Epilogue
Soriah
E verything is red. My skin feels ready to peel off, the scorching sun spears into me, and the world takes on a crimson hue. I wish I could say it was the heat or the arduous task of moving boxes up several flights of stairs, but that’s not why I’m ready to crumple to my knees.
My pussy fucking throbs, undulating around the vibrator lodged within its wet cavern. It’s set to a low vibration that threatens to kill me with each step. I’m in agony, panting like a bitch in heat.
God, Zade must feel so damned smug doing this in front of our oblivious parents.
He has the remote in his pocket but hasn’t increased the tempo enough to send me over the edge. Instead, I’m edged within an inch of my life, pussy pulsating around the object bringing both pain and pleasure in equal measure.
I’m going to kill him if he doesn’t relieve me once our parents leave. The last box presses into my damp hands, cardboard irritating my sweaty skin. My thighs tremble with each step toward my dorm room. Despite moving in, I doubt I’ll spend much time on campus.
Zade and I still need to furnish his off-campus condo that’s less than a block away.
An easy commute, but the loan our parents took out included living expenses like room and board, so I won’t make them feel bad by declining it in favor of living indefinitely with Zade.
That future is coming, but for now, we’ll do things their way.
I can’t say they’re completely on board with us as a couple, but they no longer flinch or look constipated when we momentarily forget we’re not alone and share a kiss or hold hands.
We try to keep the public displays of affection to a minimum around them, but we also promised each other to not sneak around.
We’re not in a proverbial closet, nor do we intentionally flaunt our relationship.
It’s a strange sort of limbo, and I keep waiting for Mom or Dad to express anger or disgust like Aunt Nat, who’s still not speaking to me. They’d expressed their confusion and discomfort while reassuring us we’d always be their children and their home was open to us.
It’s a relief. But my anxiety won’t settle until I don’t know, Mom walks me down the aisle or something. My fear is unfounded, but I can’t shake it.
Instead, I spend every moment with Zade, glued to his side and bending to every deviant whim he has. Like placing a vibrator in my pussy and wearing it the entire time we’re moving my stuff on campus, parents trotting behind us.
Each time his jade eyes lance me with heat and mischief, I want to whimper and melt into a puddle. He’s truly demented. And I love every fucking moment of it.
A beige, nondescript door, marked 166, comes into view, and I walk in without ceremony, interrupting whatever debate my parents were in the middle of. My brows rise, hands lowering the box to the floor without breaking any glass contained inside.
“You guys okay? This heat is a menace,” I say, brushing loose hair off my neck that fell from the bun sitting lopsided on top of my head. Mom gives me a weak smile, but Dad doesn’t attempt to feign an expression, his intense gaze searing into me.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I ask, telling my heart to not race ahead of itself, but the stubborn organ ignores me.
Mom’s smile trembles as she walks toward me, a sheen of tears glistening in her eyes.
“I just can’t believe my girl is all grown up. We’ll miss you,” she says, pulling me into a hug and inhaling my scent. Her lips move against my skin, voice low for only my ears to hear.
“We want grandbabies. No rush. We’re just so happy for you two.
” She pulls away, her smile firmly in place and only one stray tear threatening to mar her eyeliner.
“We’ll leave you to unpack unless you need help?
” Her tone is slightly hopeful, and I suppress a surge of guilt.
I need Zade to fuck me and fuck me now. Guilt cannot compete with sexual frustration.
“That’s okay, Mom. We got it. But, if Zade ever needs anything for his apartment, he’ll call,” I tell her, hoping she’d take the bait. Her eyes brighten, darting from me to Dad, who watches us with mild amusement. He’s happy, even if it’s subdued.
“Bye, Daddy,” I say, rushing to give him a hug. His arms fold around me without a moment’s hesitation, woodsy scent enveloping me.
I inhale deeply, sinking into the hug. I’ll see him for Christmas, but for now, this will be the longest I’ll go without seeing his face every morning or evening. It’s jarring, misery settling into my gut like oil-coated bricks.
I’ll miss my parents. I’ll have Zade, but this will be the longest amount of time spent away from my parents and childhood home.
Zade’s going to have to lend me his strength this first week. Already, I’m weakening, tempted to climb into the backseat of Dad’s truck for the return home.
A throat clears, and I whirl to the man of my dreams standing in the open doorway, snug denim jeans covering his muscled thighs and a gray hoodie shielding his delectable torso.
