Firsts

by C. L. Matthews

  “Do you hate me, Silas?” After the words leave my lips, my heart chips. I’ve wanted to ask for a while. Why else would he act like I don’t exist? Maybe I was horrible at making him orgasm and he hates me for it. My words elicit a different reaction than I expected.

  Sy grabs my throat, not too tightly, but possessively. His grip is commanding, but gentle. He’s always in control, even when he’s not. His hold tightens and loosens with each second. He brings me close to his face. Closer than I’ve been in months. His breath caresses my lips, his hovering over mine. I inhale his distinctive scent. Sy always smells like cologne and a hint of alcohol. And on the bad days, he smells like women, and I hate it.

  He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. His eyes convey everything. They glimmer—watching me with so much emotion, and I can’t help but whimper. I don’t understand him.

  “Escúchame bien, niñita,” he demands, tightening his grip on my throat. “I’m only going to tell you this one more time. This can’t happen, it won’t.” He relaxes his hold, rubbing the soreness away. There’ll probably be marks tomorrow. That thought makes me quiver in anticipation. Having him mark me in any way feeds a sick and twisted part of me.

  He continues, his lips moving close to mine again. “You’re too young, too untainted, and not mine to corrupt. One day when you find a man worthy, you’ll give him your all, and I’ll have to watch. It’ll fucking kill me to do so, but it’s what will happen, mi corazón. And when it does, I’ll walk away—I have to.”

  Then he’s kissing my throat where he just rubbed. The subtle pain subsides and is replaced with his warmth. That warmth turns into molten desire, and I’m pushing into him soon after. Against my throat he whispers, “This is the last time. I promise.” Then he’s biting me, sucking hard and relentlessly. His tongue swirls with his nips, and I know I’ll have a hickey tomorrow. Pride rises in me, I want this. I want Silas.

  The sharp pain mixed with pleasure makes me throb. I squeeze my thighs together, rubbing them to create some kind of friction.

  He nibbles one more time, and then licks the bite as though it’s a wound. Then he smacks my thigh, shaking his head at me. “No. You’ll come when my face is between your legs, my mouth on your cunt, and your sweet juices filling my throat. Understand, niñita?”

  I nod placidly. This is fucking torture. Can’t he tell what he’s doing to me?

  “Please,” I beg huskily. I need him. I long for his kisses and soothing touches. Only he can bring me release, and he’s holding back. “Sy, kiss me.” It’s a demand. When he pulls back, his lips swollen from our kisses, he grins evilly. There’s a challenge there, and I’m scared to know what that challenge might be.

  He grips the bun on my head, bringing our lips back together. Sy doesn’t kiss me, though, no, he just holds his lips there. It’s like he’s tormenting me for fun. In retaliation, I lick the seam of them, and then nip at his bottom lip, missing the taste of him.

  If there’s ever a doubt on who owns this man, I’ll only need to remember how he growled from this little move of mine. He bites my lips, not nibbles, but full on bites, then sucks them gently. Sy’s a master with his mouth, he holds nothing back. I imagine what that mouth would feel like on my pussy, and shudder with awareness.

  I push into him, trying to adjust and straddle his lap, but he restrains me. I want to feel the hard bulge visible through his jeans, to lick it and suck it until he’s feeling half as desperate as me. There’s always an unadulterated craving to own a piece of this man, but he won’t let me.

  He won’t open up, and he won’t let me in.

  When he finally gives into my demands and kisses me, it surprises me. He’s sweet and gentle, as though in this moment, he’s my lover, not the man dominating my entire world. I seek entrance with my tongue and he allows it. Then he’s lifting me onto his lap, and I’m finally feeling how hard I make him.

  He fists my hair, tugging then releasing, and then pulling so tightly that I know he wants much more than I’m getting from him. Gripping my chin, he pulls away, holding me whispers away from his lips.

  “Do you know how goddamn hard it is to stay away? How hard I am every day I see you? You don’t fucking realize what your sexy little body does to a grown man like me, negrita. You don’t see the torment I’m in when your friend is around, when I see the way he looks at you. How incredibly fuckable you are whenever you’re near. You. Don’t. Understand.” He grips my small hand, placing it over his cock.

