Page 65 of Made for Cyn

“Sit.”

Dropping back into my seat stiffly, I stared at him wide eyed with sweat gathering on my palms.

“Tell me about school,” he said gruffly.

“Um,” I whispered. “I have an exam on Friday.”

“In what?”

“Advanced algebra.”

“I was pretty good at that in school,” he said, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Maybe I can help?”

Smiling wanly, I looked at the table, fear an icy cold trickle in my veins. “Yeah, um, maybe. Right now, I think I’ve got it covered, though.”

“Right, good.” He grunted, pushing back from the table and grabbing his plate.

Silently, I collected my own, waiting for him to step away from the sink before placing the dishes carefully inside.

Before I could turn away, though, he stepped into my back and said softly, “You’re the good one, hmm, Rain?”

Bowing my head, I grabbed the sink and bit my lip while he rubbed his erection against my ass, his harsh breath loud in my ear.

Thankfully, Iris came pounding down the stairs, and he stepped away as she grabbed a soda, glancing at us curiously. I followed her up the stairs on shaky limbs and locked myself in my room before crying myself to sleep.

In the clear light of day, I know I have to do something, and even though I haven’t confronted Iris about her behavior, I turn to her.

I have to trust someone, and that someone is Iris because hopefully, she’ll know what to do. I know I sure as shit don’t.

After a horrible day of classes where I walk around like a zombie and ignore everything, I meet Iris at her car and climb inside.

“Iris,” I whisper and she turns to me with a grunt. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

Turning to her, I spill it, explaining in a rush John’s punishment and threats while she sits across from me wide eyed before she looks away and sighs.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?” I sniffle, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

“Because I didn’t think he’d have the balls to do it to you. I should have said something.”

“To me? What do you mean?” I ask, slumping against my seat.

“He’s a dick, but I thought since you’re, well, not his step kid, he’d be different.”

“Different how? What did he do to you?”

“Well, he definitely likes his punishments,” she says, staring blindly out the windshield.

She’s brought us to the bridge, and we’re parked in the grassy spot, overlooking the trees and tiny river. The sun cascading over the limbs and sparkling on the water is so at odds with the heavy discussion that for a moment, I feel dizzy from the dissonance.

“Has he ever, you know?” I ask hesitantly.

Turning to me, she smirks, but the humor doesn’t reach her eyes. “Fucked me? Yes.”

Dropping my gaze, I suck in a breath of air for my fearless effervescent cousin before terror rushes through me at the confirmation that John doesn’t plan to stop at the whippings. Shit. Fuck. Cock sucking damn.

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