Текст книги "ARROGANT PLAYBOY"
Автор книги: Winter Renshaw
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 43 страниц)
CHAPTER 20
WAVERLY
His touch knots my belly, and the way his gaze crawls all over me makes me feel dirty, inanimate. I feel Jensen watching, taking it all in quietly from the other side of the room, and my cheeks warm. I am an item on an auction block, and for the first time, I am less than human.
Bruce pays extra attention to me, his beady eyes locked on mine. He’s a member of the quorum, which means we are to show him the utmost respect, especially as a guest in our house, but I’m finding it exceptionally challenging to do so when he’s practically undressing me with his eyes.
“Waverly, can you quote Article Thirteen of the Articles of Faith?” Bruce asks.
“Yes,” I say, my voice a forced whisper. My throat is dry and tight, as if I’m being choked. His presence suffocates me. Or maybe it’s fear of the unknown. “We believe in being honest, true, chaste, and in doing good for all men.”
“Good, good.” Bruce’s thin lips coil up at the corners, his voice snakes and slithers into the air between us. “And you, Bellamy?” He addresses her, but he still looks at me. “Are you chaste and true?”
“I am,” she says.
“Excellent.” Bruce comes closer and places his palm on my shoulder, his eyes drifting back and forth between us. “You young ladies are the future of our faith. It’s up to you to set good examples for your younger sisters, to follow out on the path that has been lain before you by your mothers and grandmothers. It’s up to you to remain true to your Heavenly Father and the doctrines by which we are governed.”
I’m not sure what he’s getting at. Sure, we may not go to church regularly since the nearest AUB temple is a two hour drive from here, but my father has always raised us with the teachings of the Holy Bible, Book of Mormon, United Order, and the Articles of Faith.
“Someday soon, you will be married,” Bruce says, releasing my shoulder from his grasp. “These are trying times we live in. Temptation is everywhere.”
I glance up at my dad, hoping for at least a sign of what this might be all about, but I get nothing. My fingers twitch against my sides. Deep down, I know what this is about. I just don’t want to believe it.
Bruce clears his throat. “The priesthood typically does not promote marital arrangements, however, the option to choose your partner is one that must be earned by staying pure and true.”
He smiles as if to soften his message, though his eyes penetrate mine, like he’s trying to invade my soul. The room shrinks around us. I may as well be in a prison from which I can’t escape.
I’m being threatened with an arranged marriage.
Jensen rises from the sofa, plodding across the room and pushing past my father and Bruce without so much as an, “Excuse me.”
Must be nice to be able to walk away.
I turn to my father, who for the first time in my life is a stranger to me. I don’t know this passive aggressive coward. “I’m not feeling well. I think I need to go lie down.”
The expectation to continue on in the tradition of plural marriage has been embedded into my psyche for as far back as I remember. In this moment, here and now, I’m finally realizing that those opinions in my head were never really mine to begin with. They were planted there, sowed and reaped and fertilized over the years.
I’m too young to get married, and I certainly deserve the right to choose whom I marry.
And I don’t want to have a plural marriage. I’ve never told anyone that before, but I know with every fiber of my being it’s not what I want. Not anymore, not since I realized I have a choice.
“Waverly.” My father peers down his nose at me, like he’s disappointed, like I should tough it out. “I think you’ll be fine.”
I blink away hot tears that fill my eyes. The one man who was supposed to love me and take care of me is perfectly fine placing my future in the hands of a church elder, like his job here is done.
My mother stares ahead, blank-faced and refusing to meet my pleading gaze. There’s a powerless kind of sadness in her eyes.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, ambling out of the family room. My legs wobble, barely supporting me, and I’m quite certain I’ll barely make it upstairs before I collapse. I grip the railing and then the walls, desperate for something to hold onto because in this moment, I have nothing.
No one.
I am alone.
Powerless.
The choice of whom and when to marry has been swept out from under me without warning.
I have no control, and right now, it’s the one thing I need more than anything else in the entire world.
No one chases after me. They wouldn’t dare. They all know better than to make a scene in front of a church elder. I’m sure I’ll get a stern talking to tomorrow, but for now, I’m thankful to be away from that creep.
I need to breathe.
I need to think.
I need to wait out the storm until I can find dry ground again.
Standing outside my bedroom door, I catch a glimpse of Jensen’s door. It’s half open. The light is on. I pull in a long, cleansing breath, wipe my tears on the back of my sleeves, and show myself in. I really don’t want to be alone right now.
He’s seated on the floor, his back against his bed and his knees bent. He’s sketching, zoned out.
