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Of course, Heath picks that exact moment to turn on a light above as. Cringing, I turn towards the window, pretending to be engrossed in our surroundings.
“You’re blushing,” he says matter-of-factly and I honestly want to strangle him.
“Really,” I throw in ironically, sweeping the hair off my face as if I have nothing to be embarrassed about.
“Why?” he wonders out loud.
Because I like the way your lips part when you speak. I imagine them doing that as they touch mine.
The thought takes me by surprise and I blush even more violently, much to Heath’s amusement. He roars with laughter and I roll my eyes, looking out of the window.
We arrive at my building much faster than I would have liked, and I’m feeling unsure of what to do now. I gulp and slowly make my way out of the car, looking awkwardly at Heath over my shoulder.
“Thanks for the ride. It’s been a long day. But a cup of tea should make it better,” I babble nonsensically as I get out of the car. I start walking towards my apartment when I hear the car door opening and closing again.
“I’d prefer Scotch, but given the state of your apartment, I’m assuming you don’t have any,” Heath says heartlessly. “So tea will have to do.”
I turn on my heels and look at him, trying to remember when I invited him upstairs. I’m about to argue, but he just marches ahead of me like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Defeated, I follow in his footsteps and unlock the door. And now I have to deal with this.
Chapter 8
HEATH
I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to go home, be a good and responsible man like I knew I should. But that skin of hers, that scent she gives off … Her stark blue eyes and those dark waves.
I’m her stepbrother, but I’m a man first.
And no man could say no to her.
I follow her inside her building, smug about the fact that my emotions don’t show on my face like hers do. She blushes at everything, like she’s some teenager. It drives me insane not only because I’m dying to know what she’s thinking, but because I want to be the one to put that blush on her face.
We ride the elevator in silence and I stare ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of her in my peripheral vision. Fuck, she’s wearing that pencil skirt again – and I’d almost not noticed. It has a zipper down the back and during the day, it has slid up a little, revealing a spot I’d very much like to touch right now.
The elevator pings and I motion for her to go ahead, if only to stare at her perfect pert ass.
She rattles her keys and they fall to the floor. I’m too preoccupied staring at her curves to help her pick them up, so she sighs and does it herself, the zipper going even higher. Fuck me.
I’m rethinking my impulsive decision to go up with her, wanting to call my driver and change plans for the evening. I have a girl just about Tahlia’s age in my building – a model. She’d do anything for me, and has on multiple occasions. But today, picturing me cock sliding into the wet hole between her legs does nothing for me.
“You want tea or what?” Tahlia asks tiredly as she opens the front door. We enter and she puts her purse down on the counter as I take in her apartment one more time.
Last time I was here, I was out of it. Drunk and out of my mind. I guess I didn’t realize what a shithole this really is.
She’s tried hard to make it look cozy. It looks alright if you’re into that shabby chic shit, but I can see where the ceiling’s cracked and that her sofa isn’t Pantone’s color of the year on purpose, but has instead faded over years of use, and she probably got it at an auction.
And it’s all my fault. I put her in this situation, and as much as I want to help, make her feel like a fucking queen, I can’t.
“Heath?” she asks again, furrowing her brows at me.
“Alcohol,” I say roughly, rubbing my chin where the stubble is prickling. “Anything strong.”
I can just about imagine her saying Typical, but she manages to keep that pouty mouth shut and opens a drawer under the sink. Emergency stash, I think with amusement, as she pulls out some vodka. I haven’t had vodka since college and I’m not about to relive that day, which included a blonde with enormous tits sucking me off along with her best friend of the moment.
I’d much rather drink that vodka out of Tahlia’s belly button.
She slides a glass across the counter and I catch it, angry that she didn’t give me an excuse to touch her. The transparent liquid sloshes over the rim, making a puddle on its way to me.
I raise the glass to my lips and drink, appreciating the burn. Anything to keep me preoccupied, because if I’m not, I’m going to slam Tahlia on this counter and push inside her while she begs for more.
“Tastes good?” she inquires and I immediately think, Not as good as you would.
I have to get a grip on myself, so I mumble something in return and empty my glass, putting it back down on the counter. I’m contemplating what to do next when Tahlia shrugs off her suit jacket and I’m faced with her small frame, her shoulder blades poking out of her peachy skin as she turns around. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I’m really too tired to entertain you,” she says and the strain in her voice is apparent. She doesn’t want me here, and I’ve forced myself on her – that much is clear. But even though she’s made it clear she wants me to leave, I’m reluctant to go … Any second, any glimpse of her I can catch, I’ll take.
I hesitate for a second, not saying anything as she sighs and rubs her eyes. They’re rimmed with red and I wonder what she’s been doing all weekend. My blood boils at the thought of some guy spending the night in the apartment I’m essentially paying for, since her pay check comes out of my pocket.
“You seeing someone?” I growl at her before I can stop myself and I see the confusion and surprise on her face straight away, making me regret my foolish question.
“Why do you care?” she asks softly, pouring herself a glass of vodka as well.
