Chapter 3 - Yara
YARA
Sick.
Depraved.
Completely unhinged.
A thousand emotions rocked through my body as I looked at Xavier and the glistening on his face, from my juices. My heart clenched painfully as another wave of shame washed over me, making me realize what just happened.
My stepbrother went down on me. The stepbrother I hated. The stepbrother that obviously hated me as well.
He marked me. He fucking… I carried his initials on my skin, and I was probably more twisted than he was, because I liked it. I liked being branded like a fucking cow by one person I should be running away from.
The one person in this place that has vowed to make my life a living hell, even though it wasn't my fault our parents got together.
It wasn't even my choice to be here, to live this life, but he didn't care about logistics.
Xavier Thornton put me in a box long before he even met me, and there was nothing I could do to change his opinion of me.
But this... This I didn't expect.
When he said to lock my door, I thought it was just another one of his tactics to scare me, to pull me out and humiliate me further in front of the people that were his friends. Not this.
Worst of all, and the reason for the shame coiling in my gut right now, I loved it.
I craved his touch from the moment I opened my eyes and saw it was him kneeling between my legs.
I wanted him more than I ever wanted anything else, and I knew that these games we were playing, these fucked up situations we were in, did nothing to extinguish this messed up yearning in my soul for the man who looked at me as if I was nothing more but a stain on his shoe.
Yet, I wanted him. I wanted to see deep inside his soul, to uncover all those secrets, to see the humanity behind the mask he wore for everyone around him.
I wanted to be the one that would crack the walls he built around his heart.
But looking at him now, at the smirk he was sporting and the venom in his dark eyes, I knew that this was just another game.
Just another fucked up thing he could use to fuck with my mind.
There was no remorse, nothing to show that he found what we did disgusting. True, it wasn't like we were real siblings, but wanting your stepbrother to fuck you, begging him for it, was extremely frowned upon.
"Cat got your tongue, little lamb?" he asked, those lips pulling into an even wider smile. "You weren't so quiet moments ago."
I wasn't, I knew that, but how could I tell him that most of my dreams lately had him starring as the main character, or that most of them ended with me on my knees, begging him for a grain of love because I never had anyone look at me as if I mattered.
My mother tolerated my existence most of the days.
My father didn't give a fuck about me, until he laid on his deathbed, begging me to forgive him for being a shitty father and an even shittier human being.
Perhaps it was the lack of love that had me propelling toward the man that only wanted to destroy me, but as I sat here, breathing heavily and trying to wrap my head around the fact that we just crossed the line that never should have been crossed, I couldn't help myself but look deeper into his eyes.
Into the darkness slowly wrapping around my throat ever since he came into my life.
Xavier tucked himself in his pants, his eyes firmly on mine as if he too was trying to read my reactions.
I always knew there was a sickness waiting to be awoken inside of me.
I always knew there was a darkness waiting to be released, counting the years, the days, until it happened, but I never thought that the person who would ignite all these things in me would be no one other than my new stepbrother.
I pulled the blanket toward me, trying to cover myself—my bare pussy, my stomach still covered in his cum—but he had other ideas.
Those onyx eyes flashed dangerously as he snatched away my blanket, removing the one barrier I had against him.
My back straightened, pressing against the headboard, but just as he dropped my blanket to the floor, his long fingers wrapped around my ankles, pulling me toward him as if I weighed nothing.
My body was a marionette, made for him to use, to do whatever the fuck he wanted to, and as if someone else took control of my entire being, I let him.
I let him drag those fingers over my stomach, spreading his cum, rubbing it into my skin.
I let him hover over me, taking control once again as if I wasn't already living in a state of shock and disgust toward myself.
His forehead pressed against my collarbone, his fingers splayed over my stomach, pushing me into the mattress.
"I fucking hate you, little lamb," he whispered.
"I hate you so much." My heart thumped painfully, shrinking from the force of those words, and it wasn't the venom that had me closing my eyes, but the pain lacing every single syllable, as if he couldn't stop his body from conveying what he couldn't say.
"I hate you, too," I murmured, barely above a whisper, and as if I'd shot him, his entire body jerked on top of me, but he didn't move. If anything, he tightened his hold on me. His left hand wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling me into him, pressing our fronts against one another.
