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I roughly tried to whisk the water bottle out of Misha’s hand, but he didn’t budge. We both hung onto the plastic bottle while I studied him. An unexplainable urge inside me had to know if he’d touched her.
We bumped shoulders and I growl-whispered so Dita wouldn’t hear. “Did you fuck her?”
Misha pushed a heavy breath through his nose. A humorless laugh escaped as he let go of the bottle, only to taunt me with a reminder. “You mean your stepsister?”
My body went rigid. It was betraying my fucking self.
Yes. Yes, I meant Dita.
I stoically nodded once.
He shook his head and pensively bit his lip. He’d seen me in almost every stage of emotion, but this was a new one. Possessive wasn’t my style.
“Since when did you make it your business who I fuck, Ares?”
He was right. It shouldn’t be any of my business unless I wanted to make it mine. “She’s mine, Misha.”
“Too little, too late,” he sing-songed.
His smile turned into a fully-belly laugh when I grabbed his shirt and almost touched his nose with mine. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
“Shit, dude. Easy.” He grabbed my wrist, and in a hushed voice, he made it known that he wouldn’t back down if I needed an ass-kicking. “Get a grip. I might not leave her here with you if you go full blown psycho on her, A.”
“Misha,” I warned through gritted teeth. His lazy smile infuriated me. “Did I make myself clear?”
“We’ll see about that,” he mockingly responded.
He straightened his shirt when I let go of it to step back. With a huge grin, he walked over to her. Her arms were crossed over the wooden edge, her head resting on top of them.
Misha crouched down in front of her again and stroked her hair. “Boss says it’s bedtime, little dancer.”
“He can go screw himself,” she countered, sounding sleepy.
Misha chuckled. “I bet he knows ways to make that interesting.” He cast me a playful glance over his shoulder.
Had I imagined his interest in Dita? There didn’t seem to be enough chemistry between the two of them. I realized I’d probably overreacted.
I couldn’t inform Misha about the plan I’d concocted. How I planned to get her in my bed, stuff her with my cum, and keep her as leverage against my dad.
Oh, how I’d love to see my dad’s face, knowing I’d touched her. Even so, knowing I touched her and did away with my no cream pie rule.
My dick really liked that thought; having my seed ooze out of her.
Misha got up and walked over, scraping the soles of his sneakers against the ground. He bumped my shoulder this time and paused, leveling his serious gaze with mine. “Careful, Ares. Next time you want to start a fight, you might actually get one.”
He ambled inside and out of my house. Without him here, the silence tore through me. Dita serenely lay there, musing to a song in her head as her hips swayed under water.
“You can’t keep them still, can you?”
She watched me remove my shirt and toss it onto the deck. Her head perked up when I started lowering my jeans and toeing off my Nikes.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” I asked her. I thumbed the waistband of my too tight boxers, indicating I wanted to strip completely naked. My cock needed space. She gasped and to my amusement looked away to give me some privacy. I kept them on, only giving her an illusion of how good and full I could fill her up.
I walked down the steps, welcoming the warmth of the heated water. Once I lowered myself up until my waist, I swam and drifted towards her like a crocodile on a hunt. She no longer moved to an internal beat. She was guarded and went stiff as a board when I slowly settled my chest against her back.
“I-I think I’m done swimming.”
