HUGE X3: A MFMM Menage Stepbrother Romance (23 page)

More than anything I wish
he wasn't here, but the threat of revealing the pictures keeps me rooted to my
spot.

"That's a good girl.
If you don't do what I say I'll send those pictures to everyone. And I do mean
everyone. How would your mom feel seeing her little girl tied up like
that?"

I grimace when his hot
breath gusts over me again. Rachel's expression changes to one of disbelief at
my passivity. Her eyes bore into mine questioningly, but not even Rachel knows
the shame I'm trying to hide from everyone.

His hand squeezes my breast
again then he moves his arm down my body and grabs my wrist. He tugs and I
follow, throwing an apologetic look over my shoulder at Rachel as we disappear
into the raucous crowd. The booming music hurts my ears and makes my head pound
in time to the beat. Rachel shakes her head in response, her eyes still
swimming with confusion. She knows that I dumped Drew so I understand her
reaction. If she knew what he was threatening to do, I know that she’d be
laying into him right now. I wish I could find it in me to confide in her, but
the embarrassment is too much. Rachel’s a good girl. She’s only had one
boyfriend in her entire life. She’d think so badly of me if she knew.

Drew looks back at me, a
half grin twisting his face as he struts through the living room toward the
den, pulling me behind him. I want to punch the smugness right off him but I’m
powerless against his tight grip. I have no idea what I'm going to do once he
has me somewhere quieter. My knees feel like jelly, the fear slowing me down.
He yanks on my wrist dragging me forward. I want to scream at the top of my
lungs, draw some attention and get help, but I can't. If I fight him he'll
release the pictures and my future will disappear into dust.

Before we get out of the
den he stops and pins me to the wall. His lips come down hard on mine and he
pushes his slimy tongue into my mouth. The smugness is there when he breaks the
kiss and looks down at me. My hands are fisted at my sides but I’m paralyzed.
“That’s my girl,” he says roughly grabbing my face. It’s as though he thinks I
enjoyed what he did to me. Or he doesn’t care that I didn’t. "I'm going to
fuck you so hard when I get you upstairs," he growls. "On top of you
so I can see those tits jiggle. From behind so you know your fucking
place."

I can’t look at him. My
eyes are on my shoes as my stomach clenches, fear making the blue shots churn
in my stomach.
 
He ducks his head to try
and catch my eyes, grabbing hold of my face and lifting it when I resist.

“Look at me when I’m
fucking talking to you, Allyson.”

Drew’s eyes are so mean.
Why didn’t I see the spite in him when we were dating? Either I was a blind
idiot or he’s a pro at wearing a civilized mask. He’s so close I can smell his
sour breath and see the yellow staining on his teeth. People are passing us but
no one seems to notice that I’m scared or that he’s threatening me. We must
look like an ordinary couple from the outside.

When I don’t react he takes
hold of my wrist again, and starts to drag me through the den and into the
corridor. The stairs to the second floor loom ahead and I look around
frantically, trying to think of a way to escape his grasp. A quick scan of the
people hanging around tells me there is no one I know well enough to use as a
distraction, but I know that the second he has me in a bedroom I'm done for.
His grip around my wrist tightens as he walks up the stairs. Pain needles up my
arm as I stumble behind him on trembling legs.

Before we get halfway up to
the next floor, the front door of the frat house bursts open. People stop and
stare as four cops enter the room, gazes alert, hands hovering above their
weapons. The fourth officer inside looks familiar. The way he moves, the shape
of his shoulders in his uniform. As he glances up the stairs, my eyes lock with
his.

Cory.

My heart pounds as his
eagle cop eyes zoom in on Drew's hand around my wrist. The trembling in my legs
spreads through my entire body making me shake.

A muscle twitches in Cory's
jaw. His eyes narrow as he watches Drew's hand squeeze my wrist tighter. Drew
pulls again, but I resist for a moment, tears blurring my vision. I want to
call out but if I anger Drew, I know what’ll happen. I can't cause a scene.

