Blood Rush
Chapter Eleven: A Lesson in Control
Jerome gently removed Deedee's glass from her hand, setting it on the kitchen counter. He'd like to think that his sister fully understood the meaning of being set free, but with her recent intense cleaning spree, she proved to him that although she wanted to just let the pieces fall as they did, her desire to control everything was quite evident. The fact that Lila Valeska's death hadn't stopped Deedee from feeling like she was going to crawl out of her skin was concerning—and, if he was being honest—a bit annoying. Their whole lives had been undermined by the Bitch; her sudden departure—a very sad, unfortunate circumstance—should have the eldest Valeska particularly content.
"I wasn't done with that," said Deedee.
"Yes, you are." Jerome said. "You say that you understand where I'm coming from, but how do I know that you're just not going to go back into Mother's bedroom and start tossing things again?"
"It's got to be done," said Deedee. "I have to—"
Jerome shook his head, "See, see? You're still thinking that you have to take care of everything. Stop that."
Deedee tried to push pass him, to resume ridding the trailer of Lila all together; however, Jerome grabbed her by the wrist, and dragged her back to stand in front of him. Her back pinned by the counter and Jerome standing in front of her—She frowned. Jerome could see the significant duress. He just wanted her to enjoy the moment. Mother was dead. Together, they had made that happen. The thing that they had stayed up late at night dreaming about—it finally happened. And while he was giddy at the prospect of how much impact this could have on their newfound love for each other—as Mr. Cicero had put it—Deedee didn't seem to express true elation over it.
"Just take a moment," Jerome advised.
"One of us has to think ahead," said Deedee. "The cops, they'll—"
Jerome snarled, "Will you stop acting like the older sister who's trying to look out for the family?"
Deedee stared at him, taken off guard by the shift of tone in his voice.
"First of all," he said, "you're only older by one year. It isn't like you had to juggle the responsibility of being sister and mother at the same time. Jeremiah, you, and I managed to hold our own when we were younger—That's how we've gotten this far. Relax."
"I can't." Deedee said.
Jerome smirked. "Oh, you can't relax?"
"No, too much to do."
Deedee attempted to step aside, but Jerome blocked her path, side-stepping.
"I need you to stop thinking," said Jerome.
"It's not that simple."
"Yes, it is!" Jerome exclaimed, uttering a stream of laughter. "Yes. It is. And I can help you."
"I don't need any more advice."
"No, no, no," Jerome shook his head. "No, clearly talking it out isn't going to help."
Deedee searched his eyes for a second, narrowed hers suspiciously.
"What, Brother?" she asked, and she felt Jerome's hand tighten around her wrist. "Another therapeutic alternative?"
"Mm-hm." He leaned forward, his lips hovering within inches of her ear; and his breath sent a light shiver down Deedee's back, goosebumps fleshing out on her arms. "I'm going to fuck it out of you."
Deedee felt a warm sensation start from her stomach and puddle between her legs, a growing ache that had began when she had watched Jerome bludgeon the crap out of their mother—but it had taken a nose dive when Mr. Cicero had gotten involved and her tirade on Lila's bedroom had aggravated the sense of self-preservation rather than reveling in their mother's death. A smile broke out on Jerome's face when she stilled, rooted to the floor. There it was.
Jerome raised Deedee's wrist in his hand, turned it over and kissed her palm sweetly.
"I've got an idea," he growled. "Come on."
Deedee thought that he was leading her into their own bedroom; but her heart raced when Jerome led her into Lila's bedroom.
"Oh, that's twisted," said Deedee, though she was intrigued.
"It's hilarious," said Jerome, acknowledging the particular fucked-up situation as he closed Lila's bedroom door behind them. "Get on the bed."
Deedee glanced at the bare mattress. So much for cleaning up in here…Deedee made to argue that she'd have to resume her spree once they were done, but Jerome placed a finger against her lips, quickly closing his eyes for some kind of patience.
"Nuh-huh. No thinking," said Jerome. "I know what you're going to say. Don't wanna hear it. Get on the bed, Deedee."
Deedee raised an eyebrow, interest piqued.
"Strip." Jerome instructed, indicating her tank top and sweatpants with a hand.
