Chapter 4
Nikki
"You should have some more eggnog now." Cole says. "We've gotta finish it before we leave."
I open my mouth to tell him no, but he's already pushing a cup into my hand.
"Only if you get my phone back from Brant and put on some good Christmas music."
Cole grins, snatching my phone quickly, navigating through the list of songs as I sip my drink and Brant pouts.
"Everyone loves Carol of the Bells." Cole explains as the instrumental music begins to play.
"Much better."
"I never would have guessed a year ago that we'd be here right now." Nick's voice rumbles through his chest.
"Me either." I tell him honestly, watching the light flicker around the fake snow at the bottom of the snow globe just a few inches away.
A year ago, I thought my heart was going to give out from the grief. I definitely didn't imagine that I would end up here with him, with them.
"But I'm glad we're here..." Nick's fingers are on the upper part of my arm, drawing a pattern on my flesh and heating my blood to boiling.
Distantly, I'm uncomfortable, aware that he's crossing a boundary we never should even toe the line of.
I'm not attracted to him; I never have thought of him as anything other than a friend, a brother, even.
But as his fingertips trace my flesh, drawing goosebumps to rise on my skin, I fail to suppress a shudder.
It feels wrong, and yet somehow... good.
"Together."
His breath is hot on my neck, uncomfortably so, and I push away, suddenly finding myself needing air.
"What's wrong?" Nick calls after me. His voice sounds far away, like he's at the other end of a long tunnel, and the music that's still playing from my phone feels like it's inside of my veins. Suddenly my brain feels too crowded.
"Need air." I gasp, stumbling through the rows of pews, grabbing hold of them for balance as the world around me blurs.
"You need your coat before you go out there!"
I don't know who called after me, but I know whose hand closes around my waist, dragging me back against him before I even make it to the door.
"Stay, snow angel. I'm not done with you yet."
"Nick..."
My tongue doesn't move the way it's supposed to, and even though my veins are flooding with adrenaline and something is telling me that everything is wrong, I can't seem to get a grip on myself. It feels like I'm having a stroke, but I don't know what that would actually feel like.
All I know is that everything seems... off.
"It's okay." Nick assures me, wiping a hand over my cheek and swiping hair off my face.
I blink, suddenly aware that he's above me. Did I fall?
I'm on my back, and when I try to move, my limbs don't respond. They're dead weight; I'd think they were gone entirely if I couldn't see them when I roll my head to glance down at my feet— my bare feet.
Where are my shoes?
"What's going on?" I mumble. I remember getting warm and taking off some layers, but I don't remember taking off my socks or shoes.
"Nothing. We're just playing a game... like when we were kids. Remember?"
When we were kids.
My mind goes to thoughts of tag and hide and seek, the pretend play, house and doctor, husband and wife. He used to say he was my husband...
My brain conjures up an image of his parents' basement, and something uncomfortable twists in my stomach, a physical reaction to the visual memory.
"I don't want to play."
"It will be fun." He promises, and his voice is so much closer all of a sudden.
I open my eyes; I hadn't realized I had closed them, but now he's looming over me, right there... so close.
"Nick?" My voice is shaking. I'm shaking.
It went from hot to cold so fast. I was trying to go outside, and it feels like I'm outside, but when I blink past him, I see the crucifix, the bronze glinting from the candlelight below. "It's cold."
"I'll warm you up." He assures me. But it doesn't make any sense, because in the next moment he's pulling my shirt over my head, and the chill settles deeper into my bones as it falls away from me, leaving the swell of my breasts bared to him in my bra.
He tosses my shirt behind him without looking, and I forget how to breathe for a moment, the cold stealing into me and freezing my body.
What is he doing?
"I think I want to go home now..."
"I'll take you home, baby. Just a few minutes, okay?"
I want to tell him no, it's not okay, that I'm ready to go now. But moving my tongue feels like a lot of effort, and I can't make the rest of me move any easier.
"Nick..." The world is blurry; I can't see well, so I blink, trying to clear my vision.
"Shh." He soothes, his breath on my neck again as he presses his lips against me. "It's okay. Relax for me."
I am relaxed. Too relaxed.
Something is wrong, but I can't figure out what.
"Hurry the fuck up."
My stomach twists as I remember that someone else is here... two someone’s.
"Nick... please..."
