Blackmailing The Untouched

Two Weeks

A week goes by, and I wake up to the sun shining through the open window in my bedroom. I feel completely rested and ready to get into it all with Dad. That us until I hear him slamming doors down the hall.

“What’s up?” I ask as I enter the doorway to his bedroom.

He turns to me and gives me those stern eyes, “I have a meeting at the station. Apparently, my integrity has been called into question.” He grunts out as he begins sorting through his closet.

What?! Has Zach said something? Was I the cause of this sudden meeting? Was Zach taking his anger with me out on Dad? Did he turn in his evidence? Was Dad about to get fired and maybe arrested?

“I’ll be right back. I have to go somewhere for a quick second.” The realization has me panicking, so I tell him as I run down the hall and quickly strip out of my clothes and into a lace white summer dress that is high-low. I take the stairs two at a time and grab my car keys at the door before exiting.

When I’m in my jeep, my blood boils beneath my skin. Although I’ve only ended up at Zach’s house by accident, I’m not at all surprised when I reach the long, winding road that takes me up to the barely familiar white house.

His truck is parked on the black pavement. I park my car right behind his and throw my door open. I’m feeling confident as I march up to the front steps and pound on the front door. After there is no answer, I pound harder on the wood. Still nothing. I spot the doorbell button, and I push it multiple times. The chime goes off inside four times. It’s loud and alarming.

And then I hear heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. He’s not happy.

When Zach comes to the door, there is a look of impatience already on his perfectly chiseled face. I notice that his blond hair is flat against his head, wet from a shower, I assume. I see the tiny droplets of water on his eyelashes as he looks at me. When I glance down, I see that he is only wearing a pair of light jeans and they aren’t buttoned. The little amount of skin that is exposed just under his belly button is tan and tight. His chest glistens in the chilly sunlight, the pectoral muscles hard and defined. His abdomen is long and sculpted.

I felt confident when I arrived, but seeing him like this before me left me breathless.

“I was in the shower.” He huffs. He didn’t need to tell me that much. I knew it the second I saw his wet hair.

“What did you do?” I accuse him with folded arms.

“What are you talking about?” He requests. He tries to dismiss me, but I don’t let him.

“My father has a meeting in a few hours. What did you do?” I demand again, this time finding my voice.

A slow snakelike grin pulls at his lips, “You believe me, don’t you?”

“No.” I shake my head in denial.

“Then why come all this way?” He boasts as he shoves his hands deeply into his front pockets. The impact pulls the denim jeans down lower to where a very defined V is visible at his hips. “You thought I went to the cops, didn’t you?”

I focus my attention on the door past him because the vision of him standing before me barefoot in a pair of low jeans is too much for me to handle. “I didn’t know what to think.” I respond.

He steps in my direction, making sure that he’s looking directly into my eyes, “Relax.” He’s making me face him. “I haven’t done anything damaging yet.”

“And if I have sex with you, you won’t ever?” I say back as I nervously cross my arms over my chest.

His gaze intensifies and feels too personal once more, making my head feel heavier on my neck. “It’s not just about sex.” He shakes his head, and I watch as his tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips. “It’s about your virginity. I’ll only keep my end of the deal if I’m the one to take it.” His words are so dirty, yet they impact me in a way that both angers and excites me.