Knocked Up by Her Brother's Enemy

by Penny Wylder

  “I was going to get in the shower, care to join me?” he says.

  “I’d love to.”

  The bathroom attached to his room is similar to the one in my own room. Our homes—and all the rest of the houses on the block—are all very similar to each other in design. He turns on the water and we climb under the showerhead. Doesn’t take long for the room to steam up.

  He runs his hands across my slippery wet body. Just being near him makes everything better. I’m far less stressed about my fight with Nathan now that I’m with Mac. I want to be with him like this forever. Every love song and sappy poem I’ve ever hated makes sense for the first time in my life. I know that if I can’t be with him, it will destroy me.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks me. That’s when I realize he’s studying me the same way I’m studying him.

  “It feels like a dream being here with you. Growing up, you were untouchable. You were so far out of my reach that you might as well have lived on the moon.”

  He smiles at that. Each time he smiles, I feel him take a piece of my heart. It’s a piece I’ll never get back.

  “You know when I mentioned you winning the design contest in high school?”

  “Yeah …” I say, wondering where he’s going with this.

  “I watched you too. It started the moment you became a freshman when I was a sophomore. I thought you were beautiful. That’s how I knew you were following me around. If it were anyone else, I might not have noticed. But I always noticed you. I wanted to ask you out so bad, but you were Nathan’s little sister and off limits. He was my teammate and I couldn’t do that to him—even if he was always a dick to me.”

  My eyes widen. “Are you being serious right now?”

  He nods and I can see in his expression that he’s telling the truth. This whole time I thought I was invisible to him and that my feelings were one-sided. It makes sense now how he knew my name.

  “Since I’m confessing,” he says with a sheepish smile, “I might as well tell you something else.”

  My heart hammers in my chest. The water is a little too hot on my back, but I hardly notice it. There could be an earthquake or tornado and I probably wouldn’t notice that either. Right now, all I can focus on are his lips and the words coming out of them.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “You know how your senior year, the day after prom, how you got all those flowers? They were from me.”

  My mouth falls open and I’m rendered speechless. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. Prom night I was supposed to go out to dinner and to the dance with a guy who asked me at the last minute. I had no intension of going because the only person I ever wanted to go with was Mac. I was perfectly content to stay home with Nathan and watch horror movies all night. My friends all wanted to go as a group, but they had dates and I didn’t want to be a third wheel.

  But then Roy Cruz asked me to go with him and I felt bad saying no because he seemed to really want to go, but didn’t want to go solo. So I said yes. That same night, my mom took me to get a dress. She wanted the night to be perfect so she bought me a five-hundred-dollar dress with equally expensive shoes and jewelry. I looked like a wedding cake topper, and I hated everything about it, but I got really excited to spend all night out with my friends.

  When the time arrived for Roy to pick me up, he didn’t show. I waited for an hour, thinking he was just late, but as the night wore on, it never happened. Eventually I got a bunch of texts from my friends saying that Roy had showed up, but with a different date. I was his backup plan if the girl he really wanted to go with said no. Apparently she said yes. And he didn’t have the balls to call me and tell me he wouldn’t be able to make it.

  I was so pissed because I never wanted to go in the first place, and then he stood me up. I was humiliated. To make matters worse, my mom wasn’t able to get her money back on any of the items she bought. It was all a waste of time and money. We ended up donating all of it to a charity that helped under privileged teens who couldn’t afford to go to prom. At least something good came out of that horrible night.

  The day after, ten dozen roses showed up at my house. It took two delivery vans to get them there. The note on the flowers read: You are too good for him. You are too good for everyone.

  I broke down and cried when I saw that note. I still have it in one of my boxes as well as one of the roses that I’d pressed and dried. I even had it laminated and made into a bookmark so it would never be destroyed. I thought my parents has sent them to make me feel better, but they never fessed up to it.

  I can’t believe it had been Mac all along.