The officers spread out,
entering rooms and issuing orders. Partygoers stream out of the den, living
room, and dining room mumbling at the unfairness of it all as they leave
through the front door. Cory walks forward until he’s at the foot of the
stairs, still watching me and Drew. The music is turned off and the frat house
is a mess of disappointed revelers. Drew looks torn, glancing up the stairs as
though he thinks he might still be able to execute his plan for me, but he
seems to change his mind, turning around and heading down again. His focus is
on the front door. It’s as though he hasn’t even noticed Cory. I guess he has
no reason to know this particular cop would have any special interest in either
of us.

Before Drew reaches the
foot of the stairs, Cory steps in front of him. A few people slip passed and
Drew watches them go. I feel the anger pouring off Drew's body, searing into my
wrist through his grip on my hand. The muscle in Cory's jaw twitches again. He
looks up from my hand and fixes Drew with a glare that would make most men
cower.

After a short staring
match, he looks at me. "Are you okay?"

I nod but he's looking at
my eyes that I know are moist with tears and filled with fear. I blink and look
away, not ready for the humiliation of crying in front of my stepbrother-to-be
and not wanting to provoke Drew by starting some kind of incident. Cory frowns
at my lie then looks down at my wrist again.

"Thank you for looking
after my stepsister,” he says firmly, eyes fixed on Drew. “No need to worry
now. I'll see that she gets home safely."

I hold my breath waiting
for Drew to argue but he turns to look at me, confusion then disbelief crossing
his face. The reality of his situation dawns on him. He looks down at his grip
around my wrist, letting it go as if my skin is on fire. The color drains from
his face. My wrist is so sore, the skin red and chaffed. Maybe it’s finally
dawning on him that what he was about to do to me is illegal. Blackmail is one
thing. Releasing those photos is illegal too now. But doing things to me
against my will is a whole other kind of fucked up. I take a deep breath and
watch the men stare at each other, sizing each other up. Maybe now that Drew
knows my stepbrother is in law enforcement, he’ll back off.

"Good to know,"
Drew says. He turns and glares at me, and the ferociousness of his stare hits
me like a physical blow. Just as I’m about to take a step back to put some
distance between us he turns and walks out of the house.

I wrap my arms around me
trying to stop the shaking. When I calm down a little, the throbbing in my
wrist pulls my attention. There is a welt in the shape of his fingers. I cuff
my wrist, rubbing the skin in an attempt to smooth it out. How long will it
take for the impression to go away? The thought of carrying around the mark of
Drew’s abuse makes me want to cry. I don’t need reminders of the harm he can
inflict on me. I’ve barely been holding it together as it is.

I shudder and look up at
Cory. His face is impassive in just the way it was at the side of the road when
he was deciding whether or not to book me. Maybe he’s been trained not to show
what he’s thinking. He doesn’t say anything and the silence stretches between
us.

I feel lost, standing on
these stairs; bereft. My feet are hurting in the stupid gold sandals I chose to
wear to this ridiculous party I didn’t want to attend. The tight jeans and
halter top feel too restrictive, too sexy. Cory turns, surveying the movement
of people out of the premises. His colleagues are starting to join us in the
hallway, one by one, as the rooms are cleared. A few stragglers lumber through
the hall and stumble outside. In all the commotion I've lost track of Rachel.
I'm sure she's already been shepherded outside. Maybe she’ll be waiting out
there for me. Or maybe the police have told everyone to make their way home.

"Everyone is out
now," one of the policemen says.

Cory nods. He steps forward
and touches my elbow in a gesture so gentle I want to collapse into his arms.
Despite all my mixed feelings about him, what I want most right now is to feel
comforted and protected.

"Thanks, Simons. I'll
be out in a second. Make sure everyone is on their way home."

The officer nods and leaves
the house. From the doorway, I can hear Cory’s colleagues issuing orders to
disperse. A few of the more inebriated students grumble and stubbornly refuse
to move and are met by a firm response.

