HUGE X3: A MFMM Menage Stepbrother Romance (33 page)

I reach out to cup his face and whisper “Thank
you.”

And that’s all I remember from that day.

21

CORY

I'm standing at the front of the church beside my
dad waiting for the wedding ceremony to start. I haven't seen Allyson for two
months, basically since the day we found her in that remote cabin.

It’s not that I haven't wanted to see her. She took
a break from college and left the dorm, moving back in with her mom. I stopped
by once to check in on her but she'd been sleeping and I made excuses to her
mom and left.

I keep up with how she is through my dad. She
hasn't called me and I’ve taken that as a sign that she doesn't want to be in
contact with me. I can't blame her. Everything was so fucked up and I knew
she'd need time to feel better, work through everything that happened. She
didn't need me there reminding her of what she'd gone through.

I glance around the church, my focus settling on
the small congregation of family and friends gathered in the front pews to
watch my dad get hitched again. I smile at my aunt Joyce and uncle Bob. They’ve
gone all out, with Bob's tie matching Joyce's dress. They smile back and Bob
gives us a thumbs up.

My dad shifts from foot to foot. I study his face,
his body language. "Are you nervous? Getting cold feet?"

He laughs. "Not at all. What about you?"

Surprised, I raise an eyebrow at him. "What do
you mean?"

He laughs again and leans over conspiratorially.
"You think I haven't noticed you moping around the house since what
happened to Allyson? You like her?"

The man is a cop. I shouldn't be surprised he’s put
two and two together and made four. I’ve felt off since saving Allyson. Off
because I haven't seen her. I have no first-hand knowledge about how she's
dealing with everything. I have the bits and pieces my father has told me but
I'd been careful not to be obvious. At least I thought I'd been careful.

I shake my head and sigh but I know my father isn't
buying my denial. "How is she?"

"She's better," he says. "You'll see
for yourself in a moment."

My father turns his attention to the back of the
church waiting for his bride-to-be. I do the same and moments later Allyson
steps through the doors of the church and proceeds down the aisle. The relief I
feel to see her looking so amazing after all she’s been through is
overwhelming.
 
She looks gorgeous and I
can’t stop staring at her as she walks down the aisle in short, punctuating
steps. Her glossy brown hair tumbles in waves over her shoulders, brushing the
satiny material of the pink dress she's wearing. Two bridesmaids follow behind
Allyson. Her mother follows behind the women, all the ladies beaming smiles at
the guests on each side. But I only have eyes for Allyson.

As the women get closer to the front of the church,
Allyson beams. She's staring right at me, her lips curled into the most genuine
smile I've ever seen on her face. There's a light in her eyes that was missing
the last time I saw her. She's put on weight too, making her luscious curves
more pronounced than they had been. She looks good; healthy. My heart soars
with hope. Maybe she’s really getting better.

I find myself wanting to feel those curves against
me but I push the thought aside. I'm at my father's wedding for crying out
loud. It’s not really the place to be having lustful thoughts about the maid of
honor. We’re in church for heaven’s sake, but with the slight sway of her hips
as she walks my mouth goes dry.

I smile back at her and hope I'll get a chance
later to hold her close and find out how she's been doing these past few
months.

The bridal party finally reaches the front of the
church and Allyson’s mom takes her place beside my dad. Allyson, the
bridesmaids, the groomsmen and I stand off to the side, Allyson taking her
mom's bouquet of flowers from her.

I barely hear the pastor performing the ceremony.
I'm vaguely aware of him talking. Then my dad and Allyson's mom are talking,
saying their vows I suppose, but I'm not totally sure because I'm totally
focused on Allyson. I’m trying to work out why she looks so different and I think
it must be because she looks really, genuinely happy. Not the faking she'd been
doing before for everyone else's benefit. The smile never leaves her face as
she watches her mother get married to my dad.

"And now the rings," the pastor says.

