Living The Dream 14

Jason, 26 years old, rammed his cock into the foxy redhead lying beneath him with wild abandonment. Faster and harder than he could ever remember, his eyes filled with passion locked on her face as he felt her wetness engulf him completely. She moaned and writhed, her nails digging into his back, urging him deeper, begging for more.

Her breasts bounced with each furious thrust, her pale freckled skin contrasting with the crimson of her hair. His hands clamped down on her hips, guiding their movements, setting the pace of their primal dance. The room filled with the scent of sex and sweat, a potent mix that only served to drive him further into the depths of his lust.

The loud ringing of the doorbell, a pounding on the door, woke him from his dream. It was 3 am What the fuck? he mumbled as he slid on his sweatpants, staggering in his sleep to answer the door. Opening it, he was about to give the person standing there a piece of his mind.

There she was, the same redhead from his dream. Only she wasn't a dream anymore; she was standing in his doorway, her eyes red with tears, a bruise starting to show on her cheek, the strap of her dress torn making her bra visible. His older sister Samantha, it was obvious she had been in a fight.

"What happened to you Sam, who did this" his voice concerning, pulling her inside and shutting the door behind them. The sound echoed through the house, jolting him back to reality. He looked her over, noticing the torn dress and the way she was holding her side like it was on fire.

Samantha looked up at him with those same pleading eyes from his fantasy, only now they were filled with fear and pain. "I told him," she whispered. "he hit me, Jason."

"It's okay, Sam," he murmured, trying to keep his anger in check as he led her to the couch. "Sit down. Tell me everything." Jason's blood boiled. "Who, did you tell, what did you tell?"

Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Brad, I told Brad, we were at this club, I wasn't drinking, he wanted to know why I was being such a downer, I told him I was pregnant, and couldn't drink, He... he didn't take it well; he hit me Jase, he started swearing, calling me a bitch, accusing me of sleeping around, and claiming he wasn't the father." Samantha broke down; her tears evidence of her pain. Through her sniffling and tears, she blubbered, "Brad is the only one I have ever been with, 9 years and he.."

Jason wrapped his arms around his sister, holding her, trying to absorb the pain.

"We'll deal with this," he assured her, his voice a mix of anger and concern. "You don't deserve to be treated like this. I will call the police," he stated matter-of-factly.

Samantha pulled back, shaking her head vehemently. "No, please, Jason. I just want to forget about it, to move on. He'll come to his senses, I know he will."

Jason's jaw clenched as he looked into her eyes. "You can't just let him get away with this, Sam," he said firmly. "You need to file a report and get a restraining order."

Samantha took a deep, shaky breath. "But I can't risk losing him. He's the father of my child," she murmured. Jason held her there on the couch until she cried herself to sleep, gently picking her up and carrying her to his bedroom. He gently lay her on the bed, softly covering her. Kissing her cheek, he whispered, "I love you, beautiful."

Jason only partially closed the door and made his way to the spare room, where he lay awake contemplating. He could never understand what she saw in Brad; he was a creep. Hopefully now she would see that.

The next morning, Jason was up early, his mind racing with thoughts of vengeance. He couldn't just let Brad get away with this. He had to make him pay. He showered, his thoughts swirling with anger and frustration. As he dressed, he made a plan.

When Samantha woke up, he made her a cup of coffee, bacon and eggs. Sitting with her at the kitchen table. He looked into her bloodshot eyes and said, "Sam, you can't go back to him. Ever. You're staying here with me until you're safe."

"But, Jason," she began to protest, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have to. He'll come around, I know he will. He just needs some time to process it all."

"Sam, he hit you. You're carrying his child, and he can't even handle the responsibility. He's not going to change overnight. You need to think about what's best for you and the baby."

Her eyes searched his, a mix of hope and desperation. "But I love him," she murmured. "I can't just leave him like this, he loves me I know he does, he will change."

Jason's frustration grew. "Sam, love should not hurt not like this. You owe him nothing." He broke off, his hand on her arm, trying to will sense into her. "But if you really think he can change, I will support you. But you have to promise me one thing."

"What?" she sniffed.

"You've got to promise me if he hurts you again, you're out. No explanation, no nothing, just leave. And I'll help you as much as you need."

