Chokehold

by Leigh Rivers

“You want to play, brother. Let’s go.”

There are no lengths, no stretch of the imagination that I won’t go to own every part of him.

We’re both chameleons in our unique ways, hiding behind impenetrable walls and cracked masks.

“Such a good fucking boy,” I whisper in his ear, keeping my voice low and undetected.

Something about my attacker reminds me of Cole. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but it’s there in the tense sway of his broad shoulders and that searing gaze. My heart thuds harder in response, and I allow myself to indulge in the fantasy of my tormented stepbrother being my late-night stalker.

I was the son nobody wanted.

“Did someone hurt you?” He nods once. I don’t know why, but I get pissed off, the confused, possessive side of me forgetting that I was the one who hurt him.

I let out a groan, my hand slamming into the glass door, and when my palm slips, wiping away some of the condensation from the steam, my eyes collide with green ones. I freeze all over, staring at Blaise, my dick pulsing in my palm. From what I can see through the steamed glass, he’s leaning against the sink, his arms folded. He’s wearing a sweater now, probably already packed for our ski trip with our parents and Mia. “Don’t stop,” he says, his voice strained. For a long moment, our eyes stay glued, my heart accelerating to a dangerous pace, feeling like it’s about to bound out of my fucking chest. His gaze dips to my hand around my cock. He’ll be able to see it faintly through the glass. “Keep going.” My hand stays around my length. “You just have to ruin everything, don’t you?” He nods. “I said…keep going.” My grip tightens, and I grit my teeth to hide the way it’s making me fucking feral – him looking at me like I’m next for breakfast, his face, his deep voice, the corded muscles I can see through his clothes. His hands have veins, and I picture the touch being his hand wrapped around me as I absently thrust into my own palm.

How can he have such a chokehold on me?

I should have guessed that he likes to play games, scared to let the world in on his little secret.

No one hurts him but me. No one gets to crawl beneath his skin.

You want a villain? Fine. I’ll be your worst fucking nightmare.”

“One day, I’m going to fuck you. Remember that tomorrow when Allie asks you if you love her.”

He asked for a villain, and I’ll be whatever he needs. Even if I turn into the bad guy.

You broke me the first time you opened your legs for someone else when you belonged to me, and I’m not fixable, Allie.”

“What’s real, Blaise?” My heart clenches tight, and I look past him at the snowflakes outside. “I don’t know.”

“You like to hide, brother?” I release his throat. “You think I won’t find you?”

But he’s asleep, and I stole a part of him like a thief in the night.