“Hey,” I say. I tuck my curled hair behind my ears and shut the door behind me.
He sets his sketchpad down and shakes his head. “Fuck, Waverly. What the hell just happened downstairs?”
I bite my lip and blink away foggy tears. I can’t say it. If I say it, it becomes real, and if it becomes real, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I battle my wars in complete silence, the way I’ve been taught to do.
Jensen reaches for my hand, pulling me down to the floor with him. “You know you don’t have to worry about a damn thing, right? He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
I want to believe his words hold weight, but he doesn’t understand. He has no idea how things work with the AUB and my father’s expectations. It’s not that simple.
“You’re going to tell me I have a choice,” I say.
His lips inch up at the sides, soft and strangely inviting. I realize just how close we’re sitting now. I breathe him in, closing my eyes and getting lost in his world for just a split second. I’d give anything to be anywhere but in my own reality.
“You know me well,” he says, his voice pulling me nearer. Or maybe it’s him. His hand slips around my shoulders and he brings me into a side embrace. I laugh to myself because he’s not a touchy-feely person. He’s tough and unreadable at times, rarely showing an ounce of emotion that isn’t provocative or inciting. If a side hug is all he can offer me, I’ll take it.
We’re friends now, and that’s kind of important because I haven’t been allowed to have close friends for a long time—not since Claire Fahnlander almost outed us back in middle school.
I sit up and open my eyes, immediately losing them in his dark, brooding gaze. My desire to taste his lips and sense his touch never subsided despite my best efforts. His fingertips graze my arm, igniting a wave of impulsivity. My lips part, our faces only a dangerous few inches apart. My heart quickens, and I’m struggling to breathe. I could kiss him if I wanted to, but I won’t. I need his friendship, and I don’t want to make things complicated.
The moment passes and my reckless, wild notion goes right along with it. I’m sure it would’ve been amazing. I’m sure it would’ve set my world on fire. It probably would’ve felt all kinds of wrong and delicious, but now I’ll never know.
Jensen cups my cheek, his thumb pressing against my bottom lip, mocking the pressure of a soft kiss. I sigh. He could own me with one kiss, and I wouldn’t even fight it.
I need to rebel.
I need to feel.
I need to know that my life still belongs to me.
I close my eyes while I focus on the sensation of his thumb against my mouth until it disappears, fading away only to be replaced with the real thing.
Jensen Mackey is kissing me.
I’m not imagining it.
It’s not a fantasy or a late-night reverie.
His lips are warm and he grasps the back of my neck, digging his fingers into my flesh as he guides me closer to him. Our lips dance, soft and slow, until our tongues meet. Jensen’s tongue swirls around mine, all velvet and sin.
My body responds to his kiss with an intensity too overwhelming to ignore. I’m powerless in his presence, only it’s a powerlessness I fully embrace.
His kisses still my mind, willing my body to do all the work. My thoughts are at rest, and each passing second is an exhilarating trip into the unknown. I know where this is headed; my body tells me so.
Jensen pulls his lips from mine, we’re both breathless. My lips are swollen and heated. I want more. I crave more. Hard deep kisses that make me forget my name. One taste and I’m left with unsatisfied urges and petulant disappointment.
“Waverly.” He runs his fingers through his dark hair. “We shouldn’t do th—”
I silence his objection with a kiss of my own, one that says I’m perfectly okay with whatever it is we’re doing right now. He kisses me back, hungry and accepting, pulling me into his lap.
The rest of the family is downstairs with Bruce. I’ll take the odds and place my bet that they’ll leave me alone for the immediate future. Causing a scene in front of a church elder is the last thing they want to do.
I grip Jensen by the back of his head, my hips bucking and rolling over his like my body has known what to do all along. The ache between my thighs is raw and real, painful and pleading.
Jensen tugs at my sweater, pulling it up slowly like he’s giving me a chance to stop him, but I don’t. He lifts it over my head and returns below to work the button on my pants.
With each article of clothing I shed, my liberation comes to life, boiling to my surface at warp speed. I won’t be able to go back after this, but I’m not sure I want to.
His lips leave mine, a coolness overtaking them in his absence. He presses his mouth into the flesh of my neck, tasting, sucking, biting. Pain mixes with pleasure, swirling into liquefied desire.
All of this is physical. I’m not in love with my stepbrother. I don’t expect anything from him after this. It’s just something I need to do for myself.
I’m giving my body to Jensen, but the pleasure is all mine. I own my body, not him, or my father, or anyone else. I own this moment. Me.