  “See? I’m desperate for you. Since your birthday, I can’t get you out of my mind. I’ve tried. I’ve slept with other women and I end up pretending it’s you. Picturing your body I’m fucking. It’s your fault I need more than just my hand, niñita.” Sy realizes his mistake as soon as he finishes, and closes his eyes roughly, shaking his head like he wishes he'd held back.

  Like a bucket of ice in this blistering Arizona heat, I’m shocked. He just told me he’s been with other women. Just because I’m not his, doesn’t make the jealousy any less real. Doesn’t make me hate him less for not choosing me. For never choosing me—never choosing us.

  I sit up immediately and re-adjust my clothes. “Leave,” I demand. He regards me with understanding. He knows he fucked up.

  “Lo siento,” he apologizes, actual remorse on his face.

  “¡Sal de aqui!” I screech, pushing him toward the door. “No vuelvas!” And he better not come back, he’s not welcome. I’m not going to be any man's second choice.

  FOUR

  LEIA

  WITH THAT MEMORY BURNING A hole in my now current heart, I remember the anger. But with anger comes the necessity for him to love me—to pick me. Remembering the pain Sy put me through, makes this decision easier. I want to hurt him back.

  I kiss him. I kiss him with everything I have to offer.

  Gripping his chin like he once did mine, I take his mouth and bite. Not holding back, I push my tongue in, absorbing his unique taste. He feels right, like everything else in the world can implode around me. As long as his lips are on mine, nothing else matters.

  But then I remember how he has once again chosen someone else, and decided I’m second to him. Moving away, I slap him square in the jaw. Sy’s shocked expression would make me laugh if I wasn’t so pissed. My palm stings where his scratchy beard made contact. He can’t keep doing this to me. He doesn’t have the privilege of owning my all when I own nothing of his. I’m no one’s second choice. Not anymore.

  “Did you just fucking slap me?” Sy growls, stepping closer to me. I’m suddenly scared, I’ve never retaliated before. I’m not one to stand my ground, until now that is. His expression is vicious, his eyebrows are drawn together, and that almost permanent scowl is on his face again. He’s absolutely furious.

  He’s now nose to nose with me. His hand comes up against my windpipe, gripping it once more, like it’s always supposed to have his palm there. There’s probably a permanent imprint of him on my throat, he seems to like it so much.

  Sy forces me back against the wall with all the pictures of him, Mamá, Brax, and other friends. I hit it with a thud, my head tapping the sheetrock, making a few photos fall to my feet, while my shoulders dig into the drywall.

  “Don’t you ever raise a hand to me, Leia. Understood?” The vehemence in each word has me cowering momentarily, until I realize he wants me to back down—to submit to him.

  I narrow my eyes at him, and give him the finger in answer. He can go fuck himself if he thinks I’m going to follow his rules. He may now be legally my stepfather, but he’s only Sy to me. The man who continues to break my heart.

  He chose her.

  It hits me again.

  Mamá. She doesn’t deserve this.

  I push at him, placing my palms on his chest and shoving. He’s unmovable and strong, it’s as if I have zero power here.

  “Stop fighting me, negrita,” he says aggressively in my ear so I’m sure to hear him over my music. I relax when his nose glides up and down my t
hroat, breathing me in. His tongue replaces his nose, and he licks slowly, eddying around the spot he left a mark on last year. A mark I cherished.

  I remember Mamá asking me about it the next day. It was my first ever visible-for-everyone-to-see brand from Sy. I’d lied and told her I messed around with a boy. She seemed so happy to hear. For some reason she asked if it was Brax, I laughed at her for that.

  Silas was pissed, and seeing him like that made me keep getting more detailed. He deserved it. He deserves to be angry and jealous, to hurt as much as he’s made me hurt.

  “You’re fucking addictive, and I’m scared I’ll lose this battle,” he admits, his tone pure gravel.

  “You’ve already lost,” I hiss. “You married her.” I try moving away again, but he holds my throat hostage. “Let me guess, you’ve fucked her too? It’s not like you’ve ever given me any piece of yourself.”

