Page 13

13

Calista

M y head hurts, and I get the sense I’m floating.

After being dragged out of the bar, I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a moment. Flashes of the car ride flicker in my mind, and I distinctly remember telling my best friend I have the hots for my step-uncle. I definitely need to have a chat with her about that.

I can’t quite piece together what happened or how I ended up in bed, but at least I’m back in the cabin. The comforting scent of Ronan surrounds me, easing my anxiety. Everything feels hazy except for the moment he burst in like Batman to rescue me. He looked furious—at me! What could I have done to earn that look?

With a groan, I force my eyes open. The room is dark, and the bed feels different. It’s still uncomfortable, but as I shift, I realize it’s much larger than the twin I’ve barely been able to roll around on.

Just then, the door swings open with a loud bang against the wall, and I gasp involuntarily, the sound echoing in my ears. My movements are sluggish, but I finally sit up and quickly understand why the bed feels strange and Ronan’s scent is so strong: I’m not in my room. Oh god, did I crawl into his bed when I got home?

He stands before me, his shoulders rising as he takes a deep breath. His hands flex into fists at his sides, and for a brief moment, I’m scared he might want to hurt me. Is he here to punish me for getting so drunk that I punched some guy and made him come save me?

I can’t even remember why I threw that punch; he must have said something that pushed me over the edge. That was the catalyst for everything.

If Ronan is here to teach me a lesson, I guess I’ll be his willing student.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice a deep, shadowed abyss, heavy with emotion too tangled to unravel.

My heart races so fast I swear it’s going to run straight out of my throat. “I didn’t… mean to. I-I’ll leave.”

I toss back the covers and immediately grab them once again. All of my clothes are gone, and while I should be surprised, I’m not. I normally find myself naked after a night of drinking, especially when I’ve stupidly become too drunk.

He tilts his head and my body heats like a fucking oven put on full power.

“Move the blanket.” When he commands me, I become a puppet, each word a string that pulls me into action. Without a thought, I obey, sliding the sheet aside. I’m exposed, bare—no panties, nothing.

A deep, thunderous chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Spread.”

I’m either going to die of a heart attack or a stroke, because my brain can’t keep up with my body’s response. I’m pulling my heels toward my ass and opening my legs before I can tell myself to stop.

This is so wrong, and not because he is my stepfather’s brother, that isn’t it. I can’t do this with him, but I don’t want to deny myself anymore.

“What a beautiful cunt you have, and shaved…” If it weren’t for the open curtains letting in the moon’s light, I’d not see the hunger in his eyes. He strides toward me, and I feel bumps cascade down my body, my heart leaping and flipping around my throat. “Little slut wanting to get fucked by her uncle, huh?”

Holy fuck .

My lips part, but all that comes out is a whimper. I want him to stop calling himself that, but I can’t deny that I do want to fuck him. No, I want to be fucked by him.

“ Calista .” I fall back onto my elbows as he says my name, and I don’t understand why hearing it from him has such a powerful pull on me. “You are glistening and soaking my sheets. Tell me, baby girl, what do you want?”

I secretly love that he calls me that, but I will deny it until the day I fucking die.

“Hurt me.” The words slip out, tinged with a hint of regret. Why did I say that? I usually don’t ask for pain until I’m sure they won’t leave. Though, inevitably, they always do. “Please… Ronan…”

He pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it off to the side before unbuckling his belt. Taking a step to the edge of the bed, I stare at him through my spread legs. I’m so fucking wet, and my pussy aches with the thought of him devouring it. I want him to bite and suck and fuck every place he is willing to touch.

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you.” As if it’s a question, I just nod. “I will, that is a promise, not a threat.”

My body shakes, and it only intensifies as he drops his pants. The moment I drop my gaze to look at his cock, he tuts. “Eyes up, baby girl.”

I sharply suck in a breath and hold it as he climbs onto the bed between my legs, coming up toward my face. He hovers over me, so fucking close I can feel his steady breathing against my sensitive skin. His nose barely keeps from touching my cheek as he moves to my ear.

My pierced nipples harden to the point where all I want to do is rub them against his chest for some friction. The desperation to close my thighs, to squeeze them to get any relief is so agonizing that I moan out softly as a plea.

