Side Swiped By My Step Brother (4 page)

              I slide one leg across him, straddling his midsection. I push myself back a little, and I’m still so wet he glides in easily. Already those sensations are starting to build again; it’s like all my body needs is to be near his for those feelings to start flowing. I try not to think about the fact that the hottest sex I’ve ever had is with a man who is leaving in a few days, someone I am never going to see again. I push the thought out of my mind and proceed to fuck him like it’s the last time we’ll ever see each other.

              Because it probably is.

Chapter Five

Emma

              I wake up with a pounding headache and nausea swirling up and down my midsection. I can taste bile in my mouth and I’m afraid that when I open my eyes I’m going to find myself in a giant puddle of puke. But the sheets underneath me feel relatively dry, so I open one eye, then the other. My senses are immediately assaulted by the bright sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains, and also by the heavy, pungent odor of grease. I open my eyes all the way and see, less than a foot away from me on the bedside table, what looks to be a bacon cheeseburger and a mountain of now cold, limp looking fries. There is a puddle of congealed grease on the edge of the plate. There’s one large, moon-shaped bite taken out of the burger, revealing it’s brownish-pink center. Just the sight of it is enough to induce a puke session, never mind the smell. I turn away, head throbbing in protest.

              It suddenly occurs to me that I’m not in my own bed. This isn’t my apartment. The walls aren’t familiar, the bed is too hard. Where the hell am I? I sit up, the sheet falls off, and I realize that I am completely naked and in some stranger’s bed.

              Slowly, a few details filter back.

              Jai.

              Drinks.

              Sex.

              More drinks.

              More sex.

              I may even have a vague recollection of declaring myself famished, after the third or fourth time we’d done it, and in dire need of room service. That recollection develops into a more solid memory of myself, jumping up and down on the bed, demanding, in no uncertain terms, that I needed protein. And Jai grinning, lying there, looking up at me as I bounced around, saying he could give me all the protein I wanted. I remember blowing him while we waited for room service, and I don’t remember much else afterwards. Fuck.

              I groan inwardly, in case he’s here, lurking. But it’s quiet, and it doesn’t feel like there’s someone else in the room, though I know better than to trust my senses, at this point. What have I done? I look around for my clothes but I don’t see them. Did he take my clothes? Am I going to have to wear this sheet like a toga in order to get back to my apartment? Slink down through the hotel lobby and somehow manage to hail a cab? Can I crawl out the window and scale the side of the building, SpiderGirl style? Is there a fire alarm I could pull so the whole place has to evacuate before I gracefully sneak out with the crowd? I feel paralyzed, overwhelmed by everything, scared that he’s going to come back here and demand an encore. Now that the alcohol’s worn off and left me feeling like I was reversed over by an eighteen-wheeler, I know I need to get out of here, and I need to get out of here now. But I’m tired. And dizzy. And I could really just put my head back on the soft pillow and pass out for a couple more hours…

              It’s the urge to pee that finally gets me going, though. Everything is still quiet, so I assume the coast is clear. I scurry into the bathroom and sit on the toilet, my bladder feeling like it’s about to explode. I sit there for several seconds. Nothing happens. A few more agonizing moments go by, and though my bladder feels like it’s expanding by the second, I still can’t pee. What the hell? Did he give me a UTI? An STD? Did we have so much sex that he somehow rearranged my insides and I’ll have to have a catheter and be attached to a pee-bag for the rest of my life?

              “Fuck!” I say, squirming on the cool porcelain seat.

              But finally, it happens. It’s a slow, painful dribble at first, but then it gets going, and I swear, I pee for at least ninety seconds. My head is still pulsing like an angry drum and my tongue is basically a dry leather strap, but now that I’ve peed, I feel as though I can at least get it together enough to find my clothes and make a quiet escape before Jai returns.

              I make the mistake of looking at the partially eaten burger as I’m searching for my dress. My stomach clenches and I grab the wastebasket and hold my head over it. I cough several times, but nothing comes up, and then the feeling passes. I actually feel rather hungry, which makes sense, considering the last time I ate was lunch yesterday and that was just a Caesar salad. I close my eyes and drop the burger into the wastebasket so I don’t have to look at it, then I begin to eat the fries. Ah, blessed carbs. I start picking one fry up at a time, but then I’m eating them by the handful. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good.

              I’m so caught up in eating that I don’t hear him return, and when he says, “Breakfast of champions?” I jump, dropping a handful of fries all over my lap. I turn, realize I’m still naked, and hug my arms across my chest so he can’t see my breasts. He’s holding a coffee cup and he looks well rested and healthy.

