by BL Mute
Trying to put all the blame on him makes me feel better in a sense, but I’m just as guilty. Just as disgusting.
I push him away and take a step back. “I’m sure she already knows because of Bill, but nice try.”
“I’m the one who took the call. I’m the one who told your mother you were ready to come home, not that Bill was kicking you out on your ass. Your mother knows nothing, and I plan to keep it that way as long as you do something for me. You wouldn’t want to break her heart even more, would you? I mean, she’s already lost your dad…”
I weigh his words in my mind. Of course I don’t want to hurt my mom, but I don’t want to be stuck with him the whole way home either. But once I’m home, I can go back to avoiding him. It’s not like I have a choice anyway. Bill said my time is up, so I have to go with Malcolm whether I want to or not, just like he said.
I pick my bag back up. “Fine. Hopefully they at least sit us in different spots on the plane.” I push past him and stomp outside. I’m expecting a taxi or Uber, just something to take us to the airport, but instead, Malcolm’s green G Wagon is sitting in the drive.
“Too bad we’re driving back,” Malcolm remarks, stepping in front of me and taking the lead.
I want to scream and lie on the ground, kicking my feet, throwing a fit like a toddler, but there would be no point. I either go with Malcolm, find a new home on the streets, or call my mom and tell her exactly why I don’t want to be stuck in a car with him for hours.
I raise my chin high and march past him, not giving him the satisfaction he’s looking for of me complaining. I throw my bag into the back seat, then slide in beside it. If I’m going to be forced to ride with him, I can at least keep as much distance between us as I can. I don’t think I trust myself enough to tell him no if he were to drag his hand across my thigh or make a sexually charged comment anyway.
In reality, I should be able to stand my ground and tell him no to anything he proposes, but the sexual deviant inside of me won’t allow that. I can talk all the shit I want, tell myself I hate him even more, but the fact of the matter is I still want what he can give. I just won’t be the one to say it.
I look out the window and see him still standing in the spot he was when I charged past him. I roll my eyes and open my door. “Are we going or what, Mac?”
His face scrunches. “My name is Malcolm, not Mac.”
“Whatever you say, Mac. Now please get in and drive this piece of shit to Bexley Falls so I can go back to ignoring you.”
He raises a brow and curls his lips into a smile like he knows something I don’t, but I don’t ask what. He glides into the driver’s seat and closes the door without another word.
I’ve caught his eyes watching me in the rearview mirror numerous times in the past five hours, and everything has been silent. No talk, no radio, no nothing, but I don’t trust it. There is no way Malcolm just decided to be a decent human being all of a sudden.
“How far are we? I’m hungry,” I finally ask, breaking the awkward silence.
“About an hour out,” he says nonchalantly.
“Lovely,” I mumble under my breath.
“What was that?” he replies in a stern tone.
“Don’t worry about it. Just hurry up and get me home. I’m tired of being in this car with you.” As the last word falls out of my mouth, he turns, pulling onto a side road away from the direction of Bexley Falls.
He pulls into an empty parking lot and parks as far from the road as he can before throwing the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt.
“You know you’re eighteen now, Lydia.” He pushes his seat back as far as it will go, then throws his legs over the console. In one swift motion, he crawls into the back seat with me. “Which means that recording you have doesn’t mean shit. I could say it was taken today if I wanted, and who would doubt me? It’s my word against yours.”
My lip curls in disgust, but my brain won’t formulate a logical response. “Fuck you,” I spit.
He spreads his legs wide, hitting my knee with his, and places his hands in his lap. “Why do you think I’m back here? Let’s get this out of the way now.”
I want to get out and chance the last hour home with someone random rather than him, but I have no money. No phone.
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you like it, don’t you?” He tips his head with a cocky grin.
My blood starts to simmer before it becomes a full-on boil. But the problem is, I can’t tell if it’s because I’m mad or because with that one fucking statement, all the memories I’ve been pushing away slam right to the front of my mind.
“Do you like that, Lydia?” he asks while pounding into me from behind.
I’m bent over his desk with papers stuck to my slick skin. “Yes,” I pant.
He slows his pace and delicately gathers my long hair into one of his hands. “Your pussy feels so good.”
I moan in response, and he yanks hard, jerking my head back until his mouth clamps over my throat…
I raise my hand, ready to strike him. How dare he make me think of all of that again and make me want it, but he catches my wrist, then invades my personal space, bringing his face an inch from mine. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, Lydia. Just tell me to fucking stop, and I’ll stop.”
A few beats of silence surround us. He’s so close. Too close. I can smell his cologne and the mint on his breath from the gum he chewed earlier. “Tell me.”
His hand tightens around my wrist, and it sends me over the edge. I move and plant my lips on his. Without a second thought, he grabs my waist and moves me to his lap. I straddle his legs and cup his cheeks as I deepen our kiss.
He pulls his head away, then looks down and unfastens his belt and pants. His gaze moves back to my face and doesn’t leave again. “Don’t ever try and hit me again,” he hisses, raising his pelvis to pull his pants down.
“And what if I do?” I may be ready to give him my body again, but it won’t come easy.