His breath fans against my ear, causing my hair to tickle against it. “You want me to hurt you, just like you’re going to hurt me?”

My breath catches and before I can react, his hand is around my throat, shoving me down onto my back. This isn’t gentle, nor is it for pleasure. My ability to breathe is immediately cut off, and I reach up to push him away. However, he has full weight on me, actually suffocating me.

His knees kick my ass as a pressure slams itself into my center. The burn of his entry has tears springing to the corners of my eyes, but it’s the lack of air that has my body heating.

“H-Help!” I cough, and spit trails from the corners of my lips, sliding down my cheeks toward my ears.

“Help you?” he breathes as he rams into me, and I’m incapable of registering how he feels inside of me, his size, width—nothing. Everything is turning black, and a tingling sensation envelops my neck and soon, my eyes. My vision is darkening from the edges, and I claw at his arm, attempting to breathe.

“R-Ronan… please… no…”

Gasping.

Fighting.

Nothing is working.

Oh my god, he’s going to kill me.

He leans down to me, and with the coldest tone, he whispers, “You deserve to die for what you are doing.”

A scream rips from my throat as I jolt upright in bed, hands clutching at my neck while my feet kick, sending all the blankets tumbling to the floor. My skin prickles, and I scoot back until I hit the cold, wooden headboard.

I’m panting, struggling to catch my breath, but at least I can breathe. My chest rises and falls sharply in front of me, and I pull my knees up, curling into a ball.

It takes a moment to steady myself, but finally my breathing falls to a regular rhythm. It was just a nightmare—a creation of my own mind—but holy fuck, it felt real. My body aches as though I’ve sprinted a mile. I’m sore, exhausted, and my temples throb with a pounding headache.

When I’m finally able to peel myself away from the ball I’ve curled into, I reach for my phone and see three new texts and a missed phone call. All of them are from Gene:

MISSED CALL: GENE-VEE

Gene-Vee:

I just got home. You passed out quick, girlie

We also are going to talk about… Ronan? I’m not sure if I spelled that right. Going to be honest with you, he is so fucking hot but if he really is your uncle, let’s diagnose that before jumping on that train

No judgement though, I’m here to support you. Step-uncle fucking or not.

I drop my phone and glance out the window, relieved to be in my own bed. The sun is starting to rise, casting a soft glow, but my head is pounding with a brutal hangover. I shift uncomfortably, because despite the fact that Ronan was trying to kill me in that nightmare, there is dampness between my thighs.

Would he really talk to me that way if we were intimate? I don’t actually want him to choke me to death, but everything else about it has me chewing on my bottom lip.

I know I can’t go there. There’s too much at stake, and no matter how much I want to drop to my knees and beg him to suffocate me with his cock, I won’t.

It's like I'm finally connecting the filthy thoughts I've had about my hot-as-hell step-uncle with what happened last night, and suddenly a wave of panic hits me.

“Oh shit!” I shout, grabbing a nightgown to cover my bare body before rushing out of the room.

His door is cracked open, and I ease it further, moving as quietly as I can. The first light of dawn spills into the room, but his bed is empty. I don’t linger, heading straight to the bathroom next—just as empty.

Heart pounding, I dart out and rush into the living room. Nothing. Then I burst into the garage, slamming my palm against the light switch. It’s pitch black and he’s nowhere to be found, along with his bike. I’ve never known him to park it anywhere but in here.

Oh… Oh no…

Something catches in my throat, making it impossible to swallow. Every bone in my body shakes as my mind races over what could have happened. He got into a fight. He’s a convicted felon... What if the cops showed up? What if he was hurt and ended up in the hospital? Or worse—what if he didn’t even make it there and he’s lying in a morgue somewhere?

My hungover, dramatic brain latches onto that last thought, imagining him zipped into a black bag, tucked into a cold metal drawer. I slap my hands over my mouth, a muffled sob escaping as the image burns into my mind.

You did it anyway. You did hurt him…

Cry… just cry…

Brain… please…

I'm shaking as I turn back into the house and hurry to the guest room. Snatching up my phone, I start a frantic search.

‘Bar fight, Maple Falls’—nothing.

‘Maple Falls bar brawl’—nothing.

‘Maple Falls + Ronan’—still nothing.

Immediately, I pull up the local hospital’s number and call their reception line at the ER.

