I should stop.
But, I don’t. Instead, I give her all of me. She cries out in a mix of pleasure and pain, but I keep going. Faster. Harder. “Fuck.” I groan. It feels so fucking good inside her. I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.
She grabs me by the head and pulls my mouth to hers. Kissing me, as if it’s the first and last time, before I spill inside of her.
Slowing my pace, I pull out of the kiss.
“Thanks,” I tell her.
“Thanks?”
“Yeah. Thanks for giving me your first.”
1
Three Months Later
Sooner or later, everyone is smothered in a blanket of consequences when they choose the wrong path. We did just that. We saw an opportunity, and we took it and ran with it. We made our bed, and now we have to lie in it and hope that we still have our freedom when we get out.
Marni just got her tattoo. She’s one of us now. She gets to stand in line and when it’s her turn, she gets to pull the trigger on whoever she wants and we will all have her back. That’s part of the deal. No matter what, we stand together from start to finish and everything in between.
I pull up to the house that I once called home and the garage door is closed, but I don’t need to see vehicles to know who's here. Chances are, there’s only one person home. The people I call my parents are probably on some sort of lavish vacation in France or basking in the sun on the beaches of Maui. Don’t know, don’t care. I moved out a few months ago when Dad moved his new family in. One month later, he married my bitch of a stepmother, Lynn, and decided that I was simply an inconvenience in his perfect life.
Every once in a while, I drop by just to pay a visit to my new sister because she requires my attention to keep her in line.
“Madison,” I holler before the door even closes behind me. The walls have been painted since I was here last. Dad didn’t waste any time letting Mommy Dearest wipe away the memories of his former wife—also known as my mom. “In your room, right fucking now,” I shout even louder. I could smell her fruity body spray as soon as I walked in, so I know she’s here.
The door slams shut and I kick my shoes off and head down the hall to the staircase. My socks glide across the waxed hardwood floors. “Madison,” I singsong, “I know you’re here.” As I make my way up the stairs, the sound of her pop music gets louder. Taylor Swift, of course. This girl is obsessed. I’m not sure who she’s more obsessed with, me or the pop princess.
Without knocking, I swing her door open. “What the fuck, Lars?” she huffs with her legs spread wide open and her purple dildo still stuck inside of her. I step in her room and close the door behind me. “What the fuck did I tell you about blowing up my phone all day?”
“But I missed you,” she says, with her elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of her. She leans forward and begins sliding the dildo in and out while watching me with her lips curled up. I make a beeline to her with a heavy brow. Without even saying a word, I grab the rubber wand and pull it out. With my eyes on her, I trail my tongue up the length of the dildo, licking her sweet juices. “I was just about to come, so if you wouldn’t mind.” She leans forward with her legs still spread and tries to grab it from my hand.
With my free hand, I give her body a shove and push her down on her back. Crawling on my knees, between her legs, my face hovers over hers. “Since when do you do anything for yourself?” I plunge the dildo in her so hard that her entire body jolts upward, but I don’t stop. Gripping the end tightly in my hand, I drive the full length inside of her continuously, causing the top of her head to ricochet off the headboard.
“Holy shit, Lars,” she cries out. Her eyes roll back in her head as her back arches to gain friction. Just when I feel her body tense up, I pull the dildo out and drop it on her stomach. “What the hell?” She grimaces.
“It’s about time you start taking care of yourself.” I brush my finger over her nose with a smirk.
“Fuck you, Lars!” she screams as I stand up.
“In your dreams, Sis.”
I turn to walk out, but she grabs my attention. “Oh, I’ve been dreaming about it ever since the first time you fucked me, and every time after that. Should I remind you that I could make it happen again if I wanted to?”
Just like that, I spin around, and I’m on top of her again. My jaw ticks furiously as I grit through my teeth, “Don’t fucking threaten me, Madison. I’ll tear you to shreds.”
“Oh yeah,” she seethes, “before or after you spend twenty years in prison?”
I don’t humor her with a spoken response. Instead, I grab her by the throat and squeeze. Not as hard as I should, but enough to get her attention. My mind says to just fucking do it, end this madness. But my conscience isn’t there. Not yet.
“One word. Josh,” she mutters with my fingers still snaked around her neck. She doesn’t fight me off; she just lies there with a fucking smirk that I wanna dig my teeth into and peel off her face.
Lucky for her, I’m in need of some reprieve. Which is why I came in here in the first place. I seem to have forgotten that because every time I look at her fake tan and face full of overpriced makeup, I wanna vomit. The girl’s a fucking earthquake.
