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Our lips duel and attack each other. Clumsy, messy, perfect.
She’s appears inexperienced- it’s apparent in her movements, but it only makes me want her more.
To mold her, teach her, explore her.
I’m about to push her to the floor and come all over that pretty face when the back door opens and her stepbrother decides this is the time to come home.
Cunt.
Alice pushes off me like I’m a disease.
Her lips are swollen and red, her hair mussed and sticking up at all angles.
Hard nipples tent the fabric of her dress and a lusty gaze is heavy in her eyes.
“Crap,” she chastises herself.
She squirms, and I know she must have an ache in her pussy, desperate for me to relieve it.
“Who the fuck is this?” he spits, throwing a bag of takeout on the table.
“I’m a friend,” I keep my tone calm despite the pulsating energy coursing through me, urging me to rip out his throat.
“Friend?” he cocks a brow.
Oil covers his clothes and hands, and there’s a suspicious glare in his eyes.
“A little old aren’t we?” he insults.
There’s only eight years between us, the little prick.
“Chill out, Ash, you’re not my father for fucksakes.” Alice rolls her eyes and pushes me towards the staircase.
“Oh, I’m well aware of that, Alice,” he narrows his gaze on her.
And I don’t miss the insinuation. Fucker.
“Ash is my stepbrother,” she hisses the last word over shoulder, still guiding me towards the stairs like she’s hiding her dirty secret.
I’ll be your dirty anything.
“Did you want something to eat?” she asks, sitting awkwardly on her bed once we get up the stairs.
“I’m starving,” I tell her, my tone low and teasing. “But not for food.”
Her gulp is pleasing, but her clothes are keeping her too confined, and I desperately want to relieve her of them.
“I’m just going to use the bathroom,” she announces, quickly getting to her feet and shuffling off. I almost laugh at her discomfort. Almost.
It’s nice being in her room without having to hide or be careful, quiet or invisible.
This glimpse into the life she has here is unsettling.
I knew she needed saving, I just wasn’t aware of how badly.
In the cold light of day I can see the peeling of the wallpaper, the chill in the air from zero heating, and the cheap fabric of her bedding.
I’m here now, little bird. Let me love you, fix your broken wings.
Walking over to a shelf put up off kilter on her wall I close my eyes briefly, irritation that she lives this way bleeding into my conscience.
My fingers brush against the items she has displayed there.
A smile lifting my lips when I graze over the trinkets she’s collected, settling on a small model of the Eiffel Tower.
“It’s Paris,” her soft voice announces upon her return.
I nod my head, and she sidles up next to me. Her pupils dilate, a sad smile tilting her lips.
“It’s where I’ve always wanted to go after I graduate. It’s not looking likely though. My mother’s illness took my college fund and now looks like it’s taking our house, too.”
You’re not going anywhere Alice. Alice don’t you realize yet, what I desire, I inhabit, and keep.
“Is she getting better?”
Barking out an un-amused laugh she takes the tower from me and puts it back on her shelf.
“No. Its sounds harsh, but I just wish she would be put out of her misery. It’s inhuman keeping her the way she is.”
Are you asking me to help you? To put you both out of the misery of her being a burden on you?
“My mother was a hindrance, too,” I state, and she really looks at me then. Her eyes exploring, delving inside me, searching the darkness hidden inside.
“Is this normal?” she whispers, her brows crashing together, her hand resting on my chest.
I know what she’s asking; Is this connection we have normal? To progress so rapidly?
I thought this would take longer, to gain her trust and entry into her life, her panties, her delectable pussy. But she’s as desperate for me as I am for her.
“No, it’s not. But we’re not normal, we’re extraordinary.”
Sighing, she briefly closes her eyes.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“For what?” I ask, confused.
“For finding me.”
Twenty-Four
Chapter
ALICE
Three weeks later.
Crashing.
That’s the only way to describe it.
I’m crashing into Erik, shards of us both splintering off and causing carnage.
Beautiful fucking carnage.
It’s liberating not caring about anything else but your own pleasure, happiness.
Erik gives me inner strength to be who I am.
To embrace my true self and let her be free.
Asher isn’t speaking to me, and I don’t care.
Fred is looking at a long stretch in prison, and I’m glad. He hit me and deserves to pay for it.
Everything is falling into place, and I feel liberated.
The lights turn out, and I’m plunged into darkness.
“No, Erik,” I cry out. “Erik, please,” I scream out, adding a choked sob to my tone.