  He smacks the wall loudly, baring his teeth, luckily my music still blares, covering the sound. But I feel it, the impact of his palm. “I’ve given you everything that matters, Leia.” What the hell does that mean? It doesn’t matter, he didn’t answer the important question to whether he’s fucked my Mamá or not.

  “Have. You. Fucked. Her?” I demand, biting out each word like they’re poisonous.

  “You don’t want the answer, Leia. You’d never understand our relationship.”

  Fuck him. Fuck this. He’s always thinking with his dick and never with me in mind. Not in the way that matters.

  “Get out!” I struggle against his tight hold, but he loosens when I jerk too much.

  “¡Cálmate! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “Believe me, you’ve hurt me enough for a lifetime. Now get the fuck out of my room, Daddy,” I smart off, praying to push his buttons. Instead of the disgust I imagined would take over his face, his eyes molten with lust. What the fuck is wrong with him? And why am I turned on?

  “You always fuck around, I’m done with this.” I gesture to us angrily. “I’m going to go fuck someone else and see how you feel about it,” I spit at him, finally shoving him out of the way. Turning to shut off the speaker, he lifts me over his shoulder before I get the chance.

  “You’re done, when I say you’re done, niñita.”

  He throws me on my king poster bed, but grips my ankles when I try scooting away. Sy settles on my bed, still fully clothed and completely pissed off.

  When I finally stop fighting, he stands and starts unzipping my jeans. I slap him away. “No, Sy.” He takes both of my wrists, holding them together with one hand. And he’s fucking strong, the more I struggle, the harder he squeezes. Eventually, he finagles my jeans off of me. Next, my underwear and socks.

  I’m intrigued, but more annoyed than anything. My face is hot with embarrassment. If I ever fought Mamá like this, she’d beat my ass with her chancla. I shut my eyes at that knowledge and then freak out. Mamá! “You can’t be here,” I nearly scream. “Mamá is downstairs! Go to your fucking wife and leave me alone!”

  “So disrespectful, has sido una niña mala,” Sy chastises me. My cheeks flame, burning and heating in a way that makes me feel five again. I always hated when Mamá said that to me, stating I’ve been bad.

  “Xiomara left when you acted strange. I told her I’d talk to you.”

  “And she trusted you with me? Is she fucking blind?” My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. I should really avoid pissing off this man.

  He flips me over and slaps my ass so hard I see stars. I cry out, scream really. “Watch your mouth,” he roars while landing another slap to my tender flesh. Thwak! This time I yelp as tears spring to my eyes. Sy gives me two more smacks on each cheek.

  I’m a sobbing mess, remembering when my Mamá hit me for misbehaving. As I shake, Sy rubs me tenderly. “Good girl, baby.” he coos. Then his lips are kissing the burning flesh, and I’m getting aroused in the worst way.

  “Such a good niñita,” he praises with each kiss. His tongue swirls around my cheeks, and it’s both soothing and so very dirty. I’m moaning, and I’m not sure if it’s from his punishment or the fact that he makes me want despicable things from his tongue.

  I continue to cry, but the pain is slowly subsiding. It’s sure as hell going to ache tomorrow. He kisses a few more times before backing off. Sy lifts me easily, flipping me on my back again. When I look into his eyes, emotions and welled tears stare back at me.

  “It hurts me to hurt you, niñita,” he admits with sadness. Leaning down, he kisses me, bringing me so much joy and devastation in one movement.

  I whimper, wishing life was easier. That he didn’t marry my mom and fuck all those women because he can’t have me. How is this fair? Why not me?

  “Go shower, and when Xiomara gets home, you’ll apologize for your behavior.”

  Nodding, I get up and amble to my bathroom. My ass hurts with each step, and I have to force myself not to ebb the pain away. Sy stands by the door, watching me remove the last of my clothes. I’m not sure why I allow him to stare, but it’s all I’ll have left of him—these little secret moments that only exist in the dark. I’m his dirty little secret, and he’s my keeper of the night.

  Turning to look over my shoulder, I catch him adjusting his bulge. He doesn’t hide his arousal or sexual desire for me, he hides everything else, though.

  When he leaves and I shower, I make myself orgasm twice before getting out and drying off.

  There’s something extremely fucking wrong with me.

