I can't seriously fuck her. Can I?
I don't know, but my cock doesn't give a shit. The flesh knows what it wants. It doesn't understand boundaries or taboos or complications. Only mad, hawkish desire.
She can't slip away. Sure, I'm too disciplined to ever do something stupid, too hardened to ever see her as anything but a rich girl with a killer body.
But I can't ignore her. Can't pretend she doesn't make me burn. Fuck it.
I decide then and there I'm having some fun with her one way or another. If it doesn't end with us tangled up in the sheets, listening as she begs for my come, then I can sure as hell tease her 'til she cries.
The longest summer of my life just started, and Delia's gonna help me blow off some steam.
I have to know her. I have to unravel her. And if I don't end up between her legs again, giving it to her harder and better than anyone else ever can, then I'll sure as fuck tease her like nobody ever has.
III: Truth or Dare (Delia)
It's late. I'm laying in bed, flipping tensely at my phone, playing stupid games and texting a few friends.
I can't do anything serious after that disaster of a dinner. Poor dad dragged Evie straight to bed after Chris exploded and left, leaving my jaw hanging on the floor for about the third time today.
I don't know how I let him touch me without flipping out. The hug in front of our parents was bad enough, his hand gliding down my back and the not-so-subtle bump in his hips.
My stepbrother. My arrogant, demanding, sinfully sexy stepbrother.
What are the odds? What had I done to piss the universe off so badly?
His greeting hurt as much as it set me on fire. It was nothing but a reminder of what we'd lost by fate screwing us over like this.
Of course, the way he carried on, it's like he doesn't even know how badly screwed we are.
I think about his hand underneath the table, riding up my skirt, clenching my thigh. His touch was so rough, so rude, so tempting.
He paralyzed me. I'm still not sure what was worse – my urge to jam a fork in his face, or let his fingers go higher.
Jesus. I can't do this. I'm the only one who knows he's still in the house too. An hour ago, I heard him banging around behind my wall, throwing something heavy into a metal trashcan in his room.
Why Evie decided to set his room up next to mine, I'll never know. This house has at least six more empty guest rooms, and any one of them could've been ours, nice and private.
My fingers keep rolling across the screen, returning to his number. It hurts to see it now, like the entire world keeps razzing me in his digits, telling me I'm an idiot to let a stranger into my pants last night.
I should've been texting him around this time to tell him to pick me up. In some alternate universe where dad hadn't gotten hitched to his mom, maybe I was.
In this one, all I can do is stare sadly at the screen, fighting the savage urge to send him a text anyway.#p#分页标题#e#
But I can't. There's nothing to say, logically. It's not hard to imagine how it would sound.
Oh, hi, Chris, sorry about dinner. Sorry your mom's a big bitch and my dad hangs on her every word. Sorry that I'll never be able to feel your lips on mine again.
Sorry I didn't slap you across the face when you put your hands where they don't belong.
Ugh. I want to hurl my phone against the wall, slam it into the matching metal trashcan I've got in my room, right next to my dresser.
Night sounds keep filtering through my cracked door. When I hear the whoosh, I think it's just a sudden breeze, but it's odd how it doesn't blow the clothes hanging out in my closet, where I've left the door open.
When I feel the rough hand tugging at my shoulder, my first instinct is to scream. Chris flips me over, throwing his other hand against my mouth, preventing the shock from ever leaving me.
“Don't. I didn't mean to sneak up on you, babe, but we gotta talk. Roll over.”
He doesn't ask me again. He keeps his hand tight across my mouth as he crashes into bed next to me, pulling me tight to his chest. His palm doesn't leave my lips until he feels my mouth completely shut.
As soon as he lets me go, I rip myself away and jump out of bed, staring at him in disbelief. The door's wide open now, and so is the screen.
“What the hell are you doing!?” It's a struggle to keep my voice low.
I watch him put a stern finger over his lips, and that infuriates me even more.
I want to scream bloody murder. Instead, I stomp over to the door he's just slipped through, and take a quick look out before shutting the screen.
“Seriously, what did you do? Climb a tree? Jump to my balcony from yours? Jesus, we're like twenty or thirty feet off the ground!”
He gives me a blank look and shrugs. “I had to talk to you after what happened down there tonight. Come sit, sis.”
His big hand pats the empty spot next to him. Snorting, I shake my head, feeling a strange rush of heat as the last word echoes in my ear. I'm not sure if sis is supposed to piss me off with its sarcasm, or remind me there's something broken in my head.