OWNED BY MY STEPBROTHER

Behind The Bathroom Door

"You keep calling me your brother, Jade. But brothers don't stay awake at night listening to the sound of your breathing through the wall. And they certainly don't know exactly how you sound when you're coming apart in their hands." —Silas.

The fluorescent lights of the girls' bathroom hummed with a low, clinical buzz that made my skull ache.

I leaned over the porcelain sink, cupping ice-cold water and pressing it against my face until my skin stung.

My reflection was a mess—eyes wide and bloodshot, a flush crawling up my neck that no amount of cold water could drown out.

My thigh was still humming where he’d touched me at the table. I could still feel the weight of his hand, the way he’d claimed me in front of everyone without saying a single word.

I grabbed a rough paper towel, dabbing at my skin, trying to catch my breath. I just needed one minute. One minute where I wasn't Silas Thorne’s problem.

I looked up at the mirror to pull my hair back, and my heart physically stopped.

Reflected in the glass, leaning casually against the door of the far bathroom stall, was Silas.

He didn't look like he’d just chased me. He looked like he’d been waiting there for a lifetime, his arms crossed over that charcoal sweater, a dark, terrifyingly calm smirk playing on his lips.

He was watching me with a stillness that made the air in the small room feel like lead.

"Something affecting you, Sun Flower?" he murmured. His voice was a low, smooth rasp that echoed off the tile. "You looked... distressed at lunch. I thought I’d check on my sister."

I spun around so fast I nearly slipped on the wet floor. "Silas! What are you—this is a girls' bathroom! You can't be in here. Someone will see you."

"I locked the door, Jade," he said, stepping away from the stall. He didn't rush. He moved with that slow, deliberate grace that made him look like a predator in a tailor-made suit.

"And even if I hadn't, do you really think anyone on this campus has the guts to tell me where I can and can't go?"

I backed away until my spine hit the cold edge of the sink. "Go away. Please. Just... leave me alone."

"I tried that for three years," he whispered, stopping so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest. He was so tall I had to crane my neck, his shadow completely eclipsing the light.

"I tried to ignore the way you look in that floral dress. I tried to ignore the sound of your door closing at night. But then you moved into my house. You put your hands on my phone. You smiled at him."

How was that any of his—

His hand shot out, gripping my waist and hoisting me up onto the marble counter. I let out a muffled gasp, my legs dangling, my hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. I wanted to push him, but my fingers just curled into the soft wool of his sweater.

"Silas, don't," I whimpered, my voice breaking.

"You're my brother. We’re supposed to be—"

"We share a last name and a dinner table, Jade.

Not a single drop of blood," he cut me off. He stepped between my knees, forcing them apart, his eyes dark with a hunger that made my blood sing.

"Don't use that word to protect yourself from what you actually want."

He didn't wait. His hand slid up the hem of my skirt, his fingers finding the damp, heat-soaked lace of my underwear.

I choked on a breath, my head hitting the mirror behind me with a soft thud.

He didn't rush it. He took his time, his thumb tracing the seam of my panties, back and forth, until I was arching my back, my breath coming in jagged hitches.

He watched me—watched the way my eyes fluttered shut, the way my lips parted as I tried to remember how to breathe.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low vibration against my skin.

I opened my eyes, my vision blurry. He slipped two fingers past the silk, finding my slick, aching c**t.

Pinching it, I let out a soft, broken sob, my head falling onto his shoulder. He was methodical, his movements slow and torturous, his eyes locked on mine as he watched me come apart.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He was mapping me out, learning every shiver, every hitch in my pulse.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Jade? You in there? You’ve been gone for like twenty minutes, babe. Are you okay?"

It was Ava. Her voice sounded so normal, so bright, it felt like a bucket of ice water. I froze, my fingers digging into Silas’s shoulders just as he slipped his finger pass my fold and into me, I gasped, arching my back into his touch.

His movement slow and torturous.

"Answer her," Silas whispered against my ear. He didn't stop. His thumb found my small, swollen peak m and began a rhythmic, maddening circle that sent a wave of fire through my lap.

"I—I’m..." I couldn't get the words out.

"Jade? Is the door stuck? I’m gonna go get a janitor if you don't talk to me!" Ava called out, her voice closer now.

Silas leaned in, his teeth nipping at my earlobe, sucking it into his mouth and biting harshly to make it bleed.

"Tell her how fine you are, Jade. Tell her how much you’re enjoying your private lesson. Tell her how much you love rocking your weight on your brother’s fingers."

"Ava!" I managed to shout, the word coming out in a strangled gasp. "I'm... I'm okay! Just... an upset stomach. Give me... a minute."

"Oh, okay! You sure? You sound a little weird," Ava said, pausing.

Silas didn't let up. He increased the pressure, his fingers moving with a sudden, relentless speed.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper, he curved his finger and a soft, high-pitched moan still escaped—a traitorous sound that echoed off the tiles.

"Jade? Was that a groan? Are you throwing up?"

"No!" I choked out, my body trembling as the first wave of the climax hit me, my body shaking violently. I squeezed my eyes shut, leaning my forehead against Silas’s chest. He felt like a rock.

"I'm fine, Ava. Go to class. I'll... I'll meet you after school. Promise."

"Okay... if you're sure. See you at the gates!"

I listened to the sound of her footsteps fading until the room was silent again, save for the sound of my ragged breathing.

I felt hollow. Ruined. Silas stayed between my legs for a moment longer, his hand still resting heavily against my thigh, letting me feel the weight of what he’d just done.

He stepped back, his expression as cool and collected as if he’d just finished a lecture.

He adjusted his sleeves, his eyes raking over my disheveled hair and my swollen lips.

"Six o'clock, Jade," he said, his voice returning to that clinical, distant baritone. "Don't be late. We have a lot of material to cover."

He turned toward the door, his hand on the lock. But before he walked out, he stopped. He looked back at me, his eyes dark and triumphant.

Slowly, deliberately, he brought his fingers to his lips and licked them, his gaze never leaving mine.

"Salt and honey," he murmured.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me shivering on the cold marble counter, the scent of sandalwood and rain still clinging to my skin like a sin I’d never be able to wash off.