  “How did you know I was stood up for prom?” I ask him. He had been playing for the Whalers a year by then. I figured he’d left our little town and everyone in it behind. He was on the verge of superstardom and had thousands of fans by then.

  “That dickhead, Roy Cruz, was my friend’s younger brother. My friend knew I’d had a crush on you and told me what happened. He’d texted me that night. If I hadn’t been in Europe at an away game, I would’ve taken you to your prom myself.”

  I touch his chest, trace his freckles with the tips of my fingers. “I don’t want to scare you away, but I think I’m falling for you,” I tell him, continuing to stare at his chest, afraid to make eye contact until I know his feelings as well.

  “You can’t scare me away. I fell for you a long time ago.”

  He lifts my chin so that I’m looking into his eyes. He lowers his lips onto mine. His kiss is velvet soft and sweet as candy. This kiss feels different after our confessions. It feels more real. More true. As if with his lips he’s making a promise.

  He closes the gap between us, pressing his body against mine. We fit together perfectly. My face rests in the space between his chin and shoulder blades. I kiss his Adam’s apple, feel it bob when he swallows. His chin is prickly with stubble, grating against my forehead. I kiss it too. Eventually I’ll kiss every part of him until I’m familiar with every inch of his beautiful, perfect body. I’m already getting used to the feel of his skin, his touch, his scent. If I were blind-folded, I’d know him immediately. He feels like home.

  His hands caress my back. His fingers turn my long hair into a twist. He rubs my shoulders. I like this, the way we touch each other. Explore each other’s bodies in a way that we haven’t before. In a way that’s more sensual than sexual. I close my eyes and run my hand along the dip of his lower back and across the smooth muscle of his backside, and up again. His hardness rests against my stomach, but he has yet to do anything with it. He seems content with touching for now.

  He reaches over and grabs a bottle of shampoo, pours a glob of it in his hands and starts washing my hair.

  “What’s your favorite food,” he asks.

  That’s not a question I was expecting, but I roll with it. “Sushi, why?”

  “I want to know everything about you. Down to the smallest detail.”

  I close my eyes while he massages my scalp and smile. “What’s yours?”

  “Street tacos.”

  “Yum,” I say.

  “Where is your favorite place to visit?” he asks.

  “Ireland. I’ve only been once, but it was beautiful.”

  “That’s where your family is from, right?” he asks.

  “How did you know that?”

  “I heard Nathan mention it a lot. It seemed to be a source of pride, and the few times your dad spoke to me, I noticed he still has a little bit of an accent.”

  “You’ve been there too, haven’t you?” I ask. I remember him playing a soccer game there once, but it wasn’t televised, so I wasn’t able to watch it.

  “Once. It reminded me of you,” he says.

  I laugh. “Why, because of all the pasty-skinned red heads running around?”

  He chuckles. “There’s that, and also it’s beautiful, and a little untamed. We should go some day.”

  I’m afraid to open my eyes in case there’s soap in t
hem, so I keep them closed and try to absorb his words. He wants to travel with me, and he cares what my favorite food is. He wants to get to know me in a way that’s not superficial. And, of course, there’s that little part where he admitted that he’s had a crush on me since high school. All of this information cascades around me like a comforting blanket.

  “I would like that,” I say.

  He rinses my hair, and the soap from my eyes, then does the same process with the conditioner. Then he washes my entire body with soap. He has seen and touched every inch of me. Everything about me that makes me insecure is on display for him, and yet I feel flawless when I’m with him. He looks at me the way someone would marvel at a perfect diamond. I’ve never had someone make me feel so whole before.

  Once I’m all rinsed off, I open my eyes and I see is the W and the four leaf clover tattooed on his neck. I trace a finger across it.

  “Is it weird, that I have that?” he says.

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Your initial.”

  I gasp and take a step back. It makes sense now, the four leaf clover. I can’t believe he got that because of me, and on such a prominent part of his body.

