Taking His Rage (Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)

by Gwen Allen

  "Clean yourself up and get back to the party," he orders me and I'm ready to slap him. "I don't want to answer questions about where you are."

  He leaves and I glare after him. Then I remember the speech he was going to give. I rush to the door. "Give that speech and I will fucking kill you!" I yell after him.

  He turns to me and smirks. "Sure thing," he says then goes down the stairs with a slow, swaggering step.

  I might just kill him either way. Bastard! That wasn't how I wanted to lose my virginity. I wanted it to be sweet, with a guy I loved, candlelight, roses and all that crap. I guess there was candlelight. And there is a whole garden of wild roses. It's not the same though. I wanted to lose my virginity making love not being a release valve for Vince's anger. Damn him.

  Chapter 6

  ~

  Julie

  Another morning waking up in the Henderson house. Bright sunlight streams in through the windows, and I stretch in my luxurious bed. It's so weird to be living here. Not that I have any complaints really. For one thing, I have plenty of privacy. Practically the whole east wing of the upstairs is mine. Other than the maids, no one comes here.

  My mom only drops in after texting me. That's so sweet of her. I don't know how many times she has thanked me for agreeing to move in. For her sake I'm glad I did it. But I can't say that I feel comfortable living in this house especially since I don't know when Vince might show his face here.

  Since I didn't invite them to the party, I brought Deirdre and Kayla to visit me at the Hendersons'. They are my best friends, and they have been incredibly supportive of me when my dad was sick and after we lost him. First I give them a tour of the house and they are impressed. The grandeur of the place intimidates me. It's so weird to live in a place like this, but Kayla seems to like what she sees.

  "It's like you live in some fancy hotel," Kayla says and nods with approval.

  Deirdre disagrees. "I think it's more like you live in a museum. I could never relax in a place like this."

  "Could you relax by the pool?" I ask her. She lifts up her shirt to show me her bright pink bikini top.

  "I guess so," I say with a laugh and lead the way to the pool.

  I already have drinks and snacks set up on a table. The drinks are as colorful as I could make them and they have little umbrellas in them. For drinks by the pool, that's mandatory.

  Before taking a dip, Kayla wants to walk around and check out the grounds.

  Deirdre isn't interested. "It's just trees and shrubs and more trees and shrubs." Once she sets her eyes on the pool, Deirdre wastes no time. She strips down to her bikini and jumps straight into the pool, splashing water all over.

  "Nothing is getting me out of this pool," she announces.

  "Not even one of these?" Kayla asks holding up a chilled glass with pretty layers of peach and raspberry juice.

  "Hand it over," Deirdre says and reaches up for it.

  I hand her a glass and she sips it then sets it down on the edge of the pool.

  "It's nice but you could have put a splash of something in there. It's a virgin," she says.

  "Just like our Julie," Kayla says and puts an arm around me.

  But it's Deirdre who notices the funny look on my face. "Julie? You have something to tell us?"

  "No. Only that I'm not. Any more," I stammer.

  "Spill it. Who? Where? When? Who?" Kayla asks all rapid fire so I can't answer right away.

  "Just a guy at a party, but he isn't boyfriend material or anything," I tell them when I finally get a word in.

  "Why not? What's wrong with him?" Deirdre asks.

  "He's hot, but his personality is the worst," I say while taking a seat on the edge of the pool and dangling my legs in the water.

  "I figured you only went for nice guys, too nice even," Kayla says.

  "I would have bet money that you would only give it up to a steady boy-toy and only after you had been dating him for about a million years," Deirdre says.

  "I guess I'm full of surprises." I surprised myself more than anyone, but I'm not planning to act like such an idiot ever again. I quickly change the subject so I can stop cringing so much, and we can all have a good time.

  It was nice having Kayla and Deirdre visit me, but once they leave it's all downhill from there. This evening my reprieve from Vince will be over. I haven't seen him since the night of the party and that has been a huge relief.

