Feuds and Reckless Fury

Warmth surges to my balls as I remember how his tongue roved over my neck, taunting and teasing.

“Nothing I can’t handle. It’s fine.” I clear my thoughts and step away from him to start stretching. “He’s going to work on Carrie. Hopefully, she’ll come too.”

He sits down on a weight bench to watch me. “Hope so. She’s always been a tough nut to crack. More so than Canyon.” He smiles in my direction. “Thank you.”

“Not a big deal.”

“It is to me. You’re a good kid.”

He wouldn’t think that if he knew what I did to get Canyon to agree to go to the wedding. It would be mortifying if he ever found out. My only assurance that Ryan will never find out is that it’s Canyon’s dick in the picture and not mine. I seriously doubt Canyon would want pictures of his dick getting licked to come out, especially to his dad.

I continue through my stretches as he benches some weights, grunting with each lift. My mind is all over the place. I hate that it keeps going back to the past, the memories too fresh and painful for me to focus on my workout. Eventually, I give up and take a long shower. I stroke myself with the image of Canyon’s heated stare looking down at me as I put my tongue on his dick. I come with a growl, spurting my release under the hot spray of the shower.

Drying off, I dress for school and then pick up my phone. I send a text to him.

Me: I owe you a Coke.

Brother Lover: You owe me a lot more than a Coke. Soon we’ll figure it all out.

I stare at his words, wondering what that means, but since I wasted so much time in the shower, I need to get moving. Quickly, I tidy up my bathroom and make my bed. I tilt my head to the side, straining to hear any squeaks or scratching sounds that seem to still be so loud in my head from my dream.

Silence aside from Dad’s and Ryan’s muted voices downstairs.

I’m not in that trailer anymore.

I’m here. In the present. Dad is going to keep me. This will always be my home.

Too bad I won’t allow myself to actually believe that.

Canyon

Like the creepy stalker Naomi claims me to be, my eyes immediately find Alis the second I walk into first hour. His usual smugness is gone, and his spine is rigid. Messy blond hair hangs in his eyes and sticks up in a few spots as though he’s been tugging at it. Dark circles ring his eyes, and he seems paler than usual. Seeing him on edge puts me on edge.

Making a beeline straight for him, I sit behind him and lean forward to bring my mouth close to his ear.

“Afraid I’m going to kick your ass in this class?” I taunt, though lacking my usual venom.

He turns slightly, offering me his profile. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Never crossed my mind. We both know I’m better at everything.”

The urge to touch him is nearly maddening. I curl my hands into fists so I don’t do something stupid like run my fingers through his hair to smooth it back down.

“I haven’t sucked dick before, but I’m pretty sure I could outperform you there,” I throw back, my voice barely a whisper against his ear.

He shivers and turns his body more toward me. His dark eyes drink me in, ravenous and greedy. The heat that burns from him scorches into me. I catch the scent of lime, which makes my mouth water for another taste. Needing confirmation that I’ve done just that—tasted him—before, I let my eyes drift to the fading purple bruises on his neck. My dick thickens as I remember how I pinned him down and sucked on his neck.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he grumbles, his voice raspy. “It’s so…obvious.”

I sit back, burned by his words, darting my gaze around the classroom. No one is paying any attention to us. Except Naomi. When I shake my head in denial, she rolls her eyes at me before leaning forward to chat up Leon. I drag my stare back to Alis.

“Why do you look like shit, Wonderland? Nightmares keep you up all night?”

He flinches, shooting a nasty glare at me. “He told you?”

“Who?”

“Your dad.” His jaw clenches, and his brown eyes blaze with fury. “Unbelievable.”

“In case you forgot,” I grind out, irritated by his pissy attitude, “I don’t speak to my dad unless I have to. We certainly don’t talk about you.”

Relief floods through him, making his shoulders relax. “Oh.”

“You ratted yourself out, man,” I say with a vicious grin. “What could a rich, spoiled kid like you possibly have nightmares about? Losing your chair in orchestra to my baby sister? A flat tire on your Range Rover? Falling on your face at the track meet?”