by Ivy Fox
I watch my father fuck his lover without mercy, grabbing onto her creamy soft hips as he pounds away and curses under his breath. The quivering body underneath him, bent over his desk, begs him to fuck her harder, whimpering his name with every thrust in her tight cunt. The fucker is still fully dressed in a suit and tie, while the girl is as naked as the day she was born. Full, bouncing tits sway back and forth as she uses his manic rhythm to get off. She wails out as her orgasm hits her, and I watch my father turn her over, pushing her bare knees to the wooden floor, as he shoves his cock into her pink mouth, pumping away until she drinks his cum down to the very last drop.
Her content smile is a mile wide as she licks her lips, standing back on her feet to place a tender kiss on my father’s jaw.
I’m not sure how it happened—if I made a sound, or if they just became aware of my presence after the endorphins from their combined orgasm wore off—but they simultaneously turn to me, one face in shock while the other in victory. Bright, familiar, gray eyes watch me in horror, while my father’s amber jewels look too triumphant to ignore.
“Rome, I can explain,” she starts, and I already hear the fake tears behind whatever excuse is coming my way.
“Don’t bother, Addison,” my father says, gripping her chin and turning her to face him. “I’m done with you, anyway.” He grins sadistically at her, as his thumb traces the last bit of his cum on her lips.
He then snaps his head my way, his whiskey pools burning victorious.
“However, let this be a lesson to you, Roman. Always knock first. You never know what nasty surprise you might find on the other side of the door.”
“Rome! Wake up!” Elle yells at me, shaking me with all her might. “Are you okay?” she asks, her brows pinched together in concern.
The fabric of my T-shirt clings to my skin, soaked in cold sweat. The smell of betrayal still lingers in the air, as does the taste of bile on my tongue.
“I’m fine,” I relent, shoving her away from me and rushing to my en suite bathroom.
I repeatedly douse my face in cold water until I have my heartbeat simmering down to its natural rhythm. I brush my teeth, hoping to wash away the taste of vomit that painful memory always seems to bring out of me. I throw my T-shirt in the hamper, although I may as well dump it in the trash since I’ll never wear it again. When I open my door and see my little sister sitting on my bed, still worried out of her mind, I slump my rigid shoulders and do my best to add a smile to my face, hoping to ease her worry.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, rugrat,” I tell her and lean down to kiss her cheek while messing with the top of her head.
I walk past her into my closet and pick the first shirt I see. Before putting it on, I close my eyes and take one more calming breath, placing my palm over my left pec, where the word that defines me best is drawn in black ink against my skin. I then turn to appraise the inside of my upper arm, where I have my second ink with the phrase that has been fueling my drive ever since that hellish day: ‘Viam inveniam aut faciam’—I will find a way or make one.
“Rome? You sure you’re alright?” Elle repeats from inside my room, and I push the rage and loathing to the depths of my stomach, so she doesn’t have to witness the soulless vessel I’ve become.
“You sound like a parrot. I told you I’m fine,” I joke lightheartedly, stepping back into my room as I button my shirt, my lips spread wide for her.
“Okay,” she mumbles, taking full stock of me and reassuring herself I’m not upset over a little nightmare.
Elle used to have them all the time after Mom died. She would cry and shout bloody murder, waking the whole house up in the middle of the night. It always took me forever to calm her down. Thankfully she’s been able to move past it, but still gets freaked out whenever she finds me having one.
“Well, you do look better. Just so you know, I planned to storm into your room and give you a piece of my mind, but you ruined it for me,” she taunts, standing up from her seat, relief marring her features.
“Sorry to disappoint. Next time you can lay it on me. Don’t hold anything back,” I mock.
“Oh, trust me, I will. And there better not be a next time. It was a dick move, not coming to lunch today. I had to tolerate Dad and that evil witch, Vivienne West. God, the woman is insufferable.”
“Then it seems I did well in not coming.” I shrug, fixing my hair in the mirror, feigning nonchalance.
