“Fynn, what do you want?”
Years. It’s been years since she spoke, yet she said my name. My heart clanged against my ribs like a hummingbird.
I close the distance between us, and before I can stop myself from reacting, my lips are on hers. She doesn’t freeze, instead she gives me access as I steal the kiss I’ve been wanting for years. Her hands rest on my chest and I feel her push against me.
“Fynn. Stop.” She pulls away from me. “We can’t.” She’s out of breath. Her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen. I lean in again. “Please…”
It’s a desperate plea, I have to grant.
“Why have you been keeping silent? What happened Miranda, please?” I sound desperate, my hands digging into her shoulders. My eyes searching her chocolate ones.
She sighs then presses a finger to my lips. “This can’t happen again.”
One sentence and I’m thrown back in to reality. “I’m sorry.” I hold her face in my hands, taking in her flawless skin. She smells of honey, and I have to close my eyes, to break the hold she has on me. “It won’t.”
I say the words but I don’t feel them. What I feel is desperation. Desperation to hold onto this, to Miranda.
She briefly leans into my touch before walking out of my office, leaving my head spinning. She just spoke to me. Should I tell Mo? But how would I explain this? I know in my gut that Miranda won’t speak to Mo.
I sit at my desk and look around me. I am not cut out for this. Not with the mess my life is now. How can I stand up there every Sunday and preach to people about morality when I am so far from it myself?
I know what I have to do. Even though I don’t want to, I have to talk to Mo. Confess what I’ve done, and maybe, if I’m lucky, she’ll forgive me.
The drive from Queens to my parent’s condo in Manhattan is quiet and awkward. My mother insisted that we invite Miranda, and the tension in the car could be cut with a knife. Mo isn’t speaking to either of us, and well, Miranda is just being her usual silent self. I catch her gaze in the rear-view mirror before she looks away. She has a spell on me, that I know, but she’s off limits. I was wrong to even think about her in that way. It’s strange how one fleeting glance can speak more than a thousand words ever could. I look over at Mo whose eyes are burning into me. Sometimes I think she knows more than she lets on, but then I remind myself that she’s not the kind of woman that rolls over and plays dead when it comes to things like that.
She looks from me to Miranda and then out the window. I have no idea what is going on with her, but I’d better not step out of line.
Cars are parked all along the driveway and a marquee has been erected on the massive front lawn.
“Here we are.” I announce once I’ve parked. The ladies are letting themselves out as my brother walks toward us, looking dapper in a suit which is so unlike him.
“Familia,” he greets, kissing Mo and Miranda on the cheeks.
“So much for a small get together.” I scoff, and he laughs, slapping me on the back.
“Our mother does not know the meaning of small.” Trev chuckles. He looks over his shoulder at the ladies.
We walk toward the crowd that has gathered around an elaborate ice sculpture and chocolate fountain. My mother is definitely anything but simple. I walk around the room, my hand on the small of Mo’s back. Trev takes Miranda by the hand and introduces her to some of our parents friends. I stiffen when I see his hand resting on her lower back, inches from her ass. He leans in and whispers something that has her smiling. She seems lighter since we talked. Like a weight has been lifted off. But why do I feel like I’m drowning?
After dinner, my father introduces a local band that starts playing some golden oldies.
“Want to dance?” I ask Mo.
“Sure, why not. Your minds been elsewhere today. I wondered if you’d even noticed I was here at all.” I frown. Where on earth did that come from? I’ve been nothing but attentive.
“Of course, I did,” I raise her hand to my lips as I lead her to the dancefloor.
“I haven’t seen Miranda and Trev anywhere, have you?” I ask as I wrap my arms around her waist and start to sway. The band plays something slow and sultry, and laughter floats over the music.
“Maybe he’s fucking her somewhere in the house. It’s about time she got over you.” Her expression is pinched.
I frown. “What are you talking about, Mo?”
“Have you not seen the way she looks at you? God, I swear she’s getting more desperate as time goes on.” She frowns.
