59–It’s My B*ob You Grabbed, Stepbrother
Nora:
I sprinted upstairs and plopped onto my bed, feeling utterly embarrassed and awkward. After about an hour, when I mustered the courage to lift my shirt and see what had been causing so much discomfort, the door slammed open and Silas stormed in, fuming.
I was so annoyed already because of the burning sensation under my b*ob and then he arrived, annoying me even more.
“Knock first, for God’s sake!” I exclaimed, hastily pulling down my shirt.
“Do you have any clue what people might be thinking?” he seethed, jabbing his finger at me as if I had invited him to stick his hands in my shirt and grab my b*ob.
“You should be asking yourself that question, considering you’re the one who had his hand in my bra,” I yelled, shifting uncomfortably as my breast continued to itch.
“Shut up! Don’t say that,” he covered his ears like an angry child.
“Why shouldn’t I? Is it untrue though?” I hissed, sneaking in a scratch where it was burning.
“Nora! Do you understand the difference between playful and
shameless?” he approached the bed, pointing his finger at my face as I knelt on the soft mattress.
“I do, but do you? I doubt it. If you did, you wouldn’t be touching me
like that,” I grumbled at him, struggling to resist the urge to strip off my clothes and let the cold water soothe the discomfort. It was like having an itch you couldn’t scratch, compounded by the constant. rubbing of fabric against it.
“That’s enough. And stop moving around so much,” he said, looking away as I shoved my hand up my shirt to loosen my bra. I couldn’t resist the urge to apply something cold to the wounds.
“You’re the one who did this to me.” I yelled in desperation, not caring that he was still in the room. I lifted my shirt and then my bra, revealing scratches near my nipples.
“Silas! I’m going to tell Dad what you did to me,” I cried out in pain. He turned to face me, hearing my wails. By then, I had lowered my
shirt.
“I didn’t do anything. You’re only saying this to get me in trouble,” he hesitated, sensing my genuine distress.
“Fine. I’ll tell Dad to call a nurse and have her examine me,” I sniffled, holding my neck as if in severe pain.
“Okay, I… might have scratched you a little,” he admitted, his tone losing its power.
“A little? Your watch cut my skin near my nipples,” the words escaped my lips unintentionally, revealing the extent of my pain.
He was surprised by my blunt statement, but the important thing to focus on was that I was in pain.
“The f**k!” he covered his mouth at the realization of his roughness.
“How can I help?” I watched him gulp and avoid eye contact when asking that question.
“You cannot,” I muttered.
“Let me grab you some ointment,” he quickly left for my bathroom, but I wondered why.
I can grab it myself. The issue was applying it. My b*obs were a little too big for me to easily see under them. I would either be holding my b*ob with one hand or applying the ointment while standing in front of the mirror. I know I have two hands, so I can do both, but it would still
be difficult.
He returned with the pink bottle and then stared at my face for a minute before stepping back and clearing his throat.
“Lie straight in the bed.
I had to tilt my head and make eye contact with him to make sure I heard him correctly.
“I can apply it for you,” he explained and quickly looked away.
“No need,” I hissed, attempting to grab the ointment out of his hands.
“I said I will do it myself,” my protest wasn’t that strong anymore when I began to wonder how I would do it.
“It’s not like I have not seen she–wolves n*ked before. We see each other n*ked all the time when we are transitioning. My patients get n*ked in front of me,” once he said that, I recalled he was the pack’s healer.
“Okay, fine,” not wanting to deal with it myself, I gave up.
And he was being forceful because he feared I wouldn’t take care of the wounds just to tell Lord Atwood about them and get him in trouble. So he wanted me to heal quickly.