Wicked Stepbrother (Book Three)

by Lila Price

  More than anything, I needed to reassess my direction in life. I was at Harton to get an education, and I’d forgotten that somehow, in the midst of all this. I was giving everything— physically and mentally— to Jacob now, and that wasn’t okay.

  It was easy enough to avoid him for the first week; I avoided his calls, sent him back “talk later” texts, and changed up my schedule so he couldn’t surprise me on the way to or from class. I figured Piper and Kiersten would be no help, so took to studying in the library rather than at home, which turned out to be lovely. The Harton library was a brand new building with soaring ceilings, enormous chairs, private study rooms and an insane number of books. It was like a West Elm version of the library in Beauty and the Beast.

  Almost a week and a half after the Football House party, I was nestled in an armchair in the historical anthropology section, making notes in the margins of my textbook, when Jacob appeared.

  I didn’t even see him, at first, but rather, felt his presence. Jacob had the ability to absorb all the energy in the room; I resisted looking up as long as possible when I felt his pull, but finally gave in. He was standing at the end of a row of books, his eyebrows lifted, his arm muscles straining at a gray Harton t-shirt.

  Being close to so many books made him even sexier, a fact which infuriated and aroused me at once.

  “You’re avoiding me,” Jacob said. He didn’t whisper, location be damned, and I saw someone a few chairs down lift her eyes curiously.

  Jacob walked toward me, then sat down in the armchair adjacent. He dwarfed it, and his legs were so long his knees were bent up awkwardly in the air, like an adult sitting on a child’s piece of furniture.

  “I am,” I whispered back, closing my textbook gently.

  “Did I do something stupid?” Jacob asked.

  “No. I just feel like…” I took a big, sweeping breath, and allowed Jacob to capture my eyes with his. I wondered if anyone ever gained immunity to his gaze.

  Which made me instantly wonder if Jenna was immune.

  “I was at that party at Football House the other night,” I began slowly.

  “You’ll have to be more specific,” Jacob said.

  “The one where Adams gave that stupid speech after having sex with my roommate. And Jenna what’s-her-face was there, the soccer player?”

  “Ok,” Jacob said, nodding.

  “And I just…I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “People there started telling me about you and her, and how you have this big history and this golden couple sports stardom.”

  “And that bothered you? Sasha, I thought you knew I had a lot of experience with women,” Jacob said.

  “Yeah, yeah, and look— that’s not the element that bothers me, really, it’s not. Truthfully, I— oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this— the fact that you know what you’re doing and are so sure about everything is super sexy.”

  Jacob grinned devilishly, and I rushed on before I lost my nerve. “But when people started talking to me about Jenna, it made me realize that you hadn’t just had sex with random girls before me. You had a relationship. One that people knew about. But no one knows about me…so doesn’t that make me just another random girl?”

  “Sasha—“

  “No, wait, I’m almost done. What did me in was when Jenna swept in and got you out of that room when you were about to punch Adams in the balls. I wanted to talk to you, but she got there first, and it just seemed like there was this connection. Like maybe I’m just someone you’re filling your time with until you and Jenna are on again. And I’m not horrified by that notion— it’s just not what I thought we were doing. So I’ve been avoiding you because I wanted to take a second and sort of get my bearings and figure out what I want and…yeah.”

  Jacob watched me for a long while, seemingly waiting to be certain I was finished. When I gave him a small nod, he took a breath. “Okay. Where do I even start, here,” he said. “I guess at that Football House party you were at when I first saw you…I’ll be honest— I was mostly just interested in winning the girl who didn’t talk around me, who seemed to be trying to avoid me…that doesn’t happen to me often.”

  “Pat yourself on the back,” I said, but smiled, and Jacob chuckled.

  “But look— I like you. And I’m not sleeping with anyone else. I’m not seeing anyone else. And I’m definitely not going to be on again with Jenna, no matter what people say or what my parents want,” he said with an eye roll. “She and I are friends— great friends, even. We get each other; we’ve both trained our whole lives to be pro athletes, and this is our time. But I’m not into her sexually.” He paused and looked…embarrassed? No. Jacob Everett didn’t get embarrassed. He blew air out through pursed lips and said. “I’m not into her romantically.”

