Chapter Four
? Nicolas ?
I’m fucking pissed.
I’m pissed that Dominic would go behind my back and do something so stupid.
I’m pissed that he recorded Isla.
I’m pissed he came inside her.
But more than all the rest, I’m furious that I loved every second of it.
From the moment he zeroed in on her riding that dick, head back, eyes closed, I was hooked.
I couldn’t stop watching. I was enraptured by the thick coat of arousal pooling across the mirror, the fingers she worked inside her own ass.
The bounce of her breasts, neglected and begging for attention her hands were too busy to give.
But then he tackles her. He shoves her legs wide and attacks her like some deranged animal and she came in his mouth... twice.
I’m mad at both of them.
Him for starting it and her for letting him. For encouraging…
“Cum, Daddy.”
He’s my Daddy!
No. Focus. That’s not the issue right now, but goddamn it.
I reach around and adjust the plug still wedged firmly between my cheeks. The spear-shaped bulb is too wide. It’s making it impossible to sit. I considered taking it out, but it was my pick.
This or putting a baby in Isla.
The latter makes my cock pang with a raw, vengeful need I have to scrub a little harder to calm. Water rushes in the bathroom sink as I clean the newly sated appendage.
But the more I stroke... I mean, wash it, the harder it’s getting in my palm, the more I think of Isla and Dom in that video. The image of them together. The perfect way they fit. The sound of Isla begging…
God, her greedy little pants, the eager way she opened her legs and let him clean her filthy cunt.
“Fuck!”
I shut my eyes and breathe in slow. My dick is at full mast between my fingers.
Coming here was a bad idea.
I dread it every time I see it on the calendar.
But when we are at Mom’s in New Jersey, or Dom’s parents in New York, the entire time, I think about Isla. I picture her here with the clamor of voices overriding hers. The subtle dismissal from Macie. The complete avoidance from Dad. And Uncle Jacob... he’s a different story.
But I can almost see her at the end of the table, fork in hand, digging trenches through her mashed potatoes with the prongs. She’d be a million miles away. Lost in her own thoughts while not a soul remembered she was there.
I shut my eyes and will myself to calm down.
She isn’t my concern. She’s a grown woman.
She doesn’t have to come. But I know why she does.
I know Macie is unforgiving where her daughter is concerned.
But I’m also not blind. I’ve seen the look on Isla’s face when our eyes meet.
I’ve caught the way she watches Dom. I know what she wants.
But life isn’t that simple.
She’s my sister. Not legally or by blood, but I was a grown ass adult when she was still in pigtails. Not a soul alive will listen or believe I never touched her. Never even noticed her before that summer she turned nineteen. She wasn’t even on my radar. I barely knew she existed.
But no one will believe that.
They’ll hear that she was thirteen and I was nineteen and immediately assume the worst. It will ruin any chance I have of becoming a partner at the firm. It would ruin Dom’s life. It would put Isla in the spotlight.
Why destroy all our lives for something that may not last? And it won’t. Isla is a notorious runner. She’ll bolt and that’s worse. I can’t have her only to lose her without warning. The pain of that would devastate me. And if there’s a kid involved?
No.
This is a bad idea. Dom needs to let it go. What happened can’t happen again... unless she’s pregnant. I know it doesn’t happen that fast, but what if Dom put a baby in her?
“Jesus.” Cock forgotten, I bend and splash water on my face. “Okay, calm down,” I tell my pale reflection.
The thought of Isla big and round with our baby warms through my very soul.
It pools in my belly with a surge of excitement trimmed with dread.
The idea is a dream I’ve had for so long, a wish that made my heart hurt for years, but the reality has cold sweat coating my skin.
Panic tightens my chest as I try not to contain it.
She wouldn’t leave a baby, would she? History says yes even while my idiot heart says no. I’ve seen Isla with kids. I’ve seen her at town gatherings and events. I’ve watched her run and play with them like she was one of them. She would be a great mom.
I’m overthinking. I do that thing that drives Dom crazy. I try to control the future by fixing problems that don’t exist. It makes sense in my head, but he says I’m just creating extra stress for myself.
But what if Isla’s pregnant? Would she move to New York? We would need a bigger apartment. Would Isla sleep in our bed? Would she want her own?
What if she doesn’t want the baby? She said she did in the video but that could have been a heat of the moment lapse of judgment. A kink that got her hot.
