Ecstasy

✿MOANA✿

Dinner was supposed to be awkward.

I had prepared myself for it, tense silences, forced conversation, my mum trying too hard while Richard pretended everything was normal. I’d even rehearsed responses in my head, safe topics that wouldn't reveal how much I wanted to strangle Dylan Dickhead for existing in my new life.

But Dylan had other plans.

"So Queens," he said, cutting into his steak with deliberate precision. "Your mom said you took gymnastics classes, no wonder you're so flexible during cheerleading." His eyes were on me teasingly

My fork paused halfway to my mouth. My jaw tightened. "Yeah, very flexible," I replied coolly. "But it's not all about the flexibility."

"I see." Dylan's smile was pleasant, the kind that would've fooled anyone who didn't know him. "You are good at juggling things. Top of the class and all that."

My mum beamed. "You two really do know each other. That's wonderful."

Richard nodded, looking between us with obvious relief. "I was worried there might be some adjustment period, but it looks like you're already comfortable with each other."

Comfortable indeed. I tried not to scoff.

I met Dylan's eyes across the table and saw the challenge there, the smugness barely concealed behind his perfect son act. He was playing a game, and he was winning.

Fucking Dickhead.

"We get along great, we only just compete in class," Dylan continued, reaching for his water glass. "Right little sister?"

The word landed like a slap. Little sister. He'd said it so casually, so deliberately, and I felt heat crawl up my neck.

"Sure," I managed to say, keeping my voice steady.

My mum reached over and squeezed my hand. "I'm so glad. I know this is a big change for both of you, but having each other will make it easier."

I forced a smile and took a bite of my food. It tasted like cardboard.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation that I barely registered.

Dylan kept up his act perfectly, charming and attentive, asking Richard about work and complimenting my mum on the salad she'd thrown together. He was good at this, I realized. Good at pretending. Good at making people believe whatever he wanted them to believe.

It made me want to throw my wine in his face.

"You know what?" Dylan set down his fork and looked at his father. "I was thinking I should take Queens out after dinner. Show her around the neighborhood, maybe grab some ice cream or something. Help her get familiar with the area."

My mum’s face lit up. "Oh, that's such a sweet idea."

"I think that's great," Richard agreed. "Good bonding time."

My stomach dropped. "That's really not necessary."

"Come on," Dylan said, his smile widening. "It'll be fun. Unless you'd rather stay here and be bored all night."

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell him to go to hell and spend the rest of the evening locked in my room. But my mum was looking at me with such hope, such genuine happiness, that the words died in my throat.

"Fine," I said quietly. "That sounds nice."

Dylan's smirk was brief but unmistakable. "Perfect. Go ahead and change, little sis. Something comfortable. We'll take my bike."

He stood and carried his plate to the kitchen, leaving me sitting there with my pulse hammering in my ears.

This was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake.

But I pushed back from the table anyway and headed upstairs.

My room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as I rifled through my closet. Something comfortable, he'd said. I pulled out a pair of bum shorts that sat low on my hips and hugged my ass in a way that was probably illegal in some states. A black crop top came next, the fabric soft and ending just above my belly button.

I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and let it fall in loose waves around my shoulders. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt a flicker of satisfaction. I was looking dangerously sexy, if Dylan wanted to play games, I could play one too.

I turned toward the bed to grab my phone and froze.

Dylan was leaning against my doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with an expression that made my skin prickle.

"Jesus Christ," I snapped, pressing a hand to my chest. "Do you ever knock?"

"I did knock, but you were busy admiring that tiny waist of yours." His voice was low, lazy, like he had all the time in the world. He pushed off the frame and stepped into my room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"Get out."

"I'm always welcomed in your room Queens." His eyes dragged over me slowly, taking in every inch of the shorts, the crop top, my exposed skin. When his gaze finally met mine again, it was darker and hungry. "You're looking sexy as fuck, Queens. Or should I say, step sister?"

My breath hitched. I hated that I noticed how good he looked, dark jeans hanging low on his hips with silver chains, plain white singlet that somehow made his shoulders look broader. His hair was still damp from the shower, falling across his forehead in a way that was completely unfair.

"What are you doing in my room?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. "And you should learn to knock. What if I was naked?"

Dylan's smirk was slow and wicked. "That would be a pleasant view." Then he bit his lip. “I've always imagined how you'd look when you're stark naked”

I almost lost it.

My thighs clenched involuntarily, heat pooling low in my stomach, and I cursed myself for the reaction. This was Dylan fucking Dickhead. Arrogant and infuriating Dylan who'd never stop getting on my nerves. The fact that he was hot didn't change anything.

Except it did. And he knew it.

"Are you done staring?" I asked, my voice sharp. I was trying to show I wasn't affected with what he had said. Pretending he didn't say such raw words.

"Are you?" He asked me back, smirking.

"I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual." Dylan took a step closer, and my back hit the edge of my desk. "But we both know that's not the whole story, is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." He was close now, close enough that I could smell him, clean soap and something darker, something that made my head spin. "Are you ready to go, or do you need a few more minutes to compose yourself?"

I shoved past him, grabbing my phone off the bed. "Let's just get this over with."

Dylan's laugh followed me into the hallway. "Sexy little flower."

We headed downstairs together, and I caught a glimpse of my mum and Richard in the living room, curled up on the couch watching a movie. They looked happy. Settled. Like a real couple.

My chest tightened.

"We're heading out," Dylan called.

Richard waved without looking away from the screen. "Have fun. Be safe."

"Don't stay out too late," my mum added.

She didn't even turn away from the screen either.

"We won't." Dylan's hand landed on the small of my back, guiding me toward the door, and I jerked away from the touch.

He grinned knowingly.

The garage was massive, big enough to fit eight cars and still have room for storage. But my attention went straight to the motorcycle parked in the center, sleek black metal that looked fast and dangerous, just like its owner.

Dylan grabbed two helmets off a shelf and tossed one to me. "Ever been on a bike before?"

"No." I replied truthfully.

"You're going to love it." He swung his leg over the seat and started the engine, the roar echoing off the walls. Then he looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Come on, Queens. Don't tell me you're scared."

I pulled the helmet on and climbed onto the bike behind him, my thighs pressing against his hips. There was nowhere else to put my hands, so I gripped his shoulders, hating how solid he felt under my fingers.

Dylan reached back and grabbed my wrists, pulling my arms around his waist. "Hold on tight."

My body was flush against his now, my chest pressed to his back, and I could feel every breath he took.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice muffled by the helmet.

Dylan revved the engine once, twice, and then looked over his shoulder. His eyes locked on mine through the visor, and his voice was rough when he spoke.

"I'm gonna ride you to ecstasy, Moana."

My breath caught. That’s the first time he called me by my name and I loved how it sounded on his lips. I bit my lip hard, feeling the dangerous pull of it all, hating how much I felt it. I could feel my pussy already soaked.