Quid Pro Quo: A dark stepbrother romance

by Nenia Campbell

  What, exactly, was it that she was paying for? Not wanting to marry a creep who was twice her age? Touching herself in her own room and forgetting to lock the door?

  Jay shook her head. Even if she pawned all her jewelry, anything she got would be eaten up by rent and travel. And how was she going to get a plane ticket if Damon kept canceling her charges in the stupid joint account he'd set up for her when she was still underage? Before, she would have had a friend buy it for her—but now, she was questioning her friends. Both Yelena and Quentin had been so quick to sell her out. If she couldn't trust them, who could she trust?

  Jay leaned her head back against her chair while Gypsum purred. She drew in a deep, long breath as the breeze rifled the curtains and fluttered her posters. A soft click made her lift her head and then she jumped up so suddenly that her cat hissed and fled underneath the bed.

  “W-what the fuck are you doing in here?”

  Nick was leaning against her bedroom door, arms folded, with one foot pressed against the paneling. “Do you mean why am I here? Or how did I get in? If it's the latter, it's because I know where we keep all the keys to every room in this house. And if it's the former—” He let his sneakered foot fall to the floor. “I think you already know.”

  She skittered out of the way when Nick crossed the room, but his goal was her CD player. She stared at him in confusion, as well as annoyance, when he popped the disk out and replaced it with one of her older CDs. Slowly, he began inching the volume up.

  “What are you doing?” she snapped, grabbing the back of the chair when he toed his shoes off. She recognized them—they were Converse, but from a limited edition partnership with John Varvatos. His were black leather. She swallowed, looking up at him. The edges of the dragon were outlined in gold and throwing off metallic sparks that were only slightly less fiery than the veins of red in his dark hair. “I was listening to the other thing. Put it back and get out.”

  “It's too quiet.”

  “What?”

  “I don't want anyone else to hear you.” He crossed his arms to pull off his shirt. “When we fuck.”

  Jay felt her heart spasm when Nick started walking towards her, bare-chested. Stalking her. Like he's going to attack. Fear lit up her insides in shimmering red waves as the beat of the music he'd put on pulsed in her ears like a second heartbeat. Her grip on the chair tightened.

  “Are you going to make me chase you?” he asked, looking at her intently. “Or do you just really want me to bend you over that chair?”

  The muscles in his triceps twitched before his shoulders did and Jay yelped and pushed he chair at him before sprinting for the door. Nick was faster, though, and caught her around the waist, holding her tightly against him like a prize with her back squeezed up against his front.

  “It's almost like you're trying to provoke me,” he said. “Deleting files off my computer. Throwing cups of ice at me. Making me chase you. Being a bad girl is exactly what got you into this position in the first place—or have you already forgotten what's at stake?” His breath was hot against her ear. “Do you need to watch the video again?”

  “I'll scream,” said Jay, shivering when he pushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck.

  His laugh, low and deep, turned her knees to water. “You do that.”

  There was a sharp yank that had her instinctively raising her arms. He tugged her sweater and tank top off, tangling her hair up in the process and causing it to frizz. She immediately hugged herself again when he put his hands on her waist and turned her around to kiss her.

  It was like he was trying to devour her. The way he touched her body was a little clumsy but he was a good kisser. That disturbed her; it felt like information she shouldn't have. Jay tried to edge back and he looped an arm around the base of her spine, jostling her closer as he recaptured her mouth and stroked his tongue over hers in a shivering series of caresses that made her mouth tingle. He'd been drinking; under the sharp sting of alcohol, she could taste a sweet and cloying syrup that lingered on his tongue.

  “You're not very good at this,” he murmured, with a tilt to his mouth that made her heart pound even harder. He ran his knuckles down her face, along the underside of her chin. “I hope you fuck better than you kiss.”

  That stung, piercing through the fear and anger in a venomous barb of humiliation. “What do you know about it?” she said angrily. “You're just a boy.”

  His eyes drifted over her in a leisurely examination that disturbed her because something about it was so adult. “I know what good sex feels like.”

