CHAPTER SEVEN

Samira

After Santana’s talented fingers rubbed my pussy until I came over and over, I needed another shower. A cold one.

I hoped it would help me sober up too because what the fuck was that shit in the kitchen? How did we even end up in that predicament?

Everything happened way too fast and I didn’t know how to unpack it all. I sat on my bed taking the blood red polish off my toes and fingernails when a knock on the door nearly made me jump clean out of my skin. I didn’t know who to expect on the other side, Papa or Santana.

To be honest, the thought of either one scared me a little.

I rubbed my palms on my thighs hoping to rub away some of my nerves before opening the door. Papa stood on the other side, folding his bulky arms across his chest. He stared at me with green eyes that looked exactly like my own.

“Mija, I want to talk to you.” He didn’t ask if I was busy or anything. He walked in and sat on my bed after he moved my nail stuff out of the way. His face contorted at the sharp smell of polish remover.

“What’s up, Papa?” I smiled and sat on the bed beside him. I tried to sell him my most innocent smile but he wasn’t buying it. That wasn’t a good sign.

“I know what you were downstairs doing with Santana before I walked in and I’m not happy about it, young lady. I can’t believe you would do something like that. It’s so out of character for you.”

Heat.

Blazing and unbearable heat burned through my chest at his words.

“What? How did you…” I couldn’t speak. The ability to complete sentences vacated my brain.

“I’m your father. I look at things with a parental eye. It’s something you and Santana don’t have yet because you’re still kids.” He pressed his fingertips together and exhaled through flared nostrils. “You’re still a kid, Samira. You’re still under my roof. I’m still responsible for you. Your brother is a different story but you?”

“Papa, I can explain. It was a weak moment and it just…it felt…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Samira. Your brother shouldn’t have let you do that. You’re so close to graduating and you want to fuck it up now? Don’t make drinking a habit. I’m not going to be able to watch you when you go to Dartmouth. I’m not sending you to school to drink and party.

I know Santana told you why he got kicked out of school. Don’t let him influence you, princess. You’re a good girl. I want you to go to school, do your best and get your degree.”

My chest deflated with relief. My shoulders rolled forward and I rested my elbows on my shaky knees. Drinking. He realized I was drinking. Thank god.

Normally, I would be hyperventilating if Papa found out I was doing something like drinking. In comparison to what I was actually doing when Papa walked in, drinking was nothing.

To Papa, it was everything though. He didn’t even know I cursed. To him, I was a princess.

“I’m sorry, Papa. It wasn’t Santana’s fault though. He couldn’t stop me. He’s my big brother. He’s not my father. I just wanted to blow off some steam. I got into a fight with Brady. You know the guy I brought past the restaurant?”

I had to steer his mind in another direction. Not that I thought he would figure out what Santana and I were doing on the kitchen table but still…

“You let that damn boy stress you out to the point of knocking back tequila, Samira? Come on now. This is exactly what I want you to stay away from. No boys, you hear me?” Papa shook his finger at me and I groaned.

“I know how to keep my priorities straight. It was a momentary slip-up.”

“I don’t want anymore momentary slip-ups. If you stay away from boys and booze this shit won’t happen.” He rubbed the space between his brows and groaned. “I only want the best for you.”

“I know. I promise to leave the boys alone, Papa.”

“Boys and liquor, mija.”

“Boys and liquor,” I repeated with a sigh.

He eyed me for a moment then stood to his feet. He said, “I’m putting you on punishment. I want you to go to school, practice, and home for the next week.” That’s all I did anyway but I acted like I was upset about it to appease him. He seemed pleased enough.

“I’m sorry, Papa. It won’t happen again,” I promised him.

“I know it won’t.” He walked into the hallway and turned back to look at me. “I know you’re almost eighteen but still, stay away from your brother when it comes down to stuff like drinking and…other things.”

“Drugs?” I asked. Papa’s expression hardened. “I was just asking. I mean that’s why Santana got kicked out of school right?”