If Elle finds out I was at the Ivory and turned my ass around, leaving her alone to fend for herself, she’ll forget all about my little nightmare and become one of her own.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Did you know Vivienne has a daughter? I had to hold my tongue the whole time to not say anything. Her name is Holland. Isn’t that cute? It’s like she’s kept the girl in a dungeon or something. I felt sorry for her,” my bleeding-heart sister remarks thoughtfully.
“No one deserves our pity, Elle. Remember that,” I reprimand quickly. “If she is Vivienne’s kid, then I’m sure the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
I watch her frown in thought, the gears turning in her mind, coming up with all the reasons why she doesn’t agree with me.
“I don’t know, Rome. She didn’t seem to be all that bad. I liked her, actually. Well, as much as someone could like a person who stayed quiet throughout most of the lunch. I think she’s just as scared of her mother as I am of Dad,” she mumbles pensively.
“What do you mean? Did that asshole say something to you?” I roar out, my blood boiling at the thought of my father hurting Elle in any way.
“No. He didn’t say anything to me. It was something Vivienne said that rubbed me the wrong way. Did you know Dad is up to become the next chief justice?”
“You’re shitting me?” I bark, falling gobsmacked to my bed, gripping the duvet in my fists to keep me steady.
Elle bridges the gap between us, standing in front of me while scrunching her face looking none too pleased with the news either.
“Nope, Vivienne brought it up, and he didn’t deny it. She said he was on the shortlist of nominees, but by the way Vivienne was all over our father, I got a feeling he’s a favorite to win. Dad shouldn’t have more power than he already does, Rome. We both know it’s not right—a self-serving, petty man like him shouldn’t hold such a noble seat. He’ll be the highest-ranking judge of the federal judiciary!”
I stand from my seated position, placing my hands on my baby sister’s quivering shoulders to calm her down.
“If the Senate votes for Dad, the president could have him appointed by the end of the year. This is wrong, Rome, so freaking wrong. What are we going to do?” she rambles, her voice faltering in the end.
“Elle, I don’t want you to worry about this. At least not for now. You said so yourself, he will not be appointed until later in the year, so there is plenty of time for someone more worthy to fill the spot.” I try to soothe her, but my words feel hollow even to my own ears.
“I hope you’re right.” She bites at her thumbnail, worry lines creasing her forehead.
“I am. Don’t worry that pretty little head about it. If push comes to shove, I’ll deal with it,” I reply assertively.
“What will you do?”
There are a lot of ways to destroy someone. My father taught me that. I just have to figure out how to destroy him in a way that won’t come back on us. I was aiming to do it anyway, once all of us had moved out from under his roof. But Elle is right—no way can a ruthless, evil man like him be given such a powerful role. I guess my deadline just got pushed up.
“I’ll figure something out,” I tell her instead, playfully punching her chin to distract her from this mess. It does the trick since she got out of her head long enough to throw me a smile.
“Okay, but be careful,” she adds, wrapping her arms around my waist, seeking solace in any way she can.
I place a tender kiss on the top of her head and brea
k free from our embrace.
“I will. Now go and do your thing. I need to go downstairs and grab something to eat. I’m famished. Unless my sweet sister wants to make me something?” I wink flatteringly, but Elle is immune to my charms and just rolls her eyes at me.
“Do it yourself. You’re a big boy, you can handle a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” she rebukes, patting my chest before strutting out of my room.
I chuckle as I follow her down the hall, and make my way downstairs to the kitchen. Ollie is on his phone, talking sweet nothings to his girlfriend. He’s sitting at the breakfast counter looking like he’s just as starved as I am. Unfortunately, his hunger can’t be satisfied with anything that’s in our pantry. When he sees me, he tones down the love and tells his girl he and Ash are on their way to meet up with her.
“So both of you are really going through with it, huh? The whole polyamorous thing?” I question him curiously once he is off the phone.
