Chapter 23
inside thoughts
Elias
Saige and the guys don't come home until late Sunday evening.
I don't even know how to pretend it doesn't piss me off—not when I barely fucking slept and spent the entire day going through Saige's shit again, vacillating between this insufferable fucking longing, deep-seated resentment, and pure fucking rage.
You know what? I don't even care anymore.
I want to fuck my stepsister. I want her needy and screaming beneath me.
I want my hand wrapped around her throat, and I want to leave bruises all over her body.
And then, I want her to cling to me like I'm her fucking salvation, and she's helpless without me.
Saige is mine—she always has been. I broke her, and I get to fucking keep her. It's time she fucking realizes that, too.
They're laughing when they come in through the garage door, and I'm just here, sitting in the dark watching hockey alone and feeling sorry for myself.
How the fuck did I become a person who feels sorry for himself? It scares me in a way—feeling like this. I don't want to get sick like my mom did.
Sometimes, I think I already am.
"Where have you guys been?" I ask.
"Princess wanted to get out of the house," Dax says.
As far as responses go, it seems simple enough, but everything about that sentence was carefully curated to piss me off. Saige was never supposed to be Dax's princess. And by get out of the house, he means get away from me.
Nolan sits beside me on the couch, and Dax sits in the chair across from me, pulling Saige onto his lap.
Again, it feels intentional and unnecessary.
I get it—whatever I said to Saige didn't seem to matter.
I need to get him to back the fuck off. "We stayed the night at my place and then spent the rest of the afternoon in Vancouver. "
"That's really cute," I tell him, looking at Saige instead, who sinks into his side, uncomfortable under my gaze. My eyes drop to her bruised wrists, and she notices, pulling her sleeves down before folding her arms in front of her chest.
That has Nolan written all over it. On a visceral level, I like it.
It makes my dick hard. I bet she looks beautiful and pathetic, just like I like her, handcuffed to the bed, getting fucked senseless.
But they weren't supposed to fucking like each other.
He's not supposed to kiss her and tell her all our goddamn secrets.
There's a power shift happening. I'm just glad she's too fucked up to have realized it yet. Still, my window to take control of the situation is closing, too.
"Um, I emailed you my psych assignment," she says weakly.
"Yeah, I got it."
"Who's winning?" Nolan asks.
"Flames," I grumble.
"I'm tired. I think I'm going to go take a shower and lie down—maybe read for a while," Saige says.
Before she gets up, Dax kisses her and makes it a whole fucking display, gripping her ass, biting her lip hard enough to make her yelp.
I'm surprised I don't crush the glass bottle in my hand.
She says I'm cold, and it serves as a warning, but Dax is warm. How do I act like that?
"See you later, baby," he says as she walks away.
"Night, Saige," Nolan says.
"Good night."
She walks to her bedroom first, getting clothes to take with her to the bathroom. I can tell Dax wants to say something, but he waits until the shower turns on.
"We're good, right?" Dax asks. "No hard feelings about you trying to turn Saige against me; you won't do it again, blah blah blah."
"I don't think that's what I did. I just…enjoy tormenting her."
"It's kind of what you did. What do you think, Nolan?"
"I think I have some homework I need to finish up, too," Nolan says. "I'll see you guys in the morning."
I sigh, turning my attention back to the television, and he leaves us alone in the living room. "Dude, did you see that block? That was sick."
"Why are you trying to change the subject?"
"I don't want to fight with you," I tell him. "You're my best friend. It seems pretty fucking stupid for us to fight over some girl, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I do."
"There's no point, really. I mean, we've shared girls before. It shouldn't matter to you if I want to fuck Saige, right?"
"Um…you want to fuck Saige? Since when?"
"I don't know. Since now. I'm being honest about it, like you asked. You said you would help me if I wanted."
"Yeah…I guess if you need to get it out of your system; I get that."
"While we're being honest, I don't know if I'll be able to get it out of my system that easily. Hurting her is the only thing that makes me come. I think I want her for myself."
His jaw flexes. I watch the wheels turn in his head. He doesn't like that idea very much, but aside from not wanting to fight with me on this, monogamous and possessive aren't really Dax's nature. And he's worked too hard to construct his persona just to watch it unravel now.
