Married to my ex's cold older brother

Six years earlier.

“You can go a bit faster, babe, I won't break.” I said in excitement as I felt my orgasm building up again.

I was on all fours. My boyfriend and I were currently going at it in a room that looked like the master bedroom. It was his Nineteenth birthday, and like every other birthday, he had chosen to celebrate it in his own home. His older brother had also traveled out as usual, to give us all space.

We had taken each other's virginity in the storage room months ago, and since then, we'd been inseparable. Until a month ago when he had to undergo a serious training for the teen hockey championship. We hadn't even seen each other until today, when he asked me to strip and wait for him in this room.

“Palomita,” he groaned loudly grabbing my ginger colored hair as he slammed his cock into me. I didn't understand what the hell he was saying, but the word sent a fresh jolt of electricity down my core.

“I'm so full!” I cried out, as I felt my walls tighten around his him. “I'm going to cum."

I arched into him, my vision blurring as the sharp release descended, shaking my entire body. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and as I tried to catch my breath, I felt his grip tighten around my hips. His thrusts turned rough and hard until he shot his seeds deep inside me.

I sighed deeply, my eyes slowly fluttering close as I drifted into a comfortable sleep.

I woke up a couple of minutes later and realized I was the only one on the bed. I was naked, sore, and coated in our dried juices.

I slowly lifted my legs, and was about to get up from the bed, when the door burst open. Scott strolled back in, fully dressed.

I smiled shyly at him, but he didn't return the smile. Instead, his jaw tightened as he walked towards me and slapped me across the face.

“You slut! How dare you fuck another man in my own home!” he roared. “If you've lost all respect for your slutty self, why didn't you reserve any for my family?”

I momentarily froze, my brain clouded with confusion as I swallowed the metallic taste of saliva mixed with blood from a split lip.

I was in a daze, barely registering that his teammates were crowding the doorway, all staring at me with disgust.

I didn't even think to cover my bare breasts. Everything that had just happened felt like a fever dream. Was this a sick prank? Scott wouldn't go this far with a prank, he doesn't even like pranks.

“I don't understand. What are you talking about, Scott?” I asked, my voice shaking. “We just had sex. It was you and I. I didn't do it with anyone else,”

“You bloody liar! You still have the guts to spew nonsense out of that trashy mouth of yours?” He asked, his eyes brimming with tears. “How could I have fucked you when I was out there cutting my cake?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. No, this wasn't happening.

“You're joking, please tell me you're joking,” I begged, sobbing loudly. 

If it wasn't Scott, who had I been with? I couldn't even recall the face, just the way he feels inside me. Everything else had been a blur.

“When you're done, pack your dirty stuff, and get the fuck out of my house!” Scott yelled, storming out with his friends.

That was the last time I ever physically saw him.

Present day

“Such lovely tits,”

I took a deep breath and carefully bent down to place the bottled water beside all the hockey players who had come to the production house. James and his colleagues had their eyes raking all over me.

“I wonder how it’d feel to have my cock in the middle of these two beauties.” He added, grinning so widely I could see every tooth in his mouth.

I wondered how men like him end up being the favoured ones. It seemed unfair. They're many people in the world who deserve to be exceptionally good at their skills, not James. I wasn't even showing too much skin, but my boobs had been fuller since I had my child six years ago, and dirty men like James would always remind you.

“If there's anything else you'd all need, please let me know,” I said, reaching to pick up the empty fast-food cartons they'd scattered all over the floor. “And please, do well to remember there's a trash can right next to you.”

James chuckled, a loud, gaggling sound that made my stomach churn. He suddenly reached out and grabbed my breast. “This trash feels good to touch, Joan george,”

I swatted his hand off my breast and stood up straight. “Don't you ever do that again. And it's Ruby Michaelson!”

Two of the teammates sitting on either side of him immediately stood up, moving close to me until they crowded me. I looked towards the directors and other members of the crew for help, but they all avoided they all coincidentally found something unique to have their eyes glued at on the floor.

I hated how much they all enjoyed licking the asses of these horrible hockey players ever since we started the collaboration for an advert. Their musky sweat hit my nostrils like a tornado, a strong urge to puke overwhelming me. Weren't they using the deodorant their hockey team was known for advertising?

James laughed loudly before snapping his fingers. It seemed to be a kind of signal because his dogs backed off. “You should be grateful I even touched trash like you. People have to beg for it. Even your mother did. Maybe that's the reason you're still stuck as a messenger here, you don't know how to beg properly."

The crew erupted into jeers and started making ridiculous bedroom sounds. I gripped an empty carton so tightly my knuckles turned white.

James had been the reason my mom got involved in the famous ELLE SCANDAL. He had seduced and tricked her, then later played the victim. Now to everyone, she was the old movie star who blackmailed a young hockey player into sleeping with her. Even after her death, people still hated her. I suffered for it. I've been cursed, bullied and trolled because of her.

He pulled out his phone, swiping the screen before placing it in his elf-like ear. “Guess what?” He asked the person on the line. “The bitch goes by Ruby Michaelson now. And she's gone back to hiding her ginger hair, I wonder if she dyed the one down there too."

I zoned out his voice, already having a bad feeling about where this whole thing was headed. Without asking him who he was talking to, I focused on my work.  Cleaning, tossing, wiping, lifting. I was exhausted, but I kept going. 

“You're needed elsewhere, Ruby,” one of the new assistants said behind me.

I quickly turned, my heart suddenly freezing in my chest. Dear Lord, let it not be what I'm thinking.

“Where?” 

“The private show room,” she said, her voice shaking as she avoided my gaze.

“Who is in the private showroom?” I asked quietly.

“I… I don't know,” 

A moment later, the director matched towards us, glaring at me. “You better not make him angry, Ruby. If he decides to end this collaboration, the entire house would be doomed. We are already too close to bankruptcy,”

“Okay,” I murmured, even though I didn't understand why I needed that information. 

“I don't even know why Scott Marshall requested for you, anyway. My goddaughter would have served him better."

“Then…” I started, then stopped. “What…what do you mean? Scott who?”

“Scott Marshall,”

“No,”

“Yes,” he said, then dragged me down the hall to the private showroom. He opened the door, and pushed me in.

I stood by the door, fear gripping every part of me. After six years of trying to forget the past, I was now shoved into it. I still wasn't sure I could face him, not after that dreadful night. Not after praying never to cross his path!

Suddenly, a glass shattered against the floor. The piercing sound had me scrambling to the door. I tried to turn the doorknob with every strength I had, only to realize it had been locked from outside.

Scott Marshall was definitely going to kill me in here and no one would say a word to the cops about it.