I am in control.
Tonight, an angel fell from heaven, but maybe she never belonged there in the first place.
CHAPTER 21
JENSEN
She tastes of innocence and indecency, a sweet poison, and I’m devouring every square inch of her. What began with a kiss on the floor of my room turned into an unstoppable make out session, and now we’re lying naked on my bed.
There’s no lock on my door. Anyone could bust through at any second, but we’re not thinking clearly.
Obviously.
We have no business doing this. We shouldn’t be together. This isn’t a good idea by any stretch of the imagination. This has the potential to get all kinds of complicated, but for now? I’m not sure our bodies would allow us to stop if we wanted to.
I’m hard as fuck, and I’m hard for her.
Waverly’s lying on her back, and I’m watching the rise and fall of her stomach as she tenses and relaxes. Her body responds to my touch like an animal in heat—desperate, longing, craving. She’s insatiable, and she hasn’t even had the pleasure of my cock inside her yet.
I run my hand down her smooth belly, teasing my way to her hips where I trail down her thigh until I reach her knee, guiding it wider until she’s fully exposed. My fingers find her pussy in the dark.
“You’re wet as fuck, Waverly.” I bury my nose in her hair, breathing in her sweet scent and nibbling her tender earlobe as my finger traces the center of her folds. She pulls in a sharp breath as I plunge a single finger inside her. “And tight as hell.”
She nudges her face into mine, silently pleading for my mouth to be on hers, but I don’t deliver. This isn’t love; this is carnal. Her muscles clench against my finger, providing resistance that only serves to intensify her pleasure. I slip a second finger inside, eliciting a low moan from her bitten lips. Faster, harder, deeper. Her hips writhe and buck in response to every sensitive plunge.
“I want you,” she whispers. “I-I want you inside me…”
She’s in control and she calls the shots, but fuck if I wasn’t dying to hear her say those words.
There’s a condom in my wallet on top of my nightstand. I pull it out, tearing the foil packet and slipping it over my swollen cock. It barely contains me, but it’ll do the job. I climb over top of her, pinning her to my mattress with the weight of my body.
“Do you remember what I told you that first week, Waverly?” I whisper.
“You won’t destroy me, Jensen, and I definitely won’t fall in love with you,” she sighs. Her eyes squeeze tight as her legs widen for me. I ready my cock at her tight entrance.
“Once I fuck you,” I say, “there’s no going back. You won’t be able to undo this and you won’t be allowed to blame me. This is all you. I may have kissed you, but the rest was all your doing.”
She grips fistfuls of the quilt that rests beneath us, squirming beneath me as if having to wait is physically painful. Her tongue runs the length of her bottom lip. “What are you waiting for?”
Her body tenses and welcomes me at the same time, my cock sliding into her constricted pussy with natural resistance. God, she’s skintight around me, like her body is latching onto mine and refusing to let go.
Her fingers dig into my back, all ten of them, all at once, and then her nails drag down my flesh.
“Relax,” I breathe.
She winces. I’m bigger than average, and she’s a fucking virgin. It’s got to be painful. I resist the urge to pound the fuck out of her unspoiled pussy and go slow.
“I promise it’ll feel good soon.” I lean down and kiss her lips, not because I’m trying to be romantic, but because I hope it’ll loosen her up, relax her a bit. Her legs fall to the sides, spread wide for me as I circle my hips into hers. Her wetness is saturating, and within a few minutes I’m full on thrusting. I grip the headboard for leverage, plunging myself deep inside her. Soft moans leave her lips, and the faint scent of her innocent arousal fills the air.
I cover her mouth with my hand. “Shh…”
The fact that we could get caught at any moment weighs heavy in the corner of my mind. In a perfect world, Waverly would not be losing her virginity to her stepbrother on a crappy guest bed in her father’s house. Maybe she deserves romance and flowers and true love, but she picked me. I’m what she wanted, so I’m what she gets.
But time is of the essence, and we have to get the show on the road, and I’m not quite in the mood to get caught.
I scoop her ass with my hands, pulling her into me with each hard thrust, going deeper and deeper and watching her round tits bounce.
Her lips part, her face twisting and then relaxing as she fucks me back all on her own.
“Come on my cock, Waverly,” I coax her. My mind blanks and my body numbs. She fights the gasps and moans that so desperately want to escape her pretty, fuckable lips. Pressure builds at the base of my cock, working upwards until I can’t fight it anymore. Her hands slide to my hips, pressing me into her as she comes all over my rock hard cock. Intensity soars through me until I bury my face between her tits and unload inside her.
