Stepbrother With Benefits 5

by Clark, Mia

  "I..." How could this have happened? I didn't ever mean for this to happen.

  It's wrong. Not just this, but everything. I knew it was wrong, but I thought I could get away with it. Why, though? I'm not like this. I'm good. I'm the good girl, the girl with perfect grades, the girl who does everything right, prim and proper. I don't cause trouble, I don't get into trouble, I don't...

  I'm in trouble now, though. The first time I ever stray from my Little Miss Perfect image, and this happens? I never wanted to be Little Miss Perfect to begin with. No one ever says it in a nice way. Except for Ethan. It's cute and playful when he says it. He's the only one who... who what?

  I'm so confused. I don't understand.

  "Just come here tomorrow, be my sex toy for a couple of days, and you can go back home," Jake says, almost sweetly. "Everything will be fine. For now, at least. I might change my mind in a couple weeks. I might need more incentive not to tell your little secret, Ashley. I'll let you know, though. You can make me forget all about it by coming for a visit for a few days ago. When we're back in college, it'll be even easier. It'll be our little secret, as long as you do what I say."

  "Jake," I whisper. "You can't tell anyone."

  "I won't, as long as you come here tomorrow. I'm not playing around here, Ashley. I mean it. I can't wait to fuck you as much as I want for the next few days. I've wanted to do it for a long time, but you're too stuck up and prude. Never would have thought you had a secret like this, though."

  I open my mouth to start to say something, but he says more first.

  "Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to have to make you wash out your pussy a few times before we start. It's honestly more than a little gross that you've been having sex with your brother. That's just disgusting. What's next? A pack of dogs? You sick bitch."

  I tremble and shake. I can't believe he's saying this. But I sort of agree, too. I don't know how to disagree with him. It is. It's wrong. I knew it was wrong, but I got swept away, and I never thought anyone would find out, and...

  And now I've ruined all of it. I ruined everything. I should have stopped yesterday. I could have. Ethan gave me the chance. This is my fault. It's all my fault.

  I hear the water turn off in the bathroom. He's out of the shower now, probably drying off at this very moment.

  "Tomorrow," Jake says. "I'll text you the information, and I'll even meet you at the airport. Be here by the afternoon, or else. Don't do anything you'll regret, Ashley. Anything more than what you've already done, at least. You dirty whore."

  He hangs up. The phone clicks off, ending the call. I hold it to my ear, listless, confused, and hurt.

  How could this happen? What did I do? Why did I do that?

  *** Ethan

  When I finish my shower, I dry off and get dressed, then step back into my room. I smile, cocky and arrogant, ready to tease Ashley, but she's...

  What the fuck, she's gone? Where did she go? Her clothes are gone, too. Not that she was wearing them, but I saw them on the floor when I got up this morning, so I know she brought them. From the looks of it, her cellphone is gone, too.

  She must have gone back to her room. Yeah, well, I think I'll pay her a visit. Couldn't hurt.

  I step into the hall and walk towards her room. The door's closed. I try to open it, but it's locked, too.

  I knock. "Hey, you in there?" I ask.

  "Go away, Ethan," she says.

  "What's with the attitude?"

  "I said go away!" she screeches.

  "Holy fuck, are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you? Did I do something to piss you off or what?"

  "I..." She falters and chokes. "Please, Ethan. I don't feel good right now. I want to be left alone. Please?" By the end, she sounds like she's begging.

  "It's cool, Princess," I say. "Are you sick or something?"

  Oh shit. Sick? In the morning? Morning sickness? Wait, nah. I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure a girl can't get pregnant that fast. That'd be some fucked up shit, though. Also, she's on birth control. Should be fine. Maybe I'm potent as fuck, though. Kind of impressive if that's the case. And fucked up. I need to stop thinking this stupid shit, especially because I know it can't be true.

  She doesn't say anything. I can hear something, but it's hard to tell what it is. Is she crying? I've heard girls cry plenty of times, and I've made them cry most of those times, but I didn't even think I did anything this time. Maybe I'm becoming more of an asshole without realizing it? Fuck.

