Page 23 of The Rowdy Ones
This is so messed up.
I’m milking the last of my release out of my cock while imagining fucking my sister’s mouth.
I need therapy or a fucking bullet to the head.
The RV rattles as Wild reenters. I quickly swipe up the cum mess with the sheet and then jerk my boxers back up. After throwing on a T-shirt and a pair of sweats from one of the overhead cabinets, I leave the bedroom and make my way up to the front where Wild is standing, staring at his phone.
We’re both silent for a really long time.
So damn awkward.
“What the hell just happened?” he finally asks, pinning me with a pained expression.
Ahh, right. He’s being my friend, but he still wishes for more. Now he thinks I’ve chosen to sleep with my sister over him. God, I truly am an asshole.
“Nothing,” I lie, huffing out a long breath of air. “I don’t remember Dez coming to check on me. Woke up and briefly thought it was Lila, who I’mnotattracted to.” That last part is the truth. “Every guy gets morning wood. I couldn’t control that shit.”
He relaxes and nods as if he believes my bullshit. “Okay. Sorry. It looked a lot worse than it was, I guess.”
“Exactly.”
Liar, liar, liar.
Master gaslighter, too.
Why do I always screw up everything?
I rummage around the kitchen to get coffee started and to do anything other than look in Wild’s eyes right now. I’m afraid he’ll somehow dig into my fucking brain and see that while sure I didn’t sleep with my sister, I did jerk off to thoughts of her sucking my dick.
Disgusting.
I’m a sick fuck.
She was right. I really do need to pack up and go home.
I wish Ryder were here. Maybe he would understand and be able to give me advice for a change.
But how will I hide what I’ve done from Dad?
I can’t go home.
Fuck.
Last night was…
Actually, I have no words for it. I’d tried to articulate my thoughts by verbally journaling on my phone, but all I could come up with wasweird.
The part I couldn’t say out loud was why it was weird. Yes, having your brother maul you in his sleep is not cool, especially when you’re easily triggered by men. But Rowdy isn’t any man. He’s family. Safe.
Is that why my body responded?
Because it was confused?
Just thinking about his teeth on my neck makes me flush. I should be disgusted, but I can’t get it out of my head. And then, later, he tore at my panties, exposing me to him. Had I not alerted him to the fact I wasn’t this mysterious Lila, he may have tried to have sex with me.
All I know of sex is awful and traumatizing, but my body burned hot. It’s still burning hours later.
I should talk to him. He’s likely beating himself up over it. Rowdy’s like me. Broken, troubled, lost. If our roles were reversed, I know I’d feel gross and monstrous.
