by J. L. Beck
There’s a slight tremble to her body, the muscles of her smooth tummy ripple beneath my fingers.
So soft, so fucking perfect. My cock is aching, the fucker wishing to be deep inside of her. Enemy. Enemy. She’s the fucking enemy. I remind myself over and over again as my gaze travels lower, falling onto the smooth flesh between her thighs.
Fuck. Her pussy is silky smooth, and completely bare of hair.
“Please…don’t.” Her voice meets my ears and I swallow down the arousal that’s building inside me. I could have her if I wanted her. I could take from her until there was nothing left to take, but I won’t. I can’t. I want to hurt her, but I don’t want to hurt her like that. Looking up at her I notice the shaking of her lips. Her fear is real, and it only makes my cock harder.
“I’d like nothing more than to run my hands all over your cunt, to dip my fingers inside and see if it’s as wet as I think it is…” I pause, leaning into her face, my thumb drawing tiny circles directly above her mound.
“But I don’t fuck liars, so…”
Her cheeks flush pink and her lips part. “I don’t care what you like, and I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on the planet, so I guess we agree on one thing.” She curls her lip before pulling her wrists from my grasp, using her hands to shove at my chest. Her weak attempt at moving me makes me grin, and she glares up at me with a fury that could almost rival my own…almost.
It takes her another second before she finally moves. Scurrying to the side as not to touch me, she heads to her dresser. I twist around and watch her bare ass jiggle lightly with each step. My dick is so hard, the fucker has created a sizeable tent in my shorts, giving away my want, my need. She rips open the first drawer, her hands shaking as she plucks a shirt from inside and quickly pulls it on, and over her head. Then she does the same with a pair of leggings, my eyes following the fabric up her legs.
“No underwear, huh?” I lift a thick brow. “Not that I’m complaining. It’ll be easier for me when I come for you in the middle of the night.”
Fuck, what's wrong with me? Threatening her. Scaring her.
She’s driving me insane.
“Fuck you! Touch me again and I’ll cut your balls off,” she yells before dashing out the door.
What the hell is wrong with us? It’s like an intense game of tug of war. I should just leave her alone, but I can’t. I stand there for a long moment, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
I hate her, but I’m not dumb enough to deny the fact that I’m attracted to her. For a second, I let myself wonder where she’s going, but then I shut that shit down. I don’t give a fuck what she does or where she goes.
With an iron rod between my legs, I make my way to my bedroom and then into the bathroom where I strip off my clothing before stepping into the walk-in shower.
Twisting the knob, water sprays from the shower head and the first few seconds are ice cold the beads of water pelleting against my skin like hail.
Even that doesn’t help my painfully hard cock.
Without thought, I wrap a hand around the beast and stroke him a couple times. I’m so horned up and ready to go that I know it won’t take much to get me off. Images of Ava’s naked body shaking with need beneath mine filter through my head, my soft strokes turning to strangling jerks.
Another image of her eyes pleading and her bottom lip trembling. Fuck, I want to suck on that lip, bite it, and lick it. Thinking about that mouth of hers has me conjuring up all kinds of things. Ava on her knees, her lips parted as I thrust my cock all the way into her mouth and deep in her throat until she gags around my length. I wonder if she’s ever been fucked, ever had a man use her throat as a pussy.
I keep stroking myself furiously while thinking about her. The wrongness of it all only heightening my lust. It doesn’t take me long before my balls drag together and an orgasm ripples through me. Tossing my head back, I squeeze my eyes shut as ropes of cum shoot out of my cock and onto the shower floor. Even if I don’t want to admit it, she has some type of control over me. I want to own her fear, her hate, and her anger.
Fuck.
Chapter Five
Ava
My heated cheeks cool under the soft breeze as I run out the back door and into the yard. I have no idea where I’m going, all I know is that I need to get away from him.
