Haunted

I felt that hard, foreign part of him move along my leg and I jumped.

"You're sure?" he asked. "I'm too far gone to stop this now."

"Yes. Please, Beau."

He put both hands into my hair, looking at me with exquisite tenderness. He kissed me, but this kiss was different. Earlier, it had been full of anger and anguish. Now, it was something much gentler and loving. It tasted of acceptance, devotion and love.

His mouth trailed down my neck, then to my collarbone. I trembled harder when he tongued the skin there. His hot mouth continued down until he stopped at a nipple. He studied it for a minute, then rubbed it gently with his thumb. "I always wondered what these looked like."

I opened my mouth to say something, something nonsensical, but he stunned me when he took my nipple between his lips. When he sucked it in and laved it with his tongue, I was done. I spasmed and clutched his back desperately.

"Your tits are sensitive," he murmured against my wet nipple. "I think you almost came."

My body shivered perversely at his wording. "I think I did come," I panted.

"Nah," he said with a dirty grin. "You'd know." He kissed my other nipple, then moved down between my legs. "You have a very pretty pussy."

I was embarrassed to have him looking at me there, but the heat in his eyes and what he said caused such a swelling of pleasure in my body that I just didn't care anymore. I wanted him to look. I wanted him to say it again.

"You like my pussy?" I asked him, drawing the words from some secret, dark place buried deep inside of me. Maybe my mother was right about me.

He looked just as surprised as I was about my language, but he quickly hid it. "I'm going to like it a lot better when I'm inside of it."

"Please, Beau. I want it."

"You want what?" he asked. He leaned up and grabbed his hard cock. "This? My cock?"

"Please."

"I want you to say it."

I took a shaky breath. "I want your cock."

His eyes closed and he looked as if he were in pain. "Fuck, Addison. I want to take this slow and make it good for you, but I don't know if I can wait."

"Don't wait. Do it now."

His eyes opened. I never saw them look so dark, so focused. Gone was my playful, patient, funny brother. This strange lover was in his place. "I want to lick your pussy."

"Later," was all I could say.

I had a rudimentary understanding of what sex involved, but already this had surpassed my knowledge. I had no idea what it would feel like once it was inside of me, but a primitive piece of me knew I needed to have it right then.

Beau must have felt the same way. He settled over me, one hand on his cock to guide it in. He kissed my pussy with just the tip of it, letting it slide over my outrageously wet lips. It bumped into my clit, making me jump. I couldn't take it anymore; my hands went to his ass and pushed. He understood my message and pressed.

It hurt a little at first. It wasn't as terrible as some made it out to be, but it wasn't immediately satisfying. My flesh resisted his hard cock, but he didn't stop. He moved back and forth in little strokes, helping me to open. One of his hands went to my clit and he rubbed it with his thumb. I made little whimpering noises. My body was overcome with the mixture of discomfort and pleasure.

"Shh," he said soothingly. "It'll start to feel good soon." Then his head fell back and he cursed.

"Does it... d-does it feel good for y-you?" I asked him, feeling vulnerable.

"You have no idea. Fuck. I just want to pound you. This is killing me." He kissed me, then whispered all sorts of delicious filth against my ear.

The combination of his words, his thumb on my clit, and the increased pace of his cock sliding in and out finally overwhelmed me. I was orgasming before I even knew it was coming. He groaned in satisfaction when he felt me tightening on him.

I felt a flooding of warmth inside of me and realized he was coming, too. His eyes focused on mine as his cock pulsed once, twice, and then one last forceful time.

He kissed me and soothed my shaking body with his hands. After I was able to breathe normally, he collapsed beside me. We were both sweaty and wet from each other. It was the hottest thing I was never even able to imagine.

"Oh, my God," he said after lying there in silence for a while.

I waited for the regret, maybe even the fury, but it didn't come. One of his hands lazily roamed the curves of my body, finally resting on a breast.

"Was it good for you?" I asked him, hating that I sounded like a needy girl in one of those teen dramas, but I had to know.

"The best," he said, and I knew he meant it. "I didn't mean to come in you. I'm sorry."

I put a hand there and felt what he'd left behind. "I'm not."

In spite of the severity of the moment, he laughed a little. "We'll take care of it in the morning. There's something you can take."

