Page 52 of Scream Little Sister

Knots form in my stomach as the events from this morning and last night play in my head. I mentally swat away the memory of the blonde sucking my brother’s thick cock, but my sex-deprived mind keeps focusing on it. And how I was dying to be in her place.

What I don’t understand is why he texted me to come to his room. It’s why I caught him in the first place and couldn’t make my legs work to leave.

“Did you get any sleep this morning after you...?” I trail off, too afraid to say the rest out loud. It’ll make what transpired real.

Ryder cracks open his eyelids. The light-blue irises darken, and hunger flares as he refuses to look away from me. “No.” His voice comes out deep and raspy.

I break the staring contest and check our surroundings for anyone who might catch us together—not that I plan on doing anything with him. I settle on the bench beside him, keeping a safe amount of space between us. It doesn’t matter how much distance there is; he still feels too close to me and yet so far away.

“So you’ve been riding around with no sleep?” I shake my head and mimic his posture. Folding my arms over my chest, I lean my head back. “God, you’re an idiot.”

Ryder huffs an unamused laugh and closes his eyes. “You don’t need to tell me what I already know.”

My eyebrows pinch together. “You really think that about yourself?”

His pierced lips flatten, and his dark eyebrows dip with his frown. “I’m taking a nap. Then I’ll take you back home.”

I stare at him in silence while a turbulent storm of questions ravages my thoughts. The last thing I want is to get on his nerves, but I’ve clearly been on his bad side for a long timenow. What’s the worst he can do if I keep him talking for a little longer?

He’ll spank you again.

I shudder at the memory.

“Am I really that annoying to you?” I whisper.

Ryder remains quiet, likely already fallen asleep so he doesn’t have to listen to me anymore. Yet here I am, selfish and wanting his time and attention.

I sigh and turn my face toward the gazebo’s ceiling.

“Sometimes I really wish I were a ghost so I could have control over my life. At least then, no one can force me to do things I don’t want to do.” I mutter the confession like no one is around. It’s not like Ryder will hear me. I expect the vise around my chest to loosen with the confession, but it only tightens until I can’t breathe.

I focus on anything other than Justin and what happened. If I go down that path, it’ll end in another panic attack. Instead, I think about what life will be like when I get away from my father’s rule.

When Ryder takes me home, I’ll snap new photos and record a video for my subscribers so I can get more money to add to my savings. Things will be so much simpler when I’m out of my father’s house. I can start a new life and make it how I want it.

“SUICIDE GRIP” PIERCETHESKIES

Icould sleep for a week, and even then, I still don’t think it’ll make up for staying awake for twenty-four hours. I’m not sure how much time passed while I was out, but when I rise from the sticky depths, my eyes are too heavy to open. It takes a minute for everything to catch up with me. Where I am,whoI’m with.

Madison’s whispered confession as I fell asleep wiggles its way to the front, bringing the same strange emotion with it. My chest tightens until it’s hard to breathe.

Nope. Fuck that. I can’t think about it. I’m supposed to hate my stepsister, not empathize with her and wonder who made her feel like she has no control. It’s clearly not Mickey since they haven’t kept in touch since graduation, and he’s, oh yeah, dead.

A gust of wind blows against me. Goosebumps rise on my arms and legs from the chill. The temperature must’ve dropped while I slept because I don’t remember it being this cold.

A shiver rolls through my body, and I clench my teeth to prevent them from chattering. I crack open my eyelids and inch my head to the side to peek at my stepsister. Madison still sits beside me, this time facing the table. Her phone screen’s light reflects on her face as she scrolls on Instagram.

I frown.

Shit, I was out for a couple of hours if it’s already past dusk.

Madison taps her notifications, then taps again. The screen switches to her most recent post with comments flooding in. My muscles stiffen at the brief flash of the picture.

That can’t be her. It just can’t.

She’s posed in the sauna room at her father’s house, with the hot tub behind her. She’s wearing a barely there bright-blue bikini, with the small waterfall serving as her backdrop.

What in the actual fuck is she doing posting pictures dressed like that?