“Right. And I don’t want you falling in line behind him. You’re not even in college yet.”

Once he was gone from my room, I collapsed on my bed and tried to stop my mind from running rampant. I decided to paint my nails bubblegum pink then finish up my homework.

None of that shit killed the raging hormones at war in my body. When I heard Papa close his bedroom door at bedtime, I moved to the door beside my dresser and snuck into Santana’s room. I always loved our joined rooms. Now, I loved them even more.

“What’s up, Sammie? Did Pop chew you out for drinking?” Santana’s dark eyes were all over me when I walked in. Even though I had on a t-shirt, he made me feel naked. His gaze burned more than that brown liquor he loved so much.

“He did. He wants me to stay away from your ass. You’re such a horrible influence,” I laughed with my arms folded.

“Did you sober up, Sammie?” My eyes honed in on his full lips and the way his tongue slid over them. I wanted to slide my tongue over them too.

I’d sobered up just fine but standing alone with Santana in his dark bedroom made me feel drunk all over again.

“I think so,” I answered. My words slipped around the knot in my throat making it hard to swallow.

“Come here.” Santana motioned to the free spot on his bed. “I want to talk to you.”

“Are you going to give me a speech about how you were drunk and you shouldn’t have touched me?” I didn’t want to hear that speech if that’s what he was going to say. To hell with that.

He reached out and stroked my cheek. My skin heated under his touch. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Then what?” I asked, impatiently. I couldn’t stand being that close to my brother anymore. The way he touched me in the kitchen made everything burn.

I tried to stay clear and focused but every time a thought popped into my head, it fell away. Santana turned my head into a jumble of static mess.

“Do you think I’m fucked up for touching you the way I did?” He ran his knuckles along my thigh and heat spilled into my belly.

“No, Santana. I don’t,” I whispered.

“I do.” His fingers caressed higher on my thigh. Dangerously high. So high that desire trickled through my veins like water.

“Then why are you still touching me?” I quizzed. I marveled at how something as simple as his touch could make me so wet.

“Because I like doing fucked up shit evidently. The question is, do you like it? Or am I screwing up my relationship with you?” His voice sent tendrils of neediness coiling around my middle, holding my core hostage.

I inched closer to him so I could inhale his scent and so I wouldn’t be so far away when I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him more than I wanted my next breath. I wet my hungry lips and Santana looked at me for an answer.

“You could never fuck up our relationship.”

“You’re not telling me what I need to hear, Sammie.” I’d never seen this side of my brother. He was so intense. His mocha eyes turned to coal when he looked at me. The moment we were snared in plunged us into shadows. It was a murky and tainted moment painted in black sin.

“I like it, Santana.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. It was so whiny. So ravenous.

“Good, because I’m losing my mind right now over how goddamn sexy you are.” My gaze dropped when he adjusted his hard dick. My tongue was so curious. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to feel him sliding in and out of my mouth.

“I can be myself around you, right Santana?” My voice came out in sultry syllables.

“Of course, Sammie. We just admitted that we want to fuck each other. I think we’re past the point of being selectively open and honest. It’s a requirement at this point.”

Was his voice always so gruff? Prickles rained down across my shoulders and arms at the sound of it.

“That night we talked…right before we started avoiding each other, I touched myself when I thought about sitting on your lap. I’ve touched myself every day for the past two weeks thinking about you.” I recognized the flash I saw in Santana’s eyes now. It was lust. He was steeped in it and so was I.

“You touched your pussy and thought about me, Sammie?” The thick bulge in his sweats grew and stretched and it made my bones ache and thrum. If he didn’t touch me, I was going to fucking pop.

I gave him a nod in response because I didn’t trust my own voice. “Did you cum hard when you thought about me?”

Another nod.

“Did you rub your thick clit or did you put a finger in your pussy?” His words set fire to my soul…and other parts. The throb between my legs roared to life and begged to be stoked by Santana.

“Both,” I said. My voice was a quiet tremble in the face of a beast.

