Stepbrother Fallen (7 page)
Read Stepbrother Fallen Online
Authors: Aya Fukunishi
I can imagine how much of a mess mom's head would make when
it exploded if I actually said that. She's already on the edge of
sanity just having Rafe in the house, but if I told her I couldn't
stop thinking about hate fucking him?
Jesus.
"Ummm,
noooo
," I say. "I'm just a little distracted is all.
You know, with Rafe in the house. It's just a little odd to have a
new brother at my age. Feels a little weird, y'know?"
relieved to see it isn't just her who thinks the situation is
strange. "Tell me about it. I just don't know what I'm going to do
with that boy." She takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly.
"Oh, you know what I'm like. I need things to be a certain way, and
I get a little... well, stressed, I guess, when things get
complicated. You know I've always been like that." She smiles
warmly. "I just thank the lord you never gave me any trouble. I
can't imagine how I would have survived if you'd been a sullen
kid."
know mom means it in a nice way, but right now I really don't want
to be reminded of the fact that I'm the low fat cottage cheese at
the buffet table of life. After meeting Rafe I'm kinda beginning to
see the appeal of the wickedly sweet and fattening chocolate cake
at the dessert table.
straightens out the wrinkles in her dress, something she always
does when she's feeling a little out of sorts and OCD. "Well, I
guess there's nothing to be done about it. Your father won't lift a
finger to help, so we're just going to have to hope Rafe will
eventually get used to us."
her a pretty hard time about her obsessive behavior over the last
month, but only now am I realizing just how uncomfortable she
really is with him in the house. It seems like Rafe's presence is,
to mom, like an itch she can't scratch.
neuroses, but maybe I can try to get Rafe to cut her some
slack.
join us for dinner?" I ask.
sweety, but I can't imagine there's anything you could say that
would drag that boy out of the little fort he's built up there.
It's sweet of you to offer, though."
don't mind, mom. Just set a place for him and I'll see what I can
do." I'm already on my feet and making for the staircase.
expect it'll be empty come dinner time, but it's nice of you to
try."
can possibly convince Rafe to stop acting like a prick. For the
hundredth time in the last week I feel the anger begin to rise
inside me. This is a guy who was given a fucking get out of jail
free card, and instead of spending a year cooling his heels in a
cell he's been given a free room in a lovely home with his real
father, one of the nicest people I know, and my mother, who...
well, she's a little screwed up, but she does her best.
He's locked himself away for a week without a fucking word. He eats
our food, drinks our water and uses our fucking power without so
much as a nod of appreciation. That's just a douche move.
OK, settle down, Maddy. You know what
happens when you speak to him with a hot head.
the way down at the foot of the stairs. I can't name the singer,
but I know it's that sad, depressing guy who sang over the end
credits of Good Will Hunting. Elliott something?
By the time I reach the door the music is almost loud
enough to shake the walls.
How can he stand to listen at that volume?
I rap on the door
and wait, preparing my ears for the onslaught of sound as soon as
the door opens.
but still the door remains closed.
Oh, fuck this. This is my house. I'm going in.
I push open the
door.
window a record spins on the turntable, but apart from that there's
no movement. I'm still seething with the background anger that's
bubbled beneath the surface for a week, so I storm across the room
and take out my frustration on the turntable, yanking the needle
from the grooves with a loud, painful squeal followed by blissful
silence. For a moment I think about tossing the record out the
window like a Frisbee, and I even draw back my arm to prepare to
throw it, but I stop myself when I realize I have no earthly clue
how much records are worth. I've never really thought about it, but
I think I remember reading somewhere that some of them can be
valuable. I'd hate to toss this one out the window only to find
myself paying Rafe $500 when it turns out it was a rare collector's
item.
a voice behind me.
me hands, to find Rafe standing in the doorway of the en suite
bathroom. Just like the first time I saw him he leans casually
against the door frame, but this time is... different. He stands
naked from the waist up, his bottom half barely concealed by a soft
white towel that just about makes it around his waist, but is small
enough to leave a slit that runs down his thigh. The slightest
movement this way or that would expose him completely.
I can feel my heart thump in my chest, and beneath my
conservative good girl clothes I'm painfully aware that all manner
of embarrassing, shameful things are happening to my body: things
that I
absolutely
should not be feeling while looking at the guy who sleeps
in the room next door. Now I've actually
seen
the monster
he's hiding under that towel it's even
worse.
"
Errrm...
" I mumble, my mind suddenly blank as to why I've come to
Rafe's room. I'm trying my best to keep from staring at his
glistening wet pecs, but despite my best efforts my eyes are drawn
to the depression between them, running down to his tight six pack,
and beneath those firm, bunched and gleaming muscles the towel,
slung low around his waist, hiding his –
you'd like to join us at the shower. I mean table! Dinner table!
