Page 7 of Fright Night
Without a word, I stalk upstairs and into my bedroom. My hand swings for the door to slam it shut, but I think I miss, instead stumbling into my bathroom. When I’m stripped to my boxers, I return to my bedroom, only to find it’s no longer empty.
Little Oakley, who actually isn’t little because she’s my age, but it’s a nickname I enjoy mentally taunting her with, is seated on the edge of my bed—a place she definitely has no right to be. Her mouth’s folded into a pout my dick finds distracting, but it’s her eyes that really undo me. So much expression, so much empathy, for a person she barely speaks to.
“I overheard,” she whispers, fisting the comforter on either side of her. “Are you okay?”
She’s herefor me, and while something inside my chest unlocks with her question, she’s not allowed to see it. Usbecoming proper siblings means Dad gets his way, and that can’t happen. Oakley will get no kindness from me, paying the price for our parents’ marriage.
“I’m fine. Get out. Never come in here uninvited.” I twist for the closet, pretending to go for clothing so I’m not forced to watch her leave.
A moment later, steps head for the door but pause. “For the record, I’m sorry you didn’t want us here, but I’d like us to be friends.”
I laugh harshly. Friends. That’ll never happen.
“Just leave.”
“I’m here if you need to talk.” The door shuts behind her.
Once I’m safe again, the walls drop and I let myself feel and crave something else. Someoneelse.
Movement by the front doors of City Hall ends the memory, as my reason for hanging around here—because it certainly isn’t Dad—exits the expansive, white building.
Oakley glances up and down the street as she pauses on the top step, much like in the way she paused in my doorway all those years ago. She does up the few top buttons of her jacket, covering a knee-length black skirt and orange blouse.
Way to dress for the holiday, Trickster
She looks so fucking prim and proper, and it sickens me the kind of woman our parents are trying to twist her into. On her feet, little black booted heels that look almost impossible to walk in somehow take her down the couple steps.
The day Cody called and told me she got hired at City Hall, I laughed for about an hour straight. The other guys on the crew where my mandated service had us cleaning up the side of a highway watched me warily that day, because every time I thought about it some more, another bout of laughter came.
Oakley wanted to go to college for a business diploma before opening up an event planning company, but daddy dearestcouldn’t have that. Between her mother turning her into some shallow socialite and my father twisting her into his heir, heaven fucking forbid the girl choose her own path. So he forced her to work at City Hall, to keep her nice and close. She’s the head of the event committee…which is something, at least. It’s related to her dreams but still keeps her tied to his control.
It pisses me off. No one should be forced into something they don’t want to do or be.
So much, as Oakley starts down the road and I remain a safe distance behind her, I pull out a smoke and lighter, letting tobacco quell the frustration that is my life.
One day, I’ll burn every blouse and skirt she owns. I’ll get her out from under Dad’s thumb and give her the gall to stand up to him and choose her own future.
And then I’ll fuck her in the heels. Maybe I’ll burn the clothes in front of her, freak her out, then fuck her in her sexy little shoes. Yeah, that’ll be the plan.
Doubt she’d react anyway. From the very first instance, Oakley did what so few dared to.
She looked me in the eye.
Other girls would avoid eye contact, but she never made an effort to look away. For that reason alone, she held my attention. Made me curious about my new stepsister, so I spent the following few weeks watching her more than what others would deem appropriate.
Everything I discovered made me addicted.
Then she started the game that ultimately led to her nickname. No one else had the damn balls to lift a finger against me. But she did. My brave, little stepsister did…and her bravery cost her my obsession.
Two years is too long to go without her. It’s cruel really, how she gave me a taste only to force me from her life.
Oakley walks down the road, glancing around every so often. She walks quickly, and even from half a block behind her, it’s clear she’s gripping onto her purse tightly, rightfully scared after the recorded video she would have woken up to.
It was only hours ago, but fuck if I can’t wait to do it all again. This time while she’s awake, able to watch me dirty her up, rub my claim into her skin like it’s some kind of lotion.
The video was never meant to hide my identity or the fact I’m home. Hell, the entire reason for the mask was to ensure she’d have no evidence against me if she takes it to the police.
As much as I want to believe she wouldn’t, that she’d play my game, nothing’s certain. Dad’s gotten to her throughout the years and I can’t be sure she wouldn’t run for his help.
