by L. B. Dunbar
I sighed as I plopped on the edge of the large bed then realized where I sat and hopped up, as if I sat on something sharp. The bed was something I didn’t wish to think about. If Cain Callahan was like Thor Thurston, he’d want something in return for his investment. It had been explained to me that Cain was the breadwinner of this family. His hard labor in the fight was their income, and I had taken from the benefits he reaped. I owed the son, Atom Callahan emphasized, which meant I also owed the father. I was not indebted to Abel, his father clarified, but he was so wrong. I was unsettled in all I felt I needed to clarify to Abel.
Abel had been an innocent bystander to my crazy plan. I’d never foreseen him. I couldn’t have predicted someone like him, nor could I have expected what happened. I’d fallen for Abel. I swam in the stream and followed the betta, without realizing all that he was giving me, providing me, was more than monetary. Abel was stable, competent, and compassionate. I was a fool.
In Atom Callahan’s office, while my fruitless argument continued, Cain Callahan remained silent. His man of leisure stance, with a smirk I wanted to slap off his face, didn’t intimidate me, but there was something truly evil about Atom Callahan. It was like you could see his mind working faster than his mouth could spew his malevolence. He was one step ahead in his wicked thoughts. I never could have imagined how he came to the conclusion that two brothers should fight one another; especially two brothers, his own sons, fighting over me.
I don’t love her. The words rang in my ears. The bell that tolled that deathly sound dropped to my feet. They were harsh words to hear after the days we’d had together. Even the weeks before we were intimate, Abel had been good to me. I sat in a chair opposite the bed and hung my head. My hands covered my face as I took deep breaths. My mind raced with images of Abel over me in his truck.
Your heart beat matches mine. He’d said it only last night. I thought it was true. I thought he might feel the same way about me, too. I could see in the light of a new day, he meant it literally: human anatomy. My heart beat like his, not my heart and his were matched in emotion.
As I sat in this position, the door flew open and then slammed shut. The broad body passed mine, ignoring me then turned almost military style and sat on the side of the large bed. His hands came to his face as his head lowered like mine moments ago. Frustration ebbed off his wide shoulders. He paused for only a few seconds, as if in deep thought, then scrubbed his hands over his face and let them fall to his thighs. He turned and noticed me. His eyes opened in surprise.
“Fuck, I forgot about you,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well, I’d like to forget you, too,” I spat back at him. He didn’t move from his position. I had expected him to approach me harshly, throw me on his bed, and take what he wanted from me. His stilled body led me to question those aggressive thoughts.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Cain said low. The words surprised me even further. I didn’t have a response.
“He…”
“Don’t talk to me like you knew him. You knew nothing about Montana,” I interjected. I didn’t want to hear him mention my brother. He didn’t have the right.
Cain was watching me with cold eyes as I spoke. His head nodded once in acknowledgement of what I’d said. The silence rolled between us for several minutes.
“Why did Abel pay your tuition?”
“Because you stole everything from me.”
“How did I steal from you?” he asked, shifting his weight so a knee rose to the bed. He leaned forward as if he was to pounce, but the smirk on his face showed his intrigue. He was going to enjoy killing his prey.
“You killed my brother. We had nothing left after he died.”
“I see,” he paused, nodding once again then the smile deepened, “and that was my fault, how?”
“Montana needed that fight. He could have beaten you. You took it a step too far and killed him instead.”
Cain shook his head side to side.
“You’re a child,” he laughed without humor and twisted away from me. He leaned forward again, placing his elbows on his knees, and clasping his hands. He looked down at them like he was praying.
I hated him. He was arrogant. His very presence said he thought too much of himself.
“You’re not answering my question. Why did Abel pay for you?”
I was ready to remark that Abel hadn’t paid for me. I wasn’t his property. He didn’t own me. But it occurred to me that Cain was asking something else.
“I have no idea why he did it. Perhaps because he’s just a good guy.”