Ash had insinuated as much earlier this week, but I never really thought Ollie would be into that type of thing. Ash is a fiend, and he has no qualms in doing crazy shit, but Ollie has always had a good head on his shoulders. He’s never been as impulsive and reckless as his twin. Sharing the same girl doesn’t seem like something Ollie would do. It just makes me wonder what this girl must be like to have him do a one-eighty.
“You really up for that?” I ask him again when he doesn’t answer, his eyes still glued to his phone.
“We are. Is that a problem?” Ollie replies quickly this time, placing the phone face down on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest to amplify his aggressive attitude.
I hold up my hands, palms out, hoping not to incite the bull that, right now, only sees red. Honestly, I don’t really care what Ash and Ollie get into. They can take care of themselves. They always have. While Elle leaned on me for most her life, the twins only relied on each other. Our brotherly love is tight, no question about it, but it doesn’t compare with what Ollie and Ash share with one another.
But whenever push came to shove, and they needed their older brother to step up, I was there for them—always will be. It’s natural for me to just want what’s best for them. If sharing one girl between them is what makes them happy, then I’m all for it. But women, in general, have always been my Achilles’ heel. I either love them and would give my life to protect them—like Mom or Elle—or I loathe the bitches. Addison can attest to how much hate my black heart can hold.
“Hey, don’t get so defensive. It was only a question, Ollie. If you’re okay with it, then who am I to judge?” I reply, as supportive as I can.
“Good, because as far as I’m concerned, she can have whoever else she damn well pleases as long as I get to keep her too. Well, to a point. I’m not down with sharing her with some grade-A douche. She deserves better,” Ollie explains, his eyes going back to his phone as he sends out another text.
“You do know that you just described Asher to a fault, right?” I laugh, gaining a relaxed, throaty chuckle from my younger brother.
“One asshole I can deal with. More than that is overkill,” he jokes.
“So you’re seriously okay with your girl just banging someone else? Don’t you think that’s like cheating or something?”
“I didn’t say that, Rome. She’s ours and just ours. It isn’t cheating; it’s the way our relationship works. And besides, Snow isn’t that type of girl. She’s one of the good ones,” he retaliates, obviously offended by my reasoning.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, Ollie, but there is no such thing. But whatever, just keep your eyes open while you two have your fun. Don’t do anything foolish, is all I’m saying,” I suggest, hoping he takes my advice to heart.
Ollie’s prominent scowl turns stiff, and I watch how he eats up the words in defending their twisted relationship when a ping on his phone immediately changes his mood. I brush past him to get to the fridge, and my attention is caught by an image of pale gray eyes and platinum hair on my brother’s phone. I snatch the thing out of his hands and inspect the girl on the screen, who is playfully sticking out her tongue in reply to his last text.
“The fuck you doing, Rome?!” Ollie bellows, aggravated.
“Is this her? Is this Snow?” I interrogate, repeatedly tapping on his phone, hard enough to crack a bit of the screen protector.
“Yeah, now give me my phone! You’re going to make me late.” He seethes, stealing the phone away from my hands. “Sometimes you can be a real asshole, Roman, you know that? Not every girl is a two-timing bitch. I told you, Snow is one in a million. Stop throwing your own baggage into my business. My love life doesn’t concern you.”
Ollie turns around, pissed, and ready to leave me high and dry, but I’m able to grab hold of his shoulder and turn him back before he takes another step.
“Listen here, Oliver! Everything that concerns this family is my business. You, Ash, and Elle are my business and don’t you ever forget it.”
His jaw tenses, but after a few seconds, he nods in agreement to appease me.
“Fine, can I go now or are you going to give me more shit about Snow?”
I don’t want to let him go at all. I want to grab his phone and sit his ass down while I try to figure out if I’m really projecting my own insecurities on to him as he’s insinuating. I need to find out if the girl in the picture is the same one who I was supposed to have lunch with this afternoon. And if she is, in fact, Vivienne West’s daughter, why the hell has she been lying to the twins all this time about her identity?