"I know. I love you, Beau." He kissed my wrist. "Do you regret it?"

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. He looked so young there in the shadows. "I regret that you're my sister. That's about it."

"What are we going to do?"

He brought me to his chest and kissed the top of my hair. "We are going to go to sleep and worry about that in the morning. And I love you, too."

We fell asleep like that, connected everywhere we could possibly touch. In the middle of the night, he shook me awake and took me again. It was even better than the first time, although I was beginning to feel sore. I didn't know how I was going to ever stop wanting him.

I drifted to a peaceful sleep, ignoring the residual pangs of conscience.

*****

I woke up to a bang. I jolted up, forgetting my nakedness and where I was and who I was with. The only thing I saw was Mama, standing at the door with a look of utter revulsion.

I went to stand, but my body was too sore to move. That's when everything flooded back. My head whipped to the side. Beau sat atop the mussed up sheets calmly, but I could tell by the tightening of his jaw that he was upset. At least he was wearing clothes.

Looking back, we should have been more careful, but we were used to it just being us in that giant mansion all of the time. I thought a lot about that night during the years that followed and came up with all different theories as to why we were so reckless. Maybe we wanted to get caught. Maybe we wanted to hurt her, or see if she was even capable of being hurt. Maybe the love we had for each other was just too dangerous and all-encompassing, and didn't allow for caution or reason.

"I can't believe..." She put her hand to her chest. Her honey voice was hushed. "What is this, Beau?"

"Mama," I began, but the look she gave me shut me right up.

"I asked you a question, Beau." Her voice was still a whisper.

"I don't know how to answer you."

"I'm not seeing what I'm seeing." Her cold eyes turned on me, and her tone turned hard. "Ugliness. Filth. You whore!"

"Mama, it's my fault," Beau said.

"Nonsense. I've seen the way she flirts with you! I still never thought she could be this perverted." She found the blue nightgown on the floor and grimaced. "Disgusting." She threw it at me.

"We know that..." Beau started to say, but Mama interrupted him.

"Never in my life did I ever expect to see something so horrendous. Get dressed. I never want to speak of this again. And if you ever do this again, I will kick you out of the house." Mama paused at the door, her perfectly manicured nails dangling over the knob. "And with her, Beau? You couldn't find some pretty girl out in the real world somewhere?"

Something about her comment made me snap. It might have been the allusion to me not being attractive enough for Beau, which was warped enough given the circumstances, or that it was obvious she had no use for me and favored Beau. She seemed more disappointed in him because of his choice of a lover, not that he screwed his own sister. She was the sick one, I thought.

"What pisses you off more, Mama? That I did a vile act with my brother, or that my brother chose me to do it with?" I laughed, and if I'd been thinking clearly, I would have been appalled to notice that my laugh sounded just like hers. "You're jealous, aren't you? Jealous that someone would want me, especially after Daddy left you!"

Mama's face darkened. She stalked over and slapped me hard. She would have done more had Beau not hopped out of bed to restrain her. "Get out of my house! Now. Never come back."

Beau tried to calm her down and told her that wasn't necessary, that he would never touch me again. She wouldn't hear of it.

"You're a disgrace!" she screeched.

I stood on wobbly legs, but I calmly walked around her and went to my bedroom. I packed up what I could, ignoring her screams from down the hall. Beau was quietly muttering to her, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. It didn't matter anymore.

I texted Victoria and told her I was coming over. She didn't ask me any questions, which was a relief.

I walked down the stairs of that hateful mansion, marched through the door, felt the cool morning air rush against my skin, and never, ever looked back.

*****

Present Day

It was storming. It always seemed to storm whenever Beau and I were together. Rain hissed against the vast windows of the darkened bedroom. I was so preoccupied with staring out the windows that I jumped when the door slammed shut.

"Beau?"

There was no answer. I opened the door and glanced down the hallway, but there was no sign of him. "Beau, this isn't funny."

I heard Beau clanking around downstairs, and goosebumps rose across my flesh. Perhaps it was the wind, but a cold darkness filled my chest.

