by Riley Ashby
*
My mom woke me up hours later, sunk in the lukewarm water of my bathtub with the empty margarita pitcher toppled over on the floor.
“Dear God, Elle, are you okay?”
I blinked and looked around, still way too drunk. The bathroom swam before my eyes.
“What time is it?”
Mom reached into the tub and yanked out the drain stopper, then helped me to my feet before wrapping a towel around me. “It’s after five. I’ve been calling you for dinner.”
“I can’t eat anything,” I moaned, swallowing back a bit of puke at the mention of food. Shivers wracked my body as the cold air hit my damp skin. “I drank too much.”
Mom laughed. “Yeah, I can smell that. Rhys said you were drinking margaritas by the pool all day and I should check on you.”
Oh God, Rhys. Despite my best attempts, I still had a clear memory of what exactly he and I had done out by the pool earlier. My stomach bucked, and I barely made it to the toilet before vomiting up a sick mixture of margarita and bile. Mom held my hair back from my head and rubbed my back as I emptied my stomach.
“Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you into bed.” She helped me brush my teeth and dress in some sweats and a T-shirt, then tucked me into bed. “You’re too old for me to be doing this,” she said wryly. “Remember the first time you got drunk in high school?”
I groaned at the memory. I’d been so proud of myself for sneaking out, but then I got so plastered she had to come pick me up. I vomited all over myself on the drive home. “You’re going to make me sicker.”
She kissed my forehead. “I’ll bring you some water and crackers. Just stay here.”
I tried my best to keep my eyes open, but Mom startled me out of a snooze when she came back. She crawled into bed with me and helped me drink and eat while she chattered about her day. She and her girlfriends had gone shopping after I left them, and she ended up choosing a wedding dress. I had to admit she looked beautiful in the pictures she showed me on her phone.
“Sorry I crapped out on you,” I said, and I meant it. Spending all day with my mom and her friends would have been much better than what I ended up doing. He was never going to leave me alone now.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” She was smiling, but there was an undercurrent of sadness to her voice. “I know it’s no fun for you to hang out with a bunch of old ladies. I’m glad you went to the salon, though. We should do that more often.”
I forced a smile. “Sure. That would be great.”
Her smile went from forced to genuine in an instant. “Are you feeling better?”
Nodding made the world swim once more, but I held down my stomach contents this time. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate you taking care of me. I think I’m going to try and sleep now.”
She patted my head and tucked me in a little tighter before turning off the lights and leaving me alone. I think I fell asleep just as she closed the door.
I woke again some time later as the mattress shifted beneath me, and I felt the pressure of a body on top of mine as someone leaned over me.
“Still alive, Mom.” I groaned and tried to roll over, but strong hands grabbed my chin and held me still. Hands much too rough with fingers much too wide to be my mom’s.
“Don’t think you can forget this, little girl.” Rhys’ deep whisper would have been soothing if I weren’t so horrified. What did he think he was doing, coming into my room at night? I opened my eyes, but in the dark, all I could see was the outline of his head.
“Forget about what?” I said meekly. Maybe I could pretend I had forgotten.
His low laugh let me know he wasn’t buying it. He let go of my chin only to draw the backs of his fingers across my cheek. I shivered. “I’m coming for you, Ellie, and I’m not letting you get away from me. Play coy all you want. I’ll break you down.”
I held completely still as he leaned forward and kissed my forehead gently. He stood and straightened the blanket over me once more. “Good night,” he whispered, and then he was gone, the room so silent and still it was as if he hadn’t been there at all.
Chapter 5
My life became about avoiding Rhys at all costs. I made every excuse imaginable to avoid family dinner. When extra shifts were available at work, I was the first to snatch them up. And every time Annie called me to come over or go out drinking, I took her up on it, even though I should have been saving my money instead of spending it on shots.
A good fuck. That was all I needed. But no matter how I tried, I couldn’t click with any of the guys who bought me drinks or slipped in behind me on the dance floor. We’d make out for awhile if I was really gone, but whenever one of them suggested going back to his place, I turned tail and ran back to my friend. Annie could tell something was up with me, but I refused to speak with her about it. The fact that Rhys and I had masturbated simultaneously while staring at each other across our parents’ pool was a secret I was going to take to my grave. That I was still using it as spank bank fuel on those nights I stumbled home alone was something I could barely admit, even to myself.
I forced myself to dwell on the memories I had worked for years to suppress, to remind myself why I hated him so much in the first place. He was the son of my enemy, the man who had been the wedge between my parents and led to their divorce. He’d tortured me whenever he got the chance, embarrassed me in front of my friends and out on dates. Even when I was in college, he’d found a way to show up at the bars I snuck into while still underage, snatching drinks out of my hand once he’d decided I’d had enough and downing them in front of me with a look in his eyes that just dared me to fight him back. I couldn’t count all the times I’d cried on the walk back to my apartment, so angry that he felt the need to weasel his way into my life and ruin every night out.
And then there was the night I let him take me home.