  “Then why are you here?” she asked. “Go to her. Or did you blackmail her, too?”

  “My first time was with a whore. Dad drove me to a brothel in Nevada.” He traced slow, feathering strokes down her back, up her sides, winding her tighter with each unhurried caress. Against her folded arms, her nipples hardened. The cold dispassion of his words while he was touching her like this was jarring, but that didn't seem to be stopping her body from responding to him anyway. Smiling a little sharply, he added, “You came this close to being my first.”

  “That's horrible.” Jay choked on the words. “I can't believe Damon would just—”

  “What?” He was frowning now, and it rendered his chiseled, patrician features brooding.

  “Take his teenage son to a brothel.” Jay shook her head, feeling like she was about to cry. “Your first time should mean something. You shouldn't—you shouldn't pay for it.”

  “Oh?” Nick's gaze became hard. “Is that how it was for you, Jay? What, did you get fucked in a sunflower field or something? Who was your first, anyway? Was it Quentin or Michael? I was never entirely sure which of them you were screwing. Or was it both? I hear Quentin's bi.”

  “It's none of your fucking business,” Jay snapped.

  “Fine. Don't tell me.” He ran the back of his hand down her backside before giving her a squeeze between her legs that left her feeling weak. “It doesn't matter anyway. You're mine now.”

  Still holding onto her, Nick reached around to unzip her jeans. Torn between covering herself and stopping him from going further, Jay hesitated only a moment before grabbing his wrist.

  His eyes dipped to her breasts before rising to meet her gaze with arrogance. His hand flexed in her grip. With a painful throb of awareness, she realized that the only reason she was still holding onto him was because he was allowing it. “Is there a problem?”

  “I—” Something hit the backs of her legs. The bed. “I don't have protection.”

  “I do.” His hand slid out of hers. She felt the burn of his palms on her sides. Touching her too much. Making her feel feverish. Her hips bucked weakly when he ran his fingers down her belly, into the open fly of her jeans. Pressing through her underwear. “Lie down.”

  Jay stood, paralyzed. Unable to focus on anything but his fingers. He planned this.

  Nick sighed harshly and slid his hand out of her jeans. He scooped her up beneath her backside. She cried out when her back hit the mattress with a creak of springs that had the cat shooting out in a white blur and made a second, more desperate sound when Nick swung himself on top of her. His belt was hanging open and she could feel the cold drag of the metal on her stomach when he leaned over her, pushing her hair out of her eyes with his knees on either side of her hips.

  “Fuck,” he breathed. “Look at you.”

  When he bent to her, she pressed herself against the mattress, squeezing her eyes shut. He kissed her cheek, her neck; he sucked hard at her throat, as if trying to leave a bruise. She made a sound of protest as he kissed down her ribs, exhaling, before gently biting the underside of her breast. Her nipples hardened; he kissed those, too. The heated pull of his lips as he circled her pinned flesh with his tongue made cold moisture bead between her thighs.

  “You're so beautiful.” Nick ran his hand over her hip. “I've always thought so. Sometimes I don't think I can stand it.”

  “Don't,” she said.

&
nbsp; “Beautiful,” he said again, “and sweet—but not to me. Why aren't you sweet to me?”

  Their bodies began sliding together in an oddly deliberate way and she opened her eyes, sucking in a breath when she realized he was working their pants off. She pushed against his broad chest, which was firm and smooth beneath her fingers, girded by lean muscle. Immovable.

  “Nick, please,” she said, which made him glance at her and slip his hand between her legs.

  No. She tried to close them, and he wedged a knee between her thighs. Her eyes flicked up to his, which were dark and assessing; the pupils were like black holes suspended in their pale irises. “Seems like this is doing something for you.”

  He parted her and began to stroke her with a soft, strumming pressure. Jay squirmed, feeling shameful, wilting a little under his intense stare. She'd been touched before, but not while watched. Not in bright sunlight. Not like this. She looked away but she could hear his breathing pick up, and the friction behind his touch softened, becoming as smooth as molten glass.