My reaction comes from the gut and the words are out before I have the chance to stop them. “Just wondering who would settle for you,” I say with a smirk.
I hate myself in that moment. This girl is everything I’ve ever wanted. She’s all that and more, and yet I’m making fun of her and treating her like shit, because that’s my MO. Her eyes shoot up, but instead of the anger I wanted, she looks beaten, vulnerable.
This is the prime time to take advantage of her, yet I’m hesitating.
“I didn’t mean that,” I say softly, my voice straining with the unusual quiet volume. I’m a loud speaker and I don’t do soft, or sweet, or even caring. I give orders, and she follows them. I insult her, and she picks herself back up, not daring to stand up to me.
“Sure,” she shrugs and turns away quickly. I feel like the world’s biggest fuck up at the moment, because it’s obvious I’ve upset her. I want to get up. Walk over to her. Kiss the pain away.
She lost it all, and I’m taking her apart with every move, every word out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry, Tali,” I add and her shoulders tense. It’s what her mother used to call her, and I refused to use the nickname even after being encouraged to do so by her mother.
“Don’t,” she murmurs, but I’m already out of my seat, standing next to her. Close, so close I can smell her perfume which isn’t masking her natural scent at all. She’s peaches and cream on my tongue and I want to taste her so badly.
I can’t hold it anymore, so I reach out. My hand lands on the small of her back and I can feel her trembling. I’m ruining her, and in no time, she’ll be nothing but a broken toy.
I like destruction. As a kid, I would take things apart, because there was nothing as fascinating as watching something work without an integral part of it.
Just like Tahlia.
She lost so much, has so many parts missing. Yet she still stands up, still walks around, still smiles that broken smile. She’s a wind-up doll, and I’m the one that keeps her going, the mas
ter that decides her fate.
I wonder what it would take for my little doll to break down completely.
“Turn around,” I whisper in my toy’s ear, and she does as she is told, because she knows I own her, and the puppet does what her master tells her.
Chapter 9
TAHLIA
He always gets the best of me. I’m a survivor, and I know I’m strong. But he knows exactly how to twist my body, how to push my buttons, to get the reaction that gets him off.
Pain.
It’s all I feel, and it’s what fuels his power over me.
He’ll torture me forever, and I’ll always let him, because I’m a masochist, and he’s the master holding the whip. We’ll go round and round and round again, the scars from the last time he hurt me barely healing before he strikes again.
“Turn around,” he orders me, and I do as I’m told, because Mom said I should do what Heath says, always. He is older and smarter and I am weak and small and I’ll never compare.
His hand moves with my body and he’s still holding the small of my back, his fingers burning my skin through the shirt I am wearing. It hurts so bad, and I know he’s the one doing this to me. He’s the one stroking my hair with one hand while he slaps me around with the other.
“You’re one of a kind,” he says to me, his eyes not on mine, but instead on the buttons of my shirt. “You’re hard to break. I try and I try, but you get up every time I take you down.”
“Why would you want to hurt me?” I ask, barely holding on.
He looks thoughtful for a moment, like he’s actually trying to think of a good reason, but in the end his features get harder and he reaches up with his other hand until he touches one of the buttons he’s staring at so intently.
I gasp a little, even though he isn’t even touching me. But the way he flicks and toys with the pearl button … I imagine him doing that to me, taking my nipple between his fingers and twisting it until it puckers under his touch.
It’s wrong.
I’m fucked up.
He’s using me. And I like it.
He leans in closer, closer and closer, until his lips are next to my ear, his breath tickling the soft skin of my neck and making me lose my mind slowly but surely. I’m turned on, and fuck, I want him. I want Heath to fuck me. I want my stepbrother to break me so he can make it all better again.
“Everyone has their boundaries,” he whispers in my ear, his hand moving from the button into my hair, twisting it into a rope around his fist.
“I’m going to find yours. And when I do, I’m going to take those barriers down one by one.” His lips are almost on my neck, tantalizing, teasing.
“And I’ll break you into pieces,” he promises with a quiet laugh, pulling my head back as far as it goes by my hair so I gasp with pleasure and pain combined.
My skin erupts in goose bumps and my instincts scream at me to get away.
He’s sick, it’s wrong, we shouldn’t.
I want to. I want to so badly.
I don’t let him kiss me, though. I stop the torture right there and then by doing it myself, ripping my head out of his grip.
Our lips crash together with forbidden need. I open my mouth wide for him, inviting him in, sliding my tongue across his. It’s so good. So good.
He laughs against my mouth and his hand finds my throat, gripping it between his fingers so he almost cuts off my supply of air. I gasp for oxygen, gasp for his hungry kiss, gasp for the throbbing sex between my legs.
In a single moment, I’m gone, my conscience nonexistent. All I need, all I want is in front of me. He’s the problem, but he’s the solution, too. My mind is frenzied as I press my body against his, the mist of lust shadowing my vision.
“Please,” I beg hoarsely and he taunts me by biting my bottom lip fiercely.
“Beg,” he asks, moving away so I whimper, wanting more, wanting it all.
