Cupid’s Curse (The Wicked Meet Cute)

6. Chapter Six

Skylar

A fter attempting to sleep as long as I could, the relentless dinging of my phone finally drives me to frustration, compelling me to awaken before I was ready. Notifications inundate my phone, each ping pricking my curiosity—I can’t help but wonder what’s fucking happening.

As I sit up, I feel utterly shattered; my body cracks and pops like a creaky old house, making me feel like I’ve aged decades overnight. I knew I would be sore, but this shit is a whole new fucking level of discomfort.

The sun blazes through the window, blinding me—how did I forget to close the blinds? My eyes burn like I’ve been caught in the light of day, as a vampire might. A chilling breeze drifts through the open window, harshly reminding me of still being naked. I wrap a blanket around myself, light a cigarette, and reach for my phone to check the time.

2:34 PM.

Great, I’ve managed to sleep away half the day.

I shrug it off and swipe my phone to life. Tapping on Instagram, my jaw drops at the first image that appears on my feed: over a hundred notifications awaiting me. My stomach knots and a lump forms in my throat as I read the caption on my mother’s post, anger boiling within me.

The picture features her hand, showcasing an enormous engagement ring that steals the spotlight, with the caption that reads, “I said yes!” As I digest the information, shock washes over me, hitting like a fucking brick wall.

He fucking proposed to her? On Valentine’s Day? How incredibly cliché. But what utterly baffles me is their fucking audacity—posting this on social media without telling me first.

Fuming, I immediately navigate to my mother’s profile and hit the block button, then throw my phone across the room in a fit of rage, hoping it shatters upon impact.

It doesn’t. Just my fucking luck.

Knowing I’ll have to face both of them at dinner in a few hours only fuels my anger with every passing second. My mother is fully aware of my temperament; she knows I won’t hold my tongue. She understands that I’m about to unleash a storm of anger on her and Kent, and I'll rip them both a new asshole.

I throw off the blanket and storm out of my room, naked and determined to shower—I need to wash away the remnants of last night’s indiscretions. Ironically, all I can think about are the twins, and now I’m itching to call them more than ever. I need an escape, a release, before dinner so that I can at least partially temper my rage.

Stepping into the shower, I stand beneath the scalding water, allowing it to wash over me while the heat turns my skin red and raw. The water does little to soothe the burning rage simmering beneath my skin. The twins are still on my mind, their faces a hazy memory of last night's tangled limbs and breathless whispers. I scrub harder, the rough washcloth a poor substitute for the raw, visceral anger I feel. Kent. The audacity. My mother, so fucking self-absorbed, so utterly oblivious to the hurt she inflicts. Fucking Valentine's Day. Of all the goddamn days. The cliché is almost more infuriating than the betrayal. Almost .

The hot water finally begins to lose its sting, replaced by a dull ache in my muscles. I turn the tap to cold, the shock jolting me back to the present. I need a plan. A strategy. I can't just unleash a torrent of fury; I need to be calculated, precise. I need to hurt them as much as they've hurt me. The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.

Toweling off, I dress quickly, choosing something sharp and unforgiving—tight black jeans, a tight black crop shirt, and boots that make a satisfying thud on the wooden floor. I need to look the part—the part of the furious daughter—the one who won't be silenced. I glance at my reflection—pale, eyes bloodshot, but there's a glint of something else there, something cold and hard. This isn't just anger anymore; it's something colder, something sharper. Revenge.

I grab my phone; the cracked screen is a testament to my earlier outburst. I don't bother to repair it. Instead, I open my contacts and scroll to the twins' number. This isn't an escape; it's a weapon. A carefully chosen weapon to be wielded with precision. I press call, the ringing a counterpoint to the steady beat of my own heart. This is going to be a long, brutal evening... after I hopefully get my brains fucked out of me first.

Roman answers on the third ring, putting his phone on speaker, his can Kallen's voices a welcome balm to my simmering rage. We exchange breathless greetings, the usual playful banter a thin veil over the underlying tension. I don't mention my mother's engagement, not yet. Instead, I focus on arranging a rendezvous—a pre-dinner meeting that will serve as both distraction and preparation. Their apartment is close, a quick bike ride away. We agree to meet in an hour.

The ride is a blur of angry thoughts and frantic planning. The image of my mother's ring flashes in my mind, a constant reminder of the betrayal. I clench my fists, knuckles turning white. Parking my bike, I climb off, strutting my way up the path to the door of the complex. Of course, the twins are waiting for me at the door.

"Look who couldn't stay away," Roman jokes, flashing me the same wink he kept giving me last night.

"Fuck off, I'm just here for one thing," I snap, giving both of them a sultry look that needs no other explanation.

"Fuck, Skylar, you're looking fine, pretty girl," Kallen says, taking in my tight, black outfit, completely inappropriate for a dinner with my mother, her boyfriend, and his kids, but that was the whole point.

"Oh, this old thing," I tease, finishing my cigarette before following them inside.

The twins' apartment is a haven of controlled chaos, a familiar comfort in the midst of my turmoil. We drink, we smoke, we talk—mostly them about how they're liking it here since they moved. When my turn comes around, they listen intently as I pour out my fury without telling them the full nature of my anger, my voice rising and falling with the tide of my emotions. They offer words of comfort, but mostly they just listen, their presence a silent affirmation of my pain. Their understanding is a lifeline, a temporary reprieve from the storm raging inside me.

"What can we do?" Roman asks, handing me a beer that I accept gratefully.

"Fuck me like you did last night," I admit, hoping they're wanting it as much as I am.

"Say no more," Kallen says, standing up and facing me as I lean my back against the balcony.