              Jai smiles. “While I find your newfound shyness rather cute, there really is no need for modesty right now, seeing as I had my mouth all over those last night.” He gestures to my breasts with one hand and holds the cup out with the other, tendrils of steam rising off of it. “Tea. And I brought you a packet of aspirin; I figured you might need it.”

              Still keeping one arm across my chest, I take the cup from him. “I’m actually more of a coffee drinker,” I say.

              “Of course you are,” he replies. That accent is still as hot as it was last night. Damn, he’s sexy. “You’re American. And you’re eating cold chips for breakfast. Can’t get much more American than that. Would you like me to go get you a muffin? I really can’t let you be eating those chips . . . they look terrible.”

              “They’re actually rather good.”

              “Let me go get you a muffin, darling. Here, try the tea.”

              I take a tiny sip of the tea. It’s way too hot, but it actually tastes good, slightly sweet and more mellow than coffee. I can’t remember the last time I had tea.

              “I’ll go do that,” he says. “After the night we had last night, you need something a little more nourishing that those chips for breakfast. Fries, I mean.”

              “Okay,” I say. A muffin would be good. “Thanks.”

              He smiles and kisses the top of my head. “You are something,” he says, before he exits.

              The second the door has shut, I start looking for my dress, which I find, tangled up in the comforter, halfway under the bed. I also find my bra, but my underwear appears to be MIA. Oh well. I slip the bra and dress on, then go into the bathroom and splash a little cold water on my face.

              My phone dings as I’m coming out of the bathroom. Shit. It’s probably Megan and she’s probably freaking out. I don’t even know what time it is. But when I look at the screen, it’s actually a text from my mother.

              Can’t believe the big day is so soon!!! Just wanted to remind you about the dinner tonight, though I’m sure you haven’t forgotten. And I really would appreciate it if you would wear that dress I bought you for your birthday. The one you told me you took to the dry cleaner’s for this very occasion? Your sister landed safe and sound, and I’d like you to meet us at our hotel before the dinner, so we can all arrive together. Why don’t you plan on getting here around six.

              Shit. The dinner. I didn’t forget about it, exactly, but my plan for the rest of today had been to go home, take a long shower, and pass out for the next twelve to twenty-four hours.

              Haven’t forgotten! I write back. I still need to get that dress from the dry cleaners. Glad to hear Jessica arrived safely; I know how much she hates to fly.

              Her reply is instantaneous. Don’t forget your dress!

              I’ll try not to.

              I put my phone back in my purse and take another sip of tea. My headache seems to be pulsating in time with my heartbeat. I go over to the little writing table where Jai left the travel packet of aspirin. These will help, maybe. I’m trying to tear the packet open with my teeth when something catches my eye. There’s an assortment of stuff on the table: an iPad, his wallet, a little pile of loose change, a piece of paper, folded in quarters. Right next to that paper is a gold band. A man’s wedding ring.

              A wedding ring.

              I put the unopened packet of aspirin down and pick up the ring. I hold it on the palm of my hand. There is no doubt about it—this is a man’s wedding ring. Great. I just slept with a married man. I’m going to be sick.

              I’m tempted to throw the thing out the window, or flush it down the toilet, but instead, I put it back down, exactly where I found it. I wrack my brain, trying to remember if he mentioned anything last night about being single, or what it said on his profile, but then I realize that doesn’t matter—if he’s cheating on his wife, he’s obviously a liar. I don’t even care if his wife is a raging bitch or if she hasn’t had sex with him in months—dishonesty like that is sickening. It’s just what Tom did.

              I grab my purse and am about to walk out the door when it opens, and there’s Jai, with a blueberry muffin.

              “Ah, I see you found your clothes. I had them heat this for you, and put a little butter on it.” He holds the plate out to me.

              “No thank you,” I say coolly. “I actually have to get going. I’ve been here a lot longer than I was planning and . . . I just need to go.”

              “Oh. Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I had a lovely time with you.” He takes a step toward me and holds his hand out like he’s going to touch my face. I step back.

              “That’s not the adjective I would use.” I try to sidestep him.

              “What adjective might that be then?”

              “Oh . . . I don’t know. Mediocre? Disappointing? Average?”

              He tilts his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Are you having a go at me? Is your blood sugar low? Here, take the muffin.”

              I glance over the table where the ring is, then back at him. “If by ‘having a go’ you mean ‘being truthful’—apparently an underrated character trait—then yes, I’m having a go at you.”

              He takes a deep breath. “So last night, in your limited experience, was average?”

              “Limited experience? What, because I’m not some whore I don’t know what average sex is like?”

