by Parker Ford
Now you don’t look sexy at all. Good girl.
She could still feel his lips on hers, the tip of his tongue that somehow seemed hotter than anything she’d ever felt…the feel of his erection pressed to her thigh.
Jordan blew out a sigh and pushed out into the dining room.
“Digging the boots,” he said. “Orange rubber suits you.”
“Good to know,” she snorted.
“Hungry?” His eyes flashed at her, green and bright, and he looked like he’d slept well.
“Very.” She was lying. The thought of eating anything turned her stomach. But the hike would take time and she knew it was nerves making her feel queasy.
“You’re lying. How about a yogurt or just a piece of toast?”
“You’re freaky,” she admitted. “I think you’re a witch.”
“Nope. I’ve just known you forever.”
Jordan’s father…
How could that be true? How could it possibly be anything other than her father’s delusions triggered by pain and a dizzying cocktail of palliative medicine?
Gareth dropped a small container of organic peach yogurt in front of her and a cup of black coffee. “Fixings are on the table.”
Jordan dropped two teaspoons of brown sugar and cream in her coffee. Toast popped and Gareth buttered it liberally and sliced it on the diagonal. He added that to her placemat and pointed to her. “Eat.”
She ate.
“And I don’t know how it’s possible, I just know we have to look into it,” he said, plucking the worry from her mind.
“We even look alike. I mean…seriously,” she said wearily.
He shrugged and put sugar and cream in his own coffee before taking the seat opposite her. “That would make it even more brilliant if they wanted us, and everyone else, to think we were siblings.”
“But…why?”
“Did you know mom had been married before?”
The toast she ate swiftly lodged in her throat. This was becoming a habit, choking on her food. “No she hadn’t.”
“Yes, she had. I found the certificate of marriage in the desk. Kelly Singer married Kurt Paulson two years before you were born.”
“I…”
“And dad was married before too.” He watched her as he sipped his coffee.
“To..when?”
“Two years before I was born. Doug Davis married Bonnie Donaldson at a small church in Virginia.”
“I…”
He smiled at her. “I know. It’s a lot. But it’s got me wondering if he was married two years before I was born and she was married two years before you were born. And then they met and fell in love we’d have been…”
“About a year or so apart,” she finished, forcing one more bite of yogurt into her mouth.
Gareth reached across the table and squeezed her arm. The feel of his skin on hers shot up her arm, bloomed hot and red in her chest. Jordan bit her lip, waiting.
“I’m just wondering if it’s true because we’ve always been close Jojo…but since we were teens…there was more. And not necessarily in a good way. And we’ve danced around it, ignored it, joked about it but you know…it’s there. There might be a reason why. And it might be okay.”
It might be okay. That socked her in the gut—the implication that the things she sometimes thought or felt for him were okay.
“Okay. So we sprinkle dad’s ashes and we look into it.”
“We look into it.” He nodded. “But let me ask you a question.”
“What?”
“If I were to act on all this shit I feel for you…what would you do?” He cocked his head, waiting for her to answer.
“I don’t know.” She kept her voice low but her heart was racing.
“Would you run from me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good.”
* * * * *
The trail ran alongside the river and because of the weather, Gareth and Jordan hadn’t seen anyone for miles. They were trying to get to the small waterfall that flowed year round barring the occasional severe drought. Even during those dry periods, it was a trickle of water over the rocks.
“Hello?” Jordan called.
No one answered.
“Who are you helloing?” Gareth chuckled and shook his head at her. She was amusing to him, Jordan could tell.
“Anyone who might be here. I don’t just want to start flinging…dead person around.”
Her brother began to laugh in earnest and she punched him briskly in the arm. He hissed and flinched but it was all for show. Jordan knew that had hurt Gareth about as much as a fly bouncing off of him.
“Hello?” he called, raising his voice so anyone in the vicinity might hear.
Nothing.
“I think we’re good,” Gareth said and took her hand.
They walked to the edge of the water and Gareth dug in the pack until he found the urn. Jordan swallowed hard against the prick of tears in her eyes. She hadn’t expected the sudden emotion but there it was.
“Here. You do it.” He broke the seal and handed her the brass container. It was simple, small and engraved with just their father’s name. Not even birth to death dates. Doug Michael Davis.
That was all.
“We love you, dad,” she said. That was all she could really think to say beyond the obvious. “You were a great dad, a wonderful man.”
Then she tossed them. The ashes for the most part drifted and some even clumped on the still water. “Oh shit,” she breathed.
But then the rain came tumbling down—a sudden rush of water from the sky—her tears on a larger scale. “There we go,” Gareth chuckled.
“Good. I was afraid we’d have clumps of…” A sob ripped out of her and she was mortified. “Dad,” she finished on a tortured wail. How embarrassing.
But Gareth simply smiled and pulled her in against him. He locked her in the bonds of his strong arms and held her while she cried. “It’s okay, Jojo.”