“You know something that just occurred to me? I never asked you where your townie got her name from. Snow is peculiar for a summer town, don’t you think?” I ask lightheartedly, hoping Ollie doesn’t catch the suspicion in my tone.
Ollie looks at me like I grew an extra head, but then just shrugs it off. He prefers to answer my question and finally leave, instead of delving into whatever psychosis I’m suffering from.
“Snow is just a nickname Ash and I gave her. Her real name is Holland. Now, are you done with your twenty questions, or what?”
“Yeah, Ollie. I’m done,” I lie through a forced smile.
No, Ollie. I’m not done at all. Not in the slightest.
Chapter 9
Holland
Lying on the sand, looking up at the stars, I run my fingers through Ollie’s wavy, brown hair as his head rests gently on my chest. Asher peppers my other hand with tender kisses at my side, humming along to the lyrics of “Sex and Candy” by the Unions playing on his phone. The melody, accompanied by his husky tone, travels along my body, leaving as many goosebumps in its wake as the cool night air does.
“You haven’t told us how your family get-together went this afternoon. Did you have any fun at least?” Ollie asks, his thumb playing with my exposed belly button, starting the butterflies inside my stomach fluttering madly again.
“Fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe spending time with my mother.” I laugh out sarcastically, giving his hair a mild tug as punishment for disrupting our quiet contentment by bringing up such a sore subject.
“That bad, huh?”
“Surprisingly enough, not the worst lunch I’ve had with her,” I answer sincerely.
Sometimes I wonder if my mother was always this bitter, conniving creature or if it was life’s dirty tricks that made her this way. In my short life, I can attest to how cruel and unpredictable it can be at times, throwing us a curveball after curveball at such rapid speed that you can’t help but get hit in the face once in a while. Maybe Vivienne started out just like me—hopeful and open-hearted—but along the way, she had to become this hard, manipulative, shell of a person to survive. I wish I knew if that was the case. Maybe I’d be able to find some redeeming quality within her that would allow me to love her as a daughter should love a parent.
“I’m sorry, baby, that it didn’t go your way. Sometimes it’s best just to cut the cord, you know? Life’s too short
to deal with assholes,” Ollie remarks, lifting his head off my chest just enough to place his sweet lips on my smooth stomach.
“Do you think we’re destined to be like our parents? Eventually, I mean?” I muse aloud, my mind still rummaging through my somber thoughts.
“Fuck, I hope not. Our father is a world-class douche,” Ash quips back sternly, but instantly softens when I turn my head to meet his eyes.
“I used to think the same thing about you, once upon a time,” I tease him lightly, and with his sexy-as-hell smirk, he throws me a mischievous wink, promising his own brand of retribution for that remark.
Before I’m able to stop him, he latches onto my neck like the devious devil he is and takes a firm bite that makes my insides squirm with need. While Ollie’s affection melts my heart, Ash always quickens its beat with the way he loves dominating and branding my body. Of course, his little love-bites get covered up with concealer the very next day. I don’t need to give my mother any more ammo to use against me.
“You’re cute when you get all sassy-like,” Ash goads, his tongue taking the sting out as he licks the little bite marks.
“I wish I could say the same.” I laugh, pulling him away by his short hair and taking my own little bite of his scruffy jaw.
Unable to restrain himself, Ash takes my face in his hands and brings my lips to meet his. His kiss is pure, unadulterated fire, and I have a hard time breaking the connection. I need to try and not restoke the fire smoldering between us. Thankfully, Ash takes the hint and presses his forehead onto mine, leaving a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose.
Being lost in Ollie and Ash’s love bubble makes everything right in my world, and I often find myself wishing I could just live here permanently and forget my reality completely. Once I give in to our wants and desires, I know it will be even harder to resist staying locked inside our passionate cocoon. That’s why I have always wanted to take things slow with us, although losing myself in them seems inevitable this summer.