  "I'm going to go make breakfast," I say. "Pancakes, alright? Just how you like them. I won't bug you about it. Let's just hang out and have some food. If you aren't feeling good, we can stay home today. I'll go get you some soup and we can watch movies on Netflix. Sound good?"

  She doesn't say anything. I'm not sure what to say now. I'm not good at this. I've never had to convince a girl to spend time with me before. It's strange. A lot harder than it sounds, too. Who knew this shit was difficult? I feel bad for the guys that are less fortunate than me.

  Not that I do anything good with my superpowers here. I'm basically just a dick. Sorry?

  Yeah, well, one more try, alright? Let's see how this goes.

  "I'll bring it up for you," I say. "Breakfast in bed, alright? You get in your pajamas, get cozy under the blankets, and I'll bring you some pancakes on a platter in a few. Don't you worry. I got this."

  I hear her sniffling through the door, but she's not crying anymore. Then she gets up. Is she going to open the door? I hope so. But, nah, she goes into her bathroom instead. Must have grabbed a tissue, because a second later I hear her blow her nose.

  Shit. I feel bad. How'd she get sick? She seemed fine before I got in the shower. Maybe she just needs more sleep. I get cranky when I don't have enough sleep, too. Yeah, fuck, it's six-thirty now, isn't it? Who the fuck wakes up this early?

  I used to. For football. Practice during the summer started at seven during high school, so I'd wake up at five, eat breakfast, head over to the school, and be dressed and ready on the field by seven. It was fun. I love football. I don't miss waking up at five in the fucking morning, though. That shit's rough.

  Anyways, no time to worry or think about this. I've got to go make my Princess pancakes. Real fucking special, too. I'm going all out here. Chocolate chips. Aw yeah. Damn, I'm good at this.

  *** Ashley

  I don't know what to do. I don't know if there's anything I can do. This entire situation is beyond me. I'm in too deep and I'm drowning and that's it. It's done. I'm done.

  Maybe I can pretend none of this ever happened. Maybe it didn't? It might have all been just a dream. If I go to sleep, take a nap, and wake up, I'll realize that every little part of this was a figment of my imagination. It's not a crime to fantasize about sleeping with your stepbrother, right? It's not actually a crime to sleep with your stepbrother either, though. I'm not sure that logic is going to work for me right now.

  I can lie, though. I can say it's wrong. I can refuse to go and if Jake really does tell my parents, then I'll just say he's the one that's lying. Who are they going to believe, me or him? I'd like to think they'll believe me, but Jake has pretty damning evidence to the contrary. Why did I even take that picture of myself naked? That was a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid stupid!

  For someone who's supposed to be smart, I'm not sure how I could do something so dumb. This entire situation is dumb, though.

  No, it's not. It's not dumb. I've been having a nice time. I really enjoy hanging out with Ethan. He's nice. He wouldn't blackmail me like this, even if we're only doing this for a week. If he was the one who had gotten the picture instead of Jake, he never would have told anyone or shown anyone. This is what I want to believe, but I know Ethan, too. He's not exactly a saint. I feel like he still has some sense of decency, though. I know he does.

  My options right now are that I can pretend none of this ever happened, or... I can admit that it did. I can accept the fact that Jake has a hold over me, that I accidental
ly gave it to him, and I can deal with it.

  How? By going and doing what he wants me to do. Is it worth it, though?

  If I do, I know it'll hurt. I know it's wrong. I don't want to be some object for him to use for his own sexual gratification. That's never what I wanted.

  I know that sounds strange, because it seems like maybe that's what Ethan and I have been doing for the past few days, but it's not. We've been having fun, too. He's taught me things that I don't know if anyone else could have taught me. He's shown me that things I thought were wrong aren't actually bad when they happen between two people who care about each other, and he's given me a reason to want to find someone who can treat me...

  ...just like he does.

  That's it, isn't it? Ethan has set the bar for me, given me expectations and an understanding of myself that I never really understood before, and that's it. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It makes me want to find someone like him, or someone better, but I don't know if there is anyone better.