  FIVE

  SILAS

  I SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE that, I should not have smacked her ass. But she needed a lesson in respect—to know that I’m in control, not her.

  Her face as I watched her undress has my already aching balls throbbing with need. It’s bad enough I’ve ached for her for years, but to have her so close and to just let her go is torture.

  Unadulterated need, that should never be associated with a girl that’s now my stepdaughter, splashed across her features. And it only made me want to give in.

  Heading to the master bath, I strip easily, and start the shower. In Cape Hill, the temps never really sit lower than the high seventies, even in the “winter.” I run the water and the immediate shock lasts all of a minute before my body welcomes the cold.

  I continue to imagine Leia laying on the bed, her perfect ass, and pretty pussy bare for my eyes only. I’m the only man to ever see her entirely, she’s only ever been wet for my cock. That thought has me stroking my thickly veined length roughly. My breathing catches as I visualize her waxed cunt. Even though she was being punished, she was soaked for me.

  She wanted me just as badly as I want her.

  I can still taste her on my tongue after soothing her heated flesh. There will be welts tomorrow, and there’s nothing more I want, than to see where I’ve marked her up.

  Reaching for Xo’s soft material made loofah, I drip some of her shower made lube on it and then on my dick. Taking the loofah, I wrap it around myself. The mesh material gives it a different texture—an almost painful one, and I savor it. The bite of it as I squeeze it around me has me bucking my hips into my fist. An involuntary growl escapes, and in turn I grip myself harder.

  “What the fuck are you doing to me, corazoncito?” My cock throbs with each pump of my hips. My groin pulses with my impending release. A release that’s all hers. I fuck my hand as roughly and thoroughly as I would Leia. Squeezing harder to imitate what her tight pussy will feel like and wishing there was a way to be with her now.

  I jerk a few more times before her name is a whisper on my tongue and ribbons of my seed hit the floor of the shower, wasting away, while wanting to be home in her hot body.

  After scrubbing myself raw with the loofah I’d just used, I wash quickly, and head for the bedroom. My mind keeps spinning. Wanting Leia has been an ongoing fixation that’ll get me put in prison if I’m not careful. It’s taboo, wrong, and in some people’s eyes, it’s sick.

  Things I shouldn’t want in the world�
��my best friend’s daughter/now my stepdaughter is at the top of that list. Leia Soltero. Danté Soltero and Xiomara Díaz’s daughter—and the girl I’ve lusted after since she was thirteen. Estoy mal de la cabeza. I’m sick in the head.

  She’s forbidden.

  She’s everything sunny and right in this world, and whether she knows it or not, she’s mine for the taking. And I’ll take her.

  I’ve done everything to stay away, but she’s persistent. My corazoncito doesn’t give up easily. Not that I’ve tried hard enough to give into her.

  She’s too young. Too innocent. Too fucking pure for me.

  I resist even when she purposefully pushes herself on me. It’s a predilection, it has to be. She’s not meant to be mine. But when I’m with her, I can’t help how at ease I feel. A man can only hold back so much before giving into temptation, and Leia is the definition of damnation.

  When she kept giving me fuck me eyes on her sixteenth birthday, I broke. I can admit I was weak for her since the day I first caught her eyes staring back at me.

  And for all things sacred, I never wanted to go back from the bliss I experienced that night. Her brown thighs wrapped around my cock has been my personal repeat fantasy in my mind. Nothing compares, and trying to find it elsewhere isn’t getting me anywhere.

  And if her piece of shit for a father didn’t threaten me the next day, she’d be mine. She is mine. I plan on fucking her, god be damned, I'm going to stake my claim and reap her of her purity. But Danté will hurt everyone I care about, and that’s enough to keep me at bay.

  They won't take her from me. I’ll kill any sonofabitch who tries. But after marrying Xo, she might not want me anymore. I won’t give up, no matter the metal band on my finger.

  I don’t know how Danté knew what occurred in the guest bedroom that night on her sixteenth birthday, but he threatened to kill Azalea, my sister Dani, and Xo’s parents in Puerto Rico. Luckily, Leia thought I didn’t want her. She cut back, and Danté has since left me alone.