“It’s not like that, Mo.” I hate that she talks about her sister that way, and if anyone is to blame for the way Miranda feels, it’s me. I was the one who led her on, the one who continues to do so.
“Go on and defend her all you like, but I know better. She’s related to me after all. And she’s always felt like I stole you from her or something, which is the weirdest thing because she’s like fifteen years younger than you.” Maureen is obviously exasperated, rigid in my arms. “I don’t feel like dancing anymore.”
She pulls away from me and makes her way into the crowd. I don’t follow. I wait for her to return, making small talk with people I have no desire to talk to right now. When she doesn’t return after fifteen minutes, I make my way to the backyard where my mother has a greenhouse. The lawn out back is dimly lit and couples dance or make out the way drunk people tend to do. I feel alone for the first time in a long time. I sigh as I open the door to the greenhouse. It’s massive with trees, flowers and shrubs everywhere. I hear the distinct sound of grunting and heavy breathing. I smirk, this is a bloody good spot for that. I turn back toward the door, not wanting to disturb the love birds, but then I hear her voice. She’s moaning in pure elation, begging to be fucked harder. My feet suddenly feel like lead. I’m wrong. It can’t be her. She wouldn’t do that to me. I make my way toward the sounds, and in the middle of the greenhouse is my wife and my brother. He has her bent at the waist as he slams into her.
“Fucking whore.” He growls, which has her mewling like a fucking wounded beast. He stiffens and throws his head back as he comes in my wife's cunt. “Oh, baby.” His words are like daggers in my chest. My heart rate increases, and I want to slam a fist into his face, but instead I walk away. I will kill them both if I don’t.
Back at the party, I pour myself some whiskey. After years of abstaining from alcohol, it burns its way down my throat. I like the distraction it gives me, so I pour another glass. Sipping my second glass, I spot Miranda with my mother. Her knee length black dress makes her look older. She’s a stunning woman, but she doesn’t even know it. I finish my drink, pour another one, then walk over to her. Maybe this is how fucked up Mo and I are.
“Let’s dance,” I say, and my mother looks at me oddly.
“You okay, Fynn?”
“Yeah. I just want to dance.” I say as I grab Miranda’s hand, not leaving room for protest.
“Where’s Maureen?” My mother's brows furrow.
“I don’t know, with Trev maybe.” I lead Miranda to the dance floor and hold her flush against me as a sultry tune starts. Small gasps leave her lips as I look down at her.
“I’m losing my fucking mind.” She looks horrified at my language. Good girl Miranda, always reading her bible. Maybe I should be doing more of that, and less of the shit I’ve been doing.
She tries to pull away, but I hold her tighter. “Give me this. I can’t fuck you, so give me this.” I feel lightheaded and I know I’m holding her tighter that I should. The music is fading in and out and all I feel is Miranda. Her curves feel right in my arms, like she fits here.
Her hair smells amazing, I want to wrap my hands around it while I drive my cock into her tight hole. My erection presses against her. “This is what you do to me.” I know it’s the alcohol loosening my tongue, and I can feel my mother’s eyes on us, but I don’t care. I want to claim Miranda for myself, right here.
“Son.” My father's hand on my shoulder brings me back to earth.
I look down at a terrified Miranda who uses the opportunity to flee.
“What, Dad?” I turn to face him, and see a concerned expression on his face.
“Everything okay with you and Maureen?”
“Yes, fuck, why wouldn’t it be?”
My father’s eyes stretch wide. “You’re obviously drunk, and what the hell was that? You were practically grinding against Miranda just a few seconds ago.”
I let out a breath. “Just mind your own business, Dad.” I storm off and make my way to the bar. I’m on my fourth glass when Mo finally shows up, looking freshly fucked. Her cheeks are pink, and a few leaves were stuck in her curls.
“You’re drinking?” She frowns.
“Yeah, I figured I might as well. Looked for you everywhere, then decided to entertain myself.”
“Oh, I was inside, thought I’d get out of the noise for a bit.” Lies, she lies so well. There isn’t even a hint of guilt or remorse in her voice. How long has this been going on?