Samantha nodded, letting her tears stream down her face. "Alright, Jason," she whispered. "I promise."

A couple of minutes of silence passed before she was able to speak again, this time in a louder voice. "I have to call Brad. I have to let him know, tell him how much I love him."

Jason nodded, "Okay, but I'm here with you." He handed her his phone, watching as she dialed Brad's number, her hand shaking slightly.

The call went to voicemail. Samantha's voice trembled as she left a message, "Brad, it's me, Samantha. I just want to tell you that I love you and... and... the baby, it's ours, please call me, we can work this out." She hung up, looking at Jason with a hopeful expression.

He could feel his anger not at Samantha, he could never be angry at her, he was angry at Brad, at the situation, but he kept it in check, focusing on his sister's well-being. Will you stay her for a couple of days Sam, you are more than welcome, the spare room is ready, just need to put fresh sheets on the bed? Jason asked with hope in his eyes.

"No, I can't," she whispered, shaking her head. "I have to go, Brad needs me."

Jason's heart sank, but he knew better than to argue with her in this state. She was still in love, still clinging to the hope that Brad would come around. He squeezed her hand tightly. "Sam, you don't have to do this. You can stay here, get some space, and then decide what you want whats best for you and the baby"

Samantha was steadfast, her eyes red but much less teary showed determination in them. "No, Jason," she said firmly. "I need to go home. I need to talk to him face to face, tell him how much I love him and that we're going to have a baby."

Jason sighed heavily, understanding that he couldn't force her to stay. He nodded. "Okay, I'll drive you home."

They walked out to his car in silence, the early morning light doing nothing to brighten the dark shadows under Samantha's eyes. She was a wreck, but she was his sister, and he would support her, even if he didn't agree with her decision.

"Are you sure you want this, sis?" he ventured to ask, as he unlocked the doors to his BMW. She slid into the passenger seat with a nod of her head.

The engine roared to life, and they pulled out onto the quiet streets of the upper class suburb. The silence between them had unspoken words.

"Sam, you know I'm here for you, right?" Jason spoke, his voice low, his eyes focused on the road ahead; it was obvious he was holding back his tears.

Samantha nodded again, staring out the window. He could see the blur of the passing houses reflecting in her eyes. "I know," she murmured. "It's just..." Her words trailed off, fully unable to understand the emotions ripping through her.

The leather seats seemed to stick to their skin as they sat there, both lost in thought. Jason's mind raced with questions and fears for his sister. Samantha, on the other hand, was fighting an internal battle with doubt and the weight of the situation she had gotten herself into. Brad was good; she just had to believe. How could she spend nine years with a guy who wasn't, who didn't love her?

He took his time driving, making a few wrong turns, claiming it had been a long time since he had been to Samantha's apartment. It was true it had been a long time since he had been to her apartment, but he knew the route exceptionally well. In reality, he was buying time, giving her one last chance to change her mind.

"You okay?" he asked, glancing at her.

Samantha's gaze remained fixed on the passing signs. "I don't know," she replied, her voice shaking. "It's just..." Her voice trailed off again, and Jason felt his stomach drop.

"You can tell me, Sam," he said gently, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "What's going on?"

"It's just that I'm scared, Jase," she finally whispered, turning to look at him with wet eyes.

Jason nodded, his jaw tight. "I know, Sam. But you can't let fear rule you."

It was almost noon when they pulled into the apartment complex, his BMW looked out of place as he parked away from the other vehicles, it was obvious that several of them hadn't moved in years, flat tires, missing wheels, it looked more like a wrecking yard than a parking lot.

"You know you can always come to me, right?" Jason said, " I can help you get away from here." his voice filled with concern as he put the car into park.

Samantha took a shaky breath, nodding slightly. "Yeah, I know. But I have to do this, for us, for the baby."

Jason leaned over, placing a comforting hand on her thigh. "You're going to be okay." trying to convince himself more than his sister. His thumb gently caressed her skin through the fabric of her jeans, sending a small shiver down her spine. "I'll be right here, waiting until you call me."

But Samantha was already shaking her head, her eyes pleading. "No, Jason, please come with me. I can't do this alone."

