”
“She doesn’t cry,” Micha said, continuing to swirl his finger. “Do you, Mouse?”
I did cry, I just didn’t let him see it. Micha Kessler had done many things to me, but I swore no matter what, he’d never get my pain. I’d hold my tears back until I was alone, which was becoming increasingly hard to do, with his touch burning a trail of goosebumps across my skin.
“What do you want?” I asked, hoping to bring this to an end.
“Coy doesn’t suit you, Mouse.” Micha gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You know what I want.”
I didn’t know what his game was, but I knew I was done playing it. Twisting my head, I ripped out of his grip and snarled, “I have shit to do, so if don’t mind getting to the –”
My wide eyes snapped back up. It looked like he was … hard!
“Now’s she’s getting it,” Logan snickered in my ear.
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.” Micha’s features hardened, as he leaned back and gave me a quick scan. “I own your ass. Every thought you have, breath you take, and decision made are mine. Be good, do what I say when I say it, and maybe I’ll only take your body.”
My fists balled. This shit was simply another way to humiliate me. It was the same old song and dance, just a different tune. “And why would I ever agree to something like that?”
“Because if you don’t,” Micha leaned in to growl in my ear, “I’ll take everything.”
The joke was on him. I didn’t have anything left to take. What remained of my broken soul, left when Mom died.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Is that what you tell yourself at night?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “When you’re dreaming about me.”
“Pfft, you wish.”
“I read your diary.”
I faltered. He had to be bluffing. It was my dirty little secret, one I hated myself for. Not even Shelby knew. I could do nothing but stare wide eyed at his smug expression. Couldn’t even move when he brushed his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” He tugged on my lips and smirked, “I bet that pussy’s wet right now.”
I watched everything in slow motion. My arm swinging through the air. His head twisting to the side, and my hand rise for another strike.
Micha grabbed my wrist, twisted my arm behind my back, and folded me over. Lifting my feet off the ground as my cheek was pressed into the hard marble counter top.
“Let me go!” I snarled, fighting to push myself up despite his heavy hand on my back.
“Fight me if you want.” I yelped when his heavy hand landed on my butt. “There’s nothing your mousy little claws can do.” Another smack, this time hard enough to make me jump. “Your pretty little ass is mine!”
My ass stung, I was out of breath, and thoroughly humiliated. I’d had about enough of this shit! Without even thinking, I swung my foot back, bringing my heel up into his groin.
Micha sucked in a large breath, cooling my face with the sudden intake of air, and then he doubled over with a curse.
Free from his hold, I righted myself and sneered down at his face twisted in agony, “How’s that for mousy?” I snidely spat and stepped over his crumpled form to storm out.
Chapter Six
Micha
Motherfucker!
I groaned at the ache in my balls and pulled myself off the floor. She got me good. Knew it, too. Strutting out of here with her chin up, all proud. Fucking adorable. If I’d have pulled that shit on any other chick, they’d be begging to suck my dick. Not my mouse. What did she do when I had her cornered? She shot me the sweetest fucking smile and then kicked me in the nuts!
Game on, Mouse. Game on.
“That was great,” Logan choked out, doubled over in laughter. “How’s that for mousy.”
“You done?” I grumbled unamused.
“Is this going to be a regular thing?” He asked, fighting to control his amusement. “Cause I’d hate to miss the next show.”
I hoped he fell over and smacked his face on the floor.
Logan’s laughter subsided for a second, but then picked right up when he looked over at me.
“Big bad Micha Kessler,” he cried out, clutching his side, “taken down by a little girl.”
Laugh it up, asshole!
“A little girl who, is currently upstairs with your mom,” I pointed out. “Alone.”
That shut him up. All amusement dropped from Logan’s face, as he twisted his neck and stared at the stairs.
“Shit, Micha!” He threw his hands up in the air. “What’d you have to go and get her all worked up for?”
“Don’t put this all on me. You were there too, asshole.”
“Well yeah, but ...” Logan shot another worried gl
ance out in the hall.
I loved my best friend, but when it came to his mom, he was a giant pussy. Couldn’t blame him. Ryker made their lives a nightmare. They only people they had in this house was each other.
“Well, we’re not going anywhere now. Tell Mase to go without us.”
I shrugged and headed for the stairs, grabbing my bag on the way. It didn’t matter to me where we swam as long as we got some good laps in. I was too preoccupied this summer, watching my mouse, and Coach was going to kick my ass tomorrow when school started.
Logan grumbled and followed. “Could be at the beach surrounded by chicks in bikinis, but no. You had to go and piss off the hellcat.”
“If you’re going to whine all day,” I sighed, “let me know, so I can put some ear plugs in?”
His green eyes narrowed. “You planned that shit, didn’t you?”
I didn’t but smirked regardless. Sometimes shit just worked out.
“Isn’t there some bro-code shit about your friend’s sister being off limits?”
My brow rose. “You fucked Silas’s mom.” Silas’s mother was a famous actress and hot as hell. I’d have fucked her too. “Besides, Riley’s your stepsister.”
I wouldn’t point my dick in the same direction of a chick that shared Logan’s bloodline. She’d be crazier than Ava, which was a truly terrifying thought.
“That’s right,” Logan grinned, “we’re not blood related.”
My eyes narrowed. I knew that look. “Touch her and I’ll break your fucking jaw!”
“I don’t know … Might be worth it.”
I glared at him, hands balled and ready to swing.
“Relax, Romeo.” He chuckled, holding his hands up. “I make it a rule to stay far away from chicks that go for the balls.”
“What about Amy?”
“What about her?”