He knows it would make him weak. That's the last thing either of us would ever want to be.
"I don't think it'll work," he says, chuckling like he thinks it's a joke, but we both know I'm dead fucking serious. "She really fucking hates your ass."
"I don't know; I got pretty close the other night."
"What do you mean? How close?"
"What does it matter? You just said you wouldn't mind sharing her. You're not in love with her or something, are you?"
He scoffs before scratching the back of his neck.
"No, but Nolan and I are very much enjoying our time with little sis.
You're like a brother to me; I said I didn't mind sharing, but I didn't say you could have her.
That's being a little greedy, isn't it? Especially when we all helped get rid of that body—which benefitted both of you—and you said she would be ours. "
Shit. I know his tells, and he's fucking lying. He thinks he loves Saige, but she's always, always been mine. How do I make him fucking realize that?
The shower turns off, and I prepare to lower my voice, watching for the door to open, but then Saige turns on her hair dryer. Shrugging, I say, "I guess that will be up to her then, huh?"
His posture relaxes, his bouncing leg stills. If it's up to her, he's not so worried about it. He thinks he has her, and maybe he does. "Yeah, that's fair."
"Cool. I'm going to grab another beer. Do you want one?"
"Sure."
Dax and I didn't talk about Saige for the rest of the night. We watched the rest of the game, talked shit when our team lost, and went to bed.
Everything is as aired out as it's going to be. I'm confident we won't have to do this again. He doesn't want her anyway—not really. Not like I do. She doesn't fit in his world, and he knows it. She'd tear it all down, including his carefully constructed persona, and then he'd hate her for it.
I lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, but I can't sleep knowing she's right downstairs, likely sleeping with a desk in front of the door to keep me out.
I've already jacked off.
I need to get her alone with me again. Just a few times—that's all it should take. I'll be on my best fucking behavior until she takes her clothes off.
That's when I come up with an idea.
I get dressed, load my hockey gear into the car, and head down to her room.
I'm prepared to find the door pathetically barricaded again, but it isn't. Opening it, I find Saige stretched out on her side with one leg hitched over a pillow and the covers pushed down to her knees.
She fell asleep without turning off the television, and there's a late-night show on now.
I move to her side of the bed to wake her.
She's wearing a loose green silk tank top and a pair of matching shorts, but the way she's lying now…
One strap slipped from her shoulder, exposing her tits. My mouth waters and my dick swells while I watch her, inhaling and exhaling, so fucking peaceful, and so fucking helpless.
I wonder if she'd sleep through it if I fucked my fist and came all over them right now.
I wonder how long it would take for her to wake up if I slipped her shorts off and slid my dick into her.
I mean, it's almost like she wants me to.
She didn't block the door, and she's just lying here, like this.
And green is my favorite color.
My eyes roam over the rest of her body—the bruises on her wrists and her hips, down past her waist to her thighs…and then between her thighs. Fuck. She isn't wearing any underwear, and I can see her pussy lips.
She looks so fucking tight…I'm going to rip her in half.
Despite my aching, throbbing cock, I pull the blankets over her, silently berating myself for it, and then kneel beside the bed.
"Saige?" I say, shaking her awake. "Saige, wake up."
"Hmmm?" Her voice is muffled from sleep, her eyes barely open. She must think I'm one of them, because she reaches for me, her hand caressing my cheek before she realizes her mistake and jumps back.
It must have been the scruffy face that gave it away. Too bad; it felt good.
"Get out!"
"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."
She clings to the blanket, holding it over her chest while she adjusts the straps on her tank top. "Then why are you here? What do you want?!"
"I just want your help with something," I say, sitting beside her on the bed.
She sighs. "Elias, I'm tired. Whatever it is, just text it to me. I'll do it tomorrow. Please?"
"It can't be tomorrow. It has to be right now."
"Elias…" she whines. "Why?"
"Because…you were right about me, okay? Do you know how to skate?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"What? Yeah, I can skate, but—"
"You were right about me and my shoulder. I want to try to play. I want you to go with me."
"Why me? I'm not a hockey player—ask Dax."
"Because it's fucking embarrassing, and it has to be you, okay? Because you agreed to this, and I need you to do this for me."
Saige sighs. "All right—fine. Get out so I can change."
"No problem."