  It's only been two days but it seems like a lot longer. That night was so unreal. The violent way Vince fucked me, like he was fulfilling some animal desire—how can I have been a part of that. It seemed more like some lurid dream. If I wasn't still a little sore, I might not believe it really happened.

  But tonight Vince is definitely going to be here, and it's going to be hell. My mom and Curtis are throwing a dinner party for some friends of his that just came back from a six month tour of Asia.

  I hope they'll have some good stories to distract everyone from my humiliation. Sitting at the same table with Vince is going to be mortifying. It will be a miracle if I can eat even one bite. I don't know how I will be able to face him again after what he did to me and the way I let him, the way I came for him after he fucked me into the dirt. I'll never live it down.

  I did keep him from ruining Mom and Curtis's party. That's what I try to tell myself. And anyway, I couldn't stay a virgin forever. That's not much of a consolation. I wasn't in a rush though all my friends were amazed that I never did anything except kiss a guy. Carried away on a rush of adrenaline, I gave myself to the worst possible person. My first time was hot and hard, but with no love.

  It's done. I'll never have another first time. I can't take it back or do it over with someone loving and kind. All I can do is focus on not letting anything like that happen again. Setting aside the shame I feel, I'm determined put it behind me, but that's not easy.

  The screaming pain of that first shove is still fresh in my mind. How could that make me feel good? But every time I think of that moment, it makes me shiver deep inside. All that pain and I didn't want him to stop.

  I can't seem to forget what the experience taught me. It taught me more than I wanted to know. I learned what it feels like to be fucked with no love behind it—kind of amazing, kind of bad, especially after it's over. I learned what a cock feels like big and hard, deep inside.

  I also learned one or two things about myself that I would never have imagined. A man hurt me and made me like it anyway. Vince gave me pain and I took it like it was a gift. I accepted it as if he was fulfilling some secret wish my treacherous body has been hiding from me. That can't be what I like. It can't. I want it gentle and sweet. I do.

  I remind myself of that as I go down to dinner. Mom bought me a new dress and squealed when I put it on. It's nothing spectacular, but that's because Mom knows I wouldn't like anything too showy. The dress is cream colored silk with a wide neckline and a narrow skirt.

  The dress kind of feels like it might slip off my shoulders. The feeling brings back what Vince did, how he pulled my other dress down to expose me. That thought shouldn't make me wet, damn it. He was crude, but the way his eyes burned into me...

  Oh God, I'm never going to survive this dinner.

  I peek into the dining room and see that the table is set so beautifully—white linen, elegant stemware, bone china with the subtlest of patterns. Its white perfection is mocking me when I feel so dirty and can't seem to keep a decent thought in my head. I was never like this before.

  I'm dreading this dinner so much and Mr. and Mrs. Palmer are supposed to be such a sweet couple. They made a ton of money when they were younger and now devote themselves to a children's charity. Mom is looking forward to meeting them, but she's nervous too. I need to put on a confident, cheerful face for her sake. It's her first formal dinner since she got married, and I want it to be a success.

  I'm resolved to be the daughter my mother deserves tonight, the good daughter she raised. As I steel myself, I notice a shadow in the
corner of my eye. At first I'm too afraid to turn. The shadow is tall, familiar and looming in the doorway. If I dare to turn, I know who I'll see, and I'm sure he will be scowling or maybe sneering.

  Just as I can't take it any more and I spin around to face him, I hear voices down the hallway. The voices are happy and companionable. And what am I doing? I'm frozen in place, staring into Vince's icy blue eyes. He's neither scowling or sneering. His face is like marble, cold and hard with no expression. I hate it more than any hateful look he might give me. The cold, unfeeling look in his eyes makes me want to cry.

  ~

  Vince

  It's weird seeing her again. That's why I've been staying away from the house. I keep seeing flashes of that night. Even in the dark of the garden, I can see the blood stand out on her pale skin until she pulls her dress down.

  What did she expect? She wanted to boss me around and keep me in line. Not likely. But I let her think she could and then showed her who was really in charge. I might have to muzzle myself around my dad, but I have no reason to hold back around that little faker.