My arms wrapped around his middle as if my body had a mind of its own, but for the first time, I didn't fight it. I didn't try to rationalize what was happening.
His hatred felt better than anyone else's love.
His hatred made me feel alive, made me belong, and if that belonging only existed here, in the darkness, hidden behind the doors of my room, then I would take it.
I would take what he could give, because a part of me knew I didn't deserve better.
I didn't get to choose, I didn't get to have happiness like others.
Maybe this was the only thing I would ever have, this fucked up game between us, and one day when I leave this place, when the money that was owed to me gets released by my mother, I would rip my own heart out and shatter my soul, because there was no world in which the two of us would ever be together.
"You're nothing to me," he pushed out, his body going slack halfway on top of me. "Absolutely nothing."
My eyes flew open, the unshed tears blurring the view of the ceiling above us as the sharp blades of his words tore through my very soul. It was nothing I hadn't already heard, but my defenses were down tonight. My heart was too fragile to block the mean words and the jabs coming from him.
I've spent most of my life learning how to defend the organ in the center of my chest from the likes of my mother and people like Xavier, but this man who, I realized now, smelled like whiskey, cigarettes and pine trees, managed to break through the walls I've built.
He didn't care how much it hurt, how much every sneer and every word cut through me.
On good days I could pretend. On those days I could stand and take every single insult, every single fucked up thing he did, but tonight.
.. Tonight I couldn't. After our altercation downstairs something cracked in my chest, shaking me to my core, and I wasn't able to put up the walls that would save me from him.
I realized a long time ago that my mother wasn't someone that would ever love me like other mothers loved their kids. I've made peace with the fact that I would never matter to her, but this game with Xavier threatened to destroy me. To shatter the illusion, I have spent so much time creating.
The illusion of a happy girl.
The illusion of someone who didn't give a fuck what other people thought.
I gave a fuck. I probably cared too much, desperate to have someone to love me.
How messed up it was that in the eighteen years of my miserable life, not one person loved me?
How fucked up it was that I knew that no one would ever miss me if I simply disappeared, least of all the man who kept on grumbling against my neck, his hot breath tickling.
A wayward tear slipped over my cheek, rolling to my neck, all the way to the place where his lips pressed against my skin.
A loud rumble tore from his chest as those lips I had no business dreaming about, opened and the hot surface of his tongue rolled over my overheated skin.
"I like the way your tears taste, little lamb," he said, tracing a path from my neck to my chin and back down.
"I like it even more when I am the reason behind them. "
He was a mean bastard. A fucker whose only goal in life was to destroy everything I had, yet I couldn't stop this. Maybe I didn't want to.
My eyes closed again as he moved against me, kissing my neck, licking and biting my skin. I didn't have enough fight in me tonight. Tomorrow I will be back to myself, but tonight I just wanted to disappear.
I expected him to say something else, to be meaner, to try to humiliate me further, but instead of doing any of that, he rolled us around, ending with me on top of him. He maneuvered us so that I was on top of him, with my head tucked underneath his chin and my hands trapped under his back.
His hand ended up back at the nape of my neck, tightening its hold as those impossibly long fingers wrapped in my hair.
I could feel my eyebrows scrunching, my confusion skyrocketing as he wrapped his other arm around my middle, his hand moving under my shirt over my back, splaying over the surface of my skin.
"Go to sleep, Yara," he mumbled just as I opened my mouth to say something. "I'm too tired for anything else right now."
Too tired? Seriously?
What the fuck was happening?
Was this another one of his games?
Was this... Realization dawned on me, freezing me to the bone.
Of course it was a game. Of course it was just another fucked up thing he did, because he wanted me to go to his father. Every single time he did something, every single time he made me rethink every single one of my life choices, he asked when I would tell his father.
He wanted to fuck with William, and I was just a pawn in the middle of that revenge.
If it's a game he was after, then game on.
My lips pulled into a teeny tiny smirk as soft snores came from him, but those arms stayed tightened around me, making it impossible to move.
He could have this tonight. He could have this win, but I knew how to play as well, and I wasn't about to lose to the man who only wanted to see me fail.