Chapter Ten
Maggie
The next morning, Bridgette floats down the stairs in her pink and white matching sleep set like the fairy fucking princess she is. I swear to god, she is the biggest girly girl I’ve ever met. When she aims that sweet smile at me, though, I can’t help but tolerate it, maybe even like it a little.
Almost as soon as Bridgette finished yesterday, a knock from the door came. She righted her clothes and jumped to her feet to find Brad wondering what was taking me so long. Bridgette gave him a pitying look as she shook her head.
“She’s been puking nonstop for the last five minutes. I don’t think your little fantasy is coming true tonight.”
For added effect, I made exaggerated retching noises that apparently had Brad wrinkling his nose in disgust and stomping off. I don’t think he was sad for long because three minutes later, we heard the sound of a headboard hitting the wall and moaning from two guys and a girl. Looks like he got his threesome, just with a little more sausage than he accounted for.
Bridgette and I laughed before cuddling up to watch a movie. We didn’t go past that, and honestly, it was kinda nice to just be with her. We went from not being able to stand each other to fucking around. We didn’t really take a moment to become friends or even friendly, really. Not that I make that a point when I’m hooking up with someone, but this is different…she is different. That sounds cliché as fuck, but it’s true. I’ve never just taken a single look at someone, and it caused my chest to tighten. I’ve never had my skin tingle and spark from a single touch. It’s like I can feel it more than put into words how Bridgette is different. Again, cliché as fuck.
I’m making a frittata when Bridgette prances her cute little ass in front of me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I try to hide my smile as I face the stove, but I fail epically.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Morning,” she murmurs against my t-shirt covered shoulder.
“Did you sleep okay?”
She nods. “I was…sad you weren’t there when I woke up.”
There is a timidness to her tone. Like she’s embarrassed to admit it, or unsure. Hey, I totally get it. Coming out even to yourself is scary and hard, especially when you’ve had yourself convinced your entire life that you feel one way before those feelings start to change. I also know that it’s a process that can’t be guided or pushed. She needs to figure out her shit on her own, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be within arms reach to offer whatever kind of support I can.
“Yeah?” I ask, taking the pan off the stove and turning around.
My arms snake around her waist as I slowly begin backing her up.
“You missed me, baby B?” I tease.
Bridgette looks at me like she’s going to argue before she pouts.
“I like cuddling with you. You’re soft and warm and?—”
“Aww, I think someone is catching feelings,” I say, testing the waters as her ass hits the kitchen island.
Defense is the first emotion that springs to her eyes. Surprisingly, though, it isn’t the one that remains. Bashfulness, if I’m not mistaken, is all I see in this moment.
Ducking her head, she shrugs her shoulders as I lift her chin up to look at me.
“Hey, don’t hide from me. I was just making you breakfast, baby. Next time, I’ll stay in bed with you for as long as you want, okay?”
Those beautiful fucking blue eyes come back to me, and she bites her lower lip softly before nodding. I can’t help but feel infinitely jealous of her perfect teeth sinking into my lip. So, I stake my claim.
Pressing my lips to hers, I nip at her lip, freeing it from her hold before sucking it into my mouth. My tongue runs over it to soothe the sting before I’m biting and pulling on her again. She moans into my mouth, her arms winding around my neck as I lift her onto the island. I’m only an inch or so taller than her, so she has to bend down significantly to meet my lips, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
I feel her legs wrap around me, grinding her pussy against me as her fingers tangle in my hair before moving down to my breasts. Her hands slip underneath my oversized tee before palming one of my breasts in her hands. She loves playing with my tits almost as much as I love her playing with them.
“Maybe we should go back to bed now,” Bridgette smiles against me, and I’m ready to carry her featherlight ass to bed until we hear the front door opening.
Brad left to go home with Rain last night and it’s only seven in the morning. There is no way that motherfucker is back yet, which can only mean one thing. Bridgette and I break apart, our eyes widening before we leap away from each other. I turn to face the stove and Bridgette perches herself on the edge of the counter when my mother and her father walk in.
“Daddy!” she says as she hops down and hurries over to him. “You’re home early.”
He greets her with a hug and a kiss to the cheek. “Had to cut the honeymoon short.”
“That’s an understatement,” my mother bites.
Harry shoots her a look that has her cowering before his eyes set on me.
“Hello, Margret.”
“Hello, Mr. Brenton.” I nod as I slice the frittata into pieces.
“Oh please, none of that. We’re family now. You can call me Harry or Dad if you’d like.”
A sharp pang followed by a rolling of my stomach hits me at his words, and it takes everything in me not to sneer at him.
“Harry it is,” I respond.
He purses his lips like he doesn’t like the choice I made before moving towards the hallway, a briefcase in hand.