He tugs my waistband, jerking me toward him as we back up to the glass door. He pushes my pants down and takes them all the way off, lifting me into his arms as he places his back against the door, my legs wrapping around his waist.

Roman gets behind me, unlike last night when his brother was. Their zippers lower in unison, and their pants come down to their knees. Roman holds me, my back resting against his chest while my legs still lock around Kallen's waist. Each of them takes turns kissing me, my head being jerked from all sides to accommodate their kisses.

Kallen enters me first, using his knees to thrust up into my pussy, fucking me gently while I lean against Roman for leverage. He kisses my neck, not shy about leaving dark bite marks behind, looking like hickey central—even fucking better for tonight.

After Kallen fucks me with a few deep, dominating thrusts, he pulls out of me, and Roman slips in from behind, slightly pushing me forward against his brother to get a better angle. They leave my ass alone and take turns fucking my pussy, leaving me whimpering each time one of them pulls out and then moaning every time one of them thrusts back in.

My pussy is on fire, soaked and needy like its never been before. I cling to Kallen's shoulder with one hand while I grip the back of Roman's neck, refusing to let either of them go. I bounce on their cocks while in their arms, the fear of being dropped not a worry in my mind.

My skin is covered in wetness from their incessant kisses, bite marks, and bruises decorating my neck and chest, a testament to their insatiable hunger.

"Yes, fuck, yes," I moan loudly, coming on Kallen's cock as he fills me with his.

Before I can finish, he slides out of me and Roman slides in, letting me finish showering his cock with my cum as he takes his turn and empties himself inside of me too. Much like last night, I have both of their seeds inside of me, and they both have mine coating their dicks. It's become normal now, in just two encounters, but it's something that I can't seem to walk away from.

If fucking twin brothers categorize me as a slut, then I'm the biggest slut there is, and I could give two flying fucks about it.

By the time we're done, spent, satisfied, and completely empty, the sun has fully set and the night chill sweeps across our half-naked bodies, urging us to get dressed quicker. We sit on the balcony, smoking a blunt that we pass back and forth, nothing but the bustling city floating between us. I'm all talked out, all fucked out, fully satiated.

A quick glance at the time and my stomach sinks, knowing I have to head out to make it to dinner on time.

"Fuck, I gotta get going," I mumble, sighing heavily.

"Yeah, we're gonna head out too. But hey, I was serious; if you need us to come get you out of there, all you have to do is call, Night Rider," Roman says, winking, giving me another kiss that almost makes me change my mind about going.

A chilling calm descends. The initial fire of rage has been tempered, replaced by a cold, calculating determination. The twins, sensing the shift, exchange a knowing glance.

"Call or text us if you need anything, especially if you can't take it and need one of us to pick you up," Kallen says, kissing me on the cheek while his brother kisses my other one.

"I will. If you don't hear from me, I'm probably in jail for beating the shit out of my mother." I wink, smirking deadly as they walk me to my bike.

I swing my leg over the seat, put my helmet on, and start my bike, giving them one last look before speeding away, the familiar hum and vibrations putting my anxiety at ease.

But it isn't going to last for long.

I opted for the longest route to the restaurant, relishing the thought of annoying my mother by being late. I also needed to calm my fucking nerves, and riding my bike is the only remedy for that—well, aside from the extra Xanax I’ve already taken today.

When I finally arrive—thirty minutes late—I feel a surprising sense of relief from the ride. Reluctantly, I dismount, adjusting my outfit to expose as much skin as possible without appearing completely nude.

Strutting into the restaurant, I can’t help but beam with a freshly fucked glow on my face, a wide grin giving away my stoned state. It’s the only fucking way I can endure this dinner without losing complete control—and even then, I can’t make any fucking promises.

As I make my way through the bustling crowd, I hear my mother’s laughter ring out from across the room, a sound that grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. The closer I get, the more anxious I become, eventually glancing up to spot her enormous ring before anything else.

I shake my head as I approach the table, where she and Kent are seated, his sons with their backs to me. For a moment, I forget they’d be joining us tonight, too wrapped up in the surprise engagement and the fact that no one had thought to inform me.

“Skylar, you’re nearly forty-five minutes late,” my mother says, shooting me a look that used to make me shit my pants when I was younger.

But it doesn’t have the same impact anymore.

“Sweetheart, just be glad she made it at all,” Kent chimes in, flashing me a smile reminiscent of the one my mother fell for—a familiar grin that eludes my memory.

“Lucky for you, I even fucking showed up,” I retort, snapping at her, accidentally grabbing the attention of the two quiet guys across from them.

As they turn to face me, my heart sinks and my jaw drops; I’m frozen in place, struggling to find my voice, utterly fucking bewildered.

“Ah, Skylar, I’d like you to meet my sons,” Kent cheerfully announces, and my gaze locks onto those two sets of striking green eyes that seem to cut right through me. “They’re twins—Kallen and Roman.”

Of course, Kallen winks at me, a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes that leaves me speechless. Roman appears shy but happy, a contrast to Kallen’s boldness.

Kallen rises and sits in the seat next to him, encouraging me to sit between him and Roman.

“Come on, Skylar, get to know your new stepbrothers.” My mother smirks, sipping her wine slowly as she observes my reaction.

My new stepbrothers... my twin stepbrothers. The same fucking twins I spent the last two nights tangled up with in ways that send a flush to my cheeks just thinking about it. What on earth did I do to fucking deserve this? It feels as if Cupid has a personal fucking vendetta against me—or perhaps someone up there enjoys this chaotic twist of fate. Why else would this shit be happening?

I sit down, holding my breath for what's to come. I have no idea how things are going to go from here, but knowing that I've been fucking my stepbrothers, I can only assume shit is going to be awkward. Right?