“Good morning, thank you—”

I don’t let the girl finish. “Hi, I’m calling to see if someone was admitted last night. Ronan Byrne.”

“Can you spell that for me?”

“R-O-N-A-N, B-Y-R-N-E.” My hands are shaking, and I can’t believe how worried I am.

“Please give me a moment,” she says before the phone cuts to music. Taste by Sabrina Carpenter plays and I nearly scream. How could she put me on hold? Do I not sound frantic?!

The music ends. “Ma’am?”

“Yes—yes I’m here.”

“No one by that name was admitted here. Would you—” I hang up and start searching for the police station. There’s only one in this small town, and the thought of him being there terrifies me even more than the hospital.

Just as I press the dial button and raise the phone to my ear, a hand wraps around my wrist. I gasp, and the moment my phone slips from my fingers, it’s caught mid-air… by Ronan.

As soon as I hear “Maple Falls Police Department,” I suck in a sharp breath.

He puts the phone to his ear. “Misdial, sorry.” Then ends the call.

If he weren’t holding onto me, I might actually collapse. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s on fire, fear pouring out of me. I’m sick with worry while he just stands here, calm as ever, like nothing even happened.

A bruise is darkening on his temple, and there’s a fresh cut along his bottom lip. But I can’t take in much more because I’m locked onto his eyes, desperate to read whatever they’re telling me. They look tired, maybe even worried? I can’t quite tell.

“You’re awfully loud for someone who drank as much as you did,” he groans, stepping closer and nudging me back. I’ve been pacing by the side of my bed while making those calls, and when the mattress presses against the backs of my knees, I lose balance and drop onto it, sitting down hard.

My chest rises as I stutter, “W-Where were you? Your face… are you okay?” I have my chin lifted to keep my eyes on his face, and not at his bare chest.

A sigh escapes his lips as he places a hand on my head, gently turning me around to face the window. There’s not much room between the bed and the wall, but when he nudges me forward, I notice a blanket and pillow on the floor.

“You were breathing weird when I came in,” he says, releasing my head. I just stare at the makeshift bed on the floor—I’d looked right past it without even noticing when I woke up. “So I slept there the last few hours to make sure you didn’t die.”

After a beat, I turn back to him. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, meet mine. “Water,” he demands. “Drink some. You’re capable of walking, so you can take care of yourself. Take Tylenol, eat a slice of pizza, and go back to bed.”

He lifts his hand, fingertips tracing a slow line down my neck. The touch is gentle, but it terrifies me because when a lion stalks its prey, it’s slow… deliberate. Just like his caress. “Don’t hit anyone ever again, Cal, do you hear me?”

My bottom lip trembles, and I suck it between my teeth.

“I’m more than happy to be your violence.”

Then he turns and walks out of the bedroom, the slam of my door echoing behind him like punctuation to the silence he leaves. I’m left sitting here, unsure of what I’m feeling. Attraction? Fear? Self-hatred?

I think all of them are tangled up in me right now, and the mix makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“Damn, girl, I thought you’d be out for at least seven business days.”

I groan outwardly through the phone. “Shut up, Gene.”

She giggles cutely.

I slept for another seven hours, which doesn’t shock me with how badly I felt. Both mentally and physically.

“I called so soon because I wanted to let you know I’m fine and ask exactly what happened after you dragged me out last night.”

I’m sitting on the dock down by the lake, my feet kicking water onto my bare thighs. When I walked out of the house, Ronan was still asleep—or at least, he was still in his room. His door was closed, and his bike was parked out front, which told me he hadn’t left, at least.

“Well…” She hesitates, and I’m curious why. It isn’t like she figured I’d not ask, right? “You basically told me that the guy that came up to save you like you were some damsel in distress was your step-uncle. Eamon’s brother, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then when I got you into the car, you told me…” Her hesitation has my cheeks heating.

“Oh no, what did I say?”

When she clears her throat I can hear the laugh that’s hanging from her lips when she says, “That he made you call him daddy and you liked it.”

“ Noooo !” I drag out the word and throw my head back, cursing myself and hoping some god smites me so I can be taken away from this world. “Was it the time he recorded it?”

“Wait… recording?!”

I hunch forward and rub between my eyes, pinching my nose and groaning. Damn it, Cal, what the fuck?

