9. Mayson
Mayson
W hen we’re on the bus heading back from our away game after our win we’re all in good spirits, but then I remember I’m not going home. I’m going back to Colin’s house, and after what happened the night of the party the last thing I want to do is face my new roommate.
My previous roommate, and current friend, Blake, sits next to me on the bus. She’s also not looking forward to her living situation at the moment either.
“I miss our dorm,” I complain.
“Same,” Blake grumbles and I know she’s not going to go into her complaints with our coach so close by.
I wish we could go back to how things were the last two years. Where Blake and I could peacefully retreat to our room without worrying about shitty stepbrothers, and stupid pranks by the men’s soccer team. Where our biggest worries were games and our grades.
By some miracle, I end up falling asleep on the drive back and am jostled awake when Blake shakes my shoulders. I take my time grabbing my bag and walking the short distance off campus to Colin’s house.
The sun set about an hour ago, but the street is well lit. I’m used to being aware of my surroundings so I’m not worried about it. Unless a certain six foot two, dark haired soccer player is following me, I know I’m not in any real danger.
The same can’t be said for me the minute I step through the front door of my humble abode. Luckily, I don’t immediately see Colin so I scurry upstairs to my room annoyed I can’t lock it from the inside.
When I unpack and still don’t hear him come home I start to relax, but just a fraction. It’s enough that I feel I can take a shower without the risk of being interrupted. I’m still cautious, keeping an ear out while I let the warm spray run over me and I wash the feeling of the bus off my skin.
As I’m finishing up, the lights cut out, and I’m completely bathed in darkness. I let out a shriek, and quickly jump out, wrapping a towel around myself as I call out for the man I know is responsible for this.
He doesn’t answer and with the power completely out, the silence surrounds me. I pull the towel tighter around my chest, stepping out into my bedroom. It’s so dark. So quiet it’s eerie. Halloween is still weeks away and yet this is one of the creepier situations I’ve found myself in.
The irony that I feel more unsafe here in the place I live than I did walking home tonight isn’t lost on me.
Opening the door, I peek my head out, calling Colin’s name once again into the silent house.
I don’t want to go down there and risk being even more vulnerable than I already am.
As I’m shutting my door, I’m stopped by a hand pushing it open.
I immediately try to slam the door on the dark figure currently pushing his way into my room.
“Get out!” I scream.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to for me to know exactly who he is.
He crowds me just like he did the other night.
This time I realize the only thing separating our skin is the towel wrapped around me.
When I raise my hand to push him away I feel bare skin on his muscled chest. I won’t let it distract me as I’m focused on pushing him away, though he doesn’t even budge.
Instead of getting him away from me, I find myself falling backwards onto my bed.
My only instinct is to tighten my towel around myself because it’s the only layer of protection I feel I have.
Even though I can’t see the man currently straddling my hips as he looms over my body, I can’t help but react which only makes me try to buck him off even harder.
“Did I interrupt your shower?” he asks, tracing his finger along the top of my towel.
“No,” I insist weakly.
“Good.” I feel something cold hit my chest at the same time my towel is ripped open, and I squeal trying to grab for it, but Colin adjusts so his knees are pinning my wrists.
I wriggle trying to get out of his powerful grip, but more coldness falls onto my chest and lower to my stomach.
“What the fuck is that?” I snap, looking and trying to see, but it’s useless in the dark.
“Something to get you messy again.” He dips down, and I feel his hot tongue lick a line on my chest through whatever he’s covered me with. “And delicious.”
“What’s wrong with you?” I double my efforts to get him off me.
“The only thing that’s wrong right now is the fact that I’m not tasting all of you,” he groans, moving himself lower down my body, holding my hands to the bed while he licks more off my body .
I squirm at the sensation, the hot wet trail of his tongue through the warming…whatever he has on me.
“Get off of me,” I protest. Though, I arch up into him as he licks over my nipple.
“I’m helping clean you up again,” he taunts, moving lower to my stomach. When he reaches my pubic bone I gasp, and use my legs to try and push him away.
Colin backs away with a hum. “Interesting.”
“What?” I snap, hiding my heavy breathing.
“I don’t think you’ve had a mouth down here, have you?” His tone is knowing and I shift around when I think about his questioning the other night.
The questioning he did after he kissed me. Not just a kiss either. That was a soul shattering, brutal kiss that I’ve tried to erase from my memory, and have failed miserably. And no, I haven’t had anyone’s mouth down there before. Fingers, yes, briefly. But no mouths.
“Doesn’t matter, I don’t want your mouth there,” I divert.
He huffs a small laugh, and I know if I could see his face right now I’d want to smack it. “Yeah, you do.”
He drops back down to lick my stomach, back up to my chest and over to my other nipple.
Before I can register what’s happening his mouth is on mine, and his tongue is pushed into my mouth.
That’s when I taste what he’s been licking off me.
I want to fight him off again but the taste of whipped cream mixed with Colin has me losing all sense.
He pulls back, and I arch up trying to chase his mouth with my own before I remember who the fuck he is. Then, I drop back, angry with myself, and even more angry that he still has me pinned here underneath him.
“Come to my game tomorrow,” he demands.
“Get fucked.”
“That’s not very nice, sis .” He leans down again, his breath grazing my lips as he speaks. “And it wasn’t a question. You’re coming to my game tomorrow.”
“Or what?” I taunt.
“Test me and find out.”
I think about my lack of clothes, my lack of independence and the fact that I’m so turned on for my stupid stepbrother that my next words come out knowing the possible consequences, but not even caring. “What else do I have to lose?”
“If you don’t show up, I guess you’re going to find out.”
He rises off me and leaves. I continue to lay on my back unable to move. After several minutes the lights kick back on, and I can see the state I was left in, naked with streaks of whipped cream all over me.
I grab the towel, and storm back into the bathroom annoyed that I have to take another shower.
But also annoyed that the temptation to take care of the ache he created between my thighs is so strong.
I refuse to do anything to take care of it because I know the only face I’ll be able to picture is the man that just left my room.