North Woods University

by Beck, J. L.

  Without warning, he rips his hand from my red hot center and spins me around so we are face to face. Facing each other feels more intimate, and suddenly I’m self-conscious my eyes skating down to his well-defined chest.

  “Don’t look away…” he coaxes with a hand under my chin, tipping my head back up, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I want you to look into my eyes when you fall apart. I want you to feel who owns your pleasure and your hate. So next time you’re with him, or anyone for that matter, you remember that it’s me that makes you feel this way, and that it will always be me.”

  Releasing his hold on my chin, he moves it to my hip, holding me in place, while his other hand slips back beneath the waistband of my pants.

  This time there’s an urgency to his touch, he doesn’t stop at my panties, his fingers move underneath the thin fabric like they belong there. Those thick digits slide through my already drenched folds and a wicked grin pulls at his lips.

  “Of course you’re already wet,” he says triumphantly as if he knew I would be.

  Part of me wants to put an end to this now, to push him away, to prove to him that I’m not as weak for his touch as he is for mine, but I can’t.

  I just can’t. I can’t do anything but breathe, and feel, Lord, do I feel. I feel everything, all of him, every inch.

  With his thumb, he circles my hardened nub while his finger finds its way to my entrance. It’s been so long since I let someone touch me here, since I felt like this. No, I never felt like this before. I’ve had sex before, but I’ve never felt like this before, not with anyone else. There’s no comparison, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.

  My skin tingles everywhere he touches me. He’s like a thunderstorm, booming, big and powerful, but full of beauty, even in the wake of destruction. I’m so confused by what I’m feeling, by the way he makes me feel. I want to turn the emotions off, forget all about him, but I can’t. I can’t let him go any more than I can untangle our pasts.

  My thoughts float away like clouds whisking through the air. I’m dizzy with need and when he inserts a second finger stretching me in a deliciously slow way before adding pressure to my clit, I know I’ll never be the same again.

  It’s too much, too fast.

  His fingers inside me.

  My heavy pants.

  My eyes flutter closed involuntarily, the sensations mounting.

  “Open your eyes,” he orders, his fingers digging into my hip possessively. “How long have you been waiting for me to finger-fuck you? Days, weeks? How long have you wanted this, wanted me inside you, owning you?”

  God, please, make him shut up.

  “I hate you,” I murmur, wishing I had the strength to push him away. But I don’t, not physically or mentally. He has a hold on me, and I’m caught in his trap, an unwilling victim to his hate, and to his rage.

  “I hate you more,” he growls, his lips so close he’s almost kissing me. We stare into each other’s eyes, his gaze is hard, but it’s brimming with need that definitely mirrors the thrusting his fingers are doing, going even deeper inside of me, curling and hitting a spot that no one else has ever hit before.

  I have to concentrate hard to keep my eyes open. I want to close them so bad, let my head fall back against the wall, and just give in to the pleasure completely, but I won’t. I won’t give him that kind of power.

  With his thumb on my clit, pressing down on the small bundle of nerves, he continues thrusting his fingers deep inside of me, his pace increasing, growing furious with each passing second. The sound of his fingers slipping through my arousal fills my ears. It’s erotic and reminds me further of how much I despise him.

  Warmth gathers deep in my core, and I know I’m close. Judging by the grin tugging on his lips, he knows it too.

  Bastard.

  “Come, Ava…come all over my fingers. I want to feel you squeeze me.” His words set me off. My toes curl in my boots and my spine tingles. The impending climax claiming me with a vengeance. Unable to keep my eyes open a second longer, they close and roll to the back of my head, just as a loud moan rips from my throat.

  My whole body tightens, my pussy squeezing his fingers like he wanted me to, but I don’t care, not that we crossed a line or that I listened to him.

  Right now, I don’t care about anything. I feel like I’m high, my mind swarmed with endorphins, my muscles feeling as they went through a deep tissue massage or something. If I wasn’t exhausted before, I am now.