“Uh, no?” That’s bullshit and she knows it, and calls me out for it.

“Liar, liar, panties on fire,” she coos before bursting into laughter.

“Kill me now, Almighty One.”

“Always so dramatic. Anyway, I brought you into the house and you directed me to put you into his bed, but I know better. So I put you in the guest room. I knew that was yours because the master smells like amber and fucking sexy male testosterone.” I can’t help but giggle. “Did he come back to the cabin? Is he okay?”

Sighing, I nod, even though she can’t see it. “Yeah, he came back but he’s a bit scratched up and bruised.”

The soft ‘ooohh ’ from her side makes me chew on the inside of my cheek, shaking my head in disbelief. “Are you going to patch him up? You know, heal his wounds? That’s my favorite trope, Cal.”

This girl reads too many books. I’m more of a movie gal myself, but she loves to sit me down and explain all the depravity she reads. I’ll admit, if I had the attention span, I would read the ones she tells me about.

Masked men chasing some girl into the forest? Yes, please.

An obsessed guy fucking his girl while she sleeps and shoving his fingers into her pussy to keep his cum there? A dream.

“No, he demanded I go back to sleep and went to his own bed.” I’m going to leave out that he slept by my bed to make sure I didn’t die. That makes my stomach fill with butterflies, because that right there could get a girl pregnant.

“Damn, well… alright. Let’s move this back a step. He’s your uncle.”

“Please, Gene, he is my step -uncle. Plus, that’s pretty loose of a term. I never took Eamon’s last name. I was twenty when he married my mom, and he hasn’t asked to adopt me.”

Gene literally says “hehe” and I roll my eyes because not only is that so stupid, but it’s cute.

It still doesn’t change the fact that my mother is married to Ronan’s brother. I’m sure society would still consider him my uncle, but as my best friend keeps talking, I’m grateful to have her support.

“I say go for it, at least for nothing else but a solid fuck. I don’t even need to talk to him to know he would take you to another planet, Cal,” she swoons. Her words fall into a dreamy state as she continues, “I know you have interesting tastes, and maybe this one will fulfill them.”

“Or think I’m a fucking freak like the rest,” I plug in quickly before she can go too far into this fantasy. “They all think that, even the ones that say they’re into it.”

“Masochism isn’t uncommon, babe.” I love her so much because, honestly, I need to hear that every now and then. “You enjoy what you enjoy, and no one should judge you for it.”

I remember the first time I asked a guy to choke me to the point I was going to pass out, and he laughed at me. Then when he determined I wasn’t joking, he got up and left my apartment, before proceeding to ghost me. I’d told my last boyfriend I wanted him to fuck me while I was sleeping, that I was going to take a few extra sleeping pills so I wouldn’t wake up… that only ended in him telling me I needed to get help. He actually made a call to a psychologist and booked me an appointment.

Sighing, I smile and say, “Thanks, Gene. I know I can always count on you to make me feel normal.”

“You are anything but that, however, I love the fuck out of you for it. If you decide to let your uncle fuck you—”

“Please, stoooop !”

“Let me know. I’m curious if he is pierced, and how big his dick is. I read this Vampire book where the MMC had an eleven-inch cock. The girl was a champ, thank god she healed.”

I can’t help but bellow out a laugh, my breasts almost spilling out of my bikini top from the intensity.

“Love you, bestie,” she coos.

“Love you too, sweet cheeks. Thanks for the support. I’ll talk to you later.”

“ Byeeeee !”

Hanging up, I set my phone behind me and inch closer to the edge. The lake isn’t exactly warm, but the heat of the day makes the cool water bearable. I hadn’t planned to swim—just wanted to soak up some sun and add a little color to my skin. But now that I’m here, I kind of want to.

Humming softly, I lean forward and slip into the blue waters. The coolness tingles against my hot skin, enveloping me completely. As I resurface, I toss my hair back, gathering it in both hands. Kicking my feet to stay afloat, I pull it into a ponytail.

As I wade out from the dock, my mind drifts back to my dream. I still can’t believe I dreamt about him… actually, it was more of a nightmare…

“You want me to hurt you, just like you’re going to hurt me?”

I don’t want to hurt him… Is this my brain trying to warn me, telling me to step away while I still can?

I should at least save one of us.