I don’t know why he dresses like someone with something to hide. His body is a work of art, and I’ve traced nearly every groove with my tongue in the month since we became official, outing ourselves to parents and aunts and uncles alike.
You guys heading out?
Mom nods, subtly wiping tears away before marching over to give her firstborn a hug.
I always think it’s funny Lauren is older than him, but he’s Mom’s “firstborn” since she didn’t carry our adopted sister for nine months.
With her marriage to Uncle Xavier, she’s more of an aunt than a sister anyway, considering the age gap.
“I’ll miss you both so much! Call me if you need anything, and I mean anything,” she says, arms wrapped around Zade’s neck. He chuckles, nodding his assent .
“Ye-Yes, ma-ma’am,” he says with a slight stutter. Small, two or three-letter words are getting easier for him to say on a daily basis, and I’ve noticed Mom enjoys asking yes or no questions just to hear his voice. She’d gone twenty-odd years without him speaking to her or anyone.
I don’t fault her joy or indulgence in hearing him speak. My face flushes, remembering just how much I enjoy his sounds in my ear while he’s thrusting inside me. Wait till he can talk dirty. I’ll be a goner, and on my epitaph, it’ll read, “Death by Zade.”
That fucking deep rasp of his is my kryptonite, combined with those emerald eyes.
“We should get going, my raven,” Dad says, and for some reason, the tender nickname he has for Mom causes my cheeks to brighten even further. I wonder if Zade will give me one outside of “Siri.”
“Of course,” she says, loosening her grip on Zade before reluctantly stepping away. Her eyes swing from me and back to him. She’s struggling.
During her own years at college, she’d had a roommate that was raped and murdered, something that’s haunted her since. Lauren warned me Mom would stress over me living on campus, like she did when it was my sister’s turn. But I’ve got Zade and probably won’t spend much time in this dorm.
“Mom, I’m going to be okay. Zade will keep me safe and send updates.” And I’m not just saying that to rush them out so he can bend me over a desk. He’s probably already hacked the campus cameras, allowing him to watch me everywhere I go.
“I know, I know,” she says, and Dad walks over to pull her into his arms. She goes willingly, burying her face in his broad chest.
“They will be fine, Sarah. Let’s go before we miss our flight.
Or we can go back to our hotel room and fly out in the morning after getting breakfast with the kids?
” Her head jerks back, eyes bright and lips curled into a smile.
Dad knew exactly what to say to appease her, and I don’t want to think about what they’ll do in their hotel room in the middle of the day.
Zade shoots me a knowing look over their heads, and I flush deeper. They’re probably about to do the same thing I’m going to beg Zade to do to me.
Mollified, Mom nods and gives us one last wave before letting Dad lead her from the room. Zade turns and locks the door behind him. Hunger burns in his eyes when he faces me again, stalking forward.
I’m ready, I’m so fucking ready that my pussy is weeping for his cock.
“Zade,” I whimper, fighting the urge to fling myself at him.
He smirks, pulling me into him after closing the distance between us.
You want something?
I mock-glare at him, causing him to chuckle while walking me backwards. We’re in a double suite. One room for me and one room for my roommate, who hasn’t arrived yet, and a shared bathroom and kitchen area.
The dorm isn’t big enough for a living room, and Zade dwarfs the bedroom, housing a twin bed pushed against the wall and a lonely desk sitting beneath the window looking out at the parking lot .
It truly is a good thing his new place is spacious in comparison. We’d get claustrophobic quickly in my tiny dorm room.
Zade keeps walking me backwards until my computer chair bumps into my back. He smiles down at me mischievously.
Use your words. Tell me what you want, little sister.
Another whimper gets caught in my throat. Why is that hot? We’re not blood-related, but that one phrase ‘little sister’ makes what he’s about to do to me feel illicit and forbidden.
And by the widening of his grin, he knows it.
“Fuck me. Please make me come,” I beg, rubbing my thighs together. He tsks, hand sliding down to push them apart as he kneels and looks up at me.
You only give yourself pleasure unless I tell you to, remember? You leave me in charge of what pleases you.
I nod, air seizing in my lungs with expectation, body tense and waiting for what he’ll do next. I trust him, and ceding control over to him comes naturally. He’s become a quick learner, mastering my body like a favorite instrument.
Fingers hook into my shorts, pulling them down my legs and my panties along with them. The rough drag of denim pebbles my skin, heightening all of my senses. Cool air kisses my puffy, soaked folds.