She bit her bottom lip between her teeth. He posted himself against the wall, waiting for her to do as he asked. Even as she removed her tank top over her head—bra and all—the draft in the room made her nipples erect. She kept her gaze on Jerome as she hooked the waistline of her sweatpants and panties and pulled them down to her ankles. Jerome never broke eye contact; and under his scrutiny, Deedee felt her cheeks burn. The mattress, cooling under her flushed skin as she slid herself onto the bed.
He was right. At this point, she couldn't think of much of anything, except for a list of all the things Jerome could do to her in their mother's bedroom. It was a bit of poetic justice, even.
"To the headboard," Jerome gestured.
Deedee crawled to her destination.
"Spread 'em," he said.
The demand in his voice was exciting. Deedee's stomach turned as she did as he asked, spreading her legs to either side of the bed.
"Stay like this," Jerome ordered. He gathered the sheets on the floor. At first, Deedee thought that he was going to clean; however, the intent changed dramatically as Jerome used the sheets to tie Deedee's legs to the corresponding bed post. Ah, bondage. A smile spread across her face as Deedee watched Jerome stroll leisurely up the bedside, gazing down at her.
"Hands," he said, as he unbuckled his jeans; he slid the belt out of his belt loops with one quick motion.
Deedee held her hands up above her head.
"Together," he said.
Deedee interlocked her fingers obediently. He grabbed her wrists with one hand, interloping the belt over and over, tying them together. He tightened the knot; with the loose end of the belt, he used the slack to tether it to the bars of the headboard. He leaned forward and kiss Deedee's cheek.
He hopped onto the bed. Yes. She looked like an open buffet, and with her limbs tied appropriately, there was nothing she could do stop him. A delicious lesson to teach the eldest Valeska that not trying to control everything could be absolutely tantalizing, that it feels good. Since Deedee didn't seem to grasp the concept of matricide, Jerome had decided to give her a better example of just how good it could feel to be free—and in of itself, she had to figure it out by being bound.
Jerome clapped his hands together, "So, how do you feel right now?"
"Intrigued," said Deedee with a smirk. "I thought that you said you were going to fuck it out of me? You still have your clothes on."
"Wanted to have a little fun first."
"Fun for you?" Deedee asked curiously.
"Oh, Deedee…" he sighed, and his eyes took in the sight of his naked sister. "It'll be fun for you too, if you let it."
Jerome lowered his head to Deedee's breast, licked the nipple with a light flick of his tongue; a hand cupped the other one with a gentle grip. A hitch in Deedee's breath. He knew how she liked it—fast and rough. But this was his game, his lesson to teach her. Slow…torture. She'd come to learn that this was her favorite pace as well. Deedee's back tried to arch—but considering the bondage, she could only move so much. His lips smirked against her flesh.
He let his hand trail down to her stomach. He could feel the raw, faint abrasions of her scars from her mishaps with clumsy fire dancing; but scars added character. Jerome knew where she wanted him; and he only gave her a light, feathered touch along her clit. He glanced down when he felt movement; there was an attempt to get him closer, her knees tried to bend. But ah, those sheets held themselves together after years of abuse.
"What, Deedee?" said Jerome. "Impatient already?"
"Tease," she muttered.
"Tease?" Jerome chuckled at her accusation. "We only just started."
He slid down the bed; Deedee's fingers flexed arguably against the belt as he positioned himself in the space of the mattress between her legs. The suspense alone sent heat to her core as Jerome considered thoughtfully of what he should do. For a moment, he seemed to just gaze fondly at her naked mound. So many ideas. He gazed up at Deedee, meeting her eyes. He'd watch her squirm.
He lowered his mouth to her clit, his tongue flicked one across it. Deedee's hips reacted favorably, lifting up from the bed, but just barely. There was no real support if she couldn't bend those pretty legs of hers. His wide, sinister grin hugged his sharp cheekbones. Another flick.
"Let's just see our progress, hm?" Jerome said dutifully.
