Then he pulled me out of the tub, pressed me onto the cold marble of the bathroom floor, and forced his cock inside me.
I submitted, too horny to fight him off, my whole body tensing as his raging dick pushed my petals apart and slammed deep inside.
Ellis fucked me with reckless abandon, gripping my buttocks and pressing my body painfully against the hard tile as he used me. I gave in to the pleasure, letting him satisfy himself, and a second later, I felt his cum blast into me.
"That was too soon," I whined, trying to catch my breath after the pounding I had just taken. I was raw and throbbing, desperate for the hot release of my own orgasm.
"Get out," I ordered. My voice took on a vicious turn. Ellis did as he was told, backing out of the room and picking his clothes up on the way.
I remained on the hard tile and rubbed myself until I came, all the while dreaming that it was Jackson touching me.
****
Another sleepless night. Why the hell had Ellis ever brought up Jackson's existence?
"Babe, are you okay?" Ellis asked me. I'd been tossing and turning for hours.
"I'm fine," I said. "I'm going to get a snack." I rolled out of bed and stood up. "Do you want anything?"
"No."
"You sure?"
He didn't answer.
I walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, but nothing looked good. I finally settled on a chunk of organic banana loaf and a glass of milk.
I sat alone at the expansive oak table and ate. But it wasnt satisfying in the least, so I got up and threw the food away and put the dishes in the sink. Being rich was miserable, I decided.
Even worse than being poor.
I walked back to the bedroom and got under the hot, uncomfortable sheets.
"Did you ever call your stepbrother?" Ellis asked. I felt dread consume my body. It was the last question I wanted to hear.
"I don't know how to find him," I said quietly.
"Is that it?" Ellis asked lightly. "That's what's been bothering you? I can ask the head of ski instruction tomorrow. He's another Yale alum."
Was it really that simple?
"Thanks," I said. But I still couldn't sleep.
****
We skied a little the next day. I liked skiing, but I always felt bad because Ellis was so much faster than I was, and he had to wait for me all the time. Of course, he always did so without complaining.
At one point I came up next to him, totally exhausted, and asked hopefully, "Last run?"
"Okay," Ellis agreed, sounding disappointed.
"You can do another if you want?" There was no way I could, my legs felt like Jell-O. I didn't know why rich-people sports had to be so exhausting.
"No thats ok. We should get ready for tonight anyway, we have that gala to attend."
Oh yeahI'd forgotten all about it in my renewed obsession with Jackson. I didn't dare ask if Ellis had inquired about Jackson; it made me too nervous, and I didn't want to know anyway.
"By the way," Ellis began, "I asked about--"
At that moment we were interrupted from behind by someone shouting, "Hey Ellis!" We turned and saw a slightly overweight man, around Ellis' age, skiing towards us rapidly. "Ellis Buchanan!"
"Marty!" Ellis shouted, glowing with excitement. "I haven't seen you in ages!"
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as the two shook hands. This always happened. It seemed like Ellis knew everyone here, was always running into people.
"Marty, this is my girlfriend, Mia. Mia, this is an old college buddy of mine, Marty Thompson."
Then this part: Marty looked me over as if he were appraising me, as if he were sizing up my suitability for a blue blood like Ellis.
"Pleased to meet you," Marty bubbled, a big fake smile spreading across his face. I mustered a smile and shook his hand.
"I'll catch you guys later," I said, "I need to pick some stuff up for the house."
"Bye sweetie," Ellis simpered, leaning in for a peck.
We kissed, then I clipped out of my skis, threw them over my shoulder, and walked the few hundred feet to our slope-side home.
The moment I stepped inside my phone buzzed. It was a message from Ellis. He was probably texting me to say he and Marty were going to the clubhouse for some drinks and that he would be late getting home. I'd have the big, cold house all to myself until an hour before the gala.
Yup, sure enough: Marty and I are headed to the club for drinks. I'll be back a little late.
Rrrgh! What was I supposed to do? Go shopping again? Lay around the pool by myself?
Maybe I'd call the head of the ski school myself and ask where Jackson was.
No, I couldn't do thatI really shouldnt.
I bit my fingernails nervously. I was starting to bite my nails a little too much lately. Maybe I was losing my mind.
I did what I usually did when I thought I might be going crazy: I poured myself a drink and slammed it down. Then I threw the glass in the empty glass in the sink, grabbed the bottle instead, and headed outside to the pool.
When Ellis arrived a couple of hours later I was starting to drift into an alcoholic haze.
"Mia!" he exclaimed, eying the half-empty bottle of whiskey placed on the floor next to where I was spread out on a pool lounger. It was The Glenlivet, his favorite, and he knew I hated whiskey.