  Why can't I just have him? I know it's not that easy. Life isn't that easy, and our situation isn't that easy. Nothing is easy. Why does this have to be so difficult, though? It hurts.

  I want to remember, though. I want to remember every part of what happened between us. I don't want to forget it. I don't want anyone to tell me it's bad or wrong or that we shouldn't have done that. Deep down I know we shouldn't have, but I'm also very thankful that we did. I would rather cherish the memories from the past few days than to let them become tainted with unwanted criticism and disgusted looks from everyone around me.

  And so I only have one option, don't I? If I don't want anyone else to know, I have to do what Jake wants me to do. That's the only way. It's the only thing I can think of. Either that, or somehow invent a time machine, go back, and stop myself from ever mistakenly texting my ex-boyfriend in the first place.

  I should have deleted his number from my phone when we broke up that day. I was holding out hope before, though. I thought he might change his mind, that he'd text me and apologize, but then things happened with Ethan and I forgot all about that.

  I don't want Jake to text me now. I never want to speak with him again. I guess I have to, though. I guess I'm going to secretly buy a plane ticket and go see him tomorrow.

  It's only a few days, right? That's what I thought when Ethan and I started our stepbrother with benefits situation, too, though. Apparently a few days can be a long time. A few days can change your entire life.

  Someone knocks on my door. I ignore them and bury my face in my pillow. I hope they go away. I hope everyone goes away. I can't deal with this right now. I feel physically ill. My stomach hurts. I want to be left alone.

  "Hey, open up," Ethan says.

  Go away, Ethan. I think this, but I don't say it.

  He waits for a few seconds, then knocks again. "Wow, I make you pancakes and deliver them and everything and you're not even going to open the door? I see how it is."

  "I don't feel good!" I say, shouting at the door.

  "Yeah, I get it. That's why I brought them up here for you!" Ethan says, shouting back.

  Someone's going to hear him. Or me. They'll hear one of us. I don't know why he won't listen. He's never listened to anyone in his entire life, though, has he? That's part of who he is. That's part of why he's trouble. I know exactly why Ethan Colton has a reputation as a bad boy. He's being bad right now even if it looks like he's trying to be nice.

  "They're chocolate chip, Ashley," he says, pounding on my bedroom door again. "Real fucking melty chocolate, too. More chocolate chips than any one person should ever eat for breakfast. These things are smothered in chocolate."

  Chocolate chip pancakes? I wish he hadn't done that. I wish I couldn't imagine mouthfuls of fluffy pancakes and melted chocolate right now. He's making this too difficult for me.

  "What about the syrup?" I ask him. If he forgot the syrup, I can fight this. I have some semblance of willpower left. I really do.

  "Yeah, I've got it right here," he says. "The whole fucking jug, just for you. Use the entire thing. I don't care. You're the one who's sick."

  I'm not actually sick. Not in the way he thinks. My heart is sick, but I don't know if that counts.

  I roll my way off the bed and stand up, then rush to the door. When I open it, Ethan is standing there. There's nothing in his hands.

  "You lied to me!" I say, making a face at him. "I thought you made pancakes, but you lied. I can't believe you did that. I hate—"

  He claps a hand over my mouth. "Stop right there, Princess. Close your mouth for a second and look down."

  I push his hand away and glare at him, but I look down, too. There's... Oh wow.

  On a small tray stand, like the ones that people use for breakfast in bed, which I suppose is what this is, there's a plate of pancakes just as chocolatey and melty as Ethan said. Next to that there's the grey jug of fresh maple syrup, plus forks and knives, and another plate with sausage on it. To the side are two empty glasses and a half gallon carton of orange juice.

  "That's too many pancakes," I tell him. "I can't eat all of those."

  "Greedy much?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at me. "You going to share some with me or what?"

  "There's only one plate," I say.

  "So what? There's two forks and two knives. I think we can share. I swear I don't have cooties, Princess."

  "Cooties," I say, rolling my eyes. "Are we in second grade again?"