Deedee uttered a struggling whimper as she felt a rogue finger glide lightly against her slick entrance. He made a noise of approval. Jerome's hand continued his torturous stroke, gliding just outside of where she wanted him. And then music to his ears, a wanton moan wriggled out of her mouth. She made a look of pain; but he had an idea that's not what that was, not entirely. A woman could feel the ache begin to be almost incomprehensibly painful if she were aroused enough, teased enough, if she wanted it badly but the relief never came.
"Please…" Deedee's voice. "Anything."
Not a real coherent sentence, but Jerome knew what she meant.
Jerome slowly slid a finger inside of her.
"You're fucking wet…" he heard himself say as her juices coated his hand. He lowered his head and began to suck her clit gently, slowly fingered her. He heard her whisper thankful notes, her legs straining against the sheets to bend her knees; he heard the light clack of the belt buckle against the metal of the headboard. And her hips danced against his giving hand; when she tried to fasten the pace, he removed his hand all together. Against her heated flesh, he whispered, "No, Deedee. My turn."
Deedee made a disapproving moan.
"I want you to fuck me," her voice was hoarse.
Jerome glanced up at her.
"I know that's what you want," he said. "Not yet."
He slid his hands under her bottom, gripping her hips as he lowered his mouth against her entrance, slipping his tongue inside her. Deedee moaned his name. The room in his pants tightened. Ah, his own weakness. He had a thought, such an irresistible idea. His tongue darted in and out her, and her moans increased in volume. J…he spelled his name, and her walls began to clench around him…E….R…O…M…E…
"I'm so close…" Deedee gasped, struggling against her bonds as her back arched. "I'm so close…"
V…A…L…E…S…K…
Jerome pulled away.
An angry, sexually frustrated groan came from Deedee as he wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve, smirking at her. Had she been free to move, she might have slapped him silly.
"Valeska." Deedee growled.
Jerome raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if she had just called him by their last name or if she had known exactly what he had been up to; but either way, how delicious. That was a new one. He gave her pussy a small slap. According to Deedee's shocked expression on her face, that was new. A large smile on his face, Jerome rolled off the bed spryly.
"Now," he shrugged. "How do you feel?"
"Frustrated." Deedee breathed, glaring at him. "Why did you stop?"
"Part of the game," said Jerome casually. He pulled his jeans down to his ankles, stepped out of them. He dropped his boxers.
Deedee grinned. He was fully erect.
Now would he fuck the control out of her?
Jerome climbed on top of her, but he sat on her naked chest, his member steadying close to her lips. He palmed the back of her head, raising it enough where she could just reach him. Deedee gazed up at him. The expression on his face was amusement; but plainly, he was aroused as much she was. He held his cock with his another hand.
"Open your mouth," he said.
Deedee did as he asked. He slipped his cock between her lips, and she sucked the tip. "Thatta' girl," he said, and his eyes closed as she made work on him. He slowly thrusted in her mouth; and Deedee's mind felt fuzzy with the thought that he could be doing this to her pussy if he would just-do-as-he-fucking promised—
His thrusts became faster, and as fast as they came, the deeper he pushed—Deedee felt her eyes water at the impact in her throat. Yet, the heat began to pool between her legs, and the ache started to become deliciously painful. Jerome's mouth fell open as a low moan came from him—
Then when Deedee thought that he was close, and she'd hear him make those erratic moans of his, he pulled away—
Jerome uttered a stream of amused giggles when Deedee pulled at the belt, trying to come undone.
"Okay," he said in a condescending sigh. He slid down her body; he propped his elbows on either side of Deedee's head, smirking down at her as he positioned his cock between her spread legs. "Have you learned anything yet?"
"I get it," Deedee breathed, staring at him. Her pupils were dilated, and her voice was shaking.
"Ya got it?" Jerome said. "For real, this time?"
"I got it," Deedee nodded. "Please…"
Jerome planted a kiss on her cheek and then kissed her bottom lip, taking it between his teeth.
She raised her head, kissing him fully, then glared at him, "Now fuck me."
Jerome acquiesced her request—he shoved his cock inside her restrained body, and he began to fuck her mercilessly—hard and fast. Deedee's rolling moans turned into screams, her body bouncing against the mattress from the little slack in her binds. The echoes of her cries of pleasure filled the trailer—the bed rocked loudly against the wall.
Lesson learned.