  “But…you are into…me romantically?” I asked.

  “Say it louder and you’re going to ruin my playboy reputation,” Jacob teased, and I laughed. He went on. “And, it goes without saying, that I am very, very, very into you sexually.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked, my chest buzzing.

  “The last week has been hard. You can’t just cut me off like that,” Jacob said, lowering his voice a tad, but giving me a smoldering look.

  “Hey, now, I suffered too,” I said, trying to disguise a smile.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Jacob playfully waved me off, then rose. He took a few steps back into one of the rows of books, then beckoned for me to follow.

  “What?” I whispered, glancing down at the girl who’d been listening in on our conversation. She had headphones on now, and seemed oblivious to whatever was happening. Warily, I closed my textbook and set it down, then walked over to where Jacob stood.

  We were framed in on either side by thick textbooks, though both ends of the aisle were open. This, however, didn’t dissuade Jacob from winding his hand up my shirt. Before I’d really understood what he meant to do, he’d tugged my bra down and taken my nipple in his mouth.

  “Jacob,” I whispered frantically, or at least, tried to— the name came out as a sort of quiet cry. How had I gone a whole week without his mouth on me? It felt like my nipples had become hyper sensitive in that period of time— I felt the one in his mouth harden, and felt my clit pulse in anticipation.

  “A whole week,” Jacob said, keeping his teeth on my breast. “You know this means we have work to do?”

  “How soon can we get to your apartment?” I said breathlessly, and turned to go back to my things. Jacob caught my arm.

  “Not soon enough,” he said slyly. My eyes widened. “Grab your things. Follow me. Quickly.”

  I felt a rush of wetness at his words, and nearly ran back to my things. I shut books, zipped bags, whirled around to see Jacob’s form turning the corner at the end of the aisle. He walked down the center aisle and up to the information desk. I slowed to give him time to talk to the girl behind the counter, who seemed awe-struck to be speaking with the one and only Jacob Everett.

  “Thanks,” Jacob said kindly, then, without glancing in my direction, started up the stairs, toward the second story. This floor of the library was a ring of study and video rooms with broad windows overlooking the lower floor. In an attempt to keep students from using these rooms to have sex, keys were hard to come by. Unless you were Jacob Everett, I supposed.

  Jacob opened the door to the room in the center of the circle and stepped inside. I was immediately behind him, sliding in and shutting the door behind me.

  “Here?” I asked nervously. “Won’t people see?”

  Jacob smiled knowingly and reached over, cutting the lights off. The room was still lit by filtered daylight from the first floor’s windows, but I suspected that without an interior light, seeing inside from down below would be difficult.

  “But if someone walks by this room…” I said, looking at the walkway just outside the window. Anyone THAT close would easily see in.

  Jacob didn’t answer; he walked to me, tugged my bag off my shoulder
and kissed me, deep and long, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight to him. I melted— I’d somehow forgotten how it felt to be held against his hard, strong body.

  “No one’s going to see,” he said against my mouth. “Trust me.”

  “But—“

  “Sasha.”

  I bit my lip, then nodded. Jacob smiled down at me, then in a single, sweeping motion, lifted me up onto the table in the center of the room. I noticed he favored my weight in his good arm, but kept silent on the matter.

  He leaned in, kissed me again, then nudged me backward. He leaned over me and unbuttoned my pants, then slid them off my body and cast them aside. He pressed his fingers against my panties, smiling at how damp they were. Then, he lowered his mouth, and ran his tongue along the fabric, kissed hard enough that I was certain he could taste me. My hips lifted, eager to find his mouth again.

  “You missed me?” Jacob asked as he ran a finger along my bikini line.

  “Yes, yes,” I gasped.