Admittedly, I was way past my limit that night. But only because I’d looked up from the table where my friends and I had been attacking a plate of loaded nachos to find him watching me across the bar, beer in one hand and some bitch’s ass in the other. As we stared at each other, he leaned down to kiss her full on the mouth. He never broke eye contact with me as he made out with her right in the middle of the bar.
I don’t know what got into me that night, but I took every shot offered to me and snuck sips from my friends’ glasses when they weren’t looking. How I didn’t throw up all over the dance floor remains a mystery. By the time I decided to walk home alone, I could barely stand. As I stumbled outside the door of the bar, I looked up to find Rhys steadying me with a hand on each shoulder.
“Do you have a ride?” His voice was completely flat, as if he didn’t care either way.
I jerked out of his hands and nearly fell on my ass again, only for him to catch me once more. “I don’t wanna talk to you,” I slurred.
He sighed. “I’ll take that as a no. Come on.”
Holding me up with one arm around my waist, he led me through the streets to my single dorm.
“How do you know where I live?” I asked, as he dug into my purse and pulled out my keycard, unlocked the door to the building, and led me inside. He held me up while we rode the elevator to my floor, then opened my door without asking which key he needed for the door. I fell onto my bed and closed my eyes as he pulled off my shoes.
“Come on. You need to take off your makeup.”
“I don’t wear makeup. I look like this all the time.”
“Sure.”
He helped me to the bathroom and stood in the hallway while I made a half-hearted attempt at removing my mascara, then filled a glass with water from the drinking fountain as I stumbled into bed.
“Is that the kind of girl you like?” I asked with my face mashed into the pillow.
He was quiet for awhile. “Not really. She just happened to be there.”
“What kind of girl do you like?” I didn’t know why I was asking him, it wasn’t like I cared. But my brain had decided I wasn’t read
y to fall asleep quiet yet, and I didn’t want to be alone.
He helped me to sit up again so I could drink the entire glass of water he’d brought me. Once it was empty, I set it aside and stared at him expectantly. He was clearly hoping I would forget the question between sitting up and drinking the water.
“You wouldn’t like that answer.” He looked down and away as he said it. I grabbed his face and turned him toward me.
I shouldn’t ask this question, but it had been burning on the tip of my tongue for years. Since the first time someone told me the reason a boy was mean to me was because he liked me. I’d pushed the thought to the back of my mind, but it was there every time he showed up while I was on a date; every time he scared away a guy approaching me in a bar. And I was finally inebriated enough to ask it.
“Is it me?”
He stared at me for so long, in my drunken state I truly thought time had stopped. And then he started to move, leaning forward like he was going to kiss me, and my breath was completely lodged in my throat as if every molecule of oxygen had disappeared from the room. But in the end, he just rested his forehead against mine for a brief moment before pushing me back onto the bed.
“You’re going to have a hell of a headache tomorrow. Go to sleep now.”
I wasn’t sober, but I’d come down far enough from my buzz to know it was time to let this drop. “How will you lock the door?”
“I’ll slide the key back under your door.”
The pillowcase was soft against my cheek as I nodded. I yawned, and he turned off the light before closing the door. He spoke again just before it shut. “Be more careful next time, Ellie. I won’t always be around to bring you home.”
“Don’t call me Ellie,” I muttered, and then I was asleep.
I thought about calling him the next day, but he sent me a text first to ask how I was.
Were you the one who took me home? I chewed my thumb as the three dots appeared, disappeared, and resumed their trek across the bottom of my screen.
How much do you remember?
Thank God. He bought it. I thanked him for making sure I got home safe, and he told me I needed to grow up and take care of myself before I got murdered. I threw my phone across the room and took a long shower.
Maybe if I’d never asked that question it would be easier now. But I’d walked around for the next two years wondering what life would be like if he could be less of a pussy and treat me like a real lady instead of hiding behind his harassment and misplaced overprotectiveness. I started to actively avoid the bars I knew he hung out at, and kept my plans off social media so he couldn’t stalk me around as much.
But now that we were living together, there was only so much I could do. He was finally ready to answer that question.
*
With the craziness of the wedding, it was easier than I expected to avoid him. I volunteered to help with more planning than I normally would have in order to keep myself occupied in those rare occasions I was home. Before we knew it, the big day had arrived. I spent the night in a hotel suite with my mom, and ran myself ragged the next day making sure everything was in place. Rhys and I found ourselves unwitting allies for a few hours, coordinating the delivery of food and flowers and helping make sure people sat on the right side of the aisle. The ceremony went off without a hitch, and pictures moved along quickly enough. The photos with my mom pretending to be a loving daughter were easier than I thought they would be, but the photographer wanted to get some shots of Rhys and me as well.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he said in a low voice, wrapping his arm around my waist and tugging me against him. I slapped him away and stepped back.
The photographer waved us back together. “No, that looks good. Let’s go with that pose.”
I scowled at the photographer but allowed Rhys to put his arm around me once more as he chuckled. “Come closer, little sister.”
“God, don’t call me that unless you want me to vomit all over your tux.”