Mom's cooking, ummm, food."
a hook on the door and begins drying his hair. As he lifts his arms
I can see a large, black tattoo on the inside of his left bicep.
It's difficult to see with the towel in the way, but from across
the room it looks like musical notes. I don't know the terms, but
it looks like like it might be sheet music: a few notes arranged in
a little box, or a grid. He turns towards the mirror and I see a
second piece of ink stretched across his rippling muscles, some
kind of tribal pattern curved across his left shoulder and down to
the middle of his back. I can't drag my eyes away from it.
muffled by the towel. "I'll eat my dinner up here."
hungrily at his body. "Mom really wants us to eat as a family. Just
this once. Please?"
Rafe tosses the towel to the ground and walks over to his
wardrobe. "Not my family, Princess.
Definitely
not my mom. No thanks."
mean. Come and eat, please? I know it'll make my mom happy if you'd
make an effort to join in."
I don't want to play nice with your family. I'm only here because
it's court ordered, and my choice is between here and jail. You
getting me? I don't want to toss a football with your dad, and I
don't want to share a fucking Jenny Craig stew with your mom. I
just want to be left alone. Understand?"
respond to such needless hostility. I can't figure out why Rafe is
so mean, or how he doesn't understand how much easier life could be
if he'd just let a few people in and quit being such an angry
asshole. It baffles me.
hope you have a great time sitting up here alone with your food. If
you change your mind you'll find a place laid for you at the table,
with the other normal humans." I make my way to the door,
determined not to look back for a final glimpse of Rafe's
body.
to step through the door. As I turn I imagine him apologizing for
his tone, explaining that he's just had a rough time lately, and
promising that he'll try harder from now on to be friendly. All
this flashes through my mind in an instant, and by the time I face
him I'm fully expecting him to repeat those words exactly.
hand.
back."
I look down and notice what I'm still
holding. I'd completely forgotten. "Oh, yeah, sorry." I reach out
to hand it back, but then a thought strikes me and I draw back my
hand. I'm holding a fucking bargaining chip right here.
it back unless you come downstairs and share a nice meal with me
and my parents like a normal, non-sociopathic human being."
kidding. "I'm serious, Princess. Don't fuck with my things." He
reaches out his hand and waits for me to give him the record.
"
I'm
serious, Rafe. Don't fuck with my family. My parents have
worked really hard to give you an opportunity here, and if you
don't appreciate what you've been given you can at least fake it.
You can have the record back after dinner."
grabbing me by the wrist before I can react. I try to switch the
record to my other hand, but Rafe reaches out and grabs that wrist
too. With a step forward he pushes me back, pressing me against the
wall and raising my arms up above my head. Now my wrists are
pressed together he has no problem holding both of them in one
large hand, freeing up the other to pluck the record from my
unresisting fingers.
The first is to drive my knee firmly into his balls and send him
collapsing to the ground in a weeping, whimpering heap. It's damned
tempting, but I discount the idea almost immediately. The second
option is this:
I raise one foot and run it quickly up the inside of Rafe's
leg until I reach the bottom of his towel. When I feel the fabric
against my feet I clench my toes, gripping the towel between them,
and tug my foot down sharply. The loose towel falls away from
Rafe's waist and suddenly he's naked and exposed. I look down at
the gap between our bodies and almost gasp at the size of the dark,
veined tool hanging between his legs. It looks even bigger up
close. It all happens too quickly for my conscious mind to react,
but I hear the message sent by the treacherous, dangerously horny
subconscious part of my brain loud and clear:
we know what you'll be dreaming
about tonight.
be so shocked at losing his towel that he'd release his grip, and I
was right. I'm suddenly free as Rafe falls to a crouch to retrieve
the towel, but what happens next I could never have predicted.
their cock. It's almost an instinctive reaction to being on
display, to use anything at hand to cover up that most private and
sensitive of areas. Rafe, though, doesn't do that. The moment he
grabs the towel his hand moves to his side and around to his butt.
His thick, long cock bounces loose against his thigh, but all he
seems to care about – above his swinging manhood, and above the
record that breaks in two as he drops it to retrieve the towel – is
covering one particular ass cheek, and in the split second my eye
catches it as he crouches I see why.
toned left ass cheek runs a scar, deep and straight. I only caught
it for a split second before he covered it up, but as soon as I
catch sight of his eyes I knew I've gone too far. That was
something nobody was meant to see.
door. He stands, still naked. "Get out."
rise towards my face as I hurry for the door. "I'm sorry," I
whisper mournfully as I pull the door closed behind me, wishing I'd
never decided to walk through it.