  “And now that you’ve had the week to decide what you want— and now that you know I feel stronger about you than I’ve felt about any of the other girls— tell me, Sasha. What do you want?”

  “You,” I gasped, then raised myself up on my elbows. “Please, Jacob.”

  Jacob smiled at me, then hooked a finger through the crotch of my panties, tugging them down to my knees. “Don’t you want to ask what I want?”

  “What do you want?” I whispered, quivering with excitement.

  Jacob grinned— he was so close to my pussy I could feel the expression on my skin. “I want to make you happy, Sasha Copeland. Starting right now.”

  Then he leaned forward and took my clit into his mouth, sucking at it hungrily, until the frantic movement of my hips made him stop and chuckle before going back to work on me. I squirmed in pleasure as I felt an orgasm building— so fast, now that I’d gone without him for so long— and Jacob grabbed hold of my thighs, holding me down as he tasted me, let his tongue slip into me, licked me with long, hard strokes until I felt lightheaded. He knew what he was doing— bringing me right to the edge of an orgasm, then pulling back, letting me catch my breath.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “You want to come?” Jacob asked teasingly. I nodded, the action nearly throwing me off balance— the table was slick with my sweat. There was something torturous and incredibly sexy about how skilled Jacob was when it came to making me come— such a personal thing, and yet my orgasm was entirely in Jacob’s hands.

  “Alright,” Jacob said. “Ready?”

  “Please,” I gasped again.

  Jacob licked my clit gently, then pulled it between his lips and massaged it with his tongue. I cried out in pleasure, and felt the rush, the heat as every molecule in my body seemed to charge toward my clit, toward Jacob’s mouth. The orgasm hit me hard, and I was certain I was being far too loud— but equally certain that no amount of decorum could quiet the noises I was making.

  Jacob kept going until I’d gone limp and panting, then stood over me. He admired my quivering body for a moment, then tugged my panties back up, followed by my pants. I finally caught my breath just as he was buttoning me back into my clothes.

  “What about you?” I asked weakly.

  “Tonight,” he said, grinning. “It’s not all about me, Sasha, no matter what this school tells you. I mean it— I want to make you happy. I want to do more than I’ve done until now.”

  “Oh?” I said, and accepted his offer to help me sit up. My hair was a disaster, and my eyes had gone watery somewhere in the middle of that orgasm.

  “Both inside and outside of the bedroom,” Jacob said, placing a hand on either side of me, huge form taking up my entire field of vision. I smiled and snaked my arms around his neck. He almost whispered his request. “Come out to dinner with me and my parents this weekend.”

  “What?”

  “Homecoming is Saturday, so they’ll be in town Friday night.”

  “Your parents,” I said, stunned.

  “You want to know you’re special? I’ve never taken anyone to meet my parents. I’ve never wanted to.”

  “You’re serious. You want me to meet your parents,” I asked. My heart was suddenly pounding again, this time for an entirely different reason.

  “I’m very serious,” Jacob said. “But can I make a suggestion? We quit talking about my parents and go back to my place. I know I said tonight, but Sasha, I think I need to have you right now.”

  I grinned, then bit my lip eagerly. “Let’s go.”

  15

  I had never been famous before. Technically, I probably wasn’t really famous now, but damn if it didn’t feel like it. All it took was one photo in the school newspaper, which was picked up by the local newspaper, which was tossed around online among football enthusiasts, which was sent to my friends back in Tifton, which was emailed to me basically every hour, on the hour, by somebody new.

  THE BEAUTY WHO TAMED THE BEAST

  The headline was ridiculous, as was the photo Jacob had let a friend take of us to go underneath the silly headline.

  It wasn’t front-page news or anything, but it was enough that Piper’s icy glares reached new heights (or lows?) and that in my classes, I became incredibly aware of people whispering nearby, watching me, studying me.

  The thing everyone seemed to be asking was, “why her?”

  “Does it bother you?” Jacob asked as we sat across from one another at The Grille— a place famous for feta fries and infamous for its low health scores. The feta fries were worth the risk of food poisoning, and we were quietly sharing a plate. It felt strange to be out in public with Jacob like this, but not at all bad. Freeing, almost.