Santana pounced on me.

I saw it coming and still wasn’t prepared for the way he stole my breath. He crashed against my mouth with such fervor and heat. I was stunned but then I jolted to life and moaned at the silky feeling sliding through my body. Santana devoured my erotic sounds as his long fingers slid through my hair starting at the base of my neck.

I wanted him to grab it hard…and he did. It was like my thoughts were his. I whimpered as my hair turned into a million little antennas feeding electricity into my scalp.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. The fact that Santana of all people had his lips on mine, and his tongue exploring my mouth was fucking mind-blowing. I never wanted it to end.

I anchored my arms around his strong neck and pulled him down on top of me. Everything in my body pushed me to lock my legs around him so that I could feel his erection.

My hips rolled in response to his proximity as if to worship at his altar. My pussy pulsed in tune with my knocking heart. I needed to feel his mouth there. I wanted him to taste the way my heart beat for him.

“If I fuck you…” Santana’s voice vibrated against my chest like I needed anything else to rattle my core. Fuck. “Things won’t ever be the same again.”

“I know,” I panted. It wasn’t exactly a prime time to talk to me about logic though. All my thoughts were between my legs.

“You okay with that?”

“Are you?” I quizzed, staring into his eyes.

“As long as you know I don’t share what’s mine.”

“Will I be yours?” My question was met with Santana’s stiff dick stabbing into my pussy. I wanted the barrier of clothing gone. I hated his sweatpants and I hated my panties. I needed to feel his skin.

He bucked against me and I cried out. He slapped his big hand over my mouth, cutting my yelp short then he drove his dick against my heat even harder. A dull wave of pain lapped at my cunt.

It was delicious pain that I wanted more of.

“Please, Santana,” I begged. Warmth spread between my legs. I was seconds away from coming all over his sweatpants and leaving my wetness on him.

A knock on his locked bedroom door sent the moment splintering into a thousand different directions. Then, Papa’s voice came from the other side. “Hey, let’s ride out, mijo. Your sister is sleeping.”

Santana locked his hand over my mouth and shook his head, signaling me to be quiet. He saw the way I looked at him though. I wanted answers. No amount of lust would make me forget that him and Papa were keeping something from me.

“Yeah, give me a second Pop,” Santana called out.

“I’ll be in the car. Come out in five minutes,” Papa told him before his footsteps moved down the hall. Once I saw the lights from Papa’s car filter through the closed blinds in Santana’s room, I popped up, my spine stiff.

“Tell me right now,” I demanded, my arms folded over my heaving chest.

“I can’t, Sammie.” He climbed off the bed, his dick still hard. It pointed right at me like it knew what it wanted.

“How the fuck are we so close yet so far apart, Santana? I don’t like secrets. You want me to tell you everything but you’re keeping things from me.”

“I’m sorry. If I tell you, I’ll be betraying Pop though. I can’t do that.”

“Fine.” I tipped my nose in the air trying to mask the fact that my feelings were bruised. Santana and I never kept secrets so hearing him blatantly tell me he refused to open up to me hurt.

I moved to the door joining our rooms but before I could turn the knob, he covered my hand with his. “Sammie, don’t be like that. You know if it were up to me, I’d tell you.” His eyes were soft and I wanted to fall into them but I couldn’t.

“It is up to you and you’re still keeping it from me.” I rolled my eyes at him and slipped through the joining door. Could I really shift the nature of my relationship with my brother if he wouldn’t confide in me? Contradictory thoughts assaulted me while I laid in my bed, frustrated.

Sleep wouldn’t come easily and I wondered if it would come at all because all I did for hours on end was flip back and forth over being mad at Santana and being so infatuated with him that I couldn’t see straight. I told myself that we were gonna go with being mad at him because how dare he and Papa keep something from me. I would stand strong and give him the silent treatment until he told me what the fuck was going on.

Eventually, sleep came for me and I was happy to see it arrive because my mind was beyond exhausted.

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