Stepbrother Needs (His Twisted Game, Book Three) (5 page)

He didn’t say anything, the seconds
ticking by as the silence stretched between us.
 
It felt like we were hovering on the edge of some invisible
cliff, waiting to see which way we were going to get pushed.
 
I wanted whatever he was about to say
to send us over the cliff, to drop us into freefall without any net except each
other.
 

“No,” he said finally.

“No?”
 
I repeated incredulously.

“No, Avery.
 
I can’t, it’s not…” He shook his head.
 
“It’s not right.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore, Cole,” I
said.
 
“I can make my own
decisions.”

“No, you can’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t know what you want,
Avery.
 
You’re fucked up just like
I am.”
 

I recoiled.
 
“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you like
when I tell you what to do, that you like it when I’m rough with you, when I
talk dirty to you and grab you hard.”

I licked my lips.
 
“So?” I said.
 
“You like it, too.”

“Yeah, because I’m fucked up, Avery.
 
I have a need to control.
 
And I’m not going to take advantage of
your weakness.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me.
 
I told you, I want you to.
 
I like it.”

“Stop saying that!” he said.
 
His hands balled into fists, and he
slid over on the bed until he was next to me.
 
He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me toward
him until our foreheads were pushed together.
 
“Stop saying that,” he whispered.

“But it’s true.”

“Do you know how hard it is for me resist
you when you say things like that?” he demanded.
 
“Do you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off
you?”
 
He reached up and pulled the
sheet that was covering my body down, leaving me exposed.

And then he was on top of me again, his
mouth on mine, his hands roaming over me, his fingers exploring as our tongues
touched.

He pulled away from me for a moment, then
pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor.
 
I caught my breath at the sight of his body, so built and
strong and perfect.
 

He stood up and looked down at me.

“Get off the bed,” he said.

I got off the bed and walked over to him,
loving the way he was looking at me, loving the lust that burned in his eyes as
he took in my naked body.

“Get on your knees,” he demanded, and I slid
to the floor, the rough fabric of the carpet burning my knees.
 
Cole reached down and grabbed my chin,
tipping it up so that I was looking right in his eyes.
 
His thumb moved over my bottom lip.

“Please, Cole,” I said, wanting so badly
to please him.
 
“Please, I’ll do
whatever you want.”

He kept his eyes on mine, the look on his
face letting me know he was weighing his options, deciding just what to do with
me.

“Take my dick out,” he said.
 
His voice was husky, all traces of
emotion gone, replaced with nothing but desire.

I grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants,
pulling them down over his muscular thighs.
 
His cock was already hard, and I reached out and grabbed it,
my palm wrapping around his shaft.
 
I loved the feel of him in my hand, loved that he was so big and hard.

But Cole took a step back, moving out of
my reach.

“Did I say you could touch it?”

“No.”

“Put your hands behind your back.”

I did as I was told and put my hands
behind my back, waiting for further instruction.

“Open your mouth.”

I opened my mouth and Cole grabbed his
hard cock and slid it over my tongue.
 
I wrapped my lips around him, but he was so big I was afraid I wasn’t
going to be able to take it.
 
He put
his hand on the back of my head, giving me no choice, and I began sucking him, feeling
him grow rock hard in my mouth.

He reached down and played with my tits,
his hands moving over my nipples.
 
“Fuck, Avery,” he said.
 
“Suck my dick, baby, your mouth feels so good.”

I sucked him, harder and harder, bobbing
up and down, letting him use me for his pleasure.

“Use your hands now.
 
Stroke me while I fuck your mouth.”

I began to stroke him, up and down,
faster and faster.
 
I loved the way
he tasted.

“I’m going to come in your mouth, baby,
don’t stop.”

A second later, I felt him go off in my
mouth, felt him shoot his load down my throat.
 
I sucked it all down, every last drop.
 

He picked me up and carried me to the
bed, threw me down and spread my legs.
 
He didn’t say another word, just went to town on my pussy, eating me out
until I was moaning and writhing on the bed.
 
I was close to coming just from sucking him off, and his
mouth on me sent me back over the edge.
 
A second later, my orgasm ripped through me, the most intense one I’d
ever had, even more intense than the one he’d just given me.

When he was done, he closed his eyes,
like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He stood up and began to get dressed.

His body language was closed off, and I
scrambled to get under the covers, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
 

“What’s wrong?” I asked.
 
“Was
it…
I
mean, was it okay?”

“It was fine, Avery,” he said.
 
But his voice was cold.
 

“Okay,” I said.
 
Disappointment washed over me again.

He was halfway out the door when he
turned around.
 
“Are you okay?” he
asked softly.
 
“Do you need
anything?”

Yes,
for you to hold me the way you did last night, for you to look at me the way
you were looking at me a few minutes ago, for you to love me.

“No,” I said.
 
“I’m good.”

“Good night, Avery.”

“Good night, Cole.”

