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“I want her.” Stonewall’s words leave Taz and me stunned.
“She seems game. What do you think? We all take her at once or line up?” Taz raises his hand for a high five. Neither of us accepts.
“It’s her first time,” I say.
“And if we don’t do it, a cabana boy gets the participation ribbon.” Taz scans the dance floor. We follow his gaze.
She’s at the edge of it, not in the center where Stone left her. Was she going to follow us? Her hands are in front of her chest while she bounces to the beat, smiling at the guy less than a foot in front of her moving in sync with her. The look on his face says too much.
He wants to inch those scraps of fabric off of her tits as much as I do.
A server walks past them with a tray of treats. They must be the cake pops our dad said Cheri was making. She looks thrilled and grabs a stick, turning the round treat upward, and taking the whole big ball in her mouth.
I choke on my saliva. The guy dancing with her does too. He stops dancing, takes her hand, and guides her off the dance floor.
“Am I going to shoot that mother fucker down on my own, or are we in for Cheri as a team?” Taz says.
“I’m in,” Stone and I say simultaneously as we stride, side by side toward the poor teenage boy who won’t have any idea what a wrong move he made.
I take one last, extra-large step, thrust an arm out, and shove him away from our sister. He catches his balance and opens his mouth to say something but promptly clamps his lips shut.
Taz rips the stick of the cake pop out of Cheri’s mouth and she slaps a hand over her lips, coughing through the food. We give her a second to swallow, and she says, “I almost choked.”
“You want to choke on balls, just let us know.”
I groan. Taz needs to learn to dial it back.
Cheri lights up, looking at him expectantly. “So, you’re going to do it?”
On second thought, Taz might be onto something.
He raises a hand and motions toward Stone and me. “Weare. The three of us. It’s all or none.” He grabs an entire tray of drinks from one of the roving waiters. He’s going for it.
Cheri takes one of the glasses and smiles.
I’m not sure if it’s a drink or a fruit basket in a cup. A lemon wedge, cherries, leaves, and ice cubes leave little room for liquid, but I can smell the bourbon. “How old are you?”
A laugh bursts out of Cheri. “Old enough for my new brothers to offer an all-or-none proposition.” She hurries the glass to her lips, slurps, and catches a cherry between her teeth. An intact stem leaves a second cherry dangling from her lips when she pulls the cup away.
I wrap my fingers around hers, intent on sliding the beverage from her hand but a shockwave passes through me at our contact. Stonewall clears his throat. Shaking off the impact of my fingers on hers, I return the cup to the tray. There are so many things wrong with this situation.
The sexual tension between us is palpable.
Taz hands the tray of drinks to Stonewall, leans forward, and bites the dangling cherry. Add that to the list of ‘wrong’, and while I had planned on us having a bigger conversation before doing anything, I can’t figure out if I want him to move in for the kiss or make room for me. He pulls back, the stem remaining in his teeth.
She sucks her cherry into her mouth and darts her tongue out to catch the drip on her lips. I wrestle with my thoughts. Anger ravages me that we’re too old for her. We need to compose ourselves and respect our stepsister.
And yet she’s handing us a fantasy on a cherry-lined platter. I can’t look away. I can’t walk away. Do I need to speak up and protect her? Or do we go through with this and protect her from guys who areactualscumbags?
Cheri plucks the stem from his lips and says, “You stole my cherry.” Then she pops the stem in into her mouth.
She’s quiet. We’re staring. Moonlight streaks between Taz and myself as the three of us have practically backed her to the wall.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Stonewall speaks up. I understand where he’s coming from but I like where Taz and Cheri are taking this. Taz has always been able to cut loose in a way Stone and I couldn’t. He’s no worse for his decisions.
Has my inability to compartmentalize held me back from joy? Should I accept the permission Cheri is granting? My morality and my most basic human instincts are at war with each other.
My morality tries to point out everything that’s wrong, like wanting to ride her bare.
