Chapter 4

"Lola, come sit with me. I want to know more about the things you like so I can get an idea of who you are," Victor Pemberton stated earnestly. His hand was warm as he held mine, guiding me up the jet's stairs. I could feel my mother's silent gaze on my back, a warning to behave, as I followed Victor into the plane's opulent interior. The silent command was unnecessary; I was too overwhelmed to cause trouble.

Soon, I was seated on a plush sofa, the rich fabric soft against my skin, watching Jeremy and my mother enter the jet. Jeremy sat across from me and smiled. "Hi, sister," he greeted me with a playful smirk, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

His handsome face had a strange effect on me. It was like a switch was flipped, and my mind was suddenly filled with memories, flashes of a night I had tried so hard to forget. His smile widened, and I knew he was fully aware of the power he had over me, of the chaos he was creating inside my mind.

I ignored him, turning my head to look out the window, pretending to be fascinated by the view of the tarmac. The glass felt cold against my cheek, a welcome contrast to the heat rising in my body.

"Jeremy, just leave her be. Lola is just shy," my mother laughed, a light, airy sound that didn't reach me. Her husband joined in, their laughter creating a barrier I was grateful for.

"Oh, I can't wait to get to know her, too. I can tell she can be so wild when she wants to be," Jeremy replied, his voice a low rumble. His smile grew even wider, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I knew he was teasing me about what had happened that night, reminding me of a part of myself I wanted to keep hidden.

"Let the poor girl breathe, Jeremy," Victor interrupted his son, his voice kind as he grabbed a drink from the flight attendant.

I felt myself getting flushed, my breathing growing shallow as Jeremy's face remained in front of me, a constant, beautiful distraction. My eyes were drawn to his veiny arms, beautiful in his suit, and his long legs stretched out in front of him. His presence was making it impossible to think clearly, to breathe normally. A desperate need to escape him, and my own unruly thoughts, grew inside me.

Without thinking, I turned to the flight attendant and inquired gently, "Where's the bathroom?" It was the only escape I could think of.

She smiled and nodded. "Right this way," she answered.

Without sparing him a glance, I stood up and strolled after the flight attendant. She soon showed me a bathroom attached to a room.

I rushed inside and closed the door behind me, the lock clicking with a sense of finality. I immediately grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled them down to my knees. My panties were soaked, and my breathing was heavy, ragged. A wave of confusion and self-loathing washed over me. Why was I craving and getting wet for someone I hated? Someone I was supposed to hate?

I spread my legs, inserted my middle finger into my core, and began to massage myself. The memory of Jeremy pleasuring me that night was the only thing on my mind. His hands on me, his mouth on me, the way he had devoured me, the way he had repeatedly entered me, made me orgasm all over again. The pleasure was intense, but it was mixed with a deep sense of guilt.

After I finished, I cleaned myself up and leaned against the bathroom wall, trying to calm my racing heart. I knew what I was doing was wrong. It was twisted and complicated, but why did my desires awaken every time Jeremy was around? No one had ever touched me the way he had, but deep down, I knew what we had could never happen again. We were family now, and the thought made my stomach churn.

The moment I opened the door, my eyes met a figure sitting on the bed. My breath caught in my throat. When he turned to face me, he gave me his killer smile, the very same one that had been in my mind just moments ago.

"J-Jeremy..." I stammered, my voice a shaky whisper.

"So that's why you went to the bathroom, huh?" He teased me, his voice low and knowing.

I felt the color drain from my face. My heart plummeted to my stomach. Judging by the smirk on his lips, I could tell he had heard everything. The sounds, my gasps, my desperate breathing. He knew.

I felt frozen in place. I couldn't speak, my mind went blank, and I felt trapped in that moment. A wave of intense shame washed over me, hot and sickening. I didn't know what to do or say. Gathering what little composure I had left, I decided to walk past him, my head held high, determined to ignore his presence.

But Jeremy had other plans. He moved quickly, his long legs crossing the room in an instant, and blocked the door, his smile growing.

"What do you want, Jeremy?" I demanded, giving him a glare I hoped was more fierce than I felt. My voice trembled slightly, betraying my fear.

"Oh, you know, all you had to do was ask," he chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

I pretended not to understand him. I was a terrible actress, but I had to try.

"What do you mean?" I countered, keeping my voice as calm as I could, acting like I had no idea where this conversation was going.

He smiled faintly and began to approach. My heart hammered in my chest, a frantic drum against my ribs. I looked at his feet, trying to avoid his eyes, to avoid the truth I knew I would see there. The air between us grew heavier with every step he took. I felt more and more exposed, humiliated because I felt him so deeply, and I knew he could read it on my face.

"What I want is you, Lola... I want you. Now, in this bed.” His voice was a promise, a command that sent a shiver of fear and desire through me.