“That would have been bad. Clumps of father drifting on the water.” She started to cry harder and she felt the rumble of Gareth’s laughter in his chest. It bounced her cheek gently and though she wanted to be angry with him for laughing, she wasn’t. She knew her reaction was fueling his.
And it was funny in a dark and twisted way, which was normally the kind of humor they shared.
“Dad would be pissed,” he whispered to her earlobe. “Break me up and let me float, God damn it.”
Then she was laughing. Messy unfeminine snorts and guffaws that shook her body. “Jesus. We are sick.”
“You have to laugh. It’s imperative.”
He patted the small of her back and there was that unexpected rush and bustle of her body reacting, shifting due to the feel of his hands on her.
Not now…not now!
They stood there for a few minutes while the rain slowed. The ashes had mingled well with the water by then. Most of it having washed away with the now swirling current.
She waved once and turned away, done with the sadness. Wanting just to remember the good stuff about her dad and not the fact that he was gone.
But what if he wasn’t her dad? Or what if he wasn’t Gareth’s dad.
She was shaking a little as she walked across the slippery rocky trail and Gareth kept a steadying hand on the small of her back.
Everything she knew was shaken and upside down. It was an unsettling feeling…to say the least.
Chapter Six
They slowed when the rain began to fall harder again. Gareth ducked off the path and walked out onto a small overhang. The rock was a bit slippery but the view was astounding. Jordan watched the water dance under the deluge.
“It’s nice here,” she said.
“I know. I come here sometimes. Just for the quiet.” Gareth hooked his elbow around her neck and tugged her in. He kissed her above her ear without looking at her. It was an old familiar gesture. The kiss. The embrace. The comfortable silence.
Bu
t under it all ran a current of unease and worry for Jordan. She couldn’t stop what-iffing and it was driving her mad.
“Stop it,” he said.
“Stop reading my mind,” she whispered. Her voice barely audible above the hiss of rain.
“Sorry, old habit,” he laughed and squeezed her briefly.
When Gareth turned to face her full-on, she realized how close they were. That only a few scant inches separated their faces. How once upon a time she would never have thought of it, but now things might be different. She might not have to feel so…bad.
Gareth inclined his head and she had the thought to pull back. To move her head, to stiff-arm him…to just say no. And yet, she didn’t move to do any of those things. Instead, she moved in to meet his lips.
His mouth, soft and warm and perfectly aggressive as it pressed down on hers. The embrace moved from sibling affection to passion and she didn’t let the thought take root. If she did, she’d cry or scream or maybe dive into the pounding river.
Instead, Jordan parted her lips and took the kiss, wishing for conflicting things—for everything to change and nothing to change.
Jordan tried to breathe as his tongue dragged over hers—lazy and sensual and so forbidden. Gareth pulled her in, pushing his hard thigh between her legs. When she tried for a split second to back off, he cupped his hand to the back of her head and she surrendered, taking the kiss as hard as he wanted to give it.
“You said you wouldn’t run,” he said, holding her to him.
“But we don’t know yet and—“
“I won’t even touch you,” he said. “So let me.”
He started to move her just a bit from side to side, his strong hands easily directing her and his muscular leg grinding to her. Jordan felt the sweet bite of pressure on her clit and the thick rush of juices in her pussy. She moaned and Gareth took that sound and swallowed it down in his kiss.
“Just let me,” he repeated.
He added more pressure, deepened the kiss, rocked her a bit and the thump of her pulse thundered through her cunt. Gareth reached between them and zeroed in on her clit. Event through her jeans, even through her panties. He pressed his finger to the thick jean seam that split her sex and used it in his favor. The pressure increased, the pleasure followed along and she made another small sound of desperation.
“Almost,” Gareth said.
He pinched her nipple through her top and the lighting fork of pain added to her wet pleasure. It was goodness and perfect and she was going to come…
One more kiss and he paused to bite her other nipple through her blouse. His teeth moving against the cotton barriers of top and bra but sharp none the less and his…they were his teeth so it was bigger than any sensation from any other person.
“Come for me, little sister,” he said, dragging his tongue along the slope of her throat. Nibbling her collar bone before bending to bite her breasts again. He pressed hard to her clit with his thumb and she obeyed. Coming hard and fast for him as he continued to hold her close.
“Gareth, I—“
The heated blush of shame had worked up into her cheeks from her chest. But she had made a decision to let him…to let them have this. So she wouldn’t acknowledge the shame at all.
“Hush, Jojo.” He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock, long and hard and flushed red with blood, free of his boxers. “Just let me do this—“
She thought for a moment he was going to take her. Bend her over, make her bare, fuck her until it was all okay even if it wasn’t. And for that moment Jordan wanted him to. She wanted him to do all of those things to her and more. She wanted his fingers on her and his tongue. She wanted to feel his teeth and his cock and the gentle slap of his balls to her bottom as he fucked her hard.
How many times had she been with a man and imagined that man to be her brother? How many blond, green-eyed men had she shared a bed with so that she could look at them through slitted hazed eyes and imagine it was Gareth? How long had this need, this want…this urge, been in her?
Too long to consider.