I don't want to go out
there until everyone is gone. I don’t want to have to face Drew again, or
answer Rachel’s questions.

"I'll take you back to
your dorm," Cory says, answering my prayers.

Unable to speak because I
know the tears will flow at his concern, I merely nod and snuggle into his side
when he puts an arm around my shoulders to guide me out of the house.

8

CORY

The darkness blurs in front
of the cruiser as I speed through the winding streets of the city. When I look
into the rear-view mirror I catch the glint of Allyson’s unshed tears and I
have to look away. I don’t know what the fuck was going on with her and that
asshole. The way he had his hand around her wrist was definitely not friendly.
When I told him I’d take care of her he looked furious.

I think about the way
Jackson’s dad had looked at me when I told him I’d hunt him down. He had that
same coiled rage as the douchebag at the party, and Allyson had the same fear
in her eyes that Jackson's mom had. Something about the whole situation stinks.

I glance back again and
Allyson has wrapped her arms around herself as though she’s cold. I turn up the
heat just in case.

She looks so sad right now,
and I wonder if he was the reason she looked so scared when I pulled her over.
Maybe he was the one she was speeding away from.

I had a weird feeling in my
gut when Simons and I had taken the call about the campus party getting out of
hand. It’s not a small college, so the chances of bumping into Allyson again
were pretty remote, but for some reason, I was kind of expecting to.

She’s been on my mind
something chronic for days. The taste of her lips, the feel of her skin. The
way her eyes sparkle with mischief but go dark with mystery. There’s none of
that now, though. It’s been replaced with sadness.

We’re getting close to the
road where I pulled her over for speeding. The cruiser's headlights pierce the
darkness. I didn't have a partner that night and although I love Simons like a
brother, I wish he wasn’t sitting next to me right now. If I was alone with
Allyson, I could talk to her. Not in the jokey way we sparred at the
restaurant, but seriously about what is going on with her. She looks like she
needs to talk to someone.

I glance back at her and
our eyes meet in the mirror and I’m hit with a bolt of electricity that I feel
in my balls. Her eyes seem wild and fearful. I can feel anxiety rolling off her
in waves. I wish I knew her better so that I’d know what her expression meant.

Simons starts talking in a
hushed tone, complaining about college students and what a waste of police time
it is trying to keep them from drinking themselves into an early grave. He’s
writing notes on our callout, which will make the paperwork easier to deal with
later.
 

"You sure you want to
go to your dorm and not home?" I ask Allyson. I don’t like the idea of
dropping her off at some impersonal college block without any family around
her.

She nods and I think I see
her take a deep breath.

“Mom’s not home so I’ll be
on my own wherever I go,” she says. Her voice is small and it wraps my heart
with a sensation that feels dark and hollow.

"Campus it is, then.
Which dorms?" I ask, trying to sound upbeat. I don’t want her to cry in
the back of my cruiser when all my attention needs to be focused on driving.

"Dixon. Do you know
where it is?"

I nod, taking the next left
and we speed down a street with lights lining the road. It’s eerily empty at
this time of night. Waiting at traffic lights for the signal to turn green
seems pointless and I wish I could set my lights flashing and breeze through,
but getting Allyson home isn’t exactly a life or death emergency. On the short
drive to the dorms, we don't encounter another car and Simons is almost nodding
off in the passenger seat next to me.
 

I bring the car to a stop
in front of her dorm and mumble that I’m walking Allyson to her door. Simons
nods sleepily and remains in the car. I get out and go around to open the back
door, holding it open for Allyson. She looks like she’s pleased to get out,
even though she’s done nothing wrong. I’ve never sat in the back of a squad car
but I can imagine there must be something unpleasant about it. She takes my
hand, and her slim fingers curl around mine in a way that makes me think of
sex.

