Stepdad’s Pet; His Son’s Plaything

The breaking point

EMMA’S POV

The marble of the bathroom counter was ice-cold against my thighs, a sharp contrast to the searing heat of Jordan’s hands.

Downstairs, the muffled sound of my mother humming drifted through the house, a sweet, domestic melody that should have made me recoil in shame. Instead, it acted like a metronome for the sin we were committing.

Jordan didn’t waste time with tenderness. His fingers dug into my waist, his breath coming in jagged, desperate hitches against the crook of my neck. He was a man possessed, his usual composure shattered by the near-miss in the living room.

"You're going to be the death of me, Emma," he groaned, his voice barely a ghost of a sound as he buried his face in my chest.

"Then let's die together," I whispered, my fingers winding into his hair, pulling him closer.

He hiked my dress up further, his movements frantic. He was midway through reclaiming the pleasure I’d started in the living room, his body shielding mine against the vanity, when the heavy thud of a fist hit my bedroom door.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Emma! Open up!"

My heart stopped. The blood drained from my face so fast the room tilted. It was Reign. His voice was thick with an irritation that felt like a physical weight.

Jordan froze. His entire body turned to stone, his forehead resting against mine, his eyes wide and filled with a sudden, paralyzing terror. We were trapped. If Jordan moved, the floorboards might creak. If we stayed still, Reign might try the handle.

"Emma! I know you’re in there. I saw your shoes by the stairs. Open the damn door, it’s urgent!"

Jordan looked at the bathroom door—the only thing separating us from the bedroom where his son was standing. He looked back at me, his mouth opening to say something, but no sound came out.

"Go away, Reign!" I yelled, trying to keep my voice from trembling. I gripped the edge of the marble counter until my nails turned white. "I'm... I'm busy! I'm in the middle of something!"

"I don't care if you're doing your makeup or crying over a boy," Reign snapped, his voice getting louder. "I need the keys to the shed. Dad took mine and I know he hides the spares in your desk. Open up or I’m coming in!"

The handle of my bedroom door rattled. My heart hammered against my ribs like a frantic bird.

"Give me a minute!" I shouted back, my mind racing.

I looked at Jordan. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff. He quickly adjusted his clothes, his hands shaking so violently he could barely manage his zipper.

"I'm coming to your room in five minutes, Reign! Just wait there!" I called out.

"No, now! I’m in a hurry!" Reign growled. I heard him throw his weight against the bedroom door. The lock on the bedroom door was sturdier than the bathroom one, but Reign wasn't a patient man.

Jordan pointed to the shower, his eyes pleading. He wanted to hide.

"No," I mouthed. If Reign walked into the bathroom and saw the steam-less shower or noticed the scent of Jordan’s cologne, we were dead.

I hopped off the counter, smoothed my dress, and took a deep breath. I looked at Jordan one last time—he was leaning against the wall, trying to shrink into the shadows behind the door. I stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind me, and walked across my bedroom to the main door.

I cracked it open just a few inches, blocking Reign’s view of the room.

"What is so important that you have to break my door down?" I hissed, putting on my best 'annoyed sister' face.

Reign was leaning against the doorframe, his leather jacket still smelling of the road. His eyes narrowed, scanning my face, dropping to my swollen lips, flushed cheeks and the slightly disheveled state of my hair. A dark, knowing look crossed his features—one that made my skin crawl.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Em," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, low register. He stepped forward, forcing me to step back into the room.

"I'm just tired. The heat is getting to me," I lied, trying to lead him toward the desk and away from the bathroom. "The keys are in the top drawer. Take them and get out."

Reign didn't go to the desk. He walked toward the center of my room, his eyes fixed on the closed bathroom door. "Why is your bathroom door shut? You usually leave it open to let the steam out."

"I told you, I was busy," I said, catching his arm. "Reign, seriously. Mom is downstairs, she’s got a headache, and you’re being a loud jerk. Just take the keys."

He turned to look at me, his grip tightening on my wrist. "You're hiding something. You've been acting weird since... well, for three days."

"I'm not hiding anything! It's just secret girl stuff. Pads, tampons, things you don't want to see," I blurted out, trying to sound disgusted.

Reign chuckled, a dry, hollow sound. "Please. I grew up with you. I've seen everything. You shouldn't be embarrassed around me."

He started to move toward the bathroom door again. My heart was in my throat. I could practically feel Jordan on the other side of that wood, holding his breath, praying his son wouldn't turn the knob.

I lunged forward, grabbing Reign’s face with both hands, forcing him to look at me. It was a desperate move, a gamble. "I said stay out!"

Before he could respond, a new voice joined the chaos.

"Is everything alright up here? I heard shouting."

It was Mom. She was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway toward my open bedroom door.

Reign pulled back from my grip, looking over his shoulder. "Nothing, Ruth. Just Emma being dramatic about her 'secret' bathroom stash."

"Emma, have you seen Jordan?" Mom asked, walking toward us. "He said he was going to brush his teeth, but he’s been gone a while and he’s not answering his cell. His conference call starts in five minutes."

Reign looked at me, then back at the bathroom door, his eyes glinting with a sudden, sharp suspicion. He looked like he was about to put the pieces together.

"I haven't seen him," Reign said slowly, his gaze burning into mine. "Have you, Emma? Is Dad around?"

The silence that followed was deafening. I could feel my mother’s gaze, Reign’s suspicion, and the weight of the man hiding three feet away.