24. Briggs
24
brIGGS
A t first, I don’t know why I can’t roll over. There’s something weighing me down.
When I open my eyes, I realize what it is. Wren is unconscious, plastered to my side with an arm thrown over my chest and her leg draped over mine. She’s breathing softly, and I have to wonder what she’s dreaming about. Is it something good? Does she escape from the shit in her life while she’s asleep, maybe dreaming about something better?
There’s one thing I have to admit as I carefully pry her off me: it’s actually kind of nice, waking up with somebody. Even if she is still asleep. Her brown locks fan across the pillow and frame her face, and there’s a second where I can see myself leaning down to kiss her.
I must still be half asleep. Shaking my head at myself, I remember Tia and waste no time getting out of bed. Is she still feverish? If she is, what do I do? It’s been a few hours since I gave her the medicine. She won’t be due for another dose until morning. All I can do is cross my fingers while pulling on a pair of pajama pants, then sneaking out of the room before Wren wakes up.
My heart is in my throat as I creep into Tia’s room. She’s just the way I left her, fast asleep. I touch the back of my hand to her forehead and release a sigh of relief. Her skin is cool now. Thank God. I don’t normally pray, but this is worth offering up a little gratitude.
Closing my eyes, I release a shaky breath. It’s like another crisis was averted—I don’t know how I would’ve handled it if she was still sick. It’s already bad enough having to bring Wren here, and Dad being the way he is. What would happen if I announced to him we were taking her to an emergency clinic? All hell would break loose.
Once I’m sure she’s okay, I leave the room, then start back down the hall. I’m fucking exhausted. Worrying about Tia will do that to me. I’ve only slept on and off the past few hours, the sort of sleep filled with bad dreams, with everything all mixed up. Now, I might be able to actually sleep for a little while. At least until Tia is up and needs me.
My hand closes around the doorknob when a sound coming from downstairs stops me before I turn it. Glass striking glass, clinking loudly. He’s muttering to himself down there, probably clumsy and awkward now that he’s drunk himself into oblivion again. I assumed he would’ve passed out by now, slumped over his desk or sprawled out on the sofa like I’ve found him in the past.
“Shit!” Something hits the floor and breaks.
Son of a bitch . Do I stay up here, or do I let him destroy the whole fucking house? All I need is for Tia to wake up and go downstairs and find him dead in a pool of his own blood. He’s his own worst enemy.
With a sigh, I start down the stairs, listening hard for an idea of where he is. It doesn’t take long for me to pinpoint his location once he stumbles out of the living room, muttering, cursing about a broom. When he sees me, he stops, blinking hard to bring me into focus. “We still have things to talk about,” he tells me, pointing a finger in my direction like I’m supposed to be intimidated or something. Like I take anything he says seriously. I wonder what it would be like having a father I could respect.
“I didn’t come down here to talk to you,” I tell him. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t cut an artery or something. With all that alcohol in your blood, it’s thin. You would bleed out faster.” I can’t pretend the idea doesn’t sound pretty good as I start to turn around, planning on going back to bed.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” he demands, slurring his words, glaring up at me.
“It’s not the time to be talking about it, okay?” I start up the stairs again. “Why don’t you sleep it off, and we’ll actually talk later?” Not that I plan to. He can get fucked as far as I’m concerned. I doubt he’ll remember anything about this conversation once the booze wears off.
“I want her out of here,” he insists. “She does not belong here.”
I decide that, not him. Turning, I slowly descend. He had his chance to get out of this without a fight, but he couldn’t let it go. He never can. “How do you even know who she is?” I ask, staring at him every step of the way.
“Are you kidding?” he scoffs. “She looks exactly like her mother. There’s only one person she could be. I don’t want her here,” he tells me again, pointing up the stairs. “Get her the fuck out of this house.”
“Oh, so you don’t think she’s worthy of being here,” I growl, “but you got her into school with me? You had the headmaster get her in on a free ride. So which is it? Is she scum, or do you care about her education?”
His bloodshot eyes bulge, and he backs up a few paces. “How dare you question the things I do?”
To hell with making sure nobody wakes up. A laugh bursts out of me and bounces off the tiled floor and high ceilings. “Is that supposed to be a joke?” I ask before laughing again. “Look at you. Standing here, acting like you have your shit together when we both know you don’t. Like you have any authority.”
“I am still your father.”
“You mean my sperm donor, which is the most I can say for you when you’re like this—and you’re always like this,” I remind him. “So, there you go.”
“Someday, you’re going to regret talking to me that way.”
“Yeah, sure. Let me know when that day comes so I can prepare.” I’m sick to death of this whole conversation. I’m sick of looking at him, sick of sharing his last name. Every time I see him, I see Mom. I think about how betrayed she must’ve felt. How much pain does a person need to be in to decide it’s not worth living anymore? The question is still on my mind as I march back upstairs, ignoring the things he mutters under his breath. The bedroom is my escape. I can close the door on him, block him out.
Wren is still out cold, lying on her back, the way I left her. Her face is turned toward the window, one hand up on the pillow next to her face. He is desperate to get her out of his house, but he pulled strings to get her into my school. I can’t figure it out. Then again, there’s no figuring him out. I’m wasting my time if I try.
She stirs when I slide into bed again, though I tried to be careful. “Is Tia all right?” she asks in a sleepy voice with her eyes still closed.