Even though the timing is
totally inappropriate, everything about her makes me think of sex, from her
plump lips to the way she walks and smells. My dick twitches and I feel
decidedly uncomfortable about my reactions to her right now. She’s looking at
my hand as though the contact between us feels good to her too. She sighs
softly as I pull away as if she regrets the loss of my touch. With dark circles
shadowing her eyes and a slight slump to her usual upright posture, I can sense
her unease. The sex thoughts pass, chased by an urge to hold her against me and
comfort her. Weirdly deep feelings for someone I barely know.

I want to make her feel
safe, but not just in the way a cop would. It’s more than that. I want to be a
friend to her, too.

We walk to the door in an
awkward silence that’s filled with questions that I want to ask but I bet she
won’t answer. The events of the evening seem to have sapped all her energy.
Before she can pull out her keys, I touch her shoulder. I can’t let her go
inside without at least trying.

"What was going on
between you and that guy, Allyson?"

She seems torn, as though
she wants to confide in me but doesn’t quite feel comfortable enough to do so.
I get it. It’s not like we're friends or family. We’ve had two very strange
interactions and at the last one I teased her mercilessly and pushed her boundaries,
maybe a little too hard.

I hope that she sees that
my concern is genuine. I want her to confide in me so I can help her. I want to
see the light in her eyes again, and if I’m honest, the thought of that guy
being anything more than a friend to her makes me want to punch his lights out.

“We were having an
argument,” she says. “He’s my ex and he wants me back. That old cliché!” She
laughs in a way that sounds forced and maybe even a little frantic. What he was
doing to her wasn’t funny at all and I need her to understand that if nothing
else.

"The way he was
holding you, that wasn’t okay, Allyson.” I gently take her hand and look
pointedly at the red welts still present around her wrist. Before I get a
chance to comment any further, she pulls her hand away and uses the other to
cover over the sore patch.

“I know. He has a temper.
And he doesn’t like it if he doesn’t get his way.”

She’s looking at me
uncomfortably as though she knows I’m not entirely sure she’s telling me the
whole truth. I can’t help it that the cogs of my cop-brain start turning. She
turns away slightly and digs into the pocket of her jeans pulling out a key.
She reaches out to unlock the dorm lobby door.

“I should go in,” she says,
pushing the door. My hand slips from her shoulder and immediately my palm
misses her warmth.

"Will you be okay?” I
ask.

“Sure,” she says. “I’m just
gonna go straight to bed.”

“You know I've got your
back if you need me, Allyson.” I’ve kept my voice soft because I want her to
know she can tell me anything and I’ll treat her gently. She turns to look at
me and her eyes gaze into mine with so much worry in them that it takes every
last drop of strength in me not to pull her to my chest and wipe away the tears
I can see forming in her eyes. I lift a hand to brushes a lock of hair from her
face, tucking it behind her ear. We stare at each other, frozen as we were the
night at the restaurant, time passing at a rate that seems both faster and
slower than normal. I want to kiss her again but it isn’t the right time.
Instead, I pull out my notebook and write down my cellphone number.

"You can call me
anytime, Allyson. Anything happens, or you just wanna talk."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Anytime, Allyson. I
mean it. About anything."

"I will. If I need to.
I promise."

She turns and walks through
the door, closing it behind her. I wait until the lock clicks into place then
jog down the steps to get back in the squad car. It’s instinctive that I look
back to check that she’s in safely. Our eyes meet as I gaze back at the dorm. She’s
still standing where I left her and I know she must have been watching me get
back in my vehicle. I like that.

She waves quickly and I nod
in response. It’s as though neither of us wants to be the first to leave but in
the end, Simons clears his throat and I’m forced to turn the ignition and drive
so I don’t look like a complete love-struck idiot.

I imagine her walking up to
her little room, in a building that smells of students. She held my number
carefully and I wonder what she’ll do with it when she’s finally closed her
door. Will she add it to her contacts or just toss it on her desk?

I hope that she feels safer
for having it, but most of all I hope she’ll use it if she needs to. An uneasy
feeling remains with me as we attend the next call that comes through on the
radio. A feeling that my father would tell me to recognize as instinct.