My dad clears his throat and nudges me. I look
around to see everyone in the church staring. Allyson's eyes are wide,
questioning. My dad is frowning.

"The ring, right."

I pull it out and hand it to him. He slips it on
his bride's finger and I block everything out again. I watch Allyson give her
mother a ring. The pastor says something else. My dad leans in and kisses his
new bride and the church erupts with applause.

My eyes are still on Allyson. She claps awkwardly
because she's still holding her mother's bouquet. Then she hands over the
flowers, kisses her mom on the cheek, and the newly married couple make their
way down the aisle to the back of the church.

Now that the ceremony is done everyone will be
heading over to the reception. I drove to the church with my dad but he'll be
traveling with his new bride. I turn to Allyson and offer my arm. She grins and
puts her arm around mine. We make our way to the back of the church and out the
doors to the waiting limo. The rest of the bridal party follows behind us and makes
their way to a limo parked in front of the one I'll share with Allyson.

Though I'm happy there are two cars, I'm nervous
about being alone with her. The limo driver opens the door, making sure we're
both safely inside before closing us in. The huge space doesn't feel big enough
with the awkwardness hanging in the air. I'm not sure what to say to her.
Though she smiled at me in the church, her gaze is downcast now, as she takes a
sudden interest in her shoes.

I glance out the window, not knowing how to approach
the situation at all. The beaming smile she'd worn for the ceremony is gone.
Her lips are pursed together as if she's deep in thought.

"Sorry I haven't been in touch," she
whispers.

I lean forward, focusing my gaze on her beautiful
face. The sparkle in her eyes lingers just under the surface and I suspect it
will be a while before it comes back completely.

"That's okay. I understand."

And I do understand. But I'm still a little hurt. I
could have helped her through it all.

"Thanks for saying that. I hoped you would
understand. I needed some time to get myself back."

"I get it. You don't have to explain."

"Thank you for coming for me," she says.
Her eyes sweep over my face and her lips turn up in the barest hint of a smile.

"I will always come for you,” I say and then
blush at how cheesy and superhero-
ish
that sounds. “I
mean, I’ll always be there for you, Allyson, no matter how big or small the
problem.”

She blushes and tucks a stray lock of hair behind
her ear. "I'm sorry that I lied to you. Seduced you. I understand why you
feel uncomfortable around me. I'm happy to be friends. We’re stepbrother and
stepsister now, after all. It’ll be awkward if we can’t be friendly at family
functions."

I hear the words coming out of her mouth but I
don't know how to reply. I run my fingers through my hair, frustrated. How can
I tell her I haven't stopped thinking about her for the past two months? How
can I tell her I her that I want more of what we shared together, not as a
friend or as some pseudo-relation? I know she's still recovering from her
ordeal and telling her that I missed her might driver her back to a dark place.
I have no idea how she feels about relationships now. Has she linked what
happened with Drew to what happened between us? Does she associate me with the
terror of that day? I don’t ever want her to go back to that place again,
emotionally.

Instead of confessing, I nod and lean back in the
seat. "You didn’t seduce me, Allyson. I was there with you every step of
the way. If anything, I feel guilty that I didn’t realize what you were going
through. I feel guilty thinking that maybe what we did made you feel worse.”

She shakes her head.

“Just know that I'll always be there for you.
Whatever happens. Whatever you need. You know that, right?"

She nods, almost thoughtfully and the limo returns
to awkward-silence-mode as it cruises through the streets toward the reception
hall. I wish that she’d tell me another of her ridiculous cop jokes, anything
to make me feel that we still have a connection. When the car pulls up, the
driver opens the back door before I can. He helps Allyson out then I step out
after her.

We walk into the hall together, the music from a DJ
booming already. Pre-dinner music to keep the guests occupied until they're
fed. We find our way to the head table, but we’re sitting on either side of our
parents so I don’t get to talk to Allyson at all. When the speeches are done
and the newlywed couple kisses I catch her eyes and she smiles warmly.