              “You met a stranger online, came back to his room with him, and proceeded to fuck him six ways from Sunday. I don’t know what your definition of whore is, but I’d say that certainly falls under—”

              “Just stop it!” I snap. “I don’t need your petty insults on top of this. Fortunately, we never have to see each other again, so let’s just forget about this, okay? The entire average experience. Let’s just forget about it.”

              He smirks. “Darling, nothing about me is average.”

              I look at his crotch as I walk to the door. “Don’t be so sure.”

              “Right, right. Are you limping? A little bowlegged? Guess my job’s done. We both know you’re just clutching at straws. And if eight inches is ‘average’ then I’m still an overachiever.”

              My hand’s on the doorknob. I should just turn it, walk out the door, and not say anything, but that smug, arrogant look on his face is too much. “You’re so pleased with yourself, aren’t you? You’re so certain you’re such hot fucking shit. If that’s the case, you should just go fuck yourself. How about that? Go fuck yourself and be impressed with your massively huge dick. It’s the biggest dick in the world! Can you even wrap your hand around it? Maybe you should get a couple ribs removed so you can blow yourself. If you can fit your mouth around it, since it’s so big. It’s like you’ve got elephantitis your dick is so huge. I can’t even believe you’re actually able to stand up straight with a dick that big.”

              Jai stares at me, and then begins to laugh. “I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing right now. Is your period about to start or something? Should I have come back with tampons instead of a muffin?”

              “Fuck you.”

              “I believe we already did that. Many times.”

              I turn the doorknob and open the door. “You’re disgusting.” I hurry out into the hallway, before he can say anything else. I half expect him to chase me, or to scream obscenities, but the only sound is the door slamming behind me.

Chapter Six

Jai

The universe gives you signs, some subtle, some not-so-subtle. What was that I had been thinking on the plane ride over, about possibly getting into a relationship? Yeah, fuck that. No fucking way.

              I stand there for a moment after I’ve slammed the door, hard enough to rattle the walls. What the fuck just happened? I’ve dealt with my fair share of crazy bitches before, but for a girl to from hot to cold as quickly as Emma just did . . . she’s clearly got problems.

              Or perhaps my judgment simply isn’t what it used to be. Perhaps a girl who’s going to be willing to meet up with a stranger online and let him fuck her brains out, isn’t actually good girlfriend material. Appearances can be deceiving, after all. None of that matters, though, because I’ll never have to see her again, and I did get a great night of sex out of it.

              Dad phones a while later and asks if I’d like to join him and a few of his friends on the golf course. Absofuckinglutely not, but it might help me get my mind off of Emma. Despite many valiant attempts, I keep thinking about her, and I sure as hell don’t wish to be.

              Still, I seem to have forgotten how much I hate golf until I’m actually out there on the green. This is a sport? People actually want to spend their free time doing this? Dad couldn’t seem happier, looking quite dapper in his pink golf polo and chinos.

              “Can you believe it?” he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Tomorrow’s the big day. Life starts now. When are you going to get hitched, my good man? Or . . . should I say . . . my best man?” He laughs heartily. Oh, he’s always found himself SO amusing.

              “I suppose I’d need an actual girlfriend first, Dad,” I say.

              “Jai, if I was as young and virulent as you, I’d have about twenty girlfriends.” He pulls a putter from his bag.

              “That’s nice Dad. It’s probably something you want to keep to yourself—I’d rather not think about you being virulent.”

              He winks. “Well, I’m past that point of my life now. I know this, and that’s why Stephanie and I are getting married. Your mom and I married young, when I didn’t have a clue about anything.” He holds the golf club like it’s a walking stick and looks up at the sky, as though reading from a cue card. “I know it’s something we haven’t talked about much. Hell, you and I hardly talk at all, but I always told myself that’s because we both had busy, fulfilling lives. And I knew you were happier to be in London than to be here. You’re like your mother in that way.”

              I sigh and look across the green, the grass glowing like it’s radioactive. That’s probably not too far off from the truth.

              “But . . . with the wedding being so soon and everything, that’s made me look at my life, reflect on things, I guess you could say, and I realize that I do want you to know I’m sorry that if any of my actions have . . . have impacted your life negatively. You just don’t realize it at the time, how what you do can affect your kids. I never wanted to hurt your mother, or you. I just want you to know that. And I know that when you do find the right girl, you’ll do right by her. She’ll be a lucky lady. She really will. I might not have had a lot to do in raising you, but I can tell you’re a good man. You make me proud.”

              He claps me on the shoulder and then goes over and starts positioning himself in front of the golf ball. His friends are motoring their way toward us in one of the golf carts. They’re already three sheets to the wind, and the cart is zigging and zagging all over the place. Is this what I have to look forward to? I watch my dad line up the shot, swing, and miss. I try not to think about Emma.