Claim Me, Alpha StepBrothers

One Tiny Peek

~Olive~

“Sweet dreams, kitten.”

And then he leans back in.

Why is he leaning back in. Crew, why are you leaning back in. We were almost done. We were almost done with whatever this is, this hallway, this thing, and now you are leaning back in and your mouth is at my ear and your breath is hot and I have lost the ability to feel my own feet.

“Have wet dreams of me, baby. I’ll know.”

I’ll know.

He says I’ll know and his lower lip drags against the shell of my ear, barely, just the smallest brush, and oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god Olive, do not make a sound, do not, do not, do not.

I moaned.

He hears it. His whole body goes still and his hand on the doorframe by my head clenches into a fist and the cigarette.

He doesn’t do anything.

He doesn’t do anything because he is, somehow, a man with self-control. Which is news to me. Which I would have bet money against ten minutes ago. He straightens up slow, the way you straighten up when you have decided not to do the thing, and he smiles down at me and he says, soft, lazy, satisfied,

“That’s my girl.”

He turns. He walks down the hallway. The lighter clicks open in his hand and the sound is too loud for a hallway this dark, and he is gone down the staircase before I can blink.

Okay. Okay, Olive. Get a grip. Stand up straight. We are still on the wrong side of the bedroom door and Cassius Hayes is still three feet behind you and that is a thing to deal with right now.

I do not turn around.

I do not turn around because if I turn around Cas is going to see my face, and my face is currently doing things my face is not allowed to do.

“Are you going to lecture me again, Cassius.”

Then, very softly.

“Lock the door, sweetheart.”

That’s all he says.

Lock the door, sweetheart.

He says it like a warning. He says it like a man who has just watched his brother almost ruin a girl in a hallway and is letting her know that he is the second problem, and she should put a door between them before he becomes the bigger one.

He turns.

He locks his door against me.

Like I am the dangerous one. Like I am the one who needs to be kept out. And I do not have the bandwidth right now to figure out why that is somehow worse than try me, but it is.

I open my bedroom door.

I walk in.

I close it behind me.

I lock it. Twice. Three times. Four. My hands need something to do and the lock is the only thing in this room I can touch without losing my mind.

I do not turn on the light.

I walk in the dark to the bed. I sit down on the very edge of it. I put my hands flat on the comforter on either side of my hips and I try to breathe like a normal person who has had a normal night.

In four. Hold seven. Out eight.

In four.

Hold.

Out.

It does not work.

It does not work because every time I close my eyes Crew’s mouth is at my ear and every time I open them Cas is saying lock the door, sweetheart, and the part of me that is supposed to be in charge of all this is on a coffee break and the part of me that is not supposed to be in charge is having the time of her life.

Olive. Olive, listen to me.

We are not doing this.

We are not doing this. We did not come into this house to do this.

We are going to lie down. We are going to close our eyes. We are going to sleep. We are going to wake up in the morning. We are going to put on the pale-pink bridesmaid dress my mother already had altered for me and we are going to stand at the altar and we are going to smile.

That is the plan.

That is the only plan.

I fall back on the comforter.

I stare at the ceiling.

The wolves stare back.

The one in the front is still looking at me weird. I have decided to name her Susan and I do not have time to defend that decision right now.

I close my eyes.

I open them.

I close them.

I open them.

Have wet dreams of me, baby. I’ll know.

I am going to kill him.

I am going to kill Crew Hayes. I am going to put him in the ground before this wedding even happens. I am going to walk down the stairs tomorrow morning and I am going to look him dead in his stupid handsome face and I am going to say good morning, brother, and he is going to understand, instantly, that the round he just won in the hallway is the only one he is ever winning, and from this moment forward Olive is a wall, a fortress, a vault, that he is never — never getting through again.

That is the plan.

That is also the plan.

Olive, you have too many plans.

I press my thighs together.

Bad idea. Very bad. Very, very bad idea, because the second I press my thighs together I am reminded immediately, aggressively —that I am soaked through my underwear.

Do not think about it.

Do not think about it.

Olive. Do not think about it.

I think about it.

I think about it because thinking about it is the only thing my brain wants to do, and I have not been in charge of my brain since approximately 7:42 p.m. in the foyer of this house when Cassius Hayes’s pupils blew at three feet of distance and Crew Hayes called me sis in a voice that should have been illegal.

I roll onto my side.

I curl up small. Black dress and all.

Outside, on the gravel, I heard a car engine.

I sit up.

I sit up fast, like I have been caught at something, even though I am alone in the room. I get off the bed. I walk to the window. The curtains are heavy and dark and old and I push one aside just enough to see down to the driveway.

The car is at the top of the driveway, half-turned, the brake lights glowing red in the dark. The driver-side window is rolled down. Crew Hayes is sitting in the driver’s seat with the cigarette in his mouth and his elbow out the window and his head tilted back against the headrest, and he is —

He is looking up.

At my window.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

He cannot see me. The curtain is in the way. The room is dark. He cannot see me, I am certain he cannot see me, but he is looking up anyway, like he knows I am here, like he is waiting, like he is testing — will she turn the light on, will she go to the window, will she give me a single sign that she is up here thinking about me — and I — I..

I drop the curtain.

I step back from the window.

Okay. Okay, Olive. That’s enough. That is more than enough. You saw him look up, you felt whatever that was, and now you are going to bed like a normal person with functioning survival instincts.

I turn away. I make it three whole steps toward the bed before my feet stop moving.

Just one more look. Just to make sure he’s gone. That’s all. One tiny peek and then I swear I’m done.

One tiny peek and I’ll go to bed like a good girl. That’s what I tell myself as I creep right back, fingers shaking while I pull the heavy fabric aside again.

Oh my f*****g god.

Crew’s still there, but this time around his seat pushed back, legs spread wide like he owns the whole damn night. Pants yanked down just enough, and his c**k—f**k. I can’t see his c**k very well because the street light was not f*****g bright but f**k!

I didn’t expect this. I thought he’d just be staring up here smirking. Not… this. Not him fisting his thick d**k so fast and sloppy in the driveway like a horny animal. Was he stroking his d**k because of me? Or for another reason.

My p***y clenches so hard I almost double over. I’m f*****g soaked.

Olive, you disgusting w***e. You’re spying on your step brother jerking off and your cunt is literally leaking down your legs.

He keeps going faster, head thrown back against the seat.

His mouth is open, jaw tight, like he’s right on the edge. I can’t hear him from up here, but I can see everything..the way his c**k throbs in his hand, the way his hips jerk up. s**t.

My own hand presses between my thighs without thinking, rubbing over the soaked fabric, and a tiny whimper escapes me.

That’s when I snap.

I yank the curtain shut hard. No. No more. I turn and run — literally run — across the dark room to the bed.

I dive onto the mattress face-first, burying my burning face in the pillow, thighs squeezed tight together like that can stop how f*****g wet I am.

My whole body is trembling. And all I can see behind my closed eyes is Crew’s fist flying up and down that thick c**k, faster and faster, like he was imagining burying it inside me.

I press my face deeper into the pillow and groan.

I am so f*****g screwed y’all