"Mama?" I called, feeling more terrified than ridiculous. I didn't believe in ghosts, specters that lingered in homes to haunt the living, beings that were stuck between the living and the dead, but if anyone could manage to come back and torture someone, it would be Mama.

Beau called me down for dinner, pulling me from my gloomy thoughts. He had made chili, and I had to smile when I saw he went all out with it. Cheese, shallots, and jalapeños had been delicately sprinkled on top, sour cream and tortilla chips sat in bowls, and two bottles of beer were opened and waiting for us at our place settings. I had some misgivings about drinking around Beau, but I needed it.

Dinner was quiet. We ate, lost in our thoughts, but all the while there was a humming wire running between us, just waiting to electrify us. I couldn't let that happen again.

"You look tired," he noted eventually.

"I heard somewhere that means you think I look like crap."

Beau smiled. It was strange seeing that familiar boyish smile on a grown man's face. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I'm just worried about you."

I sipped my beer and shrugged. "Don't be."

"I'm glad you're here," he said. I ignored the intensity in his eyes.

I looked around the dining room and noticed he had removed the rather depressing paintings Mama had insisted on keeping on the walls, hovering over us menacingly during every meal. "You really did a lot to the place. It doesn't feel so much like a funeral parlor anymore."

"Once it became mine, that was my first objective: get rid of everything Mama liked."

I looked down at my hands and figured it was time for us to have the difficult conversation we had been dancing around for ten years. "You must be curious about why I'm here after all this time."

He finished his beer and opened another. "Something like that. I am also wondering why you stayed away for ten years and I only got short calls from you on holidays and birthdays, but maybe the two are related."

I stared at the table. "You know why."

Silence. Then, "So, tell me."

"Victoria is getting married, as I'm sure you've heard, and it was important for her that I come. I'm the maid of honor. She has always been so good to me that I couldn't say no. Anyway, it made me think about coming back here, obviously, and seeing you and Daddy. You're my only family left and it's lonely without you."

Beau took my hand and ignored the way I froze up. "I'm so happy to hear that. You have no idea how much I've missed you."

"I've been afraid to come back here ever since I left for college. Even an hour away felt too close, which is why I moved to New York as soon as possible. But I've been so unhappy and alone and I can't keep running from you."

Beau didn't pretend to be surprised. His eyes were tinged with sadness, and his mouth tugged down in a frown. "I don't regret it, Addison. Any of it. I hope to God you don't, either."

"Part of me does. The part of me that sat in Sunday school. The part of me that would be horrified if anyone found out." I softened a little, letting myself enjoy being back with my brother again. Having him touch me set me on edge, but it also flooded me with a warmth and satisfaction that had been vacant for the past decade. I tried to smile, but tears came anyway. "But mostly, I don't regret it, either. I just know it is unhealthy and we can never let it get to that point again, for both our sakes."

We didn't speak throughout the rest of the meal. After we finished, I helped Beau clean the table. He snuck peeks at me, and the thought that he could still want me terrified me because I wanted him, too. I needed him to be the strong one and resist, and I wasn't sure I could rely on him for that. Maybe I was being unfair, but the sin we committed together had to stay in the past. It would only end in destruction if we pursued it.

At least, that's what the five or so different therapists I visited told me. They were the only ones I confided in, told the whole truth to, and to their credit, most of them didn't act shocked or repulsed. They didn't fully understand, however; how could they? I went to them to cope, but in the end I realized I would never receive closure, at least not with them.

Victoria's wedding came fortuitously. I had just ended another disastrous relationship and I was between jobs, tired of working in a cubicle all day. I wanted to return to writing. Beau had always said I was good at it, and I thought it was worth a try. I had some money saved up and intended on getting a little job to make ends meet. I would give myself a year, and if I didn't write anything worthwhile, I'd just write as a hobby.

That's when I started thinking. I had never been at peace since Mama kicked me out of the house, and it had never sat right with me that I had to cut Beau out of my life, too. Perhaps the closure I sought was with Beau, not with some therapist I paid by the hour who could never understand truly forbidden desire. I called Beau up one night after a few glasses of wine and asked if I could stay with him for a bit. He didn't ask why; he immediately said yes.