  "Might as well be. Who the fuck locks someone out of their room like that and refuses to answer the door?"

  "Um, you?" I say. "I"m pretty sure you've done it plenty of times before."

  "Yeah yeah, let me do that over," he says. "You're the good girl here, Princess. You're supposed to be polite and nice and shit. Why are you being a bitch?"

  "Did you just call me a bitch?" I ask, trying not to laugh. The way he said it sounded funny, though. Maybe I should be offended, but I'm not.

  "If the shoe fits," he says. Ethan glances down at my feet. "Fuck, I guess it doesn't. You're not wearing any. Sorry about that. You mind putting some shoes on so I can call you a bitch again?"

  I stick my tongue out at him and make a face, but he stops me. He stops me by putting his hands on my hips and pulling me close, then touching the tip of his nose to mine.

  "Did I do something to make you upset?" he asks, hushed. "When I came out of the shower you were gone. Are you alright?"

  I blush. We're close. This is too close, and he's holding me too close. What if someone sees us? What if my mom or his dad comes upstairs and they see us like this? What then?

  I like it, though. I like how he's worried, and how he's holding me like he cares. It's cute and sweet even though I can feel the telltale signs of his erection poking at my stomach. Ethan Colton only has a certain amount of sweetness in him; the rest of him is raw sex and arrogance.

  "You have an erection," I tell him, wrinkling my nose.

  "Holy fuck, I'm trying to be slightly less of an asshole right now. Did you really have to point that out?"

  I laugh, then I kiss him quick and slip away from him. "Yes," I say. "I did. And it's not you. You didn't do anything. I just don't feel very well right now. I don't want to... I don't want to have sex, Ethan. Not today. Please."

  "I get that I have a raging hard-on that probably almost broke one of your ribs, but I came up here to have breakfast with you, Princess. Nothing else. If I had ulterior motives, I'd just tell you straight up."

  "If that's really why you came, then you can come in," I say. "I accept your breakfast proposal."

  "Way to make it sound dirty," he says.

  I don't understand what he means at first, but then, um... proposal, proposition, propositioning for sex? I feel like chocolate chip pancakes are a pretty good bargaining chip for something like that, too. Especially Ethan's pancakes. If this were any other time, I'd probably gladly indulge in some indecent proposal in exchange for this meal...


  Not now, though. Probably not ever again. We need to stop.

  That doesn't mean I need to reject him completely, though. Does it? I think it probably does, but I don't want it to.

  "Go lay down," Ethan says, smacking my butt. "Get in bed, Princess. You need to rest up and get better. Who the fuck gets sick their first week of summer break? That's bullshit."

  I jump up and spin around, glaring at him. "You just spanked me!" I say.

  "Better get back in bed quick before I do it again!" he says, staring hard at me.

  I roll my eyes and slowly walk towards the bed, sashaying my hips side to side. Ethan goes to spank me again, but I see him out of the corner of my eye and I dodge and jump away, then scamper fast to the bed. I sneak under the covers and wait for him to join me.

  He bends down to grab the food tray, then hefts it up and brings it over. He sits it above my lap, pulling the legs of the tray out so it's more like a table. I sit with my back against the headboard, a pillow propping me up. Ethan goes to close the door.

  "Locked?" he asks.

  "Why?" I ask. "If you aren't planning on um... seducing me, then I think it's fine to leave it unlocked."

  He shrugs. "Have it your way, Princess."

  I realize why it might be better to have it locked a few seconds after he closes the door and steps further into my room, though. I'm in pajamas, sitting under my blankets, and Ethan's in pajamas, too. He's about to join me on the bed. Even though this isn't exactly supposed to be sexual, if our parents come up and see us like this, um...

  I don't know. I don't want to know. It's still early. They probably aren't awake yet. It'll probably be fine.

  I kind of want to lay in bed with Ethan, too. I kind of wish I could cuddle with him. I wish I could tell him about what happened, about what Jake said, about the trouble I'm in, and I wish he could help me.

  He can't, though. I know that. This is all my fault.