  Oh God. “No,” she blurted.

  “Liar,” he whispered. “I know that look.”

  Jay's eyes flew open in outrage and she lifted her leg, twisting to deliver a jab with her knee. His face shifted—not to anger, no, but something hotter and darker. He leaned back, out of striking range, and reached for his jeans on the floor. Before she could struggle upright, he was over her again, on his knees, sliding a condom over his considerable length.

  That made her look away, but not quite fast enough, and when he kissed her again, letting more of his weight fall against her body, she could feel him—all of him—cradled between her thighs. A pressure that she knew would blossom into pain. When she shifted against him, the pressure became even more persistent. Uncomfortable.

  “No.” Jay grabbed him. “Wait. I don't—”

  “What?”

  “Please.” Jay was breathing so hard, it took a moment to speak. “I'm scared,” she said, in a small voice. His eyes snapped to hers and she looked at the curtains, not knowing how to deal with that face, speaking all in a rush. “It's going to hurt and you're—I haven't . . . please.”

  “Shh.” She felt his lips brush her cheek, almost tenderly, and relaxed an inch thinking he might let her go. “Stop crying.”

  Was she crying? She squeaked when he shifted against her and he let out another harsh breath. The weight of him was compressing her lungs and it felt like the room was going dark. There was a ringing in her ears that was as loud as shrill sirens. “Please don't hurt me.”

  “Jay,” he said. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  Slowly, her eyes slid to his—in the sun-drenched room, they were the color of arctic ice.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes. I'm right here.” His mouth covered hers in another one of those slow, deep kisses that made her feel like she was drowning. His lips tasted like salt. Jay dug her fingers into his shoulders and felt the skin of his back flinch, but if it hurt, he didn't say so. “My sweet little blue jay. Just relax. You're safe with me. I'm not going to hurt you. I'll be so, so gentle.”

  Gentle? Her panic, which had been receding, flooded back in a deafening torrent as she felt the muscles of his thighs tauten as he cocked back his hips. “No—” Her voice broke into a shattered cry that rose over the deafening music.

  With a single thrust, he was inside her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  2008

  ▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

  Sex with the whore of The Cherry Orchard had been easy—painless. She'd done exactly what he'd told her to do and she had done it well, and she'd seemed to enjoy it—or at least, she hadn't hated it. Nick figured the experience wouldn't be that much different across other people, like driving a car. Same parts, same basic rules.

  Sex with Jay was neither easy nor painless. Sweet, soft-spoken Jay scratched up his back like she wanted bone, swearing at him in between each heaving breath. She did not look like she was enjoying it much at all, despite his best efforts. She looked like she wanted to hurt him.

  She fucked like she wanted to hurt him.

  Finally, he'd been forced to rip her hands from his shoulders and pin them to the sheets as he finished, and she'd fought him enough that he'd had to work a little to keep her pinned. When he came, Nick felt so dizzy with lust that it was like his head had been packed with cotton. She's all mine, he thought, as he thrust into her a final time, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the floral scent of her hair. She doesn't need to love me to give me what I want.

  When he opened his eyes again, hers had closed and her fingers were clenched into fists that were tight enough that he could feel the tendons popping out against his palms. Her heartbeat thrummed against his chest like something trapped and hunted.

  Nick pulled out of her and saw her throat move as she suppressed some noise too quiet to be heard over the CD, which had repeated in the player. There was a bit of blood on the condom. He looked at it for a long moment before peeling it off and pitching it into the trashcan she kept by her bed, feeling her body tense as he leaned over it.

  It hadn't been an hour but he was in no hurry to leave. He felt rather agreeably tired, except for his back which was studded with oozing welts. Not deep but painful. They would probably hurt even more once the endorphins wore off. The thought of wearing her marks beneath his clothes sent a pleasurable frisson through his groin. “Oh, blue jay. That was so good.”

  Jay said nothing, but one of her arms had come up to cover her breasts.

