by K. I. Lynn
I mash my teeth together and step back. “Cocky asshole.”
The next few days passed without contact from him. Didn’t even text or call. Well, he did send another devastating picture of his fuck-hot body.
This morning he returned.
What is with Brayden and these three-day cycles? Three days gone, three home, and three gone again before coming back.
I know he’s working and trying to get his apartment set up, but there’s just something about it that grates on me.
The problem is admitting why it bothers me.
When he’s here I want him, while at the same time I want him to leave.
With him gone, I thought the anxiety would lessen, but instead, with each hour that passed the itch, the anticipation of the next time, increased.
I hate this. I hate that all he has to do is walk in the door and my legs are ready to spread willingly for him.
He got home an hour ago. and I’m trapped all alone with him. Our parents are at work, and while Ryan did come home this past weekend, he left yesterday.
The little shit even revealed to me why I haven’t seen his brotherly ass around—he’s giving his best friend space to defile his sister.
I’m not sure I love my brother anymore.
One day, big bro . . . Payback is a bitch.
With the knowledge of Brayden returning today, Mom left a list of chores for each of us to do. There wasn’t much on them, but enough to keep us from going at it the moment he walked in. Especially since I was teasing him over text yesterday.
I got him back with a pic of me in my bikini.
I’ve been dusting this table for way too long. The surface is so shiny I can see my reflection.
All that I’m doing is moving my hand back and forth across the wood, because I’m glued to the scene happening outside the window beside the table.
Brayden shirtless as he mows the backyard.
He’s got a hat on—a rarity for him—and his headphones as he cuts path after path through the grass.
The only sounds I hear are the racing beats of my heart and the loud buzz of the mower.
It’s hot and sunny, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the sweat rolling down his naked chest. I want to lick it up, lick him all over.
Fuck.
He wasn’t working five minutes outside when his shirt came off. Now I’m hypnotized by him again, watching his shiny muscles strain, pushing the mower around. I’m so entranced I don’t even notice when he turns it off.
I jump as he walks toward the house. Frantic energy buzzes through me as I search for something to help me look busy.
As I stare down at the cloth in one of my hands and the Pledge in the other, I want to slam my head against the wall.
I take a calming breath and look back out. He’s taken his hat and headphones off, and drops them along with his phone, onto one of the lounge chairs.
I’m drawn in again, watching with rapt attention as he pulls his shoes and socks off. I half expect him to keep stripping, but he leaves his jeans on. They sit so low on his waist, showcasing that perfect V of his that I want to lick and nibble on.
Two large steps and his arms draw above his head as his body launches forward, arching into the pool. When he surfaces, he shakes his head, flinging water around. He seems to struggle in the water for something before holding up a wad of dark blue and tossing it onto the concrete.
Fuck.
That’s his jeans, which means . . .
Look away! Look away! I yell at myself.
It doesn’t work. I should have done that twenty minutes ago. Now is too late. I’m aroused past rational thought.
What was I saying about wanting him to leave? No, I want him to come.
Inside me.
All over me.
Give me the soul-shattering pleasure only he can.
I drop the can of Pledge onto the floor and press my fingers between my legs.
He swims a couple of laps, then stands in the shallow end.
The buzzer to the dryer goes off, startling me, reminding me that I just washed all of the pool towels. When I look back, he still hasn’t noticed me. He’s barely looked toward the house, but maybe he already knows.
I gawk at him as he climbs the steps out of the pool, the water running down his sexy-ass muscles. The boxer briefs he’s wearing are clinging to him, accentuating everything.
Especially the one thing I’m dying for.
He picks up the lump that is his jeans and spreads them onto one of the chairs. Then, he grabs his stuff and heads to the sliding glass door.
I no longer have my busy items in hand, but my pussy and nipple instead. “Shit.” I frantically search for my dusting tools.
Instead of heading my way, to the left, he heads right, into the kitchen.
I don’t even think as I set the stuff down and walk the same way.
When I get there, he’s at the sink, gulping down a huge glass of water.
Droplets cling to his skin, and a puddle forms beneath him.
“You’re making a mess,” I say, gaining his attention.
After a little jump in surprise, he turns to me and smirks. “No mess yet, just water. Nothing a towel can’t fix.”
I continue toward him and reach out to his waist. He quirks a brow at me, his abs tensing.
“You’re getting water everywhere.” I grab onto his waistband and pull.
“Whoa.”
I fall down to my knees and work the wet cloth down his hips, over his biteable ass, and the slab of man meat that’s getting bigger with each tug.
I’m left eye to cock. It’s staring at me, getting harder by the second and begging me to take him in my mouth.
Long, thick, veiny . . . How can something so weird looking turn me on so much and make my pussy so wet I’m probably dripping on the floor with him?
Salivating, on my knees in front of him. Lined up with the head, I lean forward, mouth open, and flick the tip of his cock with my tongue, then close my lips around him.
“Shit,” he hisses, hips bucking, pushing him further into my mouth.