Jason knew she was stronger than she thought, but in this moment, she needed him. "Okay, sis," he said, squeezing her leg gently. "Let's go."

They solemnly walked across the parking lot, the gravel crunching beneath their feet in a rhythm that echoed their anxiety. The stairs leading to Samantha and Brad's apartment loomed ahead, each step taking them closer.

As they climbed the stairs, the bass of a heavy rock song vibrated the walls, the music growing louder as they reached the second floor. The hallway was dimly lit, the sickly yellow bulbs casting eerie shadows that danced in time with the pulsing beats. The air was thick with the scent of cigarette smoke mingling with the sweet, pungent odour of marijuana. Jason's jaw tightened. This was the last place he wanted Samantha, let alone her unborn child.

When they reached the door, the music was deafening. Samantha paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. The smell of weed was so strong it was filling their nostrils and coating their throats. She glanced at Jason, her eyes wide with apprehension. He nodded firmly.

With a deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed the door open, the hinges groaning in protest. The living room usually neat and tidy, looked like it had been ransacked by a tornado of cheap beer cans, pizza boxes. It was obvious that Brad had continued to party after she left him at the club.

Couch cushions were scattered across the floor, and a trail of clothes led into the bedroom, the music's volume making it difficult to think. Samantha's heart pounded in her chest as she turned the music off and began to clean up.

"What the fuck?" Brad's slurred voice bellowed from the bedroom as the door flung open to reveal his naked body.

Samantha's eyes widened, her cheeks burning with humiliation and anger. Behind Brad, stood Jasmine, one of the waitresses from the club that Samantha had been at last night. Jasmine equally nude wrapped her arms around Brad.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Bitch?" Brad stumbled out, his eyes glazed over, clearly still drunk and high from the night before.

Samantha's hand trembled as she held an empty beer can. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "I came to get my things. And to tell you I'm leaving."

Brad's face contorted in a drunken gaze. "You can't leave me!" He stumbled closer, as Jasmine smiled pulling him backward "You're carrying my kid!"

Jason stepped forward, his eyes flashing with rage. "Back off, Brad. She's had enough of your shit."

Brad's gaze swung to him, the fog of intoxication lifting slightly. "Oh, you're still here, the brother in shining armour. You think you can just come in and take her?"

Jason's jaw tightened. "It's not about taking her anywhere, Brad. It's about her making her own decisions and you respecting them. This," he gestured to the wreckage of the apartment, "is not a place for her and her baby."

Brad's eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he took a step toward them. "This is my place, and she's my girl. What the fuck do you know about it?"

Samantha found the strength in her voice, one that didn't tremble anymore. "It's not yours, Brad," she spat, her cheeks flaming with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Samantha winced but didn't back down. "I had an affair," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

Brad's eyes widened in shock. "You cheating bitch?" he choked out, "How could you, slut?"

Jason stepped forward. "Come on, sis," he said firmly, placing a hand on Samantha's shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

Samantha nodded, her eyes holding back tears. The grip of Brad's hand loosened and she pulled away, allowing her brother to guide her towards the door.

"You fucking bitch," Brad roared as Jason slammed the door shut behind them. Jason quickly ushered Samantha out of the building, eager for fresh air. Once outside, Jason wrapped his arms around his sister as she wept uncontrollably.

Jason guided her to his car, the engine purred to life, tires squealed as they peeled out of the parking lot, leaving a cloud of dust.

Jason gripped the steering wheel tightly as he navigated the streets. He could feel her trembling beside him, holding back tears. It took Jason less than half the time to get home as it did to drive to the apartment. Samantha sat quietly in the passenger seat, gazing out the window; not a word was spoken between them.

Once they pulled into the driveway, Jason turned to her, his eyes full of concern. "Sam, you're not alone. You've got me," he assured her firmly. Her eyes met his, red and swollen from crying. She took a shaky breath and whispered, "But what am I going to do, Jase? I can't raise a baby by myself."

He reached over and gently took her hand. "We'll figure it out together," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I'm here for you, sis, whatever it takes."

