Cry Little Sister

by Parker Ford

“I will fuck you, Jordan. At some point.”

  She nodded, her heart having lodged itself very suddenly in her throat. She felt giddy and lightheaded and terrified.

  He smiled at her. A barely there, half grin that made her body warm and tingly. She wanted to touch him right then. Now that she’d admitted it, the urge to touch him—inappropriately—was overwhelming.

  “Now?” she asked, tracing the edge of the marriage certificate with her fingernail.

  He smiled again and her blood leapt.

  Then he said, “No.”

  *****

  Gareth left the house for a run. Left for a run!

  It had Jordan reeling. The conversation. The possibility that they weren’t siblings…not really. She pushed his words out of her head only to have them burst right back in.

  I will fuck you, Jordan. At some point…

  She grabbed the phone book and the phone and started dialing Kurt Paulsons.

  The first Kurt was deceased. The second well on his way, so deaf she had to shout into the phone loud enough to make her throat sore. The third had no idea who Kelly Singer was and had been married to the same woman for fifty years (making him too old). It was on the fourth call that she hit pay dirt.

  “Kurt? What do you need with Kurt?” An older woman asked.

  Jordan tried to keep her frustration at bay. “I’m looking for the Kurt Paulson who was married to Kelly Singer. She was my—“

  “Kelly! How is Kelly?”

  “I don’t know,” Jordan said with a sigh. “I haven’t seen my mother in years.”

  There was silence and then a tentative, “I’m sorry, dear.”

  “Do you know Kurt?”

  “Kurt’s my son. And he’s just moved to Delaware. Got a job there and a house and he’s dating a nice woman already. I hope there might be some wedding bells on the way. But who knows. He’s no spring chicken but he’s not old either. You know?”

  Jordan laughed. “I do.”

  She explained the possible connection and got his phone number and address. With shaking hands she wrote it all down and thanked the woman who said her name was Catherine. She could be your grandmother…

  Jordan left her info on the table, stripped out of her rubber boots and jeans and everything else—still damp from the hike—and climbed into the shower. She had it cranked as hot as she could get it, her skin reddening to the point of absurdity. The room filled with steam. She’d just washed her hair with her peach scented shampoo, finally rescued from her bags, and rinsed when she heard the door.

  “Now,” Gareth said and pulled the curtain back.

  Jordan moved to cover herself and when he cocked an eyebrow—a long lived habit of her brother’s—she froze. Her hands dropped to her side and she waited, heart thudding.

  “Good girl,” he said with a smile. That smile went right to the center of her where she was hot and wet and suddenly eager to please. Hearing him say good girl had her head spinning. It was lust she was feeling and it was time to just stop hiding it and accept it.

  “I figured you’d be a faster learner. You always did defer to me,” Gareth said, barely audible above the rush of the shower. But his words and his tone insinuated into her ears and her head.

  She watched, feeling frozen, as he reached out and traced a single bead of water on her breast. He wicked it away before letting the next drop descend. Her nipple puckered at his nearness and he pinched her until a small needy sound rushed out of her.

  “You like that burst of pain. Like a salty finish on a super sweet dessert. It’s a contrast that makes the pleasure so much bigger, so much brighter.” He leaned in and pressed the very tip of his tongue to the very tip of her hard nipple. Then looking up with those bright green eyes he said, “So very real.”

  He captured the hardened nub in his mouth and sucked once, very hard, so that she felt a resounding tug all through her belly and her cunt. She shifted just a little, trying so hard to release some of the pressure that had built in her pussy and her womb, but he tsked at her. “No, no, no. Stay still please, Jojo.”

  She froze.

  His finger slid from the valley between her breasts and down over her belly button. Jordan watched mesmerized as the goose bumps appeared on her skin, a mob of taut flesh reacting to his gentle touch. Gareth’s fingers slipped a bit lower, stroking the tender skin a few inches above her shaved mound. Then he feathered his fingers over her wet sex and just let the heat of his body seep in. “Spread your legs.”