“Yeah.” I looked away. “Want to head home?”
“Sure, let’s say goodbye and we can go.”
I watch her walk away. Trev appears next to her, and for the first time I notice the way he looks at her, like he owns her. They should both be ashamed. Still, at the back of my mind, the voice in my head keeps reminding me of my own sins, sins that are as black as a raven’s wings. Sins that I am bound by.
9
Fynn
Before
She was trembling as she stood outside my house, the rain dripping down her hair and face, her white t-shirt clinging to her small frame. She wore a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass. At seventeen she’d grown into a gorgeous young woman, and guys were lining up to ask her out. But she only had eyes for one, she’d made that clear.
“Miranda, is everything okay? Get inside, you’re going to get sick.”
She shivered and stepped inside. I closed the door and hurried over to the linen cupboard, returning with a towel. She towelled herself off as she stood peering out the large bay windows.
“They all hate me you know.” Her voice was distant, eerily so. I stepped closer to her.
“Who are you talking about?” I asked, placing my hands on her small shoulders. I could get a whiff of something.
“Francine and Miranda, Fynn.” What was she talking about? This made no sense.
“You been smoking?”
“Yeah, and so what?” She spun around to face me.
“Should I call Mo?” She looked up at me with those big brown eyes, then shook her head. She stepped closer, and I brought my arms around her, holding her close, placing small kisses on her damp hair.
“Did you have a fight?”
She nodded. “All families fight, sweet girl. Mo adores you.”
“She does not. She lets Francine call me all sorts of names, and the men, they’re always gawking at me. Making me feel dirty all over.”
“I’m sorry, Miranda. I know that hurts. But you and Mo are like a year away from finally getting away from it all.”
“Make me forget, Fynn.” I tilted her chin up to look at me, and saw tears I hadn’t noticed before. They slid free, and I used a thumb to brush them away.
“You know I can’t do that, Miranda May.” My voice broke at that. She was so painfully beautiful, and it confused me how much I liked the way she sought refuge with me. Her little girl crush had turned into so much more. She wanted me to notice her, and believe me, I couldn’t seem to help but notice every fucking thing she did. She was becoming a temptation. But today there was something so vulnerable in her eyes. “I love you Miranda, just not like that.”
She burst into sobs and shoves at me before rushing toward the door. “Miranda, come on...”
I catch up with her, wrapping my hands around her waist. “Let me go.” She hisses.
“Miranda! Stop!” She struggles against me, but I refuse to set her down. “Listen to me.” When she stops squirming, I set her down. “I can’t do this, you’re too young, you have your whole life ahead of you. I’m in love with your sister, goddamnit.”
She frowns and backs away. “Why don’t you let me go then?” She snaps. She knows I can’t do that and wouldn't. I care about her. She’s upset and I won’t just let that go. Girls do stupid things when they’re emotional, and there are fuckers out there waiting for a girl just like this one.
I slam my fist against the wall causing her to flinch. When did we go from me being like her older brother to this? I can’t tell Mo about this, I can’t embarrass her like that. Miranda’s nipples are erect under her t-shirt, and as much as I try not to look, I can’t seem to look away. The truth is that she messes with my mind.
She looks up at me, and I bow my head. “Talk to me, Randy. Tell me what else I can do to make this better, anything but crossing the line with you.”
“There is nothing else I need.” She sobs.
Her breathing quickens and she backs up against the wall when I close the small distance between us. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost it.” I trace her cheek with my knuckles, watching her lips part.
“I want you so much, Fynn. I think about you fucking me all the time.” Her brave words shock me. How does she know what she wants at seventeen? “She doesn’t have to know. Nobody does. It’ll be our secret. Please?” She reaches for the hem of her t-shirt and raises it above her head. I am too stunned to stop her. Her taut tits stand at attention even without a bra. They are perfect, my hands ache to touch them.
“Miranda, fuck.” She pushes her shorts and panties down, and I rub a hand over my face. She is fucking exquisite.