A second later, he was gone.

And this time, he didn’t come back.

***

My alarm went off the next morning at six,
but I’d been awake all night, tossing and turning.
 
And when I dragged myself into the bathroom and looked at
myself in the mirror, my lack of sleep showed.
 
My eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them.
 
My hair was a rat’s nest, tangled in
clumps around my head, and my cheeks were flushed and blotchy.

I stepped into the shower and shampooed
and conditioned my hair, then went to work with the hair dryer, hoping to make
some inroads.
 
Concealer and
foundation helped a bit, along with the white-and-black checked wrap dress and
black Ralph Lauren pumps I found in the closet.
 
The dress was made of a stretchy material, and it fit me
perfectly, unlike the other things that had seemed too small.

I pulled my hair back into an impression
of the bun I’d seen Kalia wearing last night, hoping I looked
professional.
 
I’d never had a job
like this before, the kind of job you needed to dress up for,
the
kind of job where people might be judging you on how you
looked.

When I got to the kitchen, I expected to
find Cole there, eating breakfast or going over emails.
 
But the apartment was empty.

There was a note on the shiny silver
espresso machine.

Went
in early.
 
Please be at the office
by 8.
 
~Cole

I pulled off the post-it and stared at
it.
 
Cole’s messy handwriting was
familiar, and it made my heart clench.
 
Other than that, though, there was no indication of what we’d done last
night, no indication that we were anything other than boss and employee.

I brewed myself an espresso and poured it
into a travel mug I found under the counter.
 
It was a little early for me to leave for Cole’s office, but
I didn’t want to be late.
 
So I
took the elevator downstairs and headed outside.

The street was filled with people, all of
them rushing off to their jobs or classes or appointments.
 
I fell into step with them, finding a
certain comfort and happiness in the fact that I was a part of it.

When I was a few blocks from Cole’s
office, I realized I was going to be
really
early.
 
I didn’t want to be
late, but I didn’t want to be too early, either.
 
So I ducked into a coffee shop, deciding to buy myself a
muffin to celebrate my first day of work.

It was silly, I knew.
 
It wasn’t like I’d interviewed for this
job, wasn’t like I’d been waiting my whole life for it.
 
I was working for my stepbrother,
hadn’t had to do anything to get the job,
hadn’t
earned it.
 
But I still wanted to
do a good job, still wanted to prove to Cole and myself that I could do well.

I might have gotten the job for no reason
other than my connection, but it was still an assistant job to the CEO of one
of the biggest company’s in New York.
 
If I played my cards right, I could use it to gain experience, maybe
even leverage it into another job somewhere else.
 
This could be my chance to make something of myself, to get
out of New Jersey, to not have to depend on anyone but myself.

I ordered my muffin and sat down at a
table in the corner, paging through an issue of the New York Times someone had
left behind.
 
I sipped my espresso and
ate my muffin, being careful not to get crumbs on my dress.

I was so keyed up and excited about my
first day of work, and about seeing Cole again after what had happened last
night, that
it took me a second to realize that a man
sitting in a booth across the café was staring at me.

When I caught his eye, he looked quickly
down at his phone.
 
He was wearing
beat-up khaki pants and a navy blue hooded sweatshirt, his face weathered from
sun.
 
He was about mid-thirties,
and something about the way he was sitting – hunched over, his legs
spread apart – seemed out of place.

We were in a very expensive part of the
city, and most of the people here were dressed in business attire, on their way
to work.
 
This man seemed like he
didn’t belong, and I didn’t like the way he was staring at me.

Relax,
Avery,
I told
myself.
 
You’re being paranoid.

This whole thing with Gordon was making
me jumpy.
 
There was no reason to
think the man in the coffee shop was looking at me, or following me.
 
He was probably just one of those
creepy men you always heard about that hung out in the city.

Except… I glanced at him quickly out of
the corner of my eye.
 
He had a
mustache, and even though he was wearing a Yankees baseball hat, I could see a
tiny shock of black hair peeking out from underneath.
 

Black hair and a mustache.

Wasn’t that what Graham the doorman had
said about the man who’d shown up at Cole’s building, demanding to be let into
Cole’s apartment?
 
Could it really
be a coincidence that a man fitting that same description was here, now, giving
me a weird feeling?
 
I wondered if
he’d followed me here, if he’d been watching Cole’s apartment building, waiting
for me.

You’re
being crazy, Avery.

Still.

I finished my muffin and left the coffee
shop.

Once I was out on the street, I started
to feel better.
 
There were tons of
people out here – surely if that man really was following me, he wouldn’t
try anything with so many people around.

But as much as I told myself I was being
crazy, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.
 
I turned and looked behind me, just to
make myself feel better.

But the man from the coffee shop was
following me.
 
He was weaving in
and out of the crowd, trying to keep up with me.
 
I quickened my pace, but he quickened his.
 
I crossed to the other side of the
street, and so did he.