“Please, please,” I repeat, trying to grab him and pull him closer, but he takes my hands in one of his, clutching them tightly so I can’t reach for him.
“Not good enough,” he smirks and I feel it all in that moment, the tension, the lust, the hate between us, the constant competitiveness, the dark desires. This man has been playing with me for the better part of my life and it is only now, after years of hating him, that I realize I crave it.
“I need … you,” I admit, and it breaks me a little to say it out loud. Hurts to think of my mother’s face is she knew what I was doing with my stepbrother. But I don’t care at all, because it feels so damn good. “Fuck me,” I whimper against his shoulder, shaking badly. “Just do it, I can’t … I can’t wait …”
He doesn’t need me asking twice.
Grabbing my ass, he lifts me up like I’m nothing and places me on the kitchen counter. Finally, mercifully, he comes closer, placing his hands on either side of me and grinning in my face, knowing I want him so much I’m trembling. It’s the ultimate defeat, but I’ll regret it all later, I’m sure.
Without touching my body, he leans down and our lips meet again. Heath grinds his mouth against mine, crushing me until I’m nothing but his play thing, and I can’t get enough.
Finally, he touches me, his hand sliding right between my legs and finding me soaked for him. I’m moaning before he even moves my thong to the side. “In,” I plead against his lips. “Put your fingers inside.”
He laughs at me again and stops what he’s doing for a split second so I writhe under his touch, needing so much more. Finally, his finger plunges inside me and all my muscles clench for him. I whisper his name into his mouth over and over again.
More, Heath.
Deeper, Heath, deeper.
Make me come, Heath, please, make me come.
He fucks me with his finger, first one, then sliding another one inside as I moan and gasp against him, our lips locked in the most vicious kiss I’ve ever experienced. It feels like he’s punishing me for all my shortcomings and as my voice gets more and more high pitched, I manage to whisper one thing into his ear.
As soon as I say it, he pulls away and looks at me worriedly. He doesn’t say a thing and I’m too busy enjoying the last remnants of feeling him inside me to notice how the atmosphere has changed.
All of a sudden, he looks away, grabs his coat, and walks briskly to the door as I stare at him in wonder. “Wait!” I yell after him. “Heath, please. I need more …”
The door closes with a thud.
Chapter 10
HEATH
Punish me.
That’s what she said to me, that’s what she wants from her stepbrother.
It’s not love, it’s not even sex. It’s some fucking fantasy of hers that she wants to use me for. Fuck, I’m stupid.
I slide down her front door until I’m sitting on the floor with my head in my hands, trying to stop myself from licking my fingers which smell like her want for me.
I half expect, half hope she’ll open the door to find me waiting for her, but I hear no movement coming from inside.
I sit there for fuck knows how long, thinking of what just happened. Contemplating the fact that I’ve just given into my fantasy, finally had a taste, a feel of her. I thought it would help, or that I wouldn’t want more after she admitted defeat.
What a stupid prick I was.
With each moment that passes, I want her more and more. I think of her on the other side of the door, of her soaked pussy and the way she said my name like it was her salvation. Little doll doesn’t know all I want is to ruin her.
I finally get up from the floor and brush the imaginary dust from my trousers, clearing my throat.
Honestly, I try to leave. I make it to the elevator, but it’s too much and I know I need a release otherwise I’ll do something more fucked up than screwing my stepsister.
So I’ll punish her, if that’s what she wants.
I’ll rough her up, make her tear up, tease her and taunt her.
I’ll do it all for the hope of something
more.
I don’t knock, I just push the door open and stand in the doorway.
She raises her eyes until they meet mine, caught mid-gasp. Her own hand is between her legs, and she’s stripped down to her lingerie and the stockings she wore to work. Her hair is wild, her eyes wilder. She seems me looking and her finger pushes deeper as I watch.
“Stop,” I say angrily and immediately, her hand retreats and she looks at me worriedly.
I make my way to her, lift her off the counter and carry her to the couch, throwing her on it like she’s a ragdoll. I loosen my tie and shrug off my jacket, climbing on top of her as she starts breathing heavily, her hands trying to relieve the pent up pressure again.
“No,” I command and twist both of her hands behind her back. “I do that. Only me.”
She nods eagerly, so lost in her lust she’ll agree with anything.
“Say it,” I force her.
“Only you,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“Only I what?” I demand more.
She moans and arches her back. “Only you get to fuck me.”
I grin widely. “That’s right, pet.”
Chapter 11
TAHLIA
He fucks me like he hates me.
And I love it.
Chapter 12
HEATH
She likes saying my name, a lot.
Her mouth forms in that familiar shape even when no voice comes out.
Chapter 13
TAHLIA
I’m scared he won’t fit, but he’s perfect, perfect, perfect and I can’t stand it for much longer oh fuck –
Chapter 14
HEATH
I don’t let her come first. I fuck her until she’s about to break, and then I come all over her beautiful breasts. I make her clean my cock with her tongue and give her that orgasm she craves with my tongue between her legs.
She’s so far gone.