He’s so big and I take as much of him as I can until I’m gagging, which is about halfway. After a few times moving up and down, I pull back and draw in a deep breath.
“Fuck, you’re big.”
I glance up at him, and he’s staring down at me with that lust-filled look I’ve begun to crave. He reaches out and brushes my hair back. “Damn, baby . . . This is now one of my top five favorite views.”
I wrap my fingers around his shaft, pumping him, taking in how good he feels in my hand.
“What are some of the others?”
“No worries, Kitty,” he says as his fingers run down my cheek. “The top fifty . . . top hundred are all of you.”
Me? All of them? That can’t be true, and so it leaves me with one question, “What’s number one?”
He bends over, smiling, and presses his lips against mine.
“Eleven years ago when you came bounding out your front door in a tutu and cat ears and claiming me as yours.”
Damn it.
Damn him.
No, this is my show.
I reach up around his neck, pulling his lips back to mine. My mouth opens, tongue finding his in a building frenzy as I stand back up.
His body is still warm from being outside and in the sun, while his skin has patches of cool from the air conditioning on the water droplets drying on him.
I step back, turning, tugging him with me. “Come on.”
After only a few short steps I stop and push against his chest. He falls back, landing on one of the kitchen chairs, eyes locked on me.
His cock is so hard it’s sticking straight up in the air, bouncing against his abs, leaving sticky trails as it taps against his skin. I press my fingers against my pussy before pushing my shorts and panties to the ground.
“Something you want, baby?” He smirks at me.
“Shut up.” I step forward, straddling
his legs.
A groan crawls out of his chest when I grab his cock, running it against my pussy lips before lining it up.
“I’m your fuckdoll. Use me,” he says, arms held out to his sides.
My brow scrunches, but quickly relaxes as I sit, his dick stretching me and making me forget whatever thought I may have had.
It’s dangerous—his cock. A weapon of mass female destruction.
I fell prey, just like so many before me. Finally, I see why they can’t stay away. If it’s like this, I feel sorry for those who only got it once.
I take my time working my way down.
His mouth drops open as he stares to where we’re joined. One hand wraps around my neck, pulling my face down to his. Lips parting, tongues sparking the tingling that flies through every nerve ending.
It takes me to a place where I forget. A live version of fantasies of him.
His other hand sneaks around my back, grabbing, pulling me down hard as his hips flex up, impaling me, filling me.
My eyes and mouth pop open, then a shuddering moan rips through me as my eyes roll back.
“You’re being a tease,” he says as he begins lifting me at the waist, moving me up and down his shaft.
I push against his chest and pry his hands away.
“This is my show. You’re just here to get me off. Shut up, and be a good dildo.”
My thighs flex, lifting me up, then dropping me back down.
Each thrust rubs against my insides, driving me insane with each small move we make. It drives my body to search out more.
How is it so different with Brayden? With Austin there wasn’t really anything.
Fuck. Why does this feel so good?
Brayden’s head leans back against the chair, abs tensing as he pushes his hips up each time I fall back down.
For some reason it pisses me off, almost as much as it turns me on, to see the blissed-out expression on his face. I pick up my pace, riding him harder, faster. Make him feel how angry I am that I need this, need him.
His green eyes open and bore straight into me. “If you’re trying to hate fuck me, you have to do it harder.”
My lip twitches up. “I said, shut up.”
His hands grip my waist again, burning my skin and making my pussy clench.
He leans forward, snarling at me. “Harder.”
He lifts me up and pulls me back down like I weigh nothing. Thrusting up, fucking me like we’re going to die if one of us doesn’t come in the next thirty seconds.
I’m a rag doll in his hands, crying out, no control.
“This is what you wanted.” He breathes against my lips. “You think you’re in charge, but what you need is my cock to dominate you. For me to possess you.”
“Fuuuck . . .”
I can’t take anymore. My muscles lock up, pussy squeezing down as I convulse on top of him.
He somehow seems to get deeper, almost painful. Long, hard thrusts followed by a frantic pounding. I grab him, holding on for the ride.
He lets out a roar, holding me down as he explodes at the same time as a loud crack rings out in the room.
We crash to the floor in a pile of chair bits and bodies. Chest to chest, both breathing hard, neither able to move. His cock still twitches inside me, making my walls clench.
“Smooth move, Cassanova,” I eventually manage to get out.
He starts laughing, almost a cackle. “Shit. Ow! Fuck . . . I think I’ve got a splinter in my ass.”
“Are you sure it’s a splinter?”
His fingers tickle my sides as I try to sit, landing me back down on his chest.
“Oh, motherfucker!” he groans.
“Serves you right.” I laugh, smiling down at him.
“You’re mean. I’m in real physical pain here.”
I can’t stop, snickers erupting as I push off his chest, even more so when he glares at me.
I gasp as his cock and come leaves me, spilling a mess down on him. What’s worse is I can feel more coming out and dripping on him.
He smirks, watching it. “That is so hot.”
“It’s so gross.”