  She did it without a second thought. He leaned into the shower, his hiking boots a stark contrast on the pink bathmat that covered the bathroom floor. She had a second for that one odd observation and then Gareth drove two fingers into her. Instantly hooking them so the touched the swollen knot of her G-spot.

  Jordan shivered and almost came. Just from that one touch. Just from that one thrust.

  He kissed her, licked water from her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone and thrust those fingers one more time before pulling free of her. Jordan made a noise of distress and wished them back.

  Instead, Gareth took the showerhead off the wall and aimed the medium speed jet at her clit. “Hands on the tile please.”

  She pressed her hands flat to the wall and tried to breathe. It was hard since it felt like all of her energy—the part of her that made her Jordan—was rallying for this moment. Rushing up to the surface ready to burst out of her with the orgasm that she could feel swiftly approaching.

  Just when she was on the brink, he angled the shower head just to the tender spot just above her clit. Jordan sighed. Gareth’s eyes never left her, he tracked every twitch, every flicker, every move as he manned the showerhead. Jordan felt more naked than naked.

  The water warmed some and he again settled the flow right on her clit. Her fingers curled to the tile as more pressure bloomed in her pussy. She felt so tender and swollen and ready she could scream. And yet, she wanted him to drag it out. She wanted to savor this.

  I will fuck you, Jordan. At some point…

  She gasped at the memory and he angled the water jet to the left of her clitoris. This time, Jordan fought the urge to scream.

  Her eyes found his, her eyes that were stormy blue like her mother’s and not green like his—and she whispered, “Please, Gar.”

  “Hush up now. You said you’d listen.”

  She bit her lip and moved her hips some. Not even realizing she was about to until she did it—tipping her pelvis just so to get a better angle on the bursts of water.

  “Not cheating,” he said and angled it to the left of where she wanted it.

  She swallowed her words but a short strangled sound slipped past her lips.

  Gareth grinned.

  The water left her and he leaned over like a man bowing properly to royalty and licked he nipple until she felt fluttery spasms in her cunt. His tongue dragged slowly from her left breast to her right and he sucked that pointed bud also.

  She gripped the slippery tile wall fruitlessly. He had to let her come soon…right?

  When he stood fully and tugged her to him he said, “Kiss me, little sister.”

  She kissed him. Flirting with him with her lips, her tongue, her teeth. His strong hand wound in her wet hair and held her close as he bullied her with his tongue. The jet of water continues to hit the bottom of the tub, not doing anyone any good. And Jordan continued to try to ignore the steady demanding pulse of her own desire in her pussy.

  Gareth released her and put the shower head back in the holder on the wall.

  “Do not get yourself off. You may not use that shower head. You may not use your fingers. No toys, no bottles, no vegetables…whatever you could think of to stick up there and get yourself off…don’t.” His gaze was intense and Jordan realized he wasn’t kidding. “Do not have an orgasm until I say so. Got it?”

  “But—“

  “You said you’d listen. Will you listen?”

  She blew out a huge breath, confused and aroused and a little pisse
d. But his eyes left no room for argument and she nodded once. “Yes.”

  Chapter Eight

  He couldn’t be serious. He. Could not. Be serious.

  Jordan dried off with shaking hands, her body one big urge to come. It was all she could think of and all she could feel. Which she had to assume was the point.

  According to him, it would be worth her while. She doubted it.

  Jordan sat on the bed, cross legged and naked and tried to breathe. Would he really know if she…

  She pushed that temptation away. This was Gareth. Yes, he would know. He was freaky aware that way. He always knew when she was lying just as he could always tell when she was sad.

  “Freaky mind reader.” She pulled her hair up into a messy bun and clipped it. Then she pulled on big gray sweatpants, a huge maroon sweatshirt and her dingy pink slippers.

  If he was going to torturer her, she was going to look as boring and blah as possible. It was a meager weapon, but it was something.

  Gareth knocked and when she called out he peeked in. “What are you going to do about this number?”