The house was set back in a quiet neighbourhood, each home on a spacious couple of acres, the lawns carefully manicured. It was obvious that Jason had done quite well for himself being only 26, a contrast to the mess Samantha felt she had made of her life. 29 years old and soon to be a single mom. Jason led Samantha inside, the familiar scents of home providing a small comfort. He handed her a glass of water, and she sipped it gratefully. She sat on the couch staring blankly at the TV, the wall, the floor, and the ceiling.

"Do you have anything stronger?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Jason looked at her, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders. He knew she was trying to escape the pain and fear that consumed her. He nodded. Yes, but you're pregnant, Sam. You can't drink, not even a little bit. It's not safe.

Samantha's eyes searched his, a silent plea for relief. Brad doesn't even care. He said...he said it wasn't his and called me all sorts of names." "I never had an affair Jase, I couldn't do that. Brads the only guy I have ever slept with."The words barely left her mouth before the dam broke, and she burst into tears.

Jason's jaw clenched as he thought about the situation. "You're right, Sam. It does hurt" his voice heavy with emotion. "But we need to be strong for the baby." He sat down beside her, wrapping her in a warm embrace, his heart aching for her pain. "You can't drink. But we can talk, we can cry, we will figure this out. I am here for you."

He gently pulled away and wiped her tears. "Come on, let's get some food. I will make a chicken salad for lunch." In the kitchen, the smell of fresh greens, grilled chicken, and a hint of balsamic vinegar filled the air. The chicken was tender, the tomatoes plump and juicy, the avocado slices a perfect shade of green. He had even sprinkled some crushed peppers for a kick, knowing it was her favourite.

After lunch, Samantha's eyes drooped, and she couldn't hide her exhaustion. "You should rest," he suggested, noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes. "Take my bed. The spare room still needs the bed made." He led her to his bedroom, the space neat and comforting with its soft, navy blue comforter and a faint scent of his cologne. She lay down, her body sinking into the pillows with a sigh of relief.

Jason turned off the light, whispering to himself, "I love you, Sam." He never intended for her to hear. Samantha smiled and replied, "I know, Jase, believe me, I know." He smiled as he closed the door.

In the hallway, he couldn't shake off the overwhelming turn of events. The realization of what Brad had done was mind-boggling. How could someone treat Sam like that? His heart pounded with anger and sadness as he walked to the spare room. He chose the brightest sheets and blankets he had to make the bed, hoping to brighten her mood. The room looked like a safe haven now, a place where she could rest and heal.

It was about 5 pm Jason sitting watching mindless TV not really paying attention, lost in his own thoughts, when he heard Samantha's soft footsteps approaching from behind. She had changed into one of his old t-shirts and it hung loosely around her frame. Her voice barely a whisper, I'm kinda hungry Jase, can we make some dinner.

He turned around and took in the sight of her, the shirt swamping her slightly, exposing her collarbone. The light from the hall cast shadows on her face, highlighting her red hair, high cheekbones, freckles and the sadness in her eyes.

"Of course," he responded, his voice tender. He took her hand and led her back to the kitchen. What would you like? I can whip up something quick and easy."

Samantha's eyes searched his, looking for a hint of judgment or frustration, but found only concern and care. "Could we make something...comforting?" She bit her lip, her voice still shaky. "Like, maybe spaghetti?"

Jason nodded, squeezing her hand. "Spaghetti it is. You sit down, I'll handle this." He kissed her forehead before letting go, trying to keep his own emotions in check.

He began chopping onions and garlic, filling the room with their pungent aroma. The sound of the knife against the cutting board echoed in the quiet kitchen. Samantha, pushing herself off the stool, announced, "I want to help," and taking a place beside him, they prepared the ingredients for the sauce.

The sauce was soon simmering; they waited for the water to boil for the pasta. Soon dinner was ready; they ate in quiet comfort.

After dinner, the two sat on the couch together. The TV playing some old sitcom, Samantha leaned into him, her body fitting against his in a way that comforting. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer as if trying to shield her from pain.

Her hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you, Jase," she whispered. "You've always been there for me."

"I will always be, Sam, but it's getting late. I am tired; we should go to bed."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, it's been an emotional day." They stood, Jason wrapping his arm around Sam's waist, leading her to the bathroom. You first. Sam I am going to shower before bed. Jason stated