The grass is soft under my bare feet and the breeze feels nice against my skin as I aimlessly run away from the house, trying to make sense of what just happened. My eyes fill with tears as the anger and shock are replaced with confusion and shame.
Confusion because I don’t understand why he is doing this to me and why he keeps calling me a liar. Shame because part of me likes what he was doing, liked how he touched me and talked to me crudely. What the hell is wrong with me? There must be something wrong with me too if I liked him threatening me like that?
When I finally stop running, my lungs are burning, and I can barely suck in enough oxygen to breathe normally. I lean against a tree while catching my breath and let my gaze sweep over the property. It’s beautiful, spacious, and helps me clear my head.
Not ready to go back yet, I sit down behind the tree, leaning my back against the trunk. It might be childish to hide out back here, but right now, I don’t really care what anyone thinks of me, least of all Vance. My brain feels like it has just been through a blender. My emotions are all over the place. I have no idea what to do.
Can I even live here safely? I remember his threat to come in my room tonight and a shiver runs down my spine, but only partly from actual fear. I can’t help but imagine him coming to me in the middle of the night, sneaking into my room through the darkness.
Climbing into my bed… I squeeze my thighs together, feeling the moisture, and warmth build there thinking about him, and what he would do to me.
Yes, there is definitely something wrong with me.
For a long while I sit there, breathing in the fresh air and wondering what my life would be like if I hadn’t played Truth or Dare that night five years ago. Maybe my father would have never found out, he would have never turned into an alcoholic, barely holding onto his sanity. Maybe my parents would still be together, we would still live in our old house, and we would still be a family…and Vance would still be my friend, maybe even more.
He probably wouldn’t hate me.
What if…
Feeling that it must be safe to go back inside, I walk back across the yard, and enter through the backdoor, closing it quietly behind me. The entire house is quiet, too quiet as I tiptoe through the kitchen and into the hallway, going completely unnoticed. That is until I turn the corner to head to the staircase and my body crashes into another. Startled, I stagger backward, almost tripping over my own feet. I’m seconds away from beefing it on the polished floor when someone grabs my arm, steadying me.
My mouth opens to yell at him to take his hands off of me. I would rather fall on my ass than have Vance catch me, but I realize a second later that it’s not Vance holding onto me, it’s another guy. He looks oddly familiar. High cheekbones, chocolate colored brown hair that’s cut stylishly, and a pair of hazel eyes filled to the brim with mischief.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice friendly and his eyebrows drawn together with concern.
“Yeah, sorry, I uhh...” I apologize and he lets go of my arm. My tongue feels heavy inside my mouth.
“You’re Ava, right? I’m Clark,” he introduces himself with a grin showing off his perfectly straight white teeth.
“Yes, I’m Ava. It’s nice to meet you, Clark.”
“I was actually looking for you. Looks like you found me first,” he says playfully, his eyes twinkling.
“You were?” I squeak, unsure why he would be looking for me.
He nods. “Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. I know how hard it is to be the new kid, plus Vance can be a pain in the ass, so I thought maybe you could use a friend to hang out with.”
I get the feeling he d
oesn’t just hang out with girls often, not without having his dick inside them and if he’s friends with Vance well that’s enough said.
“Oh, that’s…well, that’s sweet of you. I would like that.” Clark’s smile turns wolfish and only then do I remember my lack of underwear and bra. Of course I would run into a gorgeous Greek god without either item on. All the blood inside my body rushes to my cheeks, giving my embarrassment away.
“If you’re free tonight, you could come out with us…” Clark’s voice trails off.
“No fucking way. She’s not coming out with us.” Vance’s voice booms down the staircase a moment before he appears at the top of the stairs. He’s changed and is now dressed in a dark pair of jeans and gray button-up shirt, looking annoyingly handsome as always.
Beads of water cling to the strands of his russet brown hair. My eyes are drawn to his pink lips, and even after what he did to me earlier, I still want him. It’s stupid, and wrong beyond measure since he’s not only my stepbrother but obviously the enemy.