As dinner wears on I notice how many times Allyson's
wine glass is filled. The beaming smile is back and when a funky beat pulses
through the speakers she jumps out of her chair and practically runs to the
dance floor.

At first, she's out there alone among a crowd of
other guests, happily dancing by herself. The more her hips swivel in time to
the music the more I notice other men watching her. One of my dad's friends
sidles up to her and dances beside her. He’s respectful at first, maintaining
an appropriate distance but when the song changes, so does my dad's friend. Now
he's swiveling his hips in time to hers, his hands are on her hips. Anger
pulses through me as I watch him.

She stumbles, covers her mouth with one hand as she
laughs and uses the other hand to grab onto the guy's arm to steady herself. My
dad's friend grins at her and puts his arm around her waist. What the fuck does
he think he’s doing? He’s old enough to be her father and this is a wedding,
not a nightclub.

I stand quickly, ignoring the glances from the
others at the table, and march to the dance floor. The guy is pulling her in
close to whisper something in her ear. Allyson giggles and swats his arm. I can
see by her movements that she’s had too much to drink. By the time I reach her,
dad's friend is about to whisk her away on the dance floor. I grab her hand.

"Hey," the guy says.

"I'm cutting in. Best man, maid of
honor." I point to myself and then at Allyson hoping he’ll get the message
and back off.

He holds his hands up in the air and smiles. “Sure,
Cory. Whatever you say.” When he backs off I’m filled with a surge of relief so
strong it hits me in the gut.

"What's that all about?" Allyson asks,
resting her hand on my chest. She’s wasted and cute but I can’t leave her out
here so vulnerable.

I pull her away from the dance floor and she
follows me without question. When we get close to the bar she slows down and
looks over but I tug gently and we continue out of the hall, through the lobby
and to the gardens in the back.

We have some talking to do.

22

ALLYSON

I follow Cory out to the garden. Not that I have a
choice. His hand grips mine firmly but I'm happy to finally be touching him
again. The air in the garden is warm, heavy with the perfume of the flowers,
and I take a deep breath enjoying the play of fragrance and the soft evening
breeze. Lights dotted through the bushes illuminate the greenery and help mark
the path. Despite the warmth of the evening, I shiver. It’s been months since I
felt Cory’s big strong hands on me and watching his broad shoulders and the
purposeful way he moves along the path reminds me of the night I watched him
walk back to his cruiser.

I wonder where he’s taking me but instead of
protesting I decide to let it play out. What he said in the car, about how
he’ll always be there for me really touched me. And the way he blushed, high on
his cheeks, melted my heart. Since the incident, I’ve tried my hardest to
isolate myself. I needed time to deal with the fear and the hurt, the terrible
betrayal and the lingering sense of hopelessness. It’s taken therapy and lots
of time with my mom for me to work through what happened to me and why I made
the choices I did. I understand myself a whole lot better and I don’t blame
myself now for what happened with Drew. He took things too far. It was him who
has problems. Sex isn’t shameful. I feel at peace about that.

When we're around the side of the building deep
into another section of the garden and out of sight from the rest of the
guests, Cory stops and lets my hand go. There are no benches in this part of
the garden so we stand to face each other and I wait for him to talk, wondering
what he’s going to say that he didn’t already get off his chest in the limo.

I sweep my gaze over his face and stop at his eyes.
Fierce passion stares back at me. I remember that look from the time we spent
together in my room, and from the first night we met at the side of the road.
Half of me is willing him to gather me in his arms and lavish me with kisses,
and the other half wants to put my hands on his chest so I can keep him at arm’s
length. Although I feel a lot better, I’m not sure I’m ready to be making big
decisions, and something about the way Cory is looking at me feels serious and
weighty.

Instead, he turns away from me, rubbing his hand
over his face in a way that screams frustration. I may be tipsy but I recognize
the signs of an impending conversation that has the potential to not go well. I
don’t want there to be tension between us.

