"I like the parties, but lately, they've become more of the same thing. Sometimes I just prefer my own company, you know?"
Ethan motions toward the door. "Do you want me to leave?"
"Do you want to?"
Ethan laughs. "Do you always answer a question with a question?"
I raise one eyebrow. "Do you?"
Lifting one hand in the air, Ethan scratches his head. "This is going in circles."
"I'm only teasing. No, I don't want you to leave. In fact, it would be nice to get to know you. We are brother and sister now, after all."
Ethan's eyes widen a little. "Shit, we are, aren't we?" I nod. "So, little sis, how old are you? I bet no more than nineteen."
"I'll be twenty-one next month."
"That's a big birthday. Planning anything special?" Ethan moves over to one of the sofas and sits down. Mimicking him, I take the seat opposite.
"Not really. It's just another birthday, right?"
"Are you kidding me?" he asks, raising his voice in shock. "It's one of the biggest birthdays you'll ever have. You'll finally be legal to drink."
"Yeah, like that really means shit in this house. I drink as much as anyone else."
His mouth turns up in a smirk. "You're quite the rule-breaker, aren't you? I like it."
If only he knew!
"Speaking of, do you want to get out of here? We can't get refreshments in the library."
"Pity," he replies, looking around. "It's relaxing in here."
I look around with him. "I know what you mean. The scent, the ambiance with all the books surrounding us…it's soothing."
"Are you a closet bookworm?"
"I am, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I often come in here when I'm bored and need something to occupy my mind."
Especially lately, since I've gotten better and Owen has become a temptation again. Despite being mad at him, I still yearn his touch. I’m happy Ethan is here. I've been needing a distraction, and Ethan is one hell of a distraction. I have no plans to do anything with him, but it feels good to flirt again—to be wanted…in whatever capacity.
Ethan pushes himself forward on the seat, reaching out to grab my hand. "Come on, let's go get some drinks."
I let him take me by the hand, and together, we sneak out of the room and down the basement steps toward the wine cellar. Ethan moves through some of the selection until he finds what he's looking for.
"Ah, the 1945 Petrus red. I think you’ll like this one." Ethan winks before grabbing a wine opener from the drawer, making himself at home. It makes me wonder.
"How long has it been since you were here?"
He looks up from his task, squinting his eye to think for a moment. "Errr, I think around five years."
I'm taken aback by this. "Five years since you were here?" He nods. "Shit, Ethan. Has it been five years since you spoke with your dad?"
His eyes turn downcast in sadness. "Yeah, something like that."
I watch stunned as he fetches two glasses and pours the wine. "Can I ask why?"
Ethan sets down the bottle and turns to me. "I was almost eighteen when it happened. I was still in high school and did something inexcusable. I was an idiot back then, that much is for certain. I have been trying to make up for it since, but my dad still hasn't forgiven me."
"What did you do?"
He swallows nervously, his eyes averting from mine. "Me and a bunch of my friends used to pick on this guy because he looked skinny and weak. Isn't that the norm for cowards—to pick on someone smaller than you?" He looks me in the eye, then shakes his head. "We would do small shit at first, like give him a wedgie, trip him up as he was walking down the hall…that sort of thing. One day, we came up with this idea to superglue his butt to the wall after he came out of the shower. It was funny at first…until his skin got ripped off and they had to surgically remove him from the wall. I was rightly expelled—along with others—but I haven't gone a single day since without hearing that poor boy scream. I guess I deserve that after what I did."
Shit, what does one say to that? You hear of many stories where people are bullied at school, but never really the stories from the bully's perspective. I can understand why Owen got angry and forced his son out of the house, but to not speak to him for five years after?
Ethan hands me a glass before picking up his own. “Aside from owning a gym and making people feel good about themselves, I’ve been trying to make penance ever since. I'm a member of an anti-bullying charity I have raised hundreds of thousands for. I volunteer to speak at several schools to raise awareness. It doesn't take away what I did, but I hope it's something—a start."
Placing my free hand on his arm, I give it a squeeze. "As long as you realize what you did was wrong, it’s enough. Thank you for trusting me with your story."