“What are you even doing here? I told you I’d come to your house,” Vance says bitterly.
I wonder how he keeps friends when he talks to them like that.
“I was tired of waiting, asshole. You took forever and I have zero patience, so here I am. Also, she can come if she wants to, it’s a party that the entire campus was invited to. Let the woman choose for herself,” Clark responds to Vance who snorts before turning to me.
“Ava, do you wanna come with us? I promise to keep Vance’s asshole tendencies to a minimum.”
My lips tip up into a small smile.
“No, thank you. I would rather stay home tonight...” or nail my hand to the wall. Clark gives me a small pout.
“Maybe, next time?”
“Sure,” I mumble, trying to avoid another confrontation with Vance who is walking down the stairs, heading straight for me.
“Maybe you’ll put on a bra then, unless the super slutty look is what you were going for,” Vance sneers in passing and I curl my hand into a tight fist.
All I need to do is land one punch, one…
“Just ignore him,” Clark whispers before surprising me by leaning in and giving me a light kiss on the cheek. When he pulls away, he gives me one more smile revealing two dimples that make him look even cuter. With a wink, he turns and follows Vance, who is already at the door. I wait until the door closes behind them before I turn around and walk up the stairs. Back in my room, I flop down onto the bed, the smell of citrus, and soap filtering into my nose. My blankets smell just like that bastard.
Can’t I get away from this guy?
***
It’s the middle of the night when I hear the door open and someone walking in. I go from being half asleep to being wide awake in less than a second. Silently I curse myself for not pushing the dresser in front of the door like I had considered doing.
“Have you been waiting for me?” Vance slurs, walking toward me, his movements sluggish. Oh God no, he’s drunk. My heart sinks even farther. Too many nights I watched my dad come home drunk. It’s a memory of my last I would much rather not relive.
“Get out!” I try to keep my voice strong, while getting out of bed. I can smell the liquor on him, the distinct scent making me recoil.
“Don’t be like that…lie back down,” he mumbles as he staggers toward me. When he’s close enough for me to touch him, I lift my hands and press them to his chest to give him a gentle push toward the door, but his body’s firmer than a brick wall and my tiny push doesn’t even make him budge.
I don’t know why but for some reason, I thought in his drunken state I would somehow be able to overpower him. Unfortunately, I underestimated him. I was wrong…so very wrong. I shove against his chest as hard as I can, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he grabs me by the arms and pushes me backward and toward the bed.
Alarm bells go off in my mind. This is bad, very bad. I’m completely alone with him. He’s much stronger than me and on top of that, he’s drunk. I’m so fucking stupid for believing that staying here would be a good idea.
He warned me, told me that he was going to come for me tonight and I ignored his warning. I fell right into his trap.
“Vance…” I say his name, but it comes out more like a whimper.
“Shhh, just lie down,” he orders and gently nudges me down until I’m lying on the bed. I push up onto my elbows and try to get away, but he’s faster and springs on me like a jaguar, his large frame pressing me into the mattress. Panic claws at me, and inky dread coats my inside, my whole body shaking with fear. He’s going to hurt me, he’s going to make me pay for something that I’m not even sure I’m guilty of.
“Please,” I beg, hoping that he's not too far gone, that he doesn't really want to hurt me.
“Please what?” he whispers into my skin with his face buried in the crook of my neck. He smells like vodka and bad decisions. I can’t let him do this to me, whatever this is. “Please fuck me? I told you…I don’t fuck liars. But I did have some girl at the party suck me off…I thought about you while I fucked her throat. I was thinking how you would like my cock in your mouth…wouldn’t you, Ava?”
“No…” not like this anyway.
“Liar…all you do is fucking lie,” he growls before slapping a hand over my mouth to shut me up. “I’m done listening to that pretty little mouth spew lies.”
