Page 11 of Step Brother Bear

Perhaps it’s my lack of intimacy, his words, or how inappropriate this entire situation is, but I find myself nearing my edge more swiftly than I could have anticipated. “Jesus Christ,” I whisper. I wanted to remain quiet, not give him the satisfaction of my pleasure, but I can’t. It’s too fucking good.

He groans into me, pushing his tongue harder against my clit, shoving his fingers in and out in perfect rhythm. I prop myself back up, eager to watch him. His shorts are pulled down and he tugs himself frantically. It’s impressive that he can pleasure himself and eat me out so effectively, all with an injured shoulder. The sight of him does it for me, and my body turns into fast-melting butter. I cry out, convulsing, not pulling away as I watch him jerk uncontrollably—succumbing to his own demise.

Something happens. Perhaps I’ve lost my mind momentarily. Derek changes before my eyes as he comes. Fangs, hair—he’s an animal. But no, the irrational image is gone as quickly as it comes. My face must tell of my sudden delirium because he catches it, staring at me wide-eyed and panicked as he rises. “Get out,” he orders, his voice tinged with fear.

“Wait, what?”

“Get the fuck out,” he says louder this time.

I’m stunned—embarrassed, confused, mortified—all the above. Part of me worries I did something cruel, gazed at him like he repulsed me as I came, but I can’t even gather the words to question further. He’s somehow larger than before, towering over me, veins straining in his neck as he rushes me out his bedroom door.

As if tossed out by an angry wind, I find myself in the quiet of the hallway, Derek’s door slammed behind me. My body hums with satisfaction but it’s quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. What the fuck did I just do? It’s clear. Now more than ever, I need out of this house—to find a way to escape the close corridors with the obvious beast hiding inside the dungeon so near.

Chapter 7

Despite the persistent bursts of noise from next door, I’ve never felt so alone. I thought he’d come for me—a stupid notion. It didn’t make sense, any of it. I should be more mortified by my actions. I mean, he’s my stepbrother, but there’s no room in my mind for anything but questions. Why did he kick me out so urgently? And most of all, what did I witness him change into? The more I replay the memory, the less I can blame it on the trick of the light or a lapse in cognition.

There was something different about Derek—something that terrified him once he thought I caught it. Growing up, there was always a part of him that felt hidden from me. My parents kept him away, treated him like he was dangerous. I always thought it was because of his violent nature, the part of him that seemed to focus on his hatred, especially when it came to me. But after yesterday, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else about Derek—something almost supernatural. It’s a crazy idea. Probably brought on by the damn lilac-purple walls or just the complete isolation in general.

Another burst of groans breaks out from the room next door. He’s in pain. I probably didn’t make things any better, even though I helped him change his bandages. I’m tempted to see if he’s okay and offer my assistance again, but I’m too embarrassed, confused, and scared to do anything but play back the memories in the safety of my room.

With night, everything grows noisier in my head. I try to sleep, try to wash out my questions, but every noise from Derek next door sends my thoughts into a flutter, making sleep impossible to grasp. I finally abandon my attempts and throw myself out of my room. Perhaps if I stuff my face, I’ll have an easier time catching slumber.

I flip the switch on in the kitchen, and the silence greets me like a familiar friend. Despite the cosmetic changes, everything feels nostalgic. I have many memories alone in my kitchen. It’s not new for my parents to be away on business trips. For most of my life, they traveled to various parenting conferences and conventions to give talks and make appearances. I learned how to live on my own early on, and right now I’m reminded of what it felt like all those years before.

Thankfully, my mom stocked the fridge before she left, so I search for the perfect midnight snack. Despite the array of organic options, there’s only one thing I’m craving. I pour myself a glass of milk, move to the cabinet, and pull out a whole tub of peanut butter. The first scoop into my mouth instantly fills me with a forgotten bliss, and I chase the nutty taste with a chug of cold milk. I’m only two bites in when someone steps from the last step into the kitchen. I tense, feeling caught.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were up.” He’s shirtless, tense—so vulnerable and unlike his usual callous demeanor.

“It’s fine,” I say, covering my full mouth.

He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck, not moving from his spot.

“Want some?” I offer, unsure what else to say. If I have to stare at him for another second, all disheveled and watching me, I don’t think I’ll make it to another breath.

His eyes widen. I’m as surprised by my words as he is. These mere moments of civility are not the norm for us, but things are obviously different now, and he seems so disarmed that I can’t help but offer him kindness, as much as he doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t answer, but slides into the stool next to me. I pass him the container, and he reaches for my spoon. I’m about to tell him to get his own, but after everything, sharing saliva is the least of our worries.

“Still your midnight snack of choice?” he asks after swallowing a large bite. A remnant of peanut butter sticks to the corner of his lip.

“You remember me eating peanut butter?”

He laughs. “Yeah, it always pissed me off when I’d go to make lunch in the morning and find empty containers.”

“Okay, I never ate that much.”

“At the beginning of the month, you sure did.”

“Beginning of the month?”

He focuses on scraping out another spoonful. “Yeah, I assumed during your time of the month.”

“You tracked my periods?” I can’t help the spurt of laughter that erupts from me. It’s just so ridiculous.

His cheeks heat, a hue I don’t think I’ve witnessed before, and I’m oddly hypnotized by it. “No, it was just something I guessed.”

“Weird, bro.”