We hadn't spoken a lot since I left, just hurried phone calls around the holidays and our birthdays, like he said. What can you say to a person whom you've taken inside of you, a person you've loved so fully that your heart breaks even thinking of them? Especially over the phone. So, we said necessities, gave general updates on our lives, and hung up feeling dissatisfied.

He begged me to come back, at first. He said he was going to leave, too, and that he was going to move near my college to be with me. I lied and said I didn't want to be with him, and that I already had a new boyfriend. I knew I hurt him badly, but he still kept calling until he realized I really was never coming home. Mama never called, not that I expected her to, and I wondered with perverse satisfaction how she explained my noticeable absence to her important friends.

She died of lung cancer two years after she threw me out. Supposedly, she'd been very ill for the entire year before. Beau called me shortly before she passed and said she was asking for me. I told him I didn't give a fuck. I expected him to be angry with me, but he only sighed and said he understood. I didn't attend the funeral for many reasons, the biggest one being I already had said goodbye to her the day she essentially disowned me. I told myself I was glad to have missed it, that she deserved it, but I wept for three days. The woman very likely never loved me, or anyone, for that matter, but I had loved her.

"What are you thinking about?"

Beau's question took me out of my daze. I shook my head to clear it of the past. "Nothing."

"Liar," he said, but he didn't push.

He handed me another beer once we'd cleaned up and gestured toward the living room with his head. "Have a drink with me?"

Dangerous, my mind whispered.

"I don't know."

"I just want to talk." He was nearly begging, so of course I acquiesced.

A dark thought flickered through my brain. I was already struggling to deny Beau.

We sat on the sofa together, a breath apart. The rain fell plaintively on the windows, and every now and then a gust of wind pushed against the house.

"Will it ever stop raining?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"I should have been stronger that night."

I pulled a leg up underneath me and repositioned myself so I could fully see his profile. His neck bobbed with a heavy swallow. "It wasn't only up to you. I was there, and I could have said no. I pursued you, Beau. It's not your fault." I closed my eyes. "It's not mine, either. It's no one's fault. We just really needed each other that night."

"I still need you."

My eyes popped open and I glared at him. "You said just talking."

"I am talking, aren't I?"

"No, you're not. I don't know what you're doing."

His hand shook as it lifted and took a tendril of my hair in its hold. "I don't know what I'm doing, either. I guess I'm sorry for that, too. You've been haunting me for ten years. It doesn't feel like you're really here. There is so much I want to say to you."

"There's a lot I want to say to you, too, but I don't know where to start. Can we just sit here and be still for a little while?"
 He stroked my collarbone. "We can try."

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

He blinked and sat up straighter. Thankfully, my question cleared his foggy mind of lust for the moment. "What?"

"Ghosts, ghouls, goblins. Things that go bump in the night."

Beau's hand returned to my hair and absently played with it. He'd told me when he was inside of me that my hair was the most beautiful he'd ever seen. I wondered if that was still true, but didn't dare ask. "Depends."

"On?"

"On what kind of ghost you mean. I don't believe people come back from the dead or anything. I think it's all in here." He gestured to his head. "You are a ghost to me, sometimes."

"I feel Mama here. I know that sounds absurd, but do you? Because I feel like she's here and that she's messing with me and it's driving me crazy."

He inhaled through his nose, then sighed. "Every day."

"How do you bear it?"

"I consider it my penance. Besides, I feel her less now that I made it more my own." He lightly tugged on my hair. "You know she's not really here, right? That kind of ghost doesn't exist. She died eight years ago."

"I know, but I forget that up there when I'm all alone."

Beau stretched out and somehow moved closer to me. "I keep debating on whether or not I should sell it, but it doesn't feel right."

"Maybe Dad would take it back."

Beau rolled his eyes. "Maybe."

"How is Dad? I know you said you only see him a couple times a month. Is he even planning on coming to see me during my visit?"

I hadn't seen my father in five years. He called me when he was in New York one time and we went out for an uncomfortable dinner. Mama hadn't told him about Beau and me, but I wondered if he suspected. He was always very insightful, even if he kept his distance. Other than that, I heard from him every six months or so. Our calls were brief and distracted, and neither of us said much of anything. That suited me fine. I never forgave him for deserting us, or for being the catalyst in the whole mess that happened, in my admittedly unfair opinion.