I stand and head to the sink for a washcloth. When I turn back around he’s rolling onto his side, the goo sliding down onto the floor.
“Eww, stop!”
But I’m the one who stops. As he turns more, I see it.
Sticking out of his sexy ass, near his hip, is a piece of wood.
“Oh, my God!” I rush over and kneel down next to him.
It’s about the size of my finger.
Brayden’s fingers wrap around it and before I can stop him, he yanks it out. There’s blood now, and I run to the bathroom for the first-aid kit and bottle of rubbing alcohol.
When I get back, I stare down at him, looking at the mess on the floor, and start laughing.
“What’s so funny about this?”
I kneel beside him and soak a piece of gauze with the alcohol, then put it against the bleeding hole.
He hisses, slamming his fist against the floor. “Motherfucker!”
“The so-cool Brayden Hunt laid out on the floor. What would your adoring fans think if I snapped a picture?”
His eyes narrow at me, then his lips pull up, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Then I’ll just have to let everyone know how I ended up like this. First, I’d tell Ryan how his sister is such a pain in my ass.”
I hold the bottle of alcohol above the hole in his skin and pour it in. He screams out, smacking the floor again.
“Abuse!”
“Oh, shut up. It’s not that bad.”
“Says you.” Another hiss, his eyes screwing shut. “I need another nurse. Your bedside manner sucks.”
“Well, I have a difficult patient.” I look closely at the wound. It’s not bad and the bleeding is slowing down.
I finish cleaning him up and dress the wound while he continues to look at me. When I’m done, we both stand and look down at the chair damage.
“What are we going to do about the mess?” I ask.
“I’ll get it and come up with a story for your mom.”
I nod. “Okay.” It’s suddenly awkward, and we’re both still naked. “I’m just gonna . . . go to my room.”
I run upstairs, needing to get away from any visual evidence of what I’ve just done, and grab my phone off my nightstand.
I tackled your best friend.
The words are out to my brother before I can even think. I need to tell someone. I need someone to stop this, to stop me, because I don’t think I can do it on my own.
ewww.
Ewww? That’s it? A guy just fucked me and all my big brother has to say when I tell him who it was, there’s nothing more than mild disgust. I get nothing.
Go kick his ass.
Please. Give me something to think about other than him. Fuck him up for coming near me. Tell him to stay away like you’ve told all the others.
No
Traitor!
Aren’t you going to be mad about it?
You’ve been mad about all the other guys who’ve shown interest.
More grossed out. Do you want to hear about me and Dana?
Ewww.
No.
I sigh and fall onto my bed.
Unprovoked. I did it, acted first, went after him.
I’m turning into someone else, and it’s scary.
But it’s also exciting on a level I don’t even want to think about.
July 1, 2015
That itch is back, pulling at my skin, making it feel too tight.
I need her again.
It never stops.
It never will.
A shot glass is slammed down onto the table in front of me. “Drink that shit and stop fantasizing about my sister. I can only take so much.”
I grab what’s undoubtedly a shot of tequila and grumble, “How the fuck do you know what I’m thinking?”
Ryan pounds back his own shot. “You l
ook like a starving animal.”
That’s because I am.
“It’s disgusting.”
I agree, but only because of how little control I have left.
It was bad before I had her. Now?
God help me.
“Leave him alone, babe. He’s in love.” Dana rubs her hand into Ryan’s shoulder.
“Yeah.” I pull out my phone—nothing. No text. No calls. Is she even fucking thinking about me? “Besides, you get the same damn look on your face when you think of your girl.”
“My girl isn’t your sister.”
“You’ll learn to live with it.”
“No, I won’t. Trust me. I’ve already considered investing in some long-term therapy to erase the images in my head.”
“That’s your own damn fault for being such a pervert.”
“It’s called having an overactive imagination, you asshole!”
Dana laughs at the two of us.
I offer her as much of a smile as I can, then look back down at my phone. Kira’s been opening up more to me lately, but it’s moments like this when I realize that there’s still this huge wall between us. An entire day without reaching out to me. I text her, as usual, too.
Another drink is slid in my direction. I grab it without looking up. Opening up Facebook, I go straight to Kira’s profile, needing a hit. Any kind of hit.
No posts. No new images.
I don’t know whether to be happy about that or not.
My leg starts bouncing as impatience chokes me. Where is she? What is she up to?
Why can’t she just open up to me already?
If she doesn’t reach out to me soon, I’m going to snap and hunt her down. I know myself.
“Yo, give her some space, man.”
I glare at Ryan.
“Let him be, baby. He isn’t stalking her down. That’s an improvement, I’d say.”
Dana gets a glare next.
I’m about to crawl out of my fucking skin. I know this isn’t normal. My blood is literally boiling with hunger, frustration.
Being angry with Kira isn’t an option. I have no right.
I can’t help it.
Damn it, girl, just miss me as much as I’m missing you.
Running a hand through my hair, I stand up. “I’m going to get another drink.”
Ryan eyes me warily. “You sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you shouldn’t get drunk. We all know how you get.”