She cares. She really cares. I don’t know why that’s so surprising. Maybe I’m not used to anybody caring when there’s nothing in it for them. It’s totally foreign to me.
“She’s better.” When Wren curls up against me, tucking her head under my chin, I can’t help but close my arms around her. There’s something nice about it, and when was the last time there was anything nice in my life besides my sister?
“I’m glad. She’s a sweet kid.” She squirms, wiggling until we are as close as can be without sharing the same body. Pressed together with her breath on my neck and her heart beating against my chest. Something in me loosens, relaxes. For the first time in forever, I can relax without taking a massive amount of weed.
“Did I hear you downstairs?” she mumbles after yawning.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper. Dad didn’t even ask about Tia, but she did. After everything I’ve done to her and everything she went through before that, living in that shitty apartment, having the kind of mother whose reputation is known all around town. She still cares.
I pull my head back to look down at her. Like I need to make sure she’s real, like I’m not dreaming her up. How can she put up with the shit I do to her and still cuddle like this?
Her eyes open once she tips her head back, gazing at me. I forget to breathe for a second while a hand closes around my heart and squeezes. Only Tia ever makes that happen, but here I am, with the same pressure in my chest as I lower my head and do the only thing that feels right.
Her lips are warm, plump, juicy. They part under mine and a sweet sigh escapes, turning to a moan when my tongue strokes hers. Something surges between us, pulling us closer together, heat building out of nowhere as I kiss her slowly, claiming her mouth. While I try to figure out what makes her who she is. She didn’t let all the hatred shut her down and turn her cold and hard.
Hard like my dick, which can’t help but respond to the way she keeps wiggling against me. She is warm, alive, very real, and she melts against me once I start stroking her back. Every stroke takes me a little lower until my hand caresses her ass.
She sucks in a breath, then moans softly against my neck. Her body moves again, but there’s something sensual about it now. Like she’s waking up to me. Because she can’t help herself—that’s what my touch does to her.
And this is what she does to me. She makes me grind against her and probe her pussy with my fingers. So wet, hot. She gasps when I find her clit and tease it in slow circles. The high-pitched, helpless noises she makes and the way she moves against me steal my breath and make my cock go harder than ever until it’s dripping in my pants. Her juices already coat my fingers by the time I work one, then two up inside her, pumping them in and out in a slow rhythm that makes her whimper and writhe.
Neither of us says another word. We don’t have to. It’s enough for me to roll onto my back and pull my waistband down until my cock is free, swaying a little, glistening at the tip. She seems a little confused, so I help her, pulling her on top of me, probing her tight hole until she’s shaking. I’m shaking, too, because nothing matters now but being inside her. I can forget everything when I’m inside her.
She gasps when my wide head breaches her entrance, closing her eyes while a whole range of emotions wash over her face. I can’t take my eyes off her as she lowers herself to my base, sighing sweetly once she settles in. “Ride me,” I growl, holding her hips, pressing my fingers against her creamy flesh. She’s so fucking tight, gripping me from base to tip, and the urge to come is almost too much to resist. “Come on my cock.”
With her hands on my chest, she starts to move, rocking her hips, grinding her clit against my base. Fuck, I could watch this for hours, the way she loses herself. Her eyes close and her head falls back before soft moans fill the air. She’s like a wet dream come to life, totally losing herself while she rides my cock.
I reach up and take off her shirt to palm her tits, playing with them while she moves faster, grinding harder. Her teeth sink into her lip as she starts to whimper. “Feel good?” I thumb her nipples until she whines and loses her rhythm, frantically fucking me. “Keep going. Make yourself come,” I urge, looking between us and watching my cock disappear inside her.
“I’m… I’m… oh, my god!” She throws her head back, her back arched, while her pussy clenches tight around me before the muscle starts to flutter. The urge to let go is stronger than ever. I have to grind my teeth and ride it out until she falls against my chest, breathless and shaking.
“Good girl,” I whisper before lifting her off me and rolling her onto her stomach. She is still so out of it, she barely knows what’s happening, until I’m lined up with her pulsing hole again.
This time, I slam myself home, making her yelp into the pillow under her face. “Shh…” I urge with one hand against her upper back, holding her down, while I grip her hip with the other hand.
And then I take what I need. Hard and fast. The sounds of her muffled gasps are drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears. I drive her into the mattress with every quick stroke. Faster, faster. Wet, sloppy sounds fill the air with every slap of our bodies together, and I feel the rush coming while she tightens around me again like she wants to snap my dick off. “Yeah, come for me again,” I grunt. She moans into the pillow before her juices rush over me, dripping onto the sheets under her.
“Don’t come inside of me!” Wren whines when my thrusts become erratic. I almost tell her to fuck off and spill inside of her, but I have been taking the risk of pregnancy one too many times now.
I pull out with barely enough time for a couple of quick strokes from my fist before the pressure releases and my cum splashes across her ass. Another spurt, another, until her cheeks are painted, and I feel renewed. Clear-headed. At peace. For the first time in forever.
She lies still while I clean her with a washcloth from my bathroom, not moving until I collapse next to her. She snuggles up against me with her back to my chest, the little spoon to my bigger one. I’m smiling to myself a little as I wind an arm around her and pull her close, letting myself drift off for real. This time, there are no bad dreams.