The moment I’m spent, I collapse on top of her, both of us struggling to catch our breaths. I’m in a daze, but only for a short while.
“You gotta go,” I tell her. “Not trying to be a dick, but people are probably going to be looking for you soon, and the last thing we need is them busting into my room and wondering why the fuck it smells like sex.”
I climb off her, and we throw our clothes on in record time, me wrapping the used condom in a handful of peach Kleenex and burying it in the bottom of my trashcan. I’ll take out the trash first thing in the morning. Her hair is messy, spilling down her shoulders in tangled curls. Sex hair looks good as hell on her.
“You okay?” I ask.
She spins to face me, her lips pull into a Cheshire grin. “What do you think?”
“Did you think when you walked in here tonight, you wouldn’t be walking out a virgin?”
“I didn’t think, Jensen. I knew.”
CHAPTER 22
WAVERLY
I leave Jensen’s room with a delicious soreness between my legs, ripe with satisfaction and void of an ounce of regret. I’m taking back my life and finding my dignity one brave, bold, uncharacteristic decision at a time.
I refuse to be married off or have my body given to a man chosen for me.
I swear my soul glows, radiating clear through to my fingertips—though it could easily be the last remnants of the soul-shattering orgasm working its way out of my system.
Either way, I’m basking in it. I want to remember this feeling the rest of my days.
I tiptoe into my room and peer out the window just in time to see Bruce climbing into his car and pulling away. Perfect timing. I have no idea how long I’ve been up here, but I can’t imagine it’s been more than an hour.
Heavy footsteps trudge up the stairs, sounding closer with each thump. My door swings open wide, my father standing in the doorway. His jaw is set, and he’s peering down at me with a fevered stare.
Does he know?!
I pull in a long, cool breath and force a smile on my face. “Hi, Dad.”
He shuts the door behind him and charges at me, his fists clenched and his face reddening with each heavy second. “What you did tonight was unacceptable.”
My heart whooshes in my ears as I attempt to steady my breathing. “Can you be more specific?”
His lips pinch together into a menacing smile, his eyes dart around the room. He lifts his hand to his jaw, raking the side of his face in slow, hard strokes. I don’t recognize this man. This man is not my father. I don’t know who he is.
“You do understand Bruce Waterman is a member of the quorum, right?” His penetrating gaze holds mine. “He came here to meet my daughters, whom I boast about on a regular basis. My pride and joy. My shining examples…” He shakes his head, gathering his thoughts some more. “You’re an embarrassment to me, your mothers, and the rest of the family. You have disgraced us. Who do you think you are, running off like that?”
My father has never spoken to me with words so harsh before. My lip trembles, and I feel myself falling from the highest high to the lowest low. I sink into my mattress, burying my head in my hands.
“I was uncomfortable,” I sob. “The way he looked at me. The whole thing. And Bellamy said—”
“You have too much free will. That’s the problem.” His voice cuts through mine, muting my opinions. “Something has changed in you, Waverly. You’re not the young woman I raised you to be.”
“You’re wrong. I am a good woman.” I stand up for myself knowing my words fall upon deaf ears. Once my father’s mind is made up, there’s no convincing him otherwise. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do.”
“You’re lying.” His hands dig into his hips. “You’re looking me in the eye and lying.”
I shake my head, wiping away tears that stain my cheeks and make my hair stick to my skin. He knows. He probably knows everything. Or he’s bluffing. Either way, I’m fighting a losing battle.
“You’re not going to college this fall, Waverly,” his voice is a low sneer. “I clearly haven’t done my part raising you into a respectable young woman who can make proper choices for herself. You demonstrated that tonight by the way you treated Mr. Waterman. I fear for your soul if I send you out on your own. The modern world is wicked, filled with temptations and sin.”
“You don’t need to fear for my soul, Dad.” I wipe away heavy tears, but they continue falling, landing on the tops of my thighs. I glance up at him, pleading with my eyes because I know my words are merely lightweight. “You promised. You promised I could go to college if I got my scholarship and demonstrated that I’m responsible and dependable and—”
“Some things are more important than college.” His words set fire to my future.
“Bellamy went to college.”
“She attended the local community college, living at home. You will be granted the same opportunity.”
There’s nothing for me there. “How is that fair?”
I don’t have time to wipe my eyes before the sting of an open-palmed slap warms my cheek. I haven’t been physically punished since I was a child. My breath halts, our eyes meet again. My hand flies to the burning warmth radiating from the side of my face.