  “Not sure,” she sighed.

  “Do you want me to call?”

  It was tempting. And yet, she had the feeling if they weren’t siblings…that she was Kelly’s child and Gareth was Doug’s. She felt compelled to be the one to talk to her possible father.

  “No,” she sighed. “I think it should be me.”

  Gareth gave her a sharp nod. “I understand.”

  He slowly—so she knew he was doing it—dragged his gaze over her body. Then he laughed loud and sudden. “Nice outfit. Do you think that’s going to show me?”

  Her face flooded with heat and she forced what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “No, I was just going to get comf—“

  Gareth pushed into the room and grabbed the string to her sweatshirt hood. He tugged it tight so the hood swiftly gathered behind her head and he tied it once, without knotting it under her chin. So it was cutting into her skin. Cutting off some of her air.

  His huge hand cupped the back of her head and he roughly reeled her in for a kiss, pinning her against him with that hand in her wet hair. His other hand swiftly snaked down into her huge sweat pants and he pressed her clit hard. It was as if he’d memorized her body already—zeroing right to the hard taut bit of flesh so riven with this fresh craving for Gareth.

  “You’re so close,” he said, sliding a single finger into her soaking wet hole and thrusting into her like he was fucking her. She imagined him fucking her. Allowed herself that privilege finally. Imagined his cock, big and hard and blushing, sliding into her wet, wet pussy and filling her. Stretching her and working her and how it would feel to come around his hard, warm flesh and…

  Her pussy tightened greedily around his single finger. Gareth grinned like some fairytale bad guy and pulled his finger free. “Not yet, kid.”

  Then he kissed her nose and left her standing there in her baggy close. Way worse off than when he’d come in.

  *****

  “Is Kurt there, please?” Jordan had to keep her voice from trembling like the rest of her. Besides cold calling a man who could possibly be her father, she was still reeling from her brother sticking his hand down her pants and his finger in her body.

  “Hold on, please.” It was a pleasant female voice and she assumed it was the woman Kurt’s mother—her possible grandmother—had mentioned.

  “Hello?

  “Hi, Mr. Paulson. My name is Jordan Daniels…” She tried to sound calm and sure of herself but her voice felt trembly and weak and Jordan was sure that it sounded the same to him.

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  Jordan cleared her throat and she could feel, more than see, her brother standing in the archway that separated living room from dining room. She drew a thick and heavy spiral on the pad in front of her, pressing down so hard she feared she’d break the ball point.

  “My mother’s name is Kelly. Kelly Daniels but it used to be—“

  “Kelly Singer,” he finished.

  “Yes,” she said, rushing on. “I know that you and my mother were married a few years before I was born.”

  Silence.

  She rushed on, determined not to lose her nerve. For just a moment, to still the clamor of anxiety from talking to this man, she let herself focus on the memory of Gareth touching her. The feel of his hands—hard and callused from work, but very talented and very gentle when need be—on her skin. Inside of her.

  “Anyway, my mother isn’t here and my father…her second husband, I guess, just died.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” He finally spoke in a soft wary voice.

  “Thank you…thanks.” She put her head in her hand for a moment and tugged her bangs sharply to focus her attention. “But he was kind of delirious at the end and said a few things to make me and my brother believe that maybe…Doug really wasn’t my dad.”

  Gareth’s hand settled on her shoulder—warm, reassuring, and under it all—and maybe she was just hallucinating that part—possessive.

  “Oh,” Kurt said. Sounding surprised but calm. “And you think—“

  “That maybe you are actually my dad,” she rushed on. “Yes. Maybe…um. Possibly?”

  “No,” he said.

  Her heart sank and her vision fuzzed over. She felt like she was suddenly in a misty painting by Monet. Everything went soft around the edges. Colors muted. Jordan put her head down and said, “Oh.”

  Gareth squeezed her shoulder and she tried to steel herself. She wanted to cry or rage or just simply sniffle and sob until she melted into a puddle of goop. Instead she started to reply, “Thank you for your time, Mr—“

  “But I know who your dad could be.”

