You Took Away My Virginity.
1297 Words
Don’t even know why I’m here. I mean it. At the dinner table, Gifford said nothing and didn’t turn to face me even once. He acted nonchalant in my presence. I don’t know. Is he feigning ignorance, or should I remind him of what transpired? Perhaps I should not speak about what happened between us.
Maybe I shouldn't have come here. What was I thinking?
“Why the f**k you here, Braila?”
I flinched out of my thoughts at his bold voice and turned to him. I raised up from my knees on the floor close to his bed and stood up. “Oh, ummm.” I said and looked away from his direction, fidgeting fingers.
I didn’t know how to start. If I had known, I would have expected him soon. I would have gotten prepared a lot sooner. I perceived a vanilla scent and thought, ‘Has his rut ended yet’?
He still looks a little sick to me. Maybe he’s still recovering from his rut since his scent has shifted from the scent of blood to vanilla.
“Can we talk?” I softly asked.
“Get on with it.” He urged me.
His piercing gray gazes fixed on me. Pale pink lips complementing his white skin tone. Shoulder-length, curly dirty blonde hair with curtain-style bangs framing his face. His pale complexion with sharp facial features—likely a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and refined eyebrows that add to his lean, striking appearance.
He is six feet tall.
His muscular but lean build, wearing a plain black long-sleeve shirt that fit well, accentuating his body and gray ripped jeans with his hands casually tucked into the pockets.
I didn’t hear him coming, and he was putting on some black slippers. How come I didn’t hear him coming? He is always quiet when he walks. What am I doing here? By the way, am I supposed to put on clothes like this in front of him?
A white singlet and a short jean skirt which is above my knees. Wouldn’t he think I am trying to seduce him? I have always worn something like this before around the house. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right?
My gaze fell on him once more. “I just wanted to see you.” I softly whispered.
He stared suspiciously at me for a few minutes.
“I needed to speak with you.” I played with my hands. “I couldn’t get over—”
“Why?” His brows furrowed with a suspicious look. “Why did it have to be in my room, then?”
“Because it is private.” I responded. Whatever it is, I choose to discuss with him as something no one should hear us talking about.
“Private?” His eyes closed when he sighed. “Get on with it, Braila. I’m exhausted.” He raffles his fingers through his hair. “What do you wanna talk about?”
“Do you remember what happened between us?”
“What happened?” His frown deepened.
“Yes, it was…ummm—” I sighed too, before I began. “Three days ago, we both did…” Why doesn’t he remember? “Something which shouldn’t have happened.” I couldn’t explain it. It felt weird to tell him.
“What shouldn't have happened, Braila?” His tone got serious.
He doesn't recall that night? “A few days ago…”
“Don’t tell me you are pregnant?” His tone became solemn. “And you were not f*****g on birth control pills?”
My eyes widened. I felt a deep cut in my heart. He remembered!!!
“f**k what?” His eyes darkened a little. “You didn’t take the pills?” He raised his right brow.
“I—I…I…it’s not—” I didn’t know how to respond. “No, I mean yes.” I nodded.
“Then what’s em’ fuckin’ matter?”
“I’m…I’m just surprised you remembered what happened between us during your rut three days ago.”
He remembers what transpired between us? Why didn’t he say anything?
“Yeah, I fuckin’ remembered everything.” He slid his fingers through his hair again. “Every single f*****g thing, Braila. How we f****d ourselves with our cums dripping down our thighs on the floor. You kept screaming out my name when I lifted your right leg up while thrusting in your wet p***y all night. I can never forget that.” I felt a rush down my v****a when he admittedly heaved a long breath again with closed eyes. “Let’s forget all about it.” And diminished my s****l thoughts at the last minute.
My heart sank. What?
“You are my fuckin’ little sister.” He strolled past me. I heard his butt slumping on his bed behind me. “You are old enough to know stuff like this happens occasionally. It isn’t serious.”
Happens occasionally??
“What do you mean?” I couldn’t speak properly. My voice got a little stained at my question. Whatever this is, I just hope I wake up immediately and get out of this nightmare.
“We are step-siblings, Braila. Do I have to f*****g explain everything to you?” He said behind me. “What do you think it’s gonna happen when Mom and dad find out? The others find out about it? How do you think they would react to it?”
“Are you saying I should forget whatever happened—”
“Yes.” He boldly answered. “Consider it nothing but a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I murmured, sharply and slowly focused on him. “You were my first, Gifford.”
His brows raised in surprise.
“You took away my virginity.” I interpreted when his questionable look wouldn’t leave my gaze.
I’m not sure why I told him, but I was astonished and afraid since he wanted me to forget what we had, as if it didn't occur. I didn’t care if he was my stepbrother, Alpha, or the son of the pack’s leader. That’s how strong my feelings were for Gifford. How could I forget what had happened between us? Throw away the memory of our lovemaking with the wind.
I thought maybe he had some sort of feelings for me since we’ve been together for 4 years. We didn’t date each other or anything like that. We are step-siblings. He is right. But I always thought he felt some kind of way for me because of how he stares at me. He helps me, so I thought he must have felt the same way as me. How could he just want to dump me like nothing happened? How could he be so cruel to me?
I guess I was the only one in my head. The reality of life was hitting me so hard I was trying to breathe and face what was in front of me.
He closed his eyes for a second. “What do you want me to f*****g do about it? Marry you?”
“I never asked for that.” I whispered and felt a minor burn in my throat.
“Then what? It’s not as if this is my fault you got yourself ripped inside you because of me.” He stood up from his bed. “This is your fault.”
“My fault?”
“If you hadn’t come into my room during my rut, I wouldn’t have slept with you.”
“You are putting all the blame on me.” I rested my right hand on my chest. “You are saying this is my fault?” I find it difficult to breathe as I speak.
- Writer