He took himself in hand and threaded the other hand in her ponytail. Using it to yank her in, he kissed her, his fist working his cock in long easy strokes…at first. But when her tongue touched his tongue and she was the one to move in and kiss him harder, Gareth started to handle himself more roughly. He jerked and thrust and yanked until his orgasm swelled out of him in a big surge of breath and words that weren’t really words.
More like a war cry.
He broke the kiss and smiled. He was just about to tuck himself back in but Jordan said, “Wait.”
And reached out a single finger to stroke him. She touched the tip of his cock and then traced the divot in his smooth glans. The pressure made him hum deep in his throat.
“Fuck. Jojo,” he said and gave her one more kiss.
Everything was different.
*****
“Show me the marriage certificates,” Jordan whispered.
Gareth watched her for a moment and then went into the room she was using. Jordan heard the drawers open and close and he came out with two white squares of paper.
“Mom,” he said placing one square in front of her. “Dad.”
He stroked her ponytail and touched her forehead. “Lunch?”
“Sure.”
“Soup, salad or sandwich?”
“Pizza bagel.”
Gareth laughed. “Of course, it wasn’t an option.”
She grinned. “I know we have everything bagels and Bowman Deli’s Provolone and pepperoni. I know we have fresh tomatoes. And I know you make a kick ass pizza bagel.”
“You’re not going to learn anything from those other than our parents were married before.”
He bent and kissed the top of her head before heading into the kitchen.
Jordan stared at the name on the white piece of paper. Kurt Paulson. The phone book was in the hutch as always and she flipped through the P section for Paulson. Seven. There were seven Paulson listed.
“Are you my father?” she whispered.
“What?”
“Well, Gareth, doesn’t it stand to reason that if we aren’t actually brother and sister. If that’s true. That the man mom was married to before was my dad. Or your dad? Someone’s dad.”
“I have his eyes,” he said softly.
“Pardon?”
Gareth wiped his hands on a red striped dish towel. “I have dad’s eyes. Same color, same shape, same light sensitivity.” He forced a laugh.
“So that means mom would be my mom and dad your dad. Which means Kurt Paulson could be my dad. My real dad.” She ran a hand through her long bangs, ruffling them and then smoothing them repeatedly. “If you’re right.”
“If I’m right,” he echoed.
The buzzer sounded and Gareth ducked into the kitchen to grab their lunch.
Chapter Seven
She didn’t really want to eat. The whole scenario from their hike kept crowding her thoughts. It was all he could think of. That kiss. That orgasm. Her brother getting her off. And now… Kurt Paulson.
The pizza she’d requested, that she’d salivated over, tasted like paper and soggy tomatoes in her mouth. She ate half and couldn’t eat any more.
“You upset?” Gareth was watching her carefully.
“About what?”
“About any of it. The certificate,” he nodded to the paper. “Or…us.”
“Not upset. Overwhelmed.”
He nodded to her. “Understandable, Jojo.”
“What’s it like?” she blurted.
“What’s what like?” he swigged his iced tea and studied her.
His gaze on her was like a touch. Her nipples pebbled and her stomach felt nervous and buzzy. Her pussy grew soft and wet and a steady pulse took up residence in her entire body. From head to toe the thrum of lust filled her.
She considered him, wondering if she should just tell him never mind. If she should just push it all aside. But the image of him
bound to the bed and Isabel naked and angry and all of it rushed back and she blurted, “The games you play. The pain and…stuff.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. Clearly this is not what Gareth had expected of her. “You want to know?”
“Maybe.” Her mouth was dry and her throat felt tight.
“You’d have to listen. Whatever I say. Whatever I want.”
“And you?”
“And I reward you for it if you do…and punish you for it if you don’t.”
A small rush of fluid escaped her and she shifted in the hard dining room chair. “Really?”
“Really.”
“You’d hurt me?”
“Enough,” Gareth said, popping the final bite of the bagel in his mouth.
“What do you mean enough?”
“Enough that you’d want more. Enough that you’d crave it.”
Jordan placed her hands flat on the table and pressed down to steady herself. “Will you teach me?”
“Will you learn?”
She nodded.
“It would mean more stuff like earlier. I don’t know how long it will take us to figure out…this.” He waved a finger over the paperwork on the table. “And we might end up being wrong about our suspicions.”
“I know.” It was hard to force the words out but she managed. Barely.
“So that means at some point, you’d be fucking your brother.”
A tremor shook her chest and worked down into her belly. Jordan struggled to find air. She tried to steady her galloping pulse and failed. “I know,” she breathed.
“Fucking. Your. Brother.” His eyes were sharp and bright in the soft light of the dining room. The day outside was still gray and dreary.
“I know.”
“If we’re wrong…and this…more between us is just some glitch in us, then how are you going to feel?”
“I don’t know.” Best to be honest. She was always honest with Gareth, but it was a relief—like a huge weight falling free of her—to be honest about this particular topic. It had been locked up inside of her, gnawing away at her soul, for way too long.
“But you want to go forward?”
“I do.”