  “You got that because of me?” I say, still not quite able to believe it.

  “I wanted something to remember you by. I wasn’t sure if I would ever see you again after high school.”

  “It’s not weird at all. I’m flattered.”

  And to show him just how flattered I am, I kiss his chest, run my tongue across his small nipples, watch them harden. My hand slips between his legs to feel the other hard thing. It jerks under my touch and Mac sucks in a breath, and lets it out on a low moan.

  He lifts me into his arms. Despite us both being wet, he holds me firm, and presses me against the tiled wall. My legs wrap around his powerful waist. With him being wet, his muscles are more evident. His entire body ripples with them. The juxtaposition of his hard and my soft is so interesting to see. My body, so full of curves, and his, so angular and structured. As if we were drawings and the artist started off with a ruler when making Mac, and got drunker, his wrist looser, when making me.

  Mac envelops my mouth with his. Our tongues slide together, exploring the way our hands had. His mouth is wet, warm, eager. Sometimes when you kiss someone new, it can be awkward. They close their mouth while you open yours. Or you move too fast and your teeth clink together like a toast at a wedding. Cheers.

  But that’s not how it is with me and Mac. Our mouths and tongues move in sync. Like he’s inside my head and knows my every move. It’s a delicate dance that we picked up so well even though we haven’t been together long. Some people just have chemistry, and ours is explosive.

  He strokes the side of my face when we kiss. It’s just a simple gesture, but I love the way he does it. I love the way it makes me feel. Reaching down, he holds my ass in his hands and adjusts his stance. The head of his cock is right at my opening. I’m beyond ready for him.

  He enters me in one swift, delicious thrust. I gasp and he takes my bottom lip between his teeth. He’s so strong. Able to hold me up and fuck me at the same time. I hang onto his shoulders, kissing his neck, licking, biting, begging him not to stop.

  His body is too slick for me to keep clinging to him, so I let my legs down. He turns me around and enters me from behind. I lift my leg up onto the soap cradle to open myself up, giving him easier access.

  “God, you feel so good,” he says.

  My moans echo in the tiled room. I feel increasingly, blissfully dizzy as he jackhammers into me.

  “I want you all to myself,” he says. He wraps his arms tight around my waist as if to punctuate this fact. “No one else can have you.”

  “I don’t want anyone else,” I breathe.

  “The things I want to do to you …” His voice trails off as he pushes harder into my depths. He pins me to the wall, using his hips to hold me there. He grabs my arms, holding them behind my back, pushing into me with short, hard bursts.

  He slows, then stops. At first I think it’s over, that he’s finished, but then he says, “I can’t do all the things I want to do to you in here.”

  We get out of the shower without drying off. The bed is too far, and to we land on the floor right outside the doorway of the bathroom, half in, half out. I’m on my back on the carpet while he hovers over me, still mostly in the bathroom. I lift my legs and prop them up on the door jam of the bathroom entrance, blocking him from getting out. He stares down at my spread open pussy and wipes drool from his lips. The bright bathroom light rains down, exposing everything. I’m no longer embarrassed of my body. He’s seen it all, and he’s appreciated it all. Now I’m able to give it all without hesitation.

  He slides a finger inside of me, stroking the silky pink folds. The tip of his finger hooks, dragging across my g-spot and stunting my mind of all thought. The only thing left rattling around in my empty brain is sensation. All I can think about is what I have to do to bring him and myself more pleasure. I don’t care what it takes or what I have to do as long as we’re both consumed by it.

  He leans over and sucks my clit while fingering me. Crazy noises burst from my mouth, and I sound deranged. But I can’t help it. I’m stupid with love.

  He sits up, his mouth slick with my juices, and licks it off. Not leaving a drop behind.

  “I want your cock in my mouth,” I tell him.

  I start to sit up so I can move toward him, but he holds me down. He leans over the top of me, moves until his hips hover above my head. That beautiful dick dangles there in front of my face, lovely and delicious. Using his hand as a guide, he points the head at my lips. I open my mouth and he feeds it to me.