Silence hangs in the air. I don't want to push him
but he obviously had a reason for dragging me out of the hall. I wait a little
longer but he still seems to be warring with himself.

"What are we doing out here, Cory?" I ask
when I can’t take the tension any longer. He turns, and puts his hands in his
pockets, looking a little lost.

"I thought you needed some air."

He’s probably right. I know I’ve had too much to
drink but I wanted to have a good time, for my mom’s sake as well as my own.

The air begins to clear my alcohol-induced fog and
I eye him more carefully now. His jaw is clenched and I can bet that muscle was
twitching earlier when I was dancing with that middle-aged guy. I can't even
remember his name. Did he even tell me? I remember the look on Cory's face when
he arrived on the dance floor and grabbed my hand. He shot daggers at the guy
who was quick to dance away.

We watch each other and I feel naked as though he
can see all over me and I can't conceal what and who I am no matter how much I
might want to. I sigh and turn away from him. That old worry is back. The one
that tells me that no one who has seen the pictures or heard about what
happened to me can ever see past that. I’m forever going to be the girl whose
photos are on the internet. The damaged one who was kidnapped. I can't handle
the way he's staring at me so I turn to face the garden, focusing on the moths
that dark around the lights on the side of the building. I know how they feel.
Sometimes I feel like a moth. I’m too easily dazzled by charming men. Like the
moth, I fly trustingly forward, then crash and burn.

I take a deep breath and turn to face him again. We
have to have the conversation. We have to face the demons still crowding us. I
just don’t know if we're ever going to get past them.

Will he leave now that he's rescued me again?

Communication works both ways. In those two months,
he could have reached out to me too. But I know he'll say he was giving me
space, time to heal. How can I be angry at that?

"How are you?” he says quietly. “I mean
really, how are you? Not the bullshit answer you’d give the woman at the supermarket.
The real answer."

I turn away from him again not wanting him to see
that I am still affected by the events. Every time I think about it, my heart
races, my palms sweat and panic closes in on me until I feel I can't breathe. I
am so much better but it’s all still there, waiting behind my thin veneer of
normality, to press back in and make me anxious.

Cory steps closer to me and the air between us gets
warmer as though his body heat is seeping into me to chase the chill of
memories away. He cups my cheek and turns my face toward him.

"I'm better,” I whisper. “But it still hurts
to remember. I don’t know if that will ever stop."

"I wanted to kill him," Cory says.
"I still do. It took every ounce of restraint I had to care for you and
let another officer take him away."

Shocked at his statement I blink and stare as his
eyes search my face. There’s pain in his expression, real pain. "Why
didn't you call me after I came to your house to visit?" he asks.

I'd wanted to. Even though he didn't stay long, I
knew he'd come by. But the truth is that even though I’d wanted to, I hadn't
been ready to see anyone, least of all him. "I told you," I say
looking away from him.

"I know what you said."

I sigh and my shoulders slump forward. I shake my
head. "I couldn't face you. After you saw the photos. I felt so ashamed of
everything. What I’d done to make Drew so awful. The things I’d made you do
too. I couldn't bear to see the disgust on your face."

I try to turn away again but he gently encircles my
arms with his strong hands and holds me in place. Forced to stare at him or the
ground I choose the ground. I can’t face him, knowing he’ll see the rawness of
emotion in my eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he asks
quietly.

I shrug out of his hands and he lets me go. I walk
a few paces away from him, thinking it will be easier to talk about it if I'm
not looking at him. Seeing those eyes staring back at me makes it almost
impossible.

"I saw the way you looked at me at the station
when you saw the pictures.”

I feel Cory standing right behind me. He takes my
wrist as I try to walk away again. We both look down at his hand, remembering
another time and another man who did the same thing with so much venom. Cory
releases me and yanks his hand away as though he's afraid he's hurt me. I can
feel how much he doesn’t want to step into Drew’s shoes and how much he doesn’t
want to hurt me and it makes me feel so much more for this man who has to deal
with the most brutal of society but can still treat me gently and with great kindness.