“You are not to ask questions anymore. Do you understand that? I am your father. I know what is best for you. Your future is in my hands.” His voice is low, raspy and desperate in his throat as he wags a finger in my face. “You are to remain chaste and true until the day you are sealed to a husband of my choosing.”
I want to tell him it’s too late. Instead I bite my tongue, knowing that going tit-for-tat with my father never ends well for anyone.
“I said, do you understand?” He spits his words at me.
“Yes, Father.” I hang my head low, unable to meet his omnipotent stare. “I understand.”
He straightens his back, pulling his shoulders firm, his fists clenched tight. A lingering silence fills my room until he disappears a moment later. I rise up and amble to my dresser, taking a good, hard look at myself in the mirror. There’s a handprint on my cheek, splays of white and pink making an outline of my father’s hand. My eyes are watery still, achy and swollen. My hair is disheveled and out of place, and I thank my lucky stars my father didn’t notice. He must’ve been too busy seeing red to pay any attention to my appearance.
The girl staring back at me is jaded and confused, hardly recognizable.
There’s a faint rapping on the door. My mind immediately goes to Jensen and my heart leaps. I shake my head, rattling those inappropriate thoughts and refusing to indulge in whirlwind excitement. He is not my boyfriend. He’s simply a catalyst, helping me become the woman I’m supposed to be.
“Can I come in?” It’s Bellamy.
“Yeah.”
The door parts and she slides in, shutting it behind her. “You all right?”
If I confide in my sister, I risk disappointing her too. “Of course.”
She tilts her head, our matching blue eyes holding from across the room. “Obviously you’re not.” She glides over to my bed, perching on the edge. “That Bruce guy was a creep.”
Bellamy never talks that way about anyone, let alone a church elder.
“He was.” I nod, rubbing my lips together. I’m stuck between wanting to confide in her and not wanting her to be disappointed in me. “Do you think Dad wants him to marry one of us?”
She shakes her head. “I hope not. Dad always said we could pick our own husbands.”
“Dad also said I go to college if I got a scholarship, and he changed his mind about that.”
Bellamy’s eyes widen. “Seriously? Are you sure?”
“That’s what he said tonight.”
She draws her legs up onto the bed, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “Dad’s changed lately. But so have you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head and blows a wisp of ashy blonde hair from her face. “Ever since Jensen came around, there’s been a change in you. If I’ve seen it, you can guarantee Dad’s noticed, too.”
“What does Jensen have to do with anything?” I remind myself to be careful, to not grow too defensive. “He’s our brother, Bellamy.”
“Kind of. Not really.” She shrugs. “If you want to get technical.”
“You’re imagining things. There’s nothing going on between us.” My lie sinks deep into my marrow, becoming a part of me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. No one said anything was going on between you.” She places her hands in the air. “I’m just saying, you’re different.”
“Different how?”
“Mostly in the way you carry yourself, especially when he’s around. You spend a little extra time getting ready in the morning. I catch you staring at him sometimes at dinner.” Bellamy laughs. “He’s an attractive guy. You’re the same age. I get it. You’re starting to notice… boys.”
“You do realize I’m almost nineteen years old.” This conversation is as awkward as it is untimely.
“Yeah, but you’re starting to take interest in the opposite sex in an obvious way now,” Bellamy says. “I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. And it’s noticeable. And I think that’s why Dad’s acting weird.”
“So you think that’s why he invited Mr. Waterman over?” It’s all coming together. If my father threatens to arrange my marriage simply because he catches me looking at Jensen, what’s he going to do if he finds out I gave him my virginity?
“That’s my fear.” Bellamy stands up, stretching her arms behind her. Her pretty face softens. “Just be careful, sis. Try to tone it down a notch. Maybe keep your distance from Jensen? You never know, maybe he’ll forget about all this and things can go back to normal. He might even let you go to college in the fall.”
Highly doubt that.
“Why doesn’t Dad pressure you to get married?” I sweep my hair off my neck, pulling it off my hot skin and into a ponytail. The swell of my eyelids is as distracting as it is exhausting, and I’d give anything for a cool washcloth.
She shrugs. “Because I’m smart about things.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Bellamy takes long strides toward the door, pausing when her hand grips the doorknob. “That’s a conversation for another day.”
Of course it is.
The second she leaves, I strip my clothes off and climb into pajamas. Fatigue takes hold of me the second my head hits the pillow. I’m spent—physically and emotionally.
Tomorrow is a new day, and while I don’t know what it might bring, I vow to myself to take back control of my life one decision at a time.