He looks down at my hand, then back up to me with a smile. "I think you and I are going to be great friends." He lifts his glass. "To great friends."
I clink my glass to his. "To great friends."
We both take a sip of the velvety wine, enjoying the warmth spreading through me. Ethan swallows, makes a humming sound, then lifts his glass again. "To wine that's worth over seven thousand dollars."
My eyes widen. "What the fuck! Are you shitting me! We're seriously drinking wine that's worth that much?"
Ethan laughs at my outburst. "Only the best for us Montgomerys!"
I marvel at the contents in my glass, unable to fathom how a drink could be worth this much.
"Say, how about after we drink this, we go take a skinny dip in the outside pool?"
I fix him with an unbelievable stare. "It's like thirty degrees outside. Why not the nice heated pool down here?"
"What, and miss what you will look when the cold hits a certain part of your body?"
"Oh my God, Ethan, you're incorrigible!" I shake my head, smiling.
Ethan laughs at my reaction. "Oh, baby. I'm just getting warmed up."
Forgiveness
Sarah McLachlan
Five months ago
I don't know how long it is before I fall asleep, but I'm awoken by a thumping noise coming from one of the distant rooms. At first, it's slight, but as I wake a bit more, the noise gets louder. At the sound of moaning, I jolt up in my bed, nausea quickly bubbling in my stomach.
"Oh, God, yes!" my mother screams, and that's enough for me to jump out of my bed. Another moan echoes, and I cover my ears, trying to drown out the sound.
How could he?
Tears brim in my eyes as the nausea continues to bubble. Could he be so cruel he would sleep with me and immediately get in bed with my mother? Not only that, would he be so cruel that he's making sure I hear every disgusting sound?
Hot, angry tears flood down my cheeks as I grab a pillow and a blanket before leaving my room and the dreaded noises still emanating from one of the bedrooms.
As fast as I can, I race down the stairs, not caring if I fall. I just want to shut myself away from what they're doing. My heart can't take it. Even though we're not together, the betrayal still stings my tongue, making my blood boil with rage.
How could he?
Wiping the hot tears from my face, I sniffle, making sure I have everything in my arms before I open the door to Owen's study. There isn’t a bed in here, but there’s a large enough couch to sleep on. Oh, and the best part—soundproofing.
I step in, wiping the rest of my tears away, and look up as I shut the door. Instant relief floods me from the inside out. Momentarily, I'm so relieved, I forget I'm still so angry at him.
Owen is at his desk, nursing yet another drink. I don't know how much he's had, but by the slightly drooping head and glassy eyes, I would say quite a bit.
"I'm sorry," I say, turning back to open the door. "I didn't realize you were in here."
"Thought I was upstairs fucking your mother?" I stop, then spin around to find him smirking. "You think I didn't know?” His eyes flit up toward where the bedrooms are—where his wife is currently fucking someone else.
I want to ask him why so badly it tears me up inside. Why her? Why my mother, of all people? But instead, I move away again, determined to put some distance between us.
"Stay," he whispers softly.
Not knowing what to do next, my hand freezes at the doorknob. After the way he spoke to me earlier, I should leave. I should turn around, tell him to fuck off, and leave, but I can't. I'm frozen to the spot. Call it my inability to stop caring, no matter what, but I don't move.
"Stay," he says again, and this time, I relax, my hand falling from the door. I turn, standing with my pillow and blanket still locked in front of me like it's the only thing protecting me from this beast of a man.
"I was way out of line earlier."
I suck in a breath. "Is that your way of an apology?"
He waves his hand for me to move toward him. "Come." When I don't move, he sighs, glancing to one side before facing me again. "I can't properly apologize to you with you standing over there. Get your fucking ass over here now."
I don't know whether to be offended or turned on. I should be the former, but my body reacts to him anyway. I close the distance, and when I round the table to stand in front of him, Owen grabs my pillow and blanket before dropping it to the floor. He grabs my nightgown, pulling me to him. As my legs slide in between his, he nuzzles his head into my stomach. At first, I'm frozen, unable to know what to do next, but when he kisses my belly, my hand flies to his hair, threading the soft strands between my fingers. He kisses my belly again, once, twice, then his hands run up my legs, pulling up my nightgown in the process. My breath quickens as fire dances in my belly. Owen moans, inhaling the scent between my legs. Forcefully, he pulls me up, until my ass is positioned at the edge of his desk. He dips his head, sweeping his soft tongue against my now hardened nub. My head falls back, lips part, and a soft moan escapes me.