Cain’s head turned to look at me. The rest of his body didn’t move.
“Did you sleep with him?”
My mouth fell open. “I don’t see how that’s any of your damn business.”
“So you slept with him?” His lips twisted. “Is that what he wanted?”
“He didn’t want that. He said he needed a tutor.”
“In sex,” Cain teased.
“In foreplay,” I replied, without thinking, and Cain raised an eyebrow similar to his father. The resemblance was uncanny. The salt-and-pepper hair and the weathered skin were the only distinction between father and son.
“I mean, he didn’t know how to date. He wanted me to help him get a girl.”
“Which girl?” With those words, he sat back. His attention fully focused on me. I suddenly felt ensnared. His eyes glared at me and I was trapped by the darkness within. I couldn’t move. I almost couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t know. Any girl, I guess,” I whispered, uncertain why the words weren’t louder. I had no idea if Abel had a particular girl for his original mission or just women in general. He had definitely become more flirtatious since we’d met, but it had more to do with his popularity as a fighter than anything else. After a moment, Cain relaxed and turned away from me again.
“Do you want to be that girl?” he asked, looking up at something across the room from him. My eyes wandered to his focus. On the fireplace mantel sat the image of a girl. She was young and beautiful; smiling back at whoever took that photo. She looked like she loved the cameraman, and I wondered briefly if it had been Cain who took her picture. When time passed and I hadn’t answered, he tilted his head in a way to emphasize he was waiting.
Did I want to be the girl Abel was trying to seduce? In so many ways, I was the girl. He’d been good to me. He’d been sweet to me. He’d been tender with me. If I thought about it, I was the practice girl. The tutor. But the student had surpassed the teacher, I reminded myself, and Abel knew it. He was a good lover and he took care of my inexperience. He made me crave more of him. I wanted his instruction. In my heart, I wanted to be teacher’s pet. Unfortunately, I believed I was more of an experiment.
“I don’t think Abel wants that,” I said in my defense. It avoided a direct answer of my desire. Thoughts of Abel taking me by his mouth or filling me entirely would get me nowhere. I couldn’t hope he’d want me, after the way he looked at me in his father’s office. I’d never seen him look so cold. His skin almost took a blue cast to it. He was frozen to me after his father exposed my initial plan.
“He’s willing to fight for you.”
“That isn’t about me,” I guffawed. It wasn’t over me that these two brothers would fight. It was for pride. One did what his father requested; the other wanted to prove something to his father. Either way, they’d both lose. Their father would have the ultimate reminder that he was lord of this manor. He was the original fighter in this family. He’d win at all cost: the sacrifice of one son for another, the death of one at the expense of the other. He could glorify and grieve in one fight. Atom Callahan was a sick man.
“I think you’re wrong. I think this is very much about you,” Cain said, staring at me. He stood and closed the distance between us. He sat across from me on another edge of the bed and continued to examine me, searching my face for something. I looked away for some reason. His investigation was too intense.
“Lo
ok at me,” he demanded. I turned to him with hatred and narrowed my eyes at him because I’d given in to the command.
“He loves you,” he said. The words seemed to catch in his throat. Not so much for what he said in concept, but the term love itself.
“He does not,” I barked.
“He does.”
“How would you know?”
“Because Abel only fights for what he loves.”
“That doesn’t mean anything? Abel didn’t fight until recently,” I argued, misunderstanding his meaning, and taking it literally.
“He didn’t love until recently, either.”
Entering my old bedroom brought a wave of suppressed memories. The room hardly looked like a child’s bedroom, even when it was a child’s. The walls were a lighter blue to soothe, but they were empty of any trace of the boy who grew up in here. I collapsed on the bed, my body exhausted, but my mind actively awake. I closed my eyes as I lay on my back, but in my head I could hear it: one of so many similar situations.
“Abel, did you do this?” I was too scared to respond.
“Answer me,” he’d barked.
“I did it, Father. We were wrestling and I knocked into the table, making the lamp fall over and break.” Cain came to my defense.