  “Sasha?” Jacob asked when I’d gone a long time without answering. “Does the attention bother you? Should we have kept things quiet longer?”

  “Oh— no. I mean, it bothers me a little, when I can tell people are thinking shitty things about me. But it’s fine. No one that matters to me has said anything terrible.”

  “Good,” Jacob said, smiling. He was crammed into the far side of the booth, almost too large chested to fit in— the restaurant had crammed as many booths as fireside allowed into the space.

  “Alright. Ready?” Jacob asked, slapping cash down on the table.

  “Probably not,” I said warily. “Thanks for taking me here to eat something first.”

  “No problem. Meeting parents is always crazy. I’d rather you not go all hangry on them.”

  “I don’t get hangry,” I said.

  “No, but it’s not worth the risk,” Jacob answered, sliding out of the booth and offering me his hand. I accepted it, and left the grease-scented restaurant to head across the street, to the alumni resort— where Jacob Everett’s parents would meet me for the first time over an incredibly expensive meal at the resort’s fancy restaurant.

  Feta fries give me strength, I said to myself as we darted through traffic, crosswalks be damned, and to the resort’s front doors. I smiled, remembering how Jacob led me in here that first night. How badly I’d wanted him, even before I realized I could have him.

  “Mom!” Jacob called out, and waved an arm. I planted a pleasant smile on my face and smoothed the front of my dress, then allowed Jacob to lead me over to a woman standing near the check in table.

  Jacob’s mother— Mimi Everett, née Frazier, born in Texas, likes pearls, hates rubies, votes Republican, doesn’t trust women in politics— smiled, cherry red lipstick pulling across her teeth. She was a pretty enough woman, but in a very purchased sort of way; it was clear she’d had Botox, at some point, and her eyebrows were carefully drawn on. She slipped the designer handbag onto her shoulder as Jacob approached, then wrapped her arms around her son. She was tiny in comparison— the woman couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and fifteen pounds, even with the handbag— but she emanated size the same way Jacob did. Something about them both was larger than life.

  “Look at you! Darling, ho
w’s the shoulder? Are you sure we can’t bring you home so Dr. Pritchard can take a look?” she asked immediately, reaching up to fuss with the shirt sleeve over Jacob’s injured arm.

  “It’s fine, Mom. Harton’s team is doing a great job. If I doubt them for a second, I’ll go back to Dr. Pritchard.”

  “He just always took such good care of you as a baby,” Ms. Everett said, dismayed.

  “That’s because he’s a pediatrician, Mom,” Jacob said, giving me an amused look. “Anyway, Mom, this is Sasha.”

  “Sasha Copeland,” Ms. Everett said, and even though her smile didn’t change, exactly, her eyes did. They went appraising and more than a little pitying. Not cold, exactly, but more like Ms. Everett thought she was looking at a very cute kitten, or one of those slow Loris creatures.

  “Sweetheart, how nice to meet you. We so rarely meet Jacob’s girlfriends,” she said, and reached forward to lightly hug me. I reciprocated, and was nearly blown over by the intensity of Ms. Everett’s perfume.

  “Let’s see, where’s Walter then,” Ms. Everett said, turning away from me and sliding her arm through her son’s. “There! Walter! Jacob is here!” she called. Her husband was at the concierge desk, but abandoned the woman manning it— mid conversation, from the looks of things— to walk over to us, hard soled shoes clicking hard on the floor.

  “Jake! Any shoulder updates?” Walter Everett— hedge fund manager, six brothers, smokes Cubans, two affairs, plays tennis, uses the non-word “conversate” daily— asked stopping short in front of his son. Walter Everett was clearly where Jacob got his height, but the father had the lean, almost gangly appearance of a basketball player rather than the rock-solid musculature Jacob sported.

  “It’s healing. I’ll be back in by Clemson,” Jacob said.