I don’t understand anything that he’s saying, and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for whatever he is going to do to me to happen, but I’ll be waiting for a while because he doesn’t move an inch. It’s almost like he’s a statue, the weight of his body pressing me further into the mattress. His body blankets mine, his breath moving my hair across my neck with each breath he takes. Strangely, some of the fear starts to ease out of me, and for the first time ever, I don’t feel alone.
“Why? Why did you have to fuck everything up?”
He’s just venting, talking more to himself than to me. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to ask him what he’s talking about.
“You could have just kept your mouth shut. You didn’t have to tell your dad anything. You didn’t have to ruin it all.”
I blink rapidly, realization dawning on me.
Is that what this is about? Is he mad at me for telling my dad what happened that night? I want to say something so badly, talk to him, make him understand that I didn’t know what else to do, that I was only a kid, but his hand remains securely over my mouth.
Anything I would say would come out as a mumble.
“If you would’ve just kept your mouth shut, everything would still be the way it was supposed to be. Maybe I wouldn’t hate you...maybe we’d still be friends,” he whispers, and my chest constricts, a sob lodging deep in my throat. He just rubbed my own worst fears right in my face. Slapped me with them. He answered a question I’ve been asking myself for years.
What would have happened if I didn’t say anything?
All my doubts, worries and fears… they’re projected right before my eyes.
Maybe he’s right, maybe it’s my fault.
The tears start to fall without warning and slip down the sides of my face. It feels like my heart is ripping in two, the pieces being discarded like trash. For a few minutes, I sob, uncontrollably beneath him. The weight of his body comforts me more than I want to admit and I wish he would touch me, wipe away the tears, tell me it isn’t my fault, but he won’t because deep down I know he thinks it’s all my fault. He blames me for all of it and he plans to slice the knife of a betrayal deep into my chest.
“Shhh, it’s too late for your tears now. They won’t save you. Nothing can save you from me.” He lifts his head, his warm lips ghosting against my cheek. Green eyes reflect back at me. They’re glassy and I wonder if he’s crying too?
For the loss and the pain that we both obviously endured. I don’t get the chance to ask him, not even as he removes his hand from my mouth and pushes up off the bed. My throat is too tight to speak, the wo
rds I want to say lodged deep inside the knot forming there. I didn’t realize how much comfort I was taking in his body until he was gone.
Stumbling backward, he gives me one last once over before jerkily walking out of the room, closing my bedroom door softly behind him. The room is so quiet now that I’m reminded of how alone I am, how alone I’ve always been. A quiet sob of pain pushes past my lips, my chest aches at the pressure inside of it.
“Nothing can save you from me…” His words haunt me all night long while I’m lying in my bed cold and alone.
Always alone.
Always cold.
“Nothing can save you from me….” I repeat his words back to myself.
Maybe I don’t want to be saved, maybe I need Vance’s hate as much as he needs to give it to me.
Chapter Six
Vance
Waking up the next morning, all I can think about are all the shitty choices from the night before. Too much vodka. Sarah. My need to be close to Ava. My head throbs like someone took a sledgehammer to it. Showering takes an enormous amount of time and effort and by the time I’m done, all I want to do is climb back into bed.
I’m never drinking again, though I suppose I wouldn’t have gone balls to the wall if it wasn’t for the fucking girl across the hall. She’s stupidly beautiful and nothing like my typical flavor of women, which only makes me want her more.
Why did drunk me feel the need to talk to her? I know why, but that doesn’t mean I want to admit it to myself. Truthfully she needed a hug just about as much as I did, and I guess my drunken self, thought right then would be a good time to give her one.
All night I had thoughts about her, about her lips, her face, the way her fear smelled earlier when she thought I was going to hurt her. I thought about how all I wanted to do was be back at the house tormenting her, breaking her down. Which in turn led me to drink a lot more than I meant to just so I could stop myself from coming back here. Which was all for nothing, ‘cause I still ended up home and in her bed.