Veils of Rivalry Chapter 19

Cole's POV

Mom has set a spread for breakfast like she does every weekend morning. If she’s not at work on the ward at our local hospital, she’s in the kitchen with her cookbooks and enjoying every second of it.

My stepdad stares at me from across the table. “Where were you last night?”

I raise a brow. “Samson’s, why?”

“We heard the front gates opening in the middle of the night.”

Dropping my gaze to my plate, I shrug. “Wasn’t me.”

The table shakes as his hand slams down on the surface. “Don’t lie, boy.”

“Gavin,” Mom scolds. “He said it wasn’t him.”

“Well, it wasn’t my son.”

He likes to point out on the regular that Blaise is his son, that I am not anything of biology to him, and that he has a strong bad taste toward me. He thinks I’m my dad. I look like him, and apparently, I’m going to grow up to act like him too.

If I ever become a family man, the last thing in the entire world I’d do is abuse them. I wouldn’t force my son to drink gasoline and make him puke it back up, and I wouldn’t make my wife terrified of me.

Never.

I fill my mouth with food and ignore him, despite wanting to slam his face into his bowl of oatmeal.

Blaise walks in, and I freeze my chewing as my eyes follow him. In the daylight, he looks worse. The bruising is more noticeable than earlier. He hasn’t even tried to cover them up or wear a hoodie or sweater to make sure our parents don’t see.

Gavin stands. “Christ, Blaise. What happened?”

He ignores him and takes his seat opposite me, the purple ring around his eye nearly swelling the lid shut. Filling his plate with food, he pours himself a cup of orange juice.

“Did someone hurt you?”

He nods once.

I don’t know why, but I get pissed off, the confused, possessive side of me forgetting that I was the one who hurt him.

My stepdad sits down and grips his cutlery, scowling at me.

“What’s the point in pretending to be a big brother if you can’t protect him?”

I glare at him and my mom. “So I’m to blame when Blaise is a dick and gets beat up?”

“Yes,” Gavin replies. “I’m going to have a word with your school. You get far too much special treatment because of me, and you repay me by allowing this to happen to my son?” He tsks, shaking his head. “You should have stayed with your father.”

I push back in my seat and knock his plate from the table, smashing the ceramic on the wall. “Say that again, asshole.”

“That’s enough!” Mom yells. “Blaise, Cole, go to your rooms. Now.”

Blaise gets up and leaves with no words, but I stay in my chair.

“I’m twenty, not thirteen. Stop talking to me like I’m a child.” I turn back to Gavin. “If you ever bring up my father again, I’ll make you fucking regret it.”

“You live under our roof, boy, so you’ll start respecting us, or you’ll be out with no money and no college funding.”

“Gavin,” Mom snaps.

He raises his hand to stop her from saying anything else. “I own your entire future. If I want my son to replace you instead of Jackson on your football team, I will. If I want you on the streets, you will be. If I want you to jump, you will ask me how high.”

“Blaise can stick up for himself,” I grit out. “You need to get your head out of your ass and see he isn’t the little fucking angel you paint him as. He got beat up because he’s a prick, just like his father.”

“Cole.” Mom pulls my sleeve. “Stop.”

Begrudgingly, I listen and leave, wishing I could punch this motherfucker. But he’s right. My entire future is in his hands.

I hate him just as much as I hate his son.

***

The back of my skull hits the tiles, my eyes closing as the hot water soaks my hair and skin. Each long stroke has my balls pulling tighter to my body, my lungs forcing out air as I breathe.

I’ve been hanging on the edge since last night. I wanted to find pleasure instantly. I couldn’t fuck my own hand while in bed, with Blaise sulking in the corner of my room, and I couldn’t do it when he got up and left before we went down for breakfast, and now, hours later, my swollen crown leaks with precum as I slide my hand up and down my rock-hard shaft.

I let out a groan, my hand slamming into the glass door, and when my palm slips, wiping away some of the condensation from the steam, my eyes collide with green ones.

I freeze all over, staring at Blaise, my dick pulsing in my palm. From what I can see through the steamed glass, he’s leaning against the sink, his arms folded. He’s wearing a sweater now, probably already packed for our ski trip with our parents and Mia.

“Don’t stop,” he says, his voice strained.

For a long moment, our eyes stay glued, my heart accelerating to a dangerous pace, feeling like it’s about to bound out of my fucking chest.

His gaze dips to my hand around my cock. He’ll be able to see it faintly through the glass. “Keep going.”

My hand stays around my length. “You just have to ruin everything, don’t you?”

He nods. “I said…keep going.”

My grip tightens, and I grit my teeth to hide the way it’s making me fucking feral – him looking at me like I’m next for breakfast, his face, his deep voice, the corded muscles I can see through his clothes. His hands have veins, and I picture the touch being his hand wrapped around me as I absently thrust into my own palm.

From outside the bathroom, my bedroom door opens. “Cole?” Allie calls out, and I pause. What the fuck is she doing here?

Blaise reaches over and locks the door. “Keep going,” he demands again quietly, crossing his arms and leaning against the sink once more.

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, matching my own, and I clench my jaw, needing so badly to move my hand, my fingers flexing around the throbbing girth.

Blaise’s body is so relaxed, watching, waiting, and I’m as tense and rigid everywhere.

“Cole?” Allie calls my name again, and the bathroom door handle jiggles. Neither of us look in that direction. I’m trapped under his spell, eyes locked through each slow, tight stroke. I hate myself for doing it, for listening, but for some reason or another, the pleasure wrapping around my spine intensifies with him watching me.

“Can you let me in? Please, talk to me, baby. You can’t break up with me!” Her little fist smashes into the wood, a sob following. “Please, Cole. Your mom asked me to go on this trip since you didn’t ask me. We’ll make it work. I’ll be a good girl.”

She lowers her voice. “I’m always a good girl for you, aren’t I?”

Blaise tilts his head to the side, both of us ignoring her. “Is she always a good girl for you, big brother?”

“No,” I breathe, biting my lip. “I’m not your fucking brother.”

He chuckles, and fuck, my balls nearly explode. “What do you think she’d say if she knew you were in here, touching yourself, fucking loving it too, as I watched?”

Depraved. I’m depraved and sick and I love it.

“I knew she didn’t satisfy you,” he says, smirking as he comes closer to the glass. “You want a cock. And not just any cock. I think you want mine.”

He slides open the glass door, the bathroom far too steamed up for him to see the faint bruises from last night. His proximity has my body feeling alive and I hate myself for it.

My eyes roll as the back of my head hits the tiles again, the muscles in my thighs tightening while I fuck my hand. I’m unable to stop the deep moan from rumbling in my chest.

Listening to Blaise’s voice, I feel him press his hand to my pec, siding it up to grab my throat, strangling me, robbing me of air, but not enough to cut off my words.

“Don’t…fucking touch me,” I say through gritted teeth, slowing my strokes despite wanting him to drop to his knees and suck my cock again, to feel what it’s like to slide into him.

Blaise’s eyes brighten, soaking himself under the shower. His fingers wrap around my wrist, forcing me to keep going.

With a groan, I release so damn hard I see stars under my eyelids. I come all over his wrist as he makes me keep jerking myself through my orgasm while he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “Hmm,” he hums. “I knew it. You need to get out of the closet, big brother.”

The grip on my wrist and the hold on my throat vanish as he slaps my cheek. I stand there, unmoving, eyes closed, listening as Blaise leaves through the door to his bedroom, before my back slides down the wall.

What the fuck just happened?

I blink away the dizziness, looking down at the cum painted on the tiles just as Allie knocks on the door again.