“Have you never thought of this? Of me? Have you wanted to touch my body, Fynn?”
“I -” I can’t avert my gaze. I should lie. I should tell her no. She is so beautiful. Everything I shouldn’t want. But damn, did I want her. I know it’s wrong, but my heart beats faster, and I feel a pull toward her. The way her lips pout, the look of need in her eyes. I wrap a hand around her neck then press my lips to hers. Her lips are like velvet, opening up for me like a flower. I suck and explore, losing my soul in the process. Every nerve in my body awakened, I pick her up As she wraps her legs around me, the feel of her hot pussy against me has me crushing her against the wall. She moans into my mouth and my hands dig into her waist. Her skin is smooth and cold. Forbidden. This is everything we shouldn’t be doing, and yet here we are.
I know that everything has led to this moment. My hands were made to explore her curves, my tongue made to taste her. And when she starts grinding against me, I respond the only way that seems fit.
“Let me taste you.” Her words are low, sending waves of pleasure straight to my dick. I set her down, and when she reaches for my zipper, I don’t stop her. She fumbles, yet with her petite fingers and rosy cheeks, everything about this moment is perfect. This was her idea, I remind myself, fighting back feelings of guilt. I haven’t fucked her. Yet, The voice in my head shouts.
When she drops to her knees in front of me, I gasp at the sight of her, marvelling at the innocence I didn’t know I so desperately desired until now. Her pink lips part when she fists my erection. She presses the tip to her lips, and I shudder, holding my breath when her warm mouth encases me. I am a monster to let her do this. I am a monster to want it so badly. “Ah…” I groan as she works her head back and forth slowly, getting as much of me as she can inside her. She feels like sin, and I want to burn in hell forever for this. I grip her head, guiding her movements the way I need. Her eyes were close, and she’s gagging on my length. Such a good girl. Her eyelids flutter open, and I get lost it in her big brown eyes. I grasp her hair and start to pound into her hard. Her nails dig into the back of my thighs. I am losing my mind. She gags again, and it only eggs me on. “You feel so fucking amazing around me. You’re so beautiful, baby girl.”
I am losing my grip on reality. I feel my orgasm building and try to pull out of her, but she clutches my ass. “You want this?” She nods, so I stop h
olding back and spill inside her eager mouth. The enormity of what I’ve done crashes down on me with every pulsing sensation, striking me like a ton of bricks. She is my girlfriend's little sister. I am a monster.
“I am so sorry.” I look down at her, my hands still clasped around her pretty face.
She looks up at me, tears flooding her eyes, but not from regret. Anger. I hurt her by saying that.
“I have to go.” She stands and starts to dress quickly. “I was such a fool coming here. Thinking you wanted me.”
“Fuck, I do, but this—” I rub my face in frustration.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let your perfect Mo know.” She swings open the door and runs out into the rain, and I let her go. Maybe I should have stopped her, said something, but I couldn’t. I’d already broken all the rules here. My soul was damned. How would I ever forgive myself for doing what I just did? How would Miranda ever forgive me? She’s supposed to be safe with me, but I’d gotten carried away. I let my selfish needs cloud my judgement.
I grab my phone, and text her.
Me: I am so sorry.
She never responded. That night I lay in bed, unable to shut off my brain. Regret weighed heavily on my chest. I never meant for this to happen. I was the adult here, I should’ve known better. But being an adult doesn’t always equate to wisdom. Sometimes we’re the most messed up.
10
Fynn
Now
Her back is to me, packing away books, when I walk into the community center. I’m glad that she has this job, a purpose. If only she would make friends with someone here, maybe find someone she feels safe talking to. I wish she would talk to me again, or to Mo. To anyone, but she won’t do that. I can’t help but blame myself for her silence. I set the ball in motion, and it rolled out of the court from that point. I assume it’s our past that made her shut down, her way of burying our secrets. If Mo ever found out about what we did that night, would she ever see us in the same way? I’ve tried my best to repent for the sins of my past by binding myself to the work of the church.
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 64