“Wrestling? Abel? I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true, sir. I did it,” Cain defended.
“Fine. Abel, go to your room,” he’d commanded.
“But...” The slap was almost instant. The sting so sharp I felt cut by a razor, not clapped by a hand.
“I told you to keep your mouth shut. Do as you’re told. Go to your room,” he demanded.
I rolled to my side and stared at my closet door. All my posters and belongings were boxed in the closet, the space I’d use to hide in when Cain took his beatings. Inside it held secrets. I was afraid. I was ashamed. The mirror still hung inside the door, where I’d stare at my reflection in the darkness of the small space. I’d curse at myself for being so weak. I didn’t speak up for myself. I didn’t speak up for Cain. Then I’d build myself up. One day, you’ll prove yourself, I’d say. The words were a distant memory of a soft feminine voice, a woman without a face, as I hardly remembered my mother. I’d been told only once I had her blue eyes. It was a warning that my father would always hate to look at me. I’d remind him of her.
I’d fallen asleep, shut down from the exhaustion, and in my dreams, I heard the noises again: a thump against the wall outside my room, a muffled cry from a child, and the sound of skin against skin. I rolled in my sleep, waking abruptly at the memory. I stared at the door, haunted by memories of things I’d heard, but never seen, happen outside of it. The results would be evident the following day with a swollen cheek, a bruised arm, or a nosebleed leftover from the night before. I closed my eyes in anguish, hoping to block out the memories.
The door to my room opened slowly then closed with a soft click. The noise was infinitesimal, but I sprang upright. The space was dark, other than a stream of light coming through the window next to the bed. In the moonlight, I saw her. She glowed effervescent blue.
“Elma?” I breathed in concern. Then I stopped. My heart constricted in distrust, reminding me how I felt about her. How could she plan a fight against my brother? In an instant, I sprang from my bed and pinned her against the door behind her.
“What do you want?” I growled, holding her arms at the wrists on either side of her head. How could she risk herself to seduce Thor? To fight my brother.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said weakly. Her blues eyes sparkled in the moonlight, tempting me like she’d already done. Her blonde hair glimmered a light blue color under the lighting.
“Were you setting me up? Hoping I would fight my own brother? Over yours?”
She shook her head, but I didn’t believe her. I leaned in for her and her mouth reached out for me. I pulled back as Elma struggled. She wanted to kiss me, but I refused. The touch of her lips would be too much for me. She let her head fall back against the door with a soft thud.
“Let me explain,” she groaned, struggling minimally under my weight. My body pressed forward, and I pinned her additionally with my pelvis. The length of me was hard and I cursed myself for wanting her. I wanted to believe she hadn’t used me to get to Cain, but I wasn’t convinced. Had she given herself to me? To fight my brother.
I didn’t respond. I released her wrists and ripped open the delicate material of her buttoned dress. It was the same floral piece she’d worn when I first saw her in the bursar’s office. She moaned in frustration or surprise. Either way, I didn’t care, I told myself. I was done giving to her when she wanted to take my brother. Rough hands worked over her warm skin, forcing her bra upward to expose both her breasts. My mouth covered one instantly and sucked hard until the nipple peaked to a solid nub. I pulled back to address her.
“Did he do that to you?” I barked. Elma stared at me in confusion.
“Do what…” My mouth covered her other breast and returned the aggressive latch to it. Her words were strangled as she moaned again. I released her when her hands came to my hair. I pulled her wrists back and pinned her to the door again. Moist, hard nipples hit my bare chest. I ground into her, needing the friction against her center. It encouraged my anger.
“Cain? Did he take you yet? Did he claim you?”
“Abel, he…” My hand cupped between her thighs over the dress and she paused again. Working quickly to raise the thin material and tug aside the center of her underwear, fingers claimed what they believed belonged to them. Eager to fight, my hand knew what it wanted.