“I need to make some calls. No one disturb me. I’ve instructed the chef to return early. He will have dinner ready at six o’clock sharp.”
With that, an office door opens and shuts, the final rule of the house being hammered home. Bridgette’s eyes linger in his direction for a second longer before they come to my mother.
“Calista, how was your trip?” she asks with a polite smile.
“It was wonderful until we got called back here. Apparently there is something that Putnam needs to discuss with him,” she says, a bitterness to her tone.
“Well, Christopher Putnam is the head of the Brethren. He says jump, we say ‘yes master,’” I snark as I carry two plates to the kitchen island.
My mother purses her lips, or at least she tries to. The woman has had so much work done to her face I don’t think she has much, if any, function left in it.
“Don’t be a smartass, Margret,” she scolds.
“It’s Maggie,” I huff.
“No, trust me. It’s Margret. I was there, I signed the birth certificate. I will not tolerate you butchering the beautiful name I hand selected for you.”
I roll my eyes as I sit down and stab a piece of egg harder than I need to before popping it into my mouth.
Lifting her sunglasses up onto her forehead, she crosses her arms as she looks at me.
“Have you been behaving? Getting into trouble?” She tests before turning to Bridgette. “You’re a good girl. Has my daughter been a bother?”
I scoff as Bridgette answers.
“She’s a little snarky, but she’s been fine.”
I can hear the teasing tone in Bridgette’s voice that has me smirking, but clearly it goes over my mother’s head because irritation fills her features.
“Of course she was. Got it from her father. He was always so petulant when things didn’t go his way.”
Anger flares inside me at the mention of my father. Here I thought she just forgot all about him. She certainly made it seem that way, at least.
“Have you been…seeing anyone?” my mother asks hesitantly, like she’s afraid to know.
I came out to my parents when I was eleven, despite knowing for so much longer. My father was stoic as he processed, but eventually told me he’d always love me. My mother, on the other hand, was outraged. She was hysterical for days. She begged my father to send me away to a conversion camp, but thank fuck, he put his foot down. Despite being accepting of me, my father did tell me that my ‘lifestyle’ was not accepted in our society and that one day I would have to marry. A man, that is.
I was heartbroken at the thought of never being able to marry for love, but over the years, I began to see the bigger picture. No one in the Brethren marries for love. It’s all about advantages, connections, power. It’s about tying yourself to the person and or family that will benefit you the most, keep you the safest. Ensure you don’t end up on the Elder’s bad side.
Regardless of me being somewhat accepting of my fate, the idea of me with women turns my mother’s stomach. So, naturally, I try to bring as many women over as possible to fuck with her.
“A few here and there. The neighbor Tatiana is just a sweetheart,” I say with a salacious smirk that I can see makes my mother physically ill.
“The Bailey’s are a nice family. I can’t imagine their daughter would…spend time with you,” my mother argues.
“Trust me, we spent a lot of time together. Mostly while she was on her back.”
A sound of irritation comes from Bridgette, and when I look at her, I see that she’s furious. I’ll have some making up to do later, that’s for sure, but right now it’s too much fun to wind up my mother.
She hisses as she stomps over to me, pinching my cheeks together like when I was a child and speaking in a rushed whisper.
“No more talk like that! Do you hear me? If Harry finds out I have an abomination for a daughter, he may very well kick us both out, and you will not ruin this for me. Do you understand?”
My jaw is tense, and my cheeks burn as her fake nails dig into my skin. I do my best to remain poised despite her words stabbing me through the heart. I don’t care how awful your parent is, how evil they may be, to hear your own mother refer to you as an abomination so casually, so carelessly. It fucking hurts.
I give her a terse nod and she releases me in a flash, shooting Bridgette with a pleasant smile.
“Sweetheart, do you think we could keep your stepsister’s…indiscretion to ourselves? No need to involve your father, right?”
Those ice blue eyes dart between me and my mother before she nods slowly. My mother smiles, a genuine smile as she pats Bridgette’s cheek condescendingly.
“Such a good girl. I’m going to lay down for a while, jet lag. Let’s do a spa day, just you and me,” she says, shooting a poisonous look at me before swishing her hips all the way up the stairs.
When the sound of her door opening and closing echoes through the house, Bridgette moves to the seat beside me, picking up a fork as she begins to eat the now cold breakfast. We eat in silence for a few moments before I turn to face her.
“You wanted to know what my mother was like. There you go.” I laugh bitterly.
Bridgette frowns before reaching her hand under the table, lacing her fingers with mine.
“I’m sorry, Maggie.”
I squeeze her hand and give her a tight smile.
“It’s fine, baby B. Reality had to come knocking eventually.”
Her eyes move to the hallway her dad disappeared down.
“Yeah.”