  My knees wobble like a newborn baby fawn’s and almost give out underneath me as he releases me. Vance waits like the perfect gentleman until my pussy stops pulsing and the last tremors of my orgasm have rippled through me before he removes his hand and lets go of my hip. I nearly whimper at the loss of his touch but catch myself a second before I do.

  I have to lean back against the wall to keep myself from falling over. Bringing a hand to my chest, I try and steady the muscle beating like crazy inside of it.

  Somehow I will my eyes open and find that he is still standing in front of me, eyes gleaming with a noticeable boner pressing against his zipper. For some reason, I expected him to be gone by now, that maybe I had just made up this whole thing in my mind.

  But there he is, staring at me recovering from an orgasm that he gave me.

  “You’re welcome,” he says cockily, a smile ghosting his lips as he does that weird sexy thing guys do where they rub their thumb over their bottom lip. “Next time, I’ll expect you to return the favor.”

  “Fuck you.” The words pass my lips on a whisper. I’m far too tired to fight with him right now. “And this won’t be happening again. You. Me. Us. Whatever it is. It’s done. I won’t let you do this again.”

  He licks his lips and tilts his head to the side, studying me.

  “Won’t or don’t want me to do it again? There’s a difference and just as I’ve always said, once a liar, always a liar. You want this, you want me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t feed off your biggest weakness. We’ll be through when I say we’re through.”

  My mouth pops open to spit off another smart comment, but there’s no point, because he’s right I am a liar, and I want what we just did to happen again. I want his cock… his hand, his lips.

  He doesn’t stick around to hear if I’ll say anything else, instead, he turns and jogs up the staircase leaving me alone with my treacherous body and thoughts.

  I’m a liar, a big fat liar, because I’m falling for the bully, my stepbrother.

  35

  Vance

  I can’t believe the fucker is this late. Clark is usually a stickler for being on time and he said he’d meet me here at eight. It’s almost nine and he hasn’t shown up, or even texted me for that matter. The party is in full swing around me. Fellow college students are partying away, dancing, drinking, and hell, even a few are having sex.

  Normally, I would be right in the middle of all of it, but I’m not in the mood today.

  I haven't been in the mood for anything lately.

  All I can think of is her. She’s in my head, under my skin, in my every single waking thought. The only reason I came here was to hang out with Clark and get shit faced, but instead I’ve been sitting on this couch, a piss warm beer in my hand for the last hour listening to Sarah drone on about how her family isn’t going to the Hamptons this winter because her grandmother broke her hip. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard and I’m seconds away from tossing my beer on her, just to see if it’ll make her shut up for a second.

  Sarah’s voice edges my anger toward Clark up. Fucking asshole, standing me up.

  He’s going to need to do some major ass kissing for me to let this one go, and his excuse, well it better be fucking epic. My gaze slips around the room. I see a couple football players I know, and a bunch of the douches from the baseball team. Most of them are Clark’s friends, not that they wouldn’t hang with me, but they aren’t really my kind of crowd.

  Running a hand through my hair in frustratio
n, I sigh. I should’ve just stayed home and harassed Ava, which would’ve been more fun than sitting here, alone, with Sarah. I’m about five seconds away from leaving the party and getting drunk on my own at my place when I spot him across the room heading toward me.

  He weaves through the crowd, waving to me when he spots me. Relief floods me, thank fuck he’s finally here, and then I notice someone trailing close behind him. My blood turns to ice in my veins.

  You have gotta be fucking kidding me.

  They get closer and I realize that Ava is not only walking behind him, but that she’s also holding his hand.

  She's holding his fucking hand.

  As soon as Ava sees me, she pulls her hand out of Clark’s, as if she didn’t want me to see them together. Too fucking late.

  “Sorry, man, I know I’m late. I had to talk this one into coming with me,” he says, hooking a thumb at Ava.

  “You were supposed to be here an hour ago!” I yell in his face, rage taking over. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sarah scooting away from me. I’m sure I look like a douchebag right now.

  “Woah, dude. Calm down.” Clark’s gaze widens as he lifts his hands in a non-threatening manner. “Sorry, okay? I’m here now. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal all of the sudden, it’s not like I haven’t been late before.”