  She dressed the part that night, acted the part of a good girl to perfection. But under that modest, baby blue dress, it was a different story. When I lifted up the hem of that dress and reached under it, what did I find? The same hot, welcoming fuck hole, all wet for me. She gave it up as easily as any slut. When her panties came off, the mask came off too. She was clutching at me, moaning and begging.

  But she was also bleeding and I didn't even realize it. I only noticed after, when I saw blood staining the inside of her thighs. I wonder who she was saving it for? Not me, that's for sure. Too late now. Her first time is mine and no one else's.

  We're about to take our seats at the dinner table and my dad signals to me that I should pull Julie's chair out for her. I pretend not to notice. Julie doesn't seem to expect anyone to hold her chair for her anyway.

  She sits down carefully, but I still see her wince a little. At the same time I bite back any twinge of guilt I might be feeling for fucking a virgin that hard and making her cry, and for the way I clamped down on her mouth so no one would hear her scream, but not for making her come. She doesn't deserve my guilt anyway.

  So what if she was technically a virgin. Plenty of girls save that one thing but do every other thing there is. Technically they might be virgins, but they are sluts through and through. She might have been a virgin until that night, but she is no innocent. She is a gold digger like her mom.

  As I look at her now, dressed a little more sophisticated, I see flashes of that pale blue dress she wore then. It glowed in the garden as did her skin. Fuck. Thinking of her lying on the ground, wide-eyed, covering her breasts makes me want to sink inside her all over again.

  I should probably stop staring at her so I can get myself under control. We're sitting down at the table so no one can see me get hard. Julie sure as hell won't notice anything. She doesn't dare to look at me.

  The whole time since she sat down at the table, Julie doesn't raise her eyes, just stares down at the empty plate in front of her. She's dressed elegantly with very little makeup. Her hair looks natural and soft. That tells me that she's still playing the part of a sweet, demure girl. There is no point trying to fool me and she knows it, but I bet my dad and the Palmers are buying her act.

  We'll be served the main course soon and after that I'll see how long I can be at the same table with the two gold diggers who are taking over my father's life and my mother's house. To entertain myself, I stare at Julie to see if I can catch her eye. Her hazel eyes flicker toward me then away.

  I don't even want her, and I didn't want her that night. She was just somewhere to vent my rage because I also didn't want to rant in some drunken speech and hurt my dad. The man is still recovering from a heart attack. You could say that Julie played the good girl to perfection and saved me from myself.

  But now that I've had a taste of her tight little hole, I keep toying with the idea of making her mine all over again. I want to see her eyes go wide with shock as I stick it in. I want to listen as her cries of ecstasy fill the whole house when I bury myself in her over and over again. I really want to let her have it with no mercy.

  Maybe if she begs I'll go easy on her, but only if she begs me on her knees. Great, now I'm picturing the little slut on her knees. I'm dying to see what she can do with that pretty little mouth of hers. I know how good her mouth feels on mine. One of these days I want to find out how it feels on my cock.

  I want to drag her out of here right now, but at the same time, I don't want her to know that she has me all worked up. It's only because she's right in front of me that she has my full attention. She's shiny and new, a trinket to play with. She's not an obsession.

  Chapter 7

  ~

  Julie

  Over dinner, the Palmers are having a lively conversation with Mom and Curtis. They are really nice and have some great stories. I can't focus on anything they are saying though, not with Vince glowering at me non stop. At least his look isn't cold any more.

  As for the food, every single thing I'm tasting seems more like I'm eating dessert and not a meal. It's all too delicious, but I can only manage a bite or two before my nerves get to me. Mostly I'm just moving food around on my plate. When I notice my mom looking at me, I take a bite and give her a reassuring smile. The last thing I need is for her to start worrying about me, or God forbid, asking me questions about what's bothering me.

  "The food is so good," I whisper to my mom so I won't interrupt a story Mr. Palmer is telling. I just wish my stomach wasn't all tied up in knots so I could enjoy this dinner.