Cory could never be like Drew. I know this. Even
when he’s rough, he’s kind. Even when he wanted to be in control, he was always
looking for my consent, and always seeking my pleasure before his own. I grab
his hand and wrap it around my wrist again with a little nod, needing him to
understand that I know him. He’s nothing like Drew.

He cups my face and stares into my eyes. "I
would never think badly of you for what happened.”

"But, the pictures," I say.

"But nothing. Drew was a sick man who took advantage
of your trust. He abused the power he had over you and twisted something that
you enjoyed into a weapon. I know after something like that it will take time
for you to trust again. But you need to understand that nothing that you did,
nothing that happened would ever make me think lesser of you."

I nod, lost in the soothing sound of his voice and
the words that I hadn’t realized that I needed to hear. The heat spreading from
his hand into my wrist is like pure energy pulsing between us. It brings back
memories of the moments before we kissed; static electricity that needs to be
released.

He’s right about trust. When it is lost it is hard
to find again. Wounds to a person’s faith in other human beings are a terrible
thing to bear. He’s wrong about how I feel about him, though. Even with my
hands cuffed behind my back I trusted him. Trusted him to give me pleasure, to
take pleasure, but to not hurt me.

"Trust does take time," I say.

"I would never do something like that to you,
Allyson."

"I know."

His hand still grips my wrist. His other hand cups
my face. I peer at his lips, remembering how they felt on mine. I feel his
breath gust softly against my cheek. He’s hesitating so much that I can almost
feel him vibrating.

I move closer to him until our bodies are just
about touching. I smile, tilt my head, but before I can lean in Cory groans
deep in his throat and captures my lips in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps
into my mouth dancing with mine. He tastes of red wine and sorrow. Behind all
the physical fierceness I can feel the powerlessness he felt at being unable to
find me for so many hours. A shiver races through me and I wrap my arms around
him, clutching him for support and to let him know that I understand. I get it.
He needed to protect me and he couldn’t.

My eyes flutter closed and the garden melts away. I
savor the flick of his tongue over mine, the light sweep of his lips that turn
hungry and devouring. It’s as though he's been waiting for this kiss for years.

Maybe I have too.

When we’re in our teens we get told by our parents
and teachers to be sensible, find a partner and be monogamous to be safe. We so
desperately hope that the person we have chosen to be with will care for us
both physically and emotionally. Our heart gets involved whether we want it to
or not.

I followed the advice, but somehow it didn’t work
out in the way everyone claimed it would, until now.

My psychologist told me that it is quite normal for
girls to replicate the mistakes of their mothers. We learn young what to expect
of men. We seek in our partners what we learned was normal from our fathers. At
first, I felt so stupid for that, taking the resulting escalation of violence
and intimidation as something I had brought on myself. It took time for me to
realize that I have to let everything go. I need to move forward to heal the
wounds of my past.

I see in Cory a good man, who puts my needs and
emotions first. I see a gentle man with a darker side. The yin and the yang. I
see two people who are complementary in many ways.

If I’m brave enough to hold out my heart in my
hand, the person who takes it will need to hold it gently. I know Cory would
wrap it in silk, put it in his pocket and keep it with him always.

His arms roam over my back, possessive and gentle,
squeezing and needing to show me how much he wants me, conscious not to be too
forceful. His careful approach makes me want to ditch the rest of the reception
and have him tie me up and take me again.

He pulls me in tighter to his body, his hand
stroking over my hair like a father would soothe a child.

Finally, he breaks the kiss and we stand there
breathing heavily, staring at each other. I feel awakened inside. Small
fragments of my soul have been picked up and placed back together.

A smile turns the corner of his lips up and his
eyes sparkle.

“I’ve got you, babe,” he says, kissing the tip of
my nose.

And I know that he has, in all the ways that count.