"Owen," I whisper on a groan. "You shouldn't be doing this."
"I'm not drunk enough that I can't eat pussy, Savannah. Never will I ever be that drunk." His eyes narrow, the green parts of his irises looking almost black. "This is my way of showing you I fucked up. Now, get ready. I'm going to make you come so fucking hard, your body will be vibrating for a week."
Oh my!
Chest heaving, I nod, bracing myself for the glorious touch of his tongue. Thankfully, I'm not waiting that long. He sweeps it once, twice, three times, and I'm already moaning. My breaths quicken with each flick, my body tensing with the potency of his talented tongue. He adds pressure, moving in slow strokes, and then one finger, quickly followed by another, are inside me, brushing against my sweet spot. My body tenses, and my legs start to quiver with the intensity of this warmth rushing inside me. My head dizzies, and a load groan leaves my lips.
"Oh, fuck!" I scream out, forgetting my mom is upstairs, but quite frankly not giving a shit. I pull my head forward, my legs resting on the sides of his chair, desire spiking as he pulls pleasure from me bit by bit. With his free hand, he pleasures himself. With hooded eyes, I focus on his hand as it moves fast and hard over his cock, a bead of precum forming at the tip. It's one of the sexiest sights I have ever seen. Too soon, my body reacts. Pleasure ripples through me in waves, each one getting higher and more violent.
I throw my head back, and scream my release, my toes curling with the ferocity of my climax. His tongue keeps going, and I keep coming, until I can't take it, screaming for him to stop. Instantly, he pulls away and stands up, lifting my nightgown clearly off me. He hovers over my naked frame, jerking himself over my pussy until he roars out his own release, coming all over my stomach. As he's coming, he spreads his seed all over my stomach and up toward my breasts, marking me.
"I will never tire of staring at your body. It's like a fucking work of art." My breath hitches as his eyes trail the contours of my form. "Mine," he growls, squeezing his hand into my skin.
His eyes snap to mine like he's somehow shaken himself from under a spell. He takes his hands off me, dipping it into the drawer. He pulls out some tissues and cleans me up as much as he can before dealing with himself.
Once his slacks are done up, he offers me a hand. "Come." I take it, not knowing what we're going to do next. He discards the tissues and we walk out of the study together. As soon as we're in the hall, I stall, tugging at his hand.
"Owen, I'm buck-naked here."
Owen looks down at my bare form and smirks. "Oh, so you are." He tugs at me. "Come on, I'm taking you to the bathroom. We're going to get a shower in there."
"What if someone catches us?" I whisper.
"It's after three in the morning. Everyone's asleep. Stop being paranoid."
He leads me to the basement shower, which is conveniently next to the indoor pool. We quickly wash before drying off, then Owen leads me hand in hand, still naked and him in a pair of boxers. Once we reach the study, he grabs the pillow and blanket, places them on the couch, and sits. He motions for me to come, and I don't hesitate, gently sliding myself down next to him into his arms.
"Your mom's going to be fine," I whisper, stroking his arm.
He squeezes me to him, humming in my ear. "I know, baby."
I smile, loving the term of endearment. The last few days have certainly been a rollercoaster ride, but for now, I'm living in this moment. Right now, I'm content.
I fall asleep in his arms, and have no idea how long we're asleep before my mother’s screams of Owen's name is screeched at the top of her lungs.
I jerk up, and Owen moans at the sudden movement.
"Owen! Where the hell are you!" my mom screams again. When I pivot toward Owen, he’s still laying on the couch with his eyes closed, I tug on his arm.
"Owen, wake up! My mom's calling you."
"Owen!" she screams again, getting closer.
Panicked, I shoot up out of my seat and scramble underneath Owen's desk. I pull his chair in so it hides me, and the door flies open.
"Owen, what the fuck are you doing sleeping on your couch? Are you drunk?"
