Page 27 of Use Me Up

“Hannah,” says Andrew, his voice low and urgent. “You cannot stay here with him.”

Hannah looks up at me, the expression on her face full of adoration for me that I do not deserve. “I’m just going to go talk to Andrew. Him and me, alone, okay? I’ll get him to go.”

“You’re staying,” I tell her.

She grins at me, liking that. “I’m staying,” she assures me.

I let go of her, and she goes to her brother and pulls him out of the room.

I don’t care what they’re saying to each other, and I don’t believe he’ll actually convince her to leave, so I go upstairs.

First, I get rid of the condom that’s still attached to my soft dick. Then I go and find my phone. I take the microphone off of it and find the recording of me fucking Hannah.

It’s incredibly hot, and it makes me stiff again, just listening to it.

The noises she makes have a kind of intensity that affects me.

I cut it into a few little pieces, one of which that has me calling her a good girl, and I send it, just a few seconds of it, in a text message to Calliope.

I wait, watching until the send receipts show me that she’s seen it, and that she’s listened.

She doesn’t respond.

That’s fine.

I grin, feeling pleased.

6

hannah

“You realize this isn’t even about you,” Andrew is saying to me.

I am not wearing anything under this shirt of Ellis’s, which is long enough to cover my ass, but sort of tight in the hips and chest area. I’m guessing the shirt would be snug on Ellis, too, but—as broad as he is in the upper chest region—I think I might be bigger than he is. I want to compare the next time he’s against me, not that it matters, I suppose.

He’s out of my league. I know this.

Anyway, it’s uncomfortable, knowing that the only thing you’re wearing could ride up and expose you to your big brother. I should have put on my underwear.

“You do, though, Hannah,” Andrew insists.

I sigh.

“He’s doing this because of her,” says Andrew. “Because of my wife.”

“Well, because of both of you,” I say. “He doesn’t like either of you, really, and it’s some vindictive thing. He wants you to feel as bad as he does, I guess.”

“Well, this is what I’m saying, then. Why would you be part of that? Do you want me to feel bad?”

“No,” I say.

“Let me tell you a little story about Ellis Cirillo,” he says. “When Callie and me first started doing anything at all, just holding hands or kissing, she was really adamant that he couldn’t see it and couldn’t know about it. I didn’t like that, and I told her that, but she would not have her mind changed about it. She was insistent. Anyway, one day, he sees us kissing goodbye or something, and Ellis comes over to us, and I can see he’s entirely lost it, he’s hanging on by a thread. He’s angry as all hell. He says she needs to come with him to talk, and I say no, that she’s not going anywhere alone with him, but she puts her hands on my chest and tells me it’s okay, she needs to do this, and she goes off with him. When she comes back, she’s got a bruise on her neck.” Andrew touches his own neck.

“He hit her?” I say quietly.

“I don’t know if he used his fists. He bruised her.”

I shift uncomfortably on my feet. Do a real good job for me, even if it’s a little painful, echoes his voice in my head. But I kind of liked it in some fucked-up and pathetic way. I liked hurting for him. It didn’t hurt a lot or anything, but… “She told you what he did?”