Dom’s right. I am overthinking. We need to get through the next few days with her. We’ll deal with the rest later.
Macie and Jacob are still in the sitting room when I return. Dad seems to be missing, but I take a moment to examine my childhood home, the stark contrast to how Mom had everything before the divorce.
Macie has a very whimsical taste. While Mom liked order and tidy.
Macie has a love for clutter and shiny. Christmas is particularly chaotic when her millions of glass figurines are clustered together with lights and angel ornaments.
The hand-blown pieces terrify me. They remind me of soap bubbles drifting lazily in a breeze right before popping.
Just being in the same room increases my anxiety.
“Nicky!” Macie pats the cushion next to her and I have to keep my already foul temper in check because logically, this whole thing is her fault.
She said yes when Dad asked her out.
She said yes when he asked her to marry him.
She brought Isla into my life.
It doesn’t matter that my life was fine the first eleven years. I don’t care that Isla is to blame for becoming this beautiful, kind, funny and brilliant woman seemingly overnight. Macie put her in my path and now I don’t know what to do.
I guess, at the moment, I cross the room and sit.
Macie promptly puts a hand on my knee.
“I was just telling Jacob how happy I am to have you and Dominic here this Christmas. I feel like we rarely see you anymore.”
I’ve explained to her that I have a Mom I alternate holidays with. Not to mention Dom has his family. It’s true we can go a couple of years at a time not seeing people just to keep things fair. But she never understands.
“We do our best,” I offer instead.
She purses her lips into a pout. “But this is your home.”
Childhood home, maybe. But Dom and I have our apartment in New York.
Again, no use telling her.
“We still come as often as we can.”
She pats my knee but faces Jacob. “Maybe we can extend the guesthouse and build a small—”
A figure in the doorway interrupts her wild imagination and all heads turn as Isla slips over the threshold. And both my heart and dick immediately spring to life. The latter pushes against the zipper teeth. The pang in my ass increases as I shift and drive it deeper.
She’s clad in a pale, purple tank that clings to her generous breasts, emphasizing the hard halos of her nipples.
There’s a sliver of skin between the hem and the waistline of her white, plaited skirt.
No shoes. Her hair is still damp like in the video, and I can’t stop remembering the strands clinging to her soft skin as she rode my boyfriend’s face.
“Isla! Where have you been?”
Eyes the softest honey gold shift anxiously from her mom to me, then back.
“I just—”
In true Macie fashion, she cuts in. “Come join us. We were just discussing Nicky moving back to Piper Falls.”
Two things happen simultaneously.
One, Macie motions for Isla to sit in the only available spot that isn’t Dad’s armchair... directly next to me. Two, her insane statement rings through the room with such clarity I forget the first.
“Moving back?”
Isla looks to me, searches my face as if trying to get the truth there. I can practically see the cogs spinning as she, too, tries to fathom the likelihood of that happening.
Very unlikely.
While I love Piper Falls and have all my friends and family here, my home is with Dom in New York. Period. I entertain holidays here and keep in touch the best I can, but I will not move back.
Macie skips over the tension collecting through the room and waves her daughter over. “Isn’t it great? Sit.”
I can see the hesitation, the urge to run. Isla is a champion runner. I wouldn’t be surprised if she isn’t already making plans to escape the moment our backs are turned.
I hope not.
I may be upset with her but seeing her is the only reason we even bother putting Dad’s house on the list. She’s the only reason we stay as long as we do. If she leaves, we’re leaving.
But that right there is another reason why this can never work.
I’m not having a baby with someone who still bolts into the night at the first hint of discomfort.
Do I care about her? Absolutely. Probably more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time — Dom excluded.
But she never stays put long enough for me to know her, to understand her logic.
What I do know, the parts of her that I’ve come to deeply care about, aren’t enough.
I need to know her better. Need assurance that she won’t run the first chance she gets.
And that’s just not in her nature.
Carefully, she heads towards me and I’m drawn to the long lines of her legs. The plump muscles of her thighs where I can still just make out the outline of Dom’s fingers where he’d forced her open.
“Is your cunt leaking my Daddy’s cum?” I want to ask.
I want to nuzzle the sweet curve of her neck and smell him on her. I want to shove my fingers between her legs, find her pussy and…
She sits and I inch away.