“That was great, thanks guys!” The photographer finally turned away and I nearly lost my shoes trying to scurry away from Rhys, but he followed on my heels as I stalked toward the reception hall.
“They’re announcing us soon. Don’t embarrass me in front of all these people.”
“I’d never dream of it,” he said. He gazed down at me through his hair where it had fallen over his eyes. I reached up and brushed it out of his face, then froze when I realized what I was doing. His smile grew as I snatched my hand back to my side.
“Let’s get this over with.”
We walked in without an issue, my hand in the crook of his elbow as was expected of us, and sat politely through the speeches and first dance. I thanked the heavens Mom had chosen someone else to be her Maid of Honor, because I certainly couldn’t think of anything nice to say about her at the moment. Rhys and I were crammed right next to each other at the long table, with no choice but for our legs to touch. His fingers grazed my thigh, and I jumped at the flutter running up my body. He walked his fingers along my leg, then grabbed my skirt and pulled it above my knee.
“What are you doing?” I growled, fighting to keep my face in some semblance of a smile as my mother’s best friend droned on about the time in college they’d each drank an entire bottle of tequila and woken up with tattoos. I wondered if it was the same speech she gave at Mom’s first wedding.
“Easy, girl. Just relax.”
“You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“No one can see.”
When his fingers touched my bare skin, I had to press my legs together to try and stem the desire pooling in my thong. He squeezed and moved slowly up my thigh, kneading my skin. I squirmed in my seat.
“Feeling good?”
“You’re a fucking pervert,” I growled.
Finally, he could go no farther. His hand met my underwear and rubbed back and forth a little.
“Is that nice?” he muttered. “Do you want it faster?”
This is insane, I thought, but I was slid down further in my seat and allowed my thighs to part.
“God, yes.” He pushed aside my undies and placed his finger directly on my clit. I moaned out loud.
“Careful,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ll get us caught.”
Christ, what am I doing?
Coming to my senses, I slapped away his hand and rose to my feet the moment the toast ended. My skirt was tangled around my waist and I had to yank it down before I flashed my black undies to the entire wedding reception. Running for the back of the room, I made a beeline for the bathroom. I needed some air. Why did I let him get so far? I could have pushed him away. No one was looking at us anyway. God, I just let my step-brother rub my clit in the middle of a crowded room. It was disgusting.
So why am I so fucking turned on?
The door to the bathroom slammed shut behind me, and I heard the turn of a lock. I whirled around to find myself face to face with Rhys.
“What the fuck are you doing—”
He put a hand over my mouth and walked me back against the wall. My head slammed against the tile.
“I’m fucking sick and tired of you teasing me and pulling back at the last minute.” He wrapped one hand around my neck to hold me against the wall, and his other hand went to cup my core. I struggled, but that only thrust my pussy harder against his palm. “Even through your skirt I can feel the heat between your legs. You want me, Ellie. Just say it.”
“Fuck off,” I said, but he pushed me harder against the wall and squeezed my neck a little harder.
“Are you wet right now?” His free hand gathered my skirt and dove beneath it, fumbling with my underwear while I struggled beneath his hand. “If I put my hand between your legs and find you’re turned on, there’s nothing stopping me from fucking you.”
“There’s a friendly little thing called consent,” I growled as I clawed at my neck. How was he so strong?
“Which you will give me, I promise you.”
; I clenched my legs together as his hand moved higher, and he laughed. “No more fucking teasing me, Ellie. I watched you come twice out by the pool. You opened your legs for me two minutes ago. No reason you won’t do it now.” He shoved his hand between my thighs and brushed against my underwear. I squeezed my eyes shut, but there was no mistaking the grin in his voice. He rubbed back and forth, the soaked fabric burning against my skin. My body rebelled against my mind, lifting into him, craving his fingers against my bare skin.
“What’s this I feel, dear step-sister? Are your panties wet for me?”
“Get the hell off me.”
“Not a chance now.” He pushed the fabric aside and stroked my pussy lips. There was no pretending any more. His fingers slid easily across the slick skin, touching me with a lightness I didn’t know he was capable of. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a crooked smile on his face.
“What’s so funny?”
“You stopped fighting.”
Not only that, I had thrown one of my arms around his neck. My hand was buried in that thick blue-black hair I’d been dying to sink my fingers into for weeks. I tried to resume struggling, but he found my clit and pushed against it, turning my legs to rubber as my other hand grabbed his shoulder for support. The hand on my neck moved to my waist, holding me aloft while I sank onto his fingers.
“You like getting off in public while you’re held down. I knew you were a dirty fucking slut.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” I gasped and whimpered.
“I know enough. I know you think about me when you masturbate. And I’m almost positive you remember the night I tucked you in to your bed when you were nineteen.” He changed direction with his fingers and I cried out, only to be silenced by his mouth against mine. Wasting no time, his tongue plunged into my mouth. I tried to pull back but the wall impeded my movement. I shut my mouth but he bit my lip. And through it all he rubbed me faster and harder, in rhythmic circles and rapid flicks, and it was almost a relief when his finger pushed into my cunt and began to pulse against my G-spot.