  The salty slipperiness dribbling from the head of his cock coats my mouth and throat so that he glides in and out with ease. I choke and gag and moan as he thoroughly fucks my face. When he pulls out, I swallow the saliva that had settled in my throat. I’ve never really liked the taste of a man before, but with Mac, I can’t get enough.

  “More,” I beg.

  He gives it to me again. Sliding all the way in until my nose is buried in the dark thatch of pubic hair. He smells like my pussy and tastes like it too. Which only turns me on more.

  He pulls out of my mouth and I gasp for breath.

  “Can we try something a little different?” he asks.

  “Anything,” I say automatically.

  I feel so dirty and cock-hungry right now. I’m willing to do anything with him, no matter what it is.

  He gets up off the ground and steps over me, heading toward the night stand by the bed. Inside he grabs a bottle of something. When he comes back I can see it’s a bottle of lube. At first I assume he’s going to masturbate with it in front of me, which is definitely hot, but nothing I haven’t seen from him before considering that’s exactly what drove me out my window and over here in the first place.

  But that’s not what he does with it.

  He goes back to his position between my legs, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. I’m still laying on the carpet, my feet on the wall of either side of the door. Still completely exposed to him.

  I start to get nervous. He doesn’t need lube to fuck me. I’m plenty wet for that. He must have something else in mind.

  He puts the bottle of lube in his lap and spreads my ass cheeks apart. I feel my back entrance flex as it’s exposed to the air. Not going to lie, it’s a bit weird to have someone looking at me there. That’s just one of those places that doesn’t get much attention. I trust him, though, so I don’t try to hide myself.

  Bending over, he sticks out his tongue and starts to lick the delicate opening. I whimper at this strange sensation, my thoughts foggy with a mixture of pleasure and something a bit uncomfortable. His tongue moves in slow circles, and suddenly any discomfort I’d felt melts away. It feels so good. He tries to push his tongue into me, but it’s too tight. He has to settle with exploring the surface.

  “Have you ever tri
ed anal before,” he says in a seductive voice.

  Shyly, I shake my head. “No.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Will it hurt?”

  I know a lot of girls who don’t like anal, or even the idea of it. I’m not one of them. In fact, I’ve always been curious about it. I like to watch porn sometimes when I’m feeling frisky, and the anal scenes are my favorite. It’s so dirty and taboo. Both the men and women in those videos seem to like it. But then again—though bad—they are still actors. They’re paid to make it look fun even if it isn’t. That’s the only thing holding me back. My only real concern is the pain.

  “It won’t hurt if we do it right,” he assures me. “As long as you’re turned on and relaxed, and we use a lot of lube, it should feel good. I’ll make sure you’re nice and loosened up before anything goes in there.”

  I glance at his huge cock with its big mushroom head. I really hope so

  “I want to try it,” I tell him.

  His comforting smile clears up any apprehension I might’ve had. He slathers his finger with lube, but doesn’t push it in right away. Instead he rubs it on the opening, pressing a little, testing.

  “Relax,” he says.

  I realize I’m holding my breath and clenching my cheeks. Taking in a long, deep breath, I slowly let it out. The tip of his finger slides in and stops at the first knuckle. I let out a startled sound, but try not to tense up.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Keep going.”

  It feels so strange, but not painful at all. He wiggles his finger around and that feels really weird, but kind of good in an alien sort of way. He pushes and stretches my opening until it feels more good than weird. Until I’m actually really loving the sensation of it.

  “Do you think you can take more?” he asks.

  “I think so.”

  “That’s my girl,” he says.

  He puts both of my ankles on either side of his shoulders, then goes back to fingering my back hole. Just the tip for a while, but then he slides the whole thing in.

  “Holy shit,” I say. “Oh, fuck.”

  A smile twists Mac’s lips. “Everything all right?”