His eyes narrow, and he bites his lip. “I’ll spank your ass.”
The thoughts of his big, rough hands on my flesh excites me, but I won’t dare tell him that. I brush off his comment and maneuver side to side to get my shorts down. “I hope you know this will never happen again.”
He flips me and lays my back onto the small leather seat, then hovers over me. “That’s what you think.”
As he teases my opening, he pushes my shirt up and thumbs my nipples. He takes one of the small buds between his thumb and pointer and squeezes, then pushes into me roughly at the same time.
I scream out of instinct, which makes him remove his hand and clamp it over my mouth. “Take this cock and act like you like it.”
No acting needed; I do like it…
His thick length obliterates my insides in the most delicious ways over and over again. I moan as he finally loses some strength and falls over me. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring my face to his skin. I start by kissing him softly as he continues to thrust, then open my mouth wide.
I sink my teeth into his flesh, thinking it will send him over the edge, but instead, it pisses him off. He raises up and seizes my neck in his hand. “No marks.”
I struggle to nod in his hold, but I guess my eyes show my compliance because when he catches them, he releases me. I inhale a big breath, hoping it will give me the oxygen he stole, but it doesn’t. One last thrust and I’m sent over the edge.
I dig my nails into the leather seat and hold in my scream as his glare burns into me. He smiles like he’s satisfied with himself before pulling out and coming all over my stomach.
He wipes the last bead of cum on his dick over my clit, then shoves himself back into his pants. “Now—” He buttons his pants roughly, then loops his belt and buckles it. “—lose the attitude. You got what you’ve been craving.”
My face screws into a grimace as he crawls back into the front seat and puts the car in drive. I pull my duffel toward me from the fl
oor and open it and grab a T-shirt. I clean myself up, then pull my shirt back down and shorts back up.
“Fuck you,” I mumble, and all he does is laugh.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CARTER
An entire year has passed, and shit is different—more than different. Mac didn’t waste a single second trying to cozy up to Claire once Henry died. I can’t say I’m surprised because I’m not. My dad is the worst kind of parasite there is. Anywhere he can weasel his way in, he’ll do it. Especially if it will profit him in some way. Money, status, it doesn’t really matter. And he’s enjoying the picture he’s painting by being there for Claire and loving her after such a big loss.
I feel bad for her because she’s so fucking gullible. She only sees the best in people and thinks evil doesn’t exist in this world—her world. But my father is the fucking devil in disguise.
One thing that has gotten better since they married is the beatings. My dad has a reason to be on his best behavior since I obviously wasn’t enough. I just stay out of his way and mind my own fucking business. If I’m not here, he can’t touch me, but I’m stuck here, at least for the night. Lydia is coming home, and I want to see the shitshow that is going to ensue when she realizes what’s been happening since she’s been gone.
Claire still thinks Lydia and I are the best of friends when we aren’t. She asked me not to tell Lydia anything about her and my dad’s engagement, and then it turned into not saying anything about the wedding or us moving in. I didn’t want to hurt her by telling her the truth.
And that truth? Lydia doesn’t mean shit to me—at least I try and tell myself that. I tried to be nice and be there for her, but it blew up in my face. She probably thinks I’m like my dad and only seeks out certain things for gain, which isn’t entirely true, but it isn’t a lie either.
I liked Lydia. Liked. She made me happy when we were kids. It was easy to be with her and a nice change of pace. I looked forward to parties at the club because I knew I would get time with her, but when high school came, Mac told me to leave her alone. And what he says goes. So, I made up the bullshit excuse of hating her for sleeping with my best friend. I mean, that shit hurt in its own way, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt as bad as Mac’s fists if I disobeyed him.
I’m not sure why it became such a problem being her friend, but I wasn’t going to question it. Now though, there is no choice but to at least be civil with her. After all, we will be living in the same house.
I can barely hear the front door open before it slams shut. I stand from my bed and walk to my door and crack it open. “Mom,” Lydia squeals. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“I’ve missed you too, honey. How was it with Uncle Bill?”
“It was—it was okay. Boring, but I got all my credits for school. I’m officially done.”
“And you’re eighteen. How does it feel?” I can hear the smile in Claire’s voice.
“Yeah, how does it feel?” I roll my eyes when Mac’s booming voice fills the air.
Lydia doesn’t answer, so Claire changes the subject. “We have so much to talk about. So much has happened—”
Lydia cuts her off. “Hold that thought, Mom. Let me put my stuff up, and I’ll come down and we can talk. I want to hear about everything.”
I hear her feet pad against the floor, then start up the stairs. Here we fucking go. I smile to myself and close my door quietly, then go back to my bed and lie down. I kick my feet up and put my hands behind my head.
Within seconds it opens again, and Lydia freezes in the doorway. “Hey, Bunny. Miss me?” I grin.
Her eyes practically bulge from their sockets as she studies me on my bed—her old bed. She looks around the rest of the room. Her once lilac-colored walls are now a deep gray to match my own aesthetic, the delicate white furniture is gone and replaced with my mahogany things, and all the books on the built-in shelves have disappeared.