  “No, it’s not fucking okay. I’m not some slut who is going to sit here waiting for you. And speaking of sluts, what the fuck is she doing here?” I look past Clark, my eyes meeting Ava’s razor-sharp gaze. That backbone of hers is getting stronger and stronger, and for some stupid fucking reason, I’m proud of her, proud to see her standing so tall, a pretty little flower standing amongst the weeds.

  “Van, sit down and shut up. You’re acting like an asshole. Even more so than usual.” He tries to brush me off with a joke, like I’m one of his fuck buddies or something and that only fuels my anger.

  “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” I growl, getting up from the couch. Clark rolls his eyes at me as if I’m being dramatic and my barely restrained anger boils over. I shove at his shoulders and watch him stagger backward and into the crowd.

  We’ve fought before, but nothing like this, and definitely not over a girl at that. His eyes go wide, his mouth popping open in shock like he can’t believe I just pushed him.

  Believe it, buddy.

  He looks at me like he’s expecting an apology, but he should know better than that.

  I don’t apologize, not to anyone, and I’m certainly not gonna start with him. When I don’t say anything, his eyes narrow and shock gives way to anger. Curling my hands into fists, I prepare myself for a fight.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Me? That’s rich, Clark,” I scoff. “You ditched me for pussy.” My eyes cut to Ava’s as I say my next set of words. “And it's not even good pussy at that.”

  I have to swallow down the bile that’s rising in my throat, burning a path of fire up my esophagus. Fuck. I’m an asshole. Glancing over at Ava, I see the hurt flashing in her eyes a moment before she spins around and walks away from us.

  “Better run after her before she spreads her legs for someone else,” I taunt him, wanting him to punch me, to throttle me.

  “Vance.” Clark’s tone holds a warning, but I’m too far gone to give a fuck.

  Why the fuck is he sticking up for her anyway? To get in her pants? He could have his pick of any of the girls in this room, but no, he wants the one that’s embedded herself under my skin. The one that’s driving me insane. This isn’t just about him being late, this is so much more than that, but I’m not going to tell him that.

  Fuck no.

  “Get a grip,” he scoffs, and that’s when my last bit of restraint crumbles. Without thought, mercy or care, I clench my fist and slug my best friend in the jaw.

  His head snaps to the side at impact as my knuckles graze his cheekbone. Pain flares through my hand and up my arm. My punch would have knocked out most guys, but not Clark. He doesn’t even straighten up all the way before swinging at me, his hit landing against the side of my face. Pain explodes across my cheek, and I relish in it. Using it to fuel my anger even further, I swing again for him, but he’s faster and instead gets me in the ribs.

  The hit knocks the air from my lungs. Bastard. The crowd around us forms a small circle, people chanting both our names like we’re professional MMA fighters. The energy in the room reaches a dangerous high. I only manage to get one more hit in on him, a left hook to the nose before two guys grab onto me from behind, pulling me backward.

  I pull my arms back, ready to pummel the bastards holding onto me when I see two more guys doing the same to Clark, making it so all we’re doing now is staring daggers at each other. Looking at Clark, I can see he’s pissed, like a bull in a china shop, ready to destroy, I’ve provoked him. But he provoked me too, bringing her here, antagonizing my anger.

  He knows what she did to me, and how much it hurt, and still he brings her around, showing her off like she’s a trophy.

  They separate us, dragging me out the front door before depositing my ass on the lawn.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. When they finally let go of me, I twist around, pushing up from the grass, lip curled, hands balled into tight fists, ready to fight. I’ll beat these asshole’s asses instead of Clark’s I tell myself. That is until I see that it's Remington and Thomas, two of North Woods biggest assholes staring back at me.

  Maybe one of them I could handle, but two, no fucking way. Thomas is big, but he doesn’t have the stamina I know Remington does. I might be angry, but I’m not stupid.