A deep groan leaves his lips. "I was working here last night and must have fallen asleep."
"The hospital called. Your mother's awake. I assume you want to go to her? I've got a nail appointment, so you'll have to go on your own."
"Fine," he grumbles, sighing out loud.
I close my eyes, willing her to go away. When I open them again, I happen to look next to the chair where my nightgown is on the floor. Eyes widening, I reach out, trying to pull it toward me.
"I might even go shopping after, so if you need me, you'll need to call."
For a moment, I drown out their voices, my sole purpose in getting my nightgown without my mother seeing it, or even worse—seeing…me.
As I tug the last bit toward me and close my eyes, sighing my relief, my mom says, "What's that?"
My eyes fly open, and panic resumes when her footsteps get closer. I brace, waiting for the moment she pulls the chair away and finds what a treacherous bitch her daughter is.
She sighs, then a small giggle erupts. "Jerking off into tissues like a pubescent teenager, I see." She moves, and one of her Louboutin shoes appears. She drops the tissue in the bin, and I jump when she slams the drawer back in place.
"Have you got nothing else better to do then to poke your nose into my affairs?" Owen grumbles. Immediately after, he moans.
"Aww, poor baby. Got a nasty hangover, have we? I'll leave you to sort that out. I have an appointment. Tell your nasty bitch of a mother I said hi." Soon after, the door slams.
"Fucking bitch!" Owen snaps, and I startle, then shake my head. I thought it was just me she’s a complete and utter cow to. It seems no one is immune—not even her own husband.
"You can come out now. She's gone."
I push the chair forward and scramble out, my nightgown clutched to my chest. Owen peers with interest as I push myself from the floor and take a stand. His eyes travel over my body, then he grumbles.
"I would so fuck you right now if it weren't for this raging h
angover."
I shrug. "That, and the fact that your mother's awake."
"Shit!" he shouts, as if it’s suddenly dawned on him. He was obviously so enraged at my mother, he forgot what she came in for in the first place. "I’ve got to get my shit cleaned up and get to the hospital."
He starts to walk to the door. "Do you want me to come?
He stops and turns around. "Do you want to?"
I nod, smiling. "I would like to. It would be nice to see your mom. I really like her."
A certain sadness seems to cross his face, then it quickly vanishes. "Okay. Get ready. I will meet you by the car in a half hour."
I salute him. "Got it, boss."
Owen stops and slowly pivots around to face me. With a smirk, he says, "When we get back from the hospital, if your mother is still out, you are in so much trouble."
My eyes narrow at the heat from his words. I smirk back. "Oh, I'm counting on it…Daddy."
Be My DownFall
Del Amitri
Present
With only my mom, Owen, and Ethan around, Christmas Day was like driving a car without a steering wheel…or brake fluid. Owen did nothing but nurse one drink after the other, no doubt sulking over his son being here and us getting along so well. The only laughter that seemed to echo in the house was Ethan's and mine. We were like two naughty teenagers, running around each room until we found somewhere we could be alone. When we were, Ethan constantly flirted, which was starting to do things to my insides like it used to with Owen.
Dangerous territory, but Owen doesn't help his cause. He doesn't trust me, and I can't be with him if he can't at least be reassured I've got his back. I have never betrayed him—never said or done anything behind his back that would cause him pain.
Until now, that is.
If he cares enough to hurt over it. Am I doing it to rub salt into the wound? To be honest, probably. All I can say is I haven't felt this energized in a long time, so I'm rolling with it.
Currently, I'm sitting at the end of my bed, gently brushing my thumb and finger over the little beads on my new bracelet. It was a gift from Owen, and I hate to say, but it's my favorite. The aqua and clear diamonds twinkle softly in the dim light by my nightstand. I remember Owen saying my eyes were like aqua diamonds, so it makes me wonder if this gift was deliberate. Whatever it is, Owen is still trying to remind me he's here—that he will always be here. I have still been doing my best at ignoring him as much as I can, but I know things will be different after the holidays. We will both be back at work in close confines. He will play that for everything it's worth, I have no doubt. It's just how long I can go along pretending we're over. In my head we are, but my body and heart says otherwise.
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