“I claim you, Elma,” I said, as my fingers delved into her roughly and worked through her damp center. She was slick and I could only hope it was her body’s response to me that made her wet. I didn’t want her thinking of him. My brother.
“Abel, you don’t understand,” she said weakly, but I flicked a finger inside her and her breath hitched. She would not come, I was determined. She was for me. I hastily removed my slick digits and loosened my pants. They slid to my hips as I sprang free. I raised one of her thighs to open her for me and slammed into her. Her head hit the door again. Her breath came out in a hiss as she groaned at my entrance. Balancing on tiptoe with one foot until I lifted her, I used my hips to hold her against the door. She instinctively wrapped her legs around me. I pinned her wrists again. She would not touch me.
“I understand,” I paused on a thrust. “I paid for you,” I grunted as I dove forward again, digging deeper into her.
“You’re just like all the others, Elma. I paid for you.” My voice faltered as I felt the anticipation build. Elma moved in opposition to me. She matched me thrust for thrust, grunting at each collision of our bodies. Her forehead dampened as our bodies heated.
“You were so eager to have it over,” I panted.
“I was not,” she sighed with a moan as I stretched her with another eager pump. I released her wrists to hold her thighs, lifting her higher as I continued my assault into her. Her arms encircled my neck as she clutched onto me.
“You want it over, Elma?” I grunted again. I drove into her one final time as her arms clung around my neck, her legs circled my waist, and her warm breath filled my ear.
“It’s over now, Elma.” I stilled as I came the hardest I ever had. Elma was completely supported by me, as we were joined by me buried deep inside her. I pulled out so quickly; I nearly dropped her. Her legs fell to the sides and she tipped back against the door for support. I bent forward to pull up my pants and hastily cover myself. I noticed a large drip of my seed roll down the inside of her leg. Standing upward, I stepped back while Elma panted against the door. Her expression had changed. Back was the Elma who looked at me like I didn’t own her. I didn’t own her. Dammit, she owned me, and I hated her for it.
“I paid for sex,” I lied. I’d never not paid for sex I realized. I was a fool to think Elma was any different.
“You owe me nothing.” I
stepped back and waited for Elma to leave my room.
“You’re done with me?” I snapped. “Well, I’m not done with you.” I lunged for him, and to my surprise, he caught me. My legs circled his waist and the impact forced us backward. Similar to the other night, we fell onto the bed, only this time there was no laughter. I held his face and forced him to kiss me. His lips were eager; his tongue aggressive. Betta had entered this ring and was ready to continue the fight.
Our tongues sparred and jabbed. One tried to take control of the other before slowly melting into a rhythm together. Abel would not win this round. It was my turn. I released his mouth and his head fell back on the bed. I dragged myself slowly down his body, eventually taking his pants with me. He wore some kind of pajama bottom and it slid off easily. The second he was free, my mouth imprisoned him. He would not fight what the warmth of my lips could do to him. I sucked him hard, drawing him deep into my throat. He wasn’t completely ready at first, but stiffened quickly. I was unsatisfied with our previous act. I would get my relief.
His hips jutted in a steady pace with my beat. His hands came over my hair, holding my head down over him. I’d do to him what he did to me. He was getting close. I could tell by the shake to his leg. That’s when I yanked my mouth free. Blue eyes met mine and sparked between desire and damage. He’d hurt me if I teased him like this. Not literally, but the edge to Abel was present. He was his father’s son, even if he didn’t portray his family in any visible manner.
I stood briefly to remove the rag he’d made of my dress. Then removed my underwear. He watched my display, not moving from his position on his back. His erection stood tall and ready for another round. I climbed over him and practically impaled myself on him. Surrounding him to the hilt, I let out a sharp whimper. The intrusion was deep and different. I stilled to catch my breath. When his hands came to my hips, I sensed he’d flip us for control, so I placed a hand on his chest and sat back to move. Rolling forward, I rocked my hips in a steady riding motion. Abel’s hands relaxed and I took the reins.