  “I don’t know what the hell that was between you and Clark in there, but you can’t just go around slugging people in the face. And I’ll warn you now, you’re not getting back inside the house until you chill out. If I have to separate you two again, I’ll kick both your asses.”

  I’ve never seen Remington this pissed off before, there’s a vein bulging on the side of his neck and I get the feeling if Jules, his girlfriend, wasn’t standing five feet away, he would kick my ass, but since she is, I guess it’s my lucky day.

  “What about Clark?” I ask, wondering if he’s getting the same treatment as me. Now that I’m away from Ava, her floral scent not sticking to my nostrils like honey I can actually think again.

  Shit. I fucked up. I'm a horrible fucking friend.

  “He’s cooling off in the backyard. You’re more than welcome to come back in when you are done with…whatever this is, and if you want to talk, well I’m all ears. I know what it’s like to be angry, boiling over with rage.”

  “Fine.” I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension from my muscles. Remington gives me a hard look, as if he's psychoanalyzing me. I heard about what happened between him and Jules, the bet gone bad.

  Maybe he thinks I’m like him, or the way he used to be. I don’t know, but I don’t like the way he’s looking at me right now. Like he can somehow fix this, or fix me. As if he can hear my thoughts being projected onto him, he takes Jules’ hand and walks back into the house with Thomas.

  Alone at last, I take a few deep breaths to clear the blender also known as my mind. I shouldn’t have punched him, I know that, but I was angry, hell, I still am. Even so, he didn’t deserve it. No one deserves to have to deal with my piss poor attitude tonight.

  Swallowing my pride, I walk around the house and find Clark sitting in a lawn chair in the backyard. He frowns when he sees me coming toward him, but doesn’t say anything. He probably thinks I’m going to slug him again. Taking the chair closest to him, I ready myself to apologize, I open my mouth to speak when the sliding door to the backyard opens and Ava walks out, holding two ice packs in her hands.

  She walks up, and this time I can’t help it, my eyes rake over her body, the skinny jeans that hug her ass and legs like a glove, the simple NWU t-shirt. Her mere presence breaks me, and I hate it. I hate that I’m weak for her, weak for the enemy. All I can thi
nk of is how tight her pussy squeezed my fingers the other night, how ready she was for me. I know she’s weak for me, just like I am for her, but it can’t happen, won’t happen, not ever again.

  She hands each of us one, but I refuse to take it. I refuse to take anything from her. I wouldn’t have even punched Clark if it wasn't for her. She makes me insane with need, with jealousy, with rage. Clark has no trouble taking his ice pack and holds it to his jaw while leaning back in the chair, a void expression on his face.

  The good thing about Clark is, unlike me, he doesn’t hold grudges.

  “Vance, just take the damn bag of ice, your face is already swelling,” Ava scolds, holding the ice to my face like she actually cares. Pff, she doesn’t give a fuck. She’d love to see me fall, love to see me broken. Angrily, and like an immature bastard, I slap the bag out of her hand, watching it spill out on the patio. She gasps, taking a step back.

  Jesus, I’m losing it.

  I should just fuck her already, get her out of my system. Maybe if I fuck her hard enough, I can fuck her straight from my mind.

  “You think just because I fingered you one time that suddenly were friends? That I want your help? What we did doesn’t mean shit…you don’t mean shit. Stay the fuck away from me, or I’ll make you stay away, and believe me you don’t want me to have to do that,” I yell, just wanting her to go away, far, far away.

  Her cheeks turn a dark shade of pink and I know I’ve embarrassed her, sliced her deep. And for the second time today, I let her walk away from me when all I want to do is pull her in, keep her close. I shake my head before letting my face fall into my hands.

  I’m the definition of a hot fucking mess right now.

  “Shiitttt! I can’t believe I didn’t see this before.” Clark chuckles beside me, the noise shocking me. “You have a thing for her. Fuck, maybe even more than a thing, considering how crazy you’ve been acting. It makes sense now. You’ve never tried to punch me, and we’ve shared chicks plenty of times and we’ve never fought, not until her.” He pauses for a moment, having pieced my fucked up puzzle of a life together.