  Jordan froze, her heart skipping a step and then flopping chaotically before remembering its intended rhythm. “You do?”

  “Sure. Your mom and I only made it a year. The intention was good but the execution sucked, as it were. We were both young, stubborn, head strong and the most we had in common was…well, passion.”

  Jordan smiled. “I see.”

  “But after me she met a man named Ted Sweet. Can you believe that name?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Anyway, they were together for a while. I heard they’d broken up because he was stationed elsewhere. I want to say he was a marine but he might have been in the Army. Either way, they were very much together right after Kelly and I called it quits. The time frame fits for you, though, Jordan.”

  She gave him her number and thanked him profusely and asked him if he’d call her if he thought of anything else. Kurt Paulson said he would.

  Jordan hung up and Gareth kneaded her shoulders. “Well?”

  “Well, he’s not my dad.”

  His grip grew tighter but his hands stayed on her.

  “But my dad might be a man named Ted Sweet.”

  Gareth blew out a breath and kissed the top of her head. “Best news I’ve heard all day. Want wine?”

  “No. I want to curl up with a good book and go to sleep.”

  “Just make sure that’s all you do,” Gareth said and left her sitting there.

  Chapter Nine

  It was stupid. It was stupid and it was dumb and it was horrible. Jordan tossed to her side and then back to her original angle.

  “God damn it.” She hissed it in the dark and then proceeded to beat the shit out of her pillow.

  If Gareth had told her she could finish herself off, she’d never want to. She could have just gone to bed.

  It was that he’d told her no. And she knew it. And Jordan knew that Gareth knew it.

  “What a mind fuck.”

  She flopped on her back and tried to steady her breath. Her hand trailed her belly, sliding beneath the tank she wore. The waistband of her sweatpants teased her with memories of Gareth pulling them wide and shoving his hand inside.

  She groaned softly and then covered her sound, realizing he might hear her. Fuck!

  J
ordan slid her fingers below the cloth covered elastic, sweeping her fingers back and forth over the tender skin above her mound. Her body thrilled at the touch. Her hips arching up on their own at the tender brush of skin on skin.

  She spread her hand wide over her shaved sex and let the heat from her fingers seep into her body. The tip of her middle finger grazed her swollen desperate clit and she sighed with contentment.

  She couldn’t make herself come. She’d just…give herself a moment.

  Jordan thought that maybe if she slid her fingers along the outer edges of her inner lips, she’d be better off. Not as sensitive. Not as intense.

  But it didn’t work. Her blood flow reveled at the pressure and her clitoris took up a war drum beat, all of it concentrated maddeningly in that tiny knob of flesh.

  Finally, she shook her head at it all. How silly and ridiculous it was. “So stupid.”

  She rubbed her clit in earnest. Her pressure much harder now than the usual since she’d had to wait so long. Since her need had grown so large.

  Jordan forced three fingers deep into her cunt and curled them to her deepest spots. The suede patch of hidden flesh responded, shooting a warm pleasure through her pelvis and her belly. Her legs felt heavy and her toes curled. So this is what waiting forever and ever to get off felt like.

  Her thighs fell open as her body greedily demanded the orgasm it was due. She didn’t have to think, her body did its own fluid dance. Hips pulsing up, swaying a bit—heels digging into the mattress as she tipped up enough to get her finger deeper. Jordan ground her clit to the palm of her hand, fucking herself the way she wished Gareth would. Hard and demanding and completely intense.

  The pleasure swelled, burst, leaked throughout her. The orgasm banging into her hard before shaking her all over. The rush was sweet and sudden and seemed to unfurl forever. Aftershocks moving in her pussy triggering warm waves of pleasure in her legs and arms. Her face was hot, her chest slick with a sweat.

  She shoved her hand in her hair and felt it slightly damp too. Her heart was a wild thing pounding to get out of her chest and her stomach fluttered with anxiety. She’d broken his rule. As the orgasm faded, the realization hit her.