“What. The. Fuck.” She pants.
“Oh, Momma Claire hasn’t told you yet?”
She looks at me quizzically. “Told me what?”
I huff. “I’ll let her tell you.”
She throws her bag to the floor and turns on her heel. I follow as she storms down the steps. When she makes it back to the bottom, Claire and Mac are standing in the living room, kissing and whispering. It’s nothing new to me, but for Lydia, it is.
“Are you fucking kidding me!” she screams.
Claire and Mac break apart, but he keeps his arms snaked around her waist. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he says, kissing the top of her head, then heading up the stairs.
“Lydia, honey,” Claire starts. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
“Tell me what? That you moved in the McLanes, gave Carter my room, or that you’re sleeping with Malcolm?”
Claire, ever the poised woman, bites her lip and lets out a breath. “Malcolm and I are married now.”
Lydia turns back to me like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. I just shrug with a grin, solidifying what Claire said.
She turns back around to face her mother. “You’re joking.”
Claire shakes her head and takes a step closer. “Malcolm has been there for me, honey.” She reaches out, but Lydia steps back.
“Dad has only been gone a year. A year, Mom!” she screams, stepping back more until she hits me.
“I know. And in that year, a lot has happened. Malcolm was here when you weren’t, honey. I let you leave to heal the way you needed, and I healed the way I needed.”
“I can’t even believe this…” she mumbles.
“You’ll adjust,” I interject. “I did.”
She turns and looks at me. “Shut up, Carter. No one asked you.”
I raise my hands in defense. “Just trying to help, sis.”
“We will talk more when you cool down, Lydia. For now, go relax and unpack. We’re having dinner as a family in a couple hours.”
“As a family?” She scoffs.
She turns again and pushes past me roughly to go back upstairs. I follow her because I can’t help but love the train wreck this is turning into. Halfway up, Mac comes out of his and Claire’s room and starts down the steps. As he passes Lydia, he gives her a wicked smile, and I swear I can see her skin crawl. Then he gives me a warning I know all too well.
I brush it off and continue up with Lydia. She goes to my doorway and grabs her bag, then walks to the door next to mine, further down the hall. When she opens the door, she sees all her stuff neatly in place like it was in my room before we moved it. The only thing missing is the bay window.
“This is bullshit.” She shakes her head and throws her bag on the bed. “If you think I’m sharing a bathroom with you, you’re insane,” she says over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry. You can use your mom and Mac’s if you really need to, because I’m not giving that up.”
She ignores me and walks to the bathroom door. When she opens it, she steps in and starts throwing all my stuff off the counter. She goes back to her bed and pulls out a smaller bag from her duffel and stomps back. She starts placing makeup, lotion, perfume, and other pointless shit on the counter.
“I’m not using theirs, and I’m not going downstairs every time I need to use the bathroom or shower.”
I step through the bathroom and open the door that leads to my room. I grab the duct tape off my desk and start unraveling a piece as I walk back in. “Fine.” I lay a strip directly in the center of the counter between the two sinks. “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. And make sure you knock before barging in. I don’t lock the door, and I’d hate for you to see me naked, then try and fuck me.”
She sets the last bottle of lotion on the counter. “Don’t flatter yourself. Arrogant douchebags aren’t my type.”
She pivots out of the bathroom and slams the door. Living under the same roof is going to be interesting.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LYDIA
Betrayal is such an understate
ment. I don’t even feel I can look at my mother the same. Knowing she’s with Malcolm just makes me feel worse than I did. How am I supposed to look her in her eyes again? How am I supposed to act like nothing ever happened? How am I supposed to keep this disgusting secret to myself?
I swallow all my self-loathing, then step out of my new room. I’m still pissed Carter got my room, but it’s not like anyone will listen. This is how shit is now, and I just have to deal with it.
I start down the hall and run into Carter as he exits his room. I walk by without a single word. I can’t deal with his bullshit right now. It’s minuscule compared to everything else going on, like the fact I fucked his dad for the second time less than a couple of hours ago.
I can hear him step behind me as I descend the stairs, but I ignore it, or try to anyway.
“Damn, sis. I forgot how nice your ass is.”
I stop abruptly and turn to face him. He stands on the step above, looming over me more than usual, but I don’t let my confidence falter. “Carter,” I start. “I am not your sister, and you’re never getting into my pants.”
His brown eyes burn into me with a smile. “Sooner or later you and I will happen, Bunny. You may not think so, but I know so. It doesn’t matter how much you despise me as a person. I see the way you look at me.”
Anger flares inside me. What the fuck is up with the McLanes thinking everyone who looks their way wants to fuck them? Obviously, everything I’ve said up until this point hasn’t been effective, so I’ll hit him where I know it’ll hurt.
Anyone with a brain can see Malcolm and Carter’s relationship is strained. The tension between them is always so thick with no explanation. But that doesn’t change the fact I know he hates him. Carter hates his own dad, and I’ll use that to my advantage.
I walk my fingers up his chest. “You ever think the only reason I look your way is because you look like your dad? I mean, younger, of course—with small differences, but still the same. Maybe you both fuck the same too.”