"Hear that boys? She's asking for it. Keep that in mind if she tries to go to the police..."
The police? I don't know what he thinks I would go to the police for.
All I want is to go home and curl up in my bed.
I don't even care about finishing the book I was reading.
.. it can wait 'til tomorrow. I'm too tired, and my eyes are drifting despite a voice in the back of my head telling me to stay awake.
"Fuck, Nicolette. How long have you been hiding all that under those sweaters?"
I blink, and this time, the world isn't blurry. Everything is crystal clear as I do, and I realize my bra is gone now, too. My nipples are standing in points, constricted by the cold.
Why am I topless?
"I..."
"Fuck, that's a perfect handful." Nick praises, one hand closing over my breast, kneading it roughly in his palm and tweaking my nipple between his fingers.
I cry out, the sudden bite more shocking than painful, and try to wriggle out of his grip, but I didn't realize he was sitting on me; his knees straddle my waist, and when I look down between us, it appears there's nothing there— no clothing.
The fear started as a little thump against the back of my consciousness, shrouded out by everything else. Now that it's grown enough for me to recognize it for what it is, it's about to shatter the glass. I can feel my body waking slowly, the horror piercing the numbness that overtook me before.
"Please take me home..." I try, not wanting to say anything to make him upset. "Nick. I have to get home..."
"Not yet." He shakes his head slowly, dark hair falling in his eyes as he does. "Soon."
Something cold reaches between my legs and I freeze, everything in me going violently still as the reality of what's about to happen settles over me.
"Nick..." His name comes on a pant, one terrified breath, and I think it slurs. "Please don't."
I don't want to have sex with someone who was like a brother to me.
"I'll make you feel good." He promises.
Tears stream down my face as I try to gather myself, to make my body respond, so that I can push him away. Nick won't hurt me, so I just need to get enough strength to push him away. Then he'll realize I really mean it, that I'm not interested, and he'll back off.
"I don't want to." I shake my head, the only thing I seem to have control over, and the motion clears my fuzzy thoughts enough that I decide to do it more. I shake my head faster, quicker from side to side.
His fingers probe blindly between my legs. I feel every stab and catch of his nails as he seeks my entrance, and my tears build, flowing faster.
"Nick..." The rest of my plea fractures on a sob as he finds my core, his fingers fighting for entry, the uncomfortable friction burning as he tries to force his way in.
"So fucking stubborn." He grunts, irritation filling his voice as he pins my thigh to the ground, his weight crushing me as he tries to work himself in.
I have the barest moment of relief when he pulls his fingers away, but he only spits into his hand before returning to my entrance.
This time, his spit lubricates his intrusion.
.. at least for a second. He pushes inside, forcing me to stretch even as I try to push him out, to break his fucking fingers.
"There we are." He smirks, pushing hard and deep and making me gasp, trying to crawl backwards away from him. But still, my limbs don't move. What the fuck is wrong with me?
"She's a dead fish." Cole groans. "You fucked up the dose, Brant."
The dose?
"Hurts." I gasp when he plunges deep, his fingers reaching so far inside of me that it feels like he may come out through my stomach. Each stroke feels like sandpaper scratching and stretching my insides, and when he thrusts upwards, it feels like he's pinching me.
"She needs to be wetter." Brant says. "Need me to cum inside and get her nice and soaked for you two?"
"Nick," I pant, trying not to suffocate on the panic or choke on my tears.
"Fuck, I love when you say my name. You're getting me so hard, Nikki."
As if trying to prove his point, he pulls away, and something thick and warm and soft nudges against my entrance.
"No!"
"It's okay. I'm gonna get you ready first... you need to loosen up."
I don't know what that means until his hand falls between my legs again.
This time, though, he doesn't seek entry.
He drags his fingers from my sore entrance to the top, dragging them along my slit and up, landing on my clit and procuring a gasp from me as his touch sends a jolt of electricity through me.
"Look, boys. I've found the mythical clit."
My stomach tightens in horror as he rubs his thumb over it, watching the way it moves beneath his touch before switching track, caressing it in small, slow circles.
The horror mixes with something distinctly less awful, and the two things blur into something even worse than what's been happening. The pain from his intrusion has subsided, and in its place is a warm sort of pleasure that is building with each small revolution.
This is wrong, and disgusting, and I don't want to do this with him.