Biker in Law's Death Kiss

My first time with my husband’s brother, we were nineteen. Curling his hand around my neck from behind, he tilted my chin up and pried my lips open with his.

It was Prom night, and in the last five minutes, we had gone from near-strangers to crossing boundaries that awakened a surge of tingles in the sweet spot of my core. Now, he nipped my lip between his teeth, and ran his warm tongue over the spot to quell the pain.

I shivered against him, opening my lips more. He tasted of dark chocolate, red wine, and me.

Colt tasted of me, called me sexy, and looked at me like I was something precious. And for the first time in so many years, I felt like a real person. Not a sack of pork, bullies’ prime target.

That was until the door burst open, though, and Nectar walked in.

Colt tore himself away so fast he missed a step and stumbled. I jerked forward to grab his arm, but he swayed out of my reach as he regained balance.

“Hold on.” Nectar barked out a harsh laugh, then waved a hand that demanded answers in our faces. “What is going on here?”

He came out of the closet last summer and had become the unofficial queen bee of our school. I took a step back, my heart pounding, a deep shade of red coloring my skin.

“Nah uh.” Nectar shook his head, moving his gaze from Colt, who had gone back to his cool mysterious self, to me, standing stiff as a rod. As his eyes journeyed slowly from my head, to my pudgy little toes, I gasped. My chest was still half exposed.

I yanked the bodice of my dress up, and my fingers trembled in my haste to get the side zippers up.

But when it rains, it pours. The universe decided my humiliation had to be complete. My zipper burst open, and my side rolls stood out in defiance. Nectar’s laughter bounced off the mirrors. He laughed till he was wheezing, bent over and red in the face.

My eyes stung as I stole a glance at Colt, who seemed bored now.

“Did you just f*ck this cow, Colt?” Nectar finally managed to get the words out. I gasped, and Colt lunged. He flew across the room, and his fist landed on Nectar’s chin with a wet smack.

I stared, frozen, desperately wishing this was a nightmare. It wasn’t. Nectar let out a high-pitched scream, as if Colt had axed him, and the door burst open. My classmates, our arts professor, and the drama crew all poured into the dressing room.

I was ready to die.

My knees trembled, and my back sweated as I muttered prayers for the ground to swallow me whole.

“What is this?” Our arts professor hurried towards Nectar, gently taking his face between her hands. She inhaled sharply at the sight of his bruise, her eyes widening. “Did he do this to you?”

“Yes,” Nectar slurred. “He burst my jaw because I caught him pants down with the fatso!”

There were people to stop Colt’s second attempt at hurting Nectar. As he roughly shrugged their hands off him, Samantha moved from the crowd that stared on, stunned at Nectar’s revelation.

“What does he mean?” The cheerleader stopped in front of me. Rumors were that her and Colt’s families planned to betroth them to one another. “You f*cked this Nymph?” She threw the question at Colt, but her eyes were pinned on me, taking in my exposed side rolls. She looked like she was about to puke.

“This is the last time anyone will accuse me of something so disgusting.” Colt’s voice, low and angry, silenced the room. I blinked, confused. Slowly I turned my head to look at him, and flinched at the sight of his mouth, shaped like he’d just tasted bile.

He met my gaze, but the emotion in his eyes was gone before I could understand it. “Why would I touch the sick dough who f*cks herself with a toothbrush at recess?”

The room erupted with laughter and harsh murmurs spread through the crowd as he strode out without a backward glance. I stared blankly at the door long after he was gone, dizzy with confusion. He touched me, called me sexy. Did I just imagine it all?

Had I gotten so desperate for male touch that I dreamed up something so vivid?

“Hey, you.” I looked up to find the room had emptied out, except for Samantha and her minions. I took a step back, and my ankle bent inward, shooting pain up my bones. But the girls closed the distance, trapping me against a wall.

“Those hot pants drove you to what’s mine?” Samantha’s eyes were hard as ice chips.

“Olivia hot-pants,” Emma said in a sing-song tone to the amusement of the girls.

“Hot pants, huh?” Samantha closed the gap between us. “I’ll help you.” She reached towards the table and closed her hand around the bottle of red wine Colt had been drinking. “Bend over. I’ll cure you of your disgusting curse tonight.”

My eyes went round as her hirelings began to crowd me. “Stay away.” I cried out in terror. “Don’t touch me!”

But Emma, Roslyn and Serah grabbed me, straining to turn me around.

I anchored my weight to the floor, and none of the size six girls could move me. They finally let me go, heaving in frustration, and Samantha slapped me.

The world went silent around me as colors exploded behind my eyelids. I staggered, lost my balance, and crashed painfully to the ground.

“You godforsaken b*tch!” She shrieked down at me, “You sick pig.” The pointy end of her heel burrowed into my side and I screamed. Emma shoved her purse in my mouth.

“You’re always in heat?” Samantha’s eyes were all fury as she grabbed the ice bucket that had held wine and turned it down on me.

“There! Cool enough?”

I whimpered on the floor, shaking my head, unable to get the words out through my gag, PLEASE.

“What did you say?” She cupped her ear with manicured nails, “Still too hot? Not cool enough? Let’s stuff it with ice, maybe it will cool down.”

I heaved with all my might as she leaned down, throwing the petite frames halfway across the room. And scrambling to my feet, I fled the scene while Samantha was still frozen in shock.

I was already out of breath from all the effort, but I did not stop running. I ran even though my flesh jiggled violently, a mocking reminder of my shame.

I wanted to run out of my body, leave this heavy mass behind that weighed more from shame than actual fat.

“Stoooop!” I screamed, crashing to the floor to avoid a car that had suddenly swept out of nowhere.

“Stand up, Olivia,” I heard from within the black reflective Rolls-Royce Phantom. The window wound down noiselessly.

Gravel dug painfully into my palms as I pushed up from the tarred road, “How do you know me?” I frowned at the female silhouette in the dim-lit car, illuminated by only a starry ceiling.

“Your mother is dead,” the woman said without preamble. My heart stopped, and my vision went black. “Your drunk of a father killed my sister, and someone has to pay.”

I staggered forward, dazed, muttering, no, no, no. He killed her. The endless beating finally killed her.

The woman’s head swiveled to face me. “A daughter for a sister. Fair deal?”