  Mom whispers back. "I know, but you better not let Chef Lee hear you gushing about someone else's cooking like that."

  Our chef at the café is no slouch, but quail with morel mushrooms in a sherry sauce is not usually on the menu.

  The food here is dangerously delicious and Mom knows it too. "I'm going to balloon to a million pounds living here."

  "I saw a gym," I tell her. I discovered it when I was exploring the house. "It's insanely well equipped."

  "I know. I'm not sure I can handle it. It's so manly." Mom makes a face.

  I laugh at her. "I'll bring you your pink dumbbells from your room at the café."

  "It's a deal," she says with a grin.

  As I look away from my mom's smiling face, I catch sight of Vince scowling at us. Maybe he thinks we're conspiring together. Ugh. Why can't he be pleasant?

  Mr. and Mrs. Palmer are now showing off pictures of their grandkids. My mom just melts looking at their adorable little faces, and then she says, "You never know, Curtis and I might decide to have a kid one of these days." She gives Curtis and me a really sweet smile, but I quickly turn to look at Vince.

  Just as I expected, his reaction isn't good. His face is downright scary. He swallows a bite of his food, and it looks like he might choke on it. Not to mention he looks ready to say something. I can't let him. Suddenly I stand up while staring hard at Vince. I excuse myself and leave the room.

  As I left, I stared at Vince so hard, maybe he will follow me instead of opening his big yap. That was my plan, but it was a stupid plan. Why would he? Only one reason. I curse myself as I linger in the hallway anxiously.

  Right now I don't even know what I want to happen so I just pace the hall. I'm like an amateur trying to defuse a bomb. It's only going to blow up in my face.

  When I turn in my pacing and see Vince come out of the dining room, my heart jumps in my chest. He looks around and smirks when he spots me. Eyeing me up and down, he stalks toward me. Now that I got him out of there, I don't know what to do. What the hell did I get myself into again?

  As Vince steps up to me, I back up half a step. He reaches out and tugs at the wide strap of my dress but not hard enough to pull it off my shoulder. I draw back. He locks his eyes on me then steps closer and places his hand on my hip. I shift to dislodge his hand as my heart races. Next time he reaches for me, I'
m not sure if I'll be able to pull away.

  He doesn't try anything else though. With that last, silent refusal I give him, his eyes turn mean. "What do I have to do to get your cooperation? Threaten to make a speech?" he asks as his blue eyes bore into mine.

  "That was a one time deal," I tell him trying to sound decisive, but my voice shakes and I have trouble catching my breath.

  He looks from my eyes down to my mouth then asks, "So what were you and your mother laughing about?"

  I scoff at him. So I was right, he was paranoid about that. "You. How you're full of yourself. How you have terrible manners and no self-control," I tell him with a smirk.

  "But I'm controlling myself right now," he says as his eyes turn deadly cold. "And I did come to this dinner to sit there like a hypocrite and tolerate you and your mother at our family table. As far as I'm concerned, I should get a medal for good manners."

  "You are just a horrible person," I tell him.

  "Because I don't want to see my father's life destroyed by a gold digger with no morals?" he says.

  Is he talking about my mom? He is insane. "Get your head out of your ass. No one is destroying your dad. My mom is good for him, and she is a good person."

  "Don't sing your mom's praises to me if you know what's good for you," he warns me.

  There is an edge to his voice, and I draw back not sure what he might do to me. We are only a few doors down from the dining room, but I'm not feeling as brave as I did before.

  He steps closer, looming over me, enjoying his power to scare me as he backs me into the wall. "What are you afraid I'll do to you? That I'll make you like it? That I'll make you come real hard? That I'll make you my slut all over again?"

  I can't believe it. He is a hundred percent right. That's exactly what I'm afraid of, but no way in hell am I going to admit it. I might not feel brave but I can fake it.

  "You sure take a lot of credit," I say to him. "You didn't invent sex, you know. And it was my first time, so I was kind of easy to impress. And for the record, liking sex does not make me a slut."