  Shifting to one shoulder, he carefully slung an arm around her waist. When she still didn't move, he gathered her hair over one shoulder, baring the smooth expanse of her back. “So good,” he repeated, dipping his head to brush his lips over that one spot at the nape of her neck that made her shiver. Goosebumps broke out over her arms as he ran his fingers down her spine, raking his nails over that flawless skin just hard enough to leave faint white trails.

  It made her bow forward, pressing over the bar of his arm as if she sought to escape his touch. “So we're finished,” she said tonelessly. It was the first thing she'd said since they'd finished fucking, and in the break between songs, painfully clear.

  “Yeah,” said Nick. “Unless you want me to do something else.”

  “I had sex with you,” she said, letting her arm fall. “Now delete the video. I want to watch you do it.”

  Nick stared at her as warm contentment bled out, yielding to a sudden chill. “I don't think you understand how this works.”

  “I'm not an expert in blackmail,” she shot back, “but I gave you what you wanted.”

  “You sure did.” He reached over to squeeze her breast before letting his hand drift down her belly. “But you're not giving it to me to delete the video, Jay. You're giving it to me to keep my mouth shut. You didn't think I'd only want to fuck you once, did you?”

  Jay went stiff as he kissed her ear. “What?”

  “That's how this works.” He ran his fingers over her thigh. “Put up and shut up.”

  She looked at him like she hated him, then. It tore at him a little, even as it got him hard. “How long?” she demanded, with a slight hitch. “How many times?”

  Christ, was she going to mark it on a calendar? She probably would—like a fucking chore to be checked off. Nick slid from the bed, tugging on his boxers and jeans. He picked up his shirt from where he'd dropped it over by her bookcase, wincing as the threads of the fabric caught on shredded skin. “I don't know,” he said coldly, bending to eject the CD player as he slid on his shoes. “I'll have to think about it.”

  She watched him buckle his belt, clutching one of her pillows to her body like a shield. “Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me?”

  “I don't hate you. I have to go back downstairs now.” Impulsively, he added, “Come down with me. I'll make you a drink.”

  “Are you forcing me to go?”

  Nick paused. At her obvious reluctance, the u
rge to humiliate surfaced, sharp and hot. He knew how to do it. He could have her put on one of those dresses she hated, one of the ones that made her legs look endless. She hadn't worn anything form-fitting since she was a teenager. Now it was just endless sweaters and hoodies.

  He glanced at Jay, who waited, watching him with a miserable expression like she could see every dark thought in his mind and had already surrendered. She would do it, too, he knew instantly; she would wear a tight dress and she would hate him all the more for it.

  “No,” he said wearily.

  “Then I want you to go.”

  “Don't be like that.”

  She glared at him in a wounded, self-righteous way that really pissed him off.

  “Okay. Be like that.” Nick sat on the edge of the bed and she leaned back in a way that sent a twinge curling through his stomach. “Kiss me,” he said, “and I'll go.”

  Jay leaned up, falling back on one arm as he tilted her chin up to his mouth with his thumb. When it was done, she made a show of wiping her mouth off like he disgusted her. Maybe he did. But it was pretty fucking hard to look down on someone while you were underneath them.

  “I'll be back later,” he warned her, before letting the door swing shut behind him.

  A lot of the guests had already left. Since the bedrooms were off-limits, the drunk and horny ones had gone elsewhere to fuck. So Jake actually listened.

  Except for a few people out in the back, swimming in the pool or dancing on the deck, it was mostly just people he knew. Nick made himself a drink, a stiff one, and walked into the den to find his friends playing with his X-Box. Dave looked half-asleep and Jake was still eating. Alonzo, who Nick guessed had driven them here, was the only one who looked sober.

  “Hey,” he said, looking up at Nick, where he leaned against the wall. “Wanna play?”

  “I'm fine watching.”

  “You were gone a while,” Jake said, a little sulkily. “People kept asking where you were.”

  “Like I said, I had to take care of some shit.”