Puck Me Harder: A Stepbrother Romance [BL]

Micah’s POV

The next morning, right as Lord Silver had promised, a maid arrived at my door with a garment bag containing a tailored, all-black suit. Nestled inside the neatly folded pile was a brand-new, unopened pack of designer underwear.

The moment the maid left, a sudden, horrifying thought struck me. I rushed into the bathroom and threw open the laundry hamper to check if the pair I’d ruined yesterday was still there.

Lo and behold... it was completely gone.

I froze, sliding my fingers through my messy hair in absolute mortification. Just how deeply did I sleep last night?! I hadn’t even felt Damon sneak through the connecting door like a shadow to steal my ruined boxers.

What the hell was he even going to do with them? Did he have a hobby of taking everything that belonged to me?

Frowning at my own reflection, I snatched my phone off the counter. A few unread texts from Raven and Sunny... my only real friends at the university... were glowing on the screen. Both of them were asking if I was attending the Prime Minister’s daughter’s funeral today.

Micah: Yeah, I’ll be there.

I checked the time... nearly nine in the morning. Realizing I was running out of time, I quickly showered and pulled on the dark outfit. The black button-down shirt, crisp trousers, and silk tie felt unbelievably expensive against my skin.

As I leaned closer to the mirror to comb my hair, my heart instantly stopped.

There, sitting right above my collarbone, was a vivid, dark-red mark stamped plainly into my pale skin. My eyes widened in pure horror as I clapped both hands over my neck.

When in the hell did this happen?! While I was passed out? Or...

The memory hit me like a splash of ice water... Damon’s sharp teeth grazing my skin, the wet, possessive slide of his tongue against my throat yesterday evening. The bastard hadn’t just kissed me; he had deliberately left a violent hickey on my neck.

That complete and total fucker.

Panicking, I tried yanking my collar up and tightening the silk tie to cover it, but it was useless. No matter how high I tugged the fabric, the top edge of the mark peeked out, practically glowing against my skin.

My face burned with a scalding flush. What if someone saw this at the service? What if the university students noticed? What if Noah or my father saw it?!

A sharp knock at the connecting door made me shriek out loud. The brass handle twisted, and Damon strolled into my room completely unannounced.

He was wearing a sharp black suit, but his dark shirt was left half-unbuttoned, exposing his broad collarbones and the dark ink of his chest tattoos. He looked disgustingly handsome, and my eyes traitorously glided down his frame, remembering with startling clarity just how dangerously hard he had been against me last night.

I immediately snapped my eyes back up to his face, forcing down a dry swallow.

"What are you doing in here?" I demanded, my voice trembling slightly.

"You suddenly remembered to ask?" Damon smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I was just waiting for you to finish shamelessly checking me out."

My cheeks flared a deeper crimson as I violently whipped my head away. "I was not checking you out!"

Damon chuckled softly, crossing the room in long, silent strides until he was standing directly behind me. His cool fingers reached out, brushing gently over the exact spot on my neck where his mark sat.

"Great," he purred, his warm breath tickling my ear. "I knew your skin was pale enough. There’s no way that redness can hide today."

"You put this on me on purpose, didn’t you?!" I snapped, slapping his hand away and covering my neck again.

"Of course I did," he admitted without a shred of shame. "We’re heading to a massive gathering where half the university will be present. If anyone dares to lay their eyes on you, I’d get extremely jealous. After all, you’re my boyfriend."

"I am not your boyfriend," I huffed, glaring at him through the mirror.

"You certainly didn’t say a word when my father called you my boyfriend at dinner," he countered smoothly, tilting his head. "Why are you getting so defensive now?"

My mouth parted, but no words came out. I pressed my lips tightly together, averting my gaze to the floorboards.

Damon glanced down at his watch, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead. "Let’s go. My old man told me to escort you there myself."

"Where is Lord Silver?"

"He left earlier with the twins and the old nanny," Damon said, pulling out his phone and tapping the screen. He lifted it to his ear. "Bring the car around to the front doors immediately."

He ended the call and met my eyes. "Father figured you’d feel suffocated if you had to ride in the same car with him."

A soft knot in my chest loosened. I was genuinely relieved. Lord Silver was far more considerate than my own father could ever dream of being.

"Shall we?" Damon asked, gesturing toward the main hallway.

I gave a silent nod and followed him downstairs. Parked right in front of the estate’s grand entrance was a massive, pitch-black Maybach limousine... nothing like the wild, loud sports cars Damon usually tore up the streets with. A uniformed driver in black gloves stood by the open rear door.

Damon guided me into the luxurious leather interior first before sliding in beside me. The door closed automatically with a soft, heavy thunk, plunging the cabin into cool, tinted quiet.

I leaned closer to Damon, whispering softly, "Who is he?"

"My driver," Damon replied simply, stretching his long legs out.

"You have a driver?"

Damon glanced at me, a amused smirk playing on his lips. "Why do you look so shocked? Just because I drive myself to campus every day? That’s just a hobby. I love riding anything ridable. You should watch me ride Lola sometime."

A sudden, sharp spike of heat burned through my face... mixed with a bitter, ugly coil of jealousy tightening in my stomach.

Who the hell is Lola?!

The question burned on the tip of my tongue, but I bit my lip hard, staring fixedly out the heavily tinted window as the luxury car glided out of the Silver estate. I didn’t have the right to ask him about other people. I wasn’t his boyfriend.

Yet, every time Damon’s phone buzzed in his hand and his thumb flew across the screen, my eyes secretly darted over to him. Was he texting Lola right now?

"Why is Lord Silver going to the burial anyway?" I asked softly, keeping my eyes on the passing city skyline. "I thought he wasn’t on good terms with my father."

"The Prime Minister’s daughter died on Silver property grounds," Damon explained coldly. "Politically, my father has to show his face, or the media will tear him apart."

"Oh."

Silence settled over the car once more. I didn’t dare say another word, even as Damon kept shooting me unreadable glances while tapping away on his phone.

Twenty minutes later, the Maybach pulled up to the grand stone steps of the cathedral. The moment my eyes landed on the towering spires, my chest constricted so tightly I could barely breathe. Cold dread flooded my veins. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to see the congregation, and above all, I terrified of facing my father or Noah.

Would it be wrong of me to just tell Damon’s driver to turn around and take me back to the estate?

The door opened automatically, and I stepped out onto the damp pavement, the chilly morning air slapping my face. Damon walked around the rear of the vehicle, stopping beside me as we both looked up at the gothic structure.

"Wow," Damon muttered, casting a cold eye over the stone arches. "Your old man’s church sure is ridiculously huge."

When I didn’t answer, Damon turned his head, his dark eyes softening as he caught the wild, helpless panic in my expression. "Are you still terrified of meeting your father and Noah?"

I parted my lips to answer him, to admit that every instinct in my body was screaming at me to run back to the car.

Before I could utter a single sound, a low, smooth voice echoed from directly behind us.

"You’re scared of... me?"

My entire body went instantly numb. The world around me seemed to lose all sound.

Noah.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I wished with everything inside me that the earth beneath my polished shoes would split open and swallow me whole, spitting me far away from this holy graveyard.

"Micah..." Noah’s voice drifted closer, dripping with a gentle, suffocating, psycho tenderness that sent a sickening shiver down my spine. "Look at me. Please."

My body acted before my brain could stop it. Terrified of what he might do if I disobeyed, I slowly, trembling, turned around to face my brother.