by Parker Ford
Jordan had promised she’d behave. She had given her word. And she’d broken it. Gareth had told her no—no release. Jordan had decided otherwise…
She blew out a sigh and turned to her side, her body calmer for the orgasm. There was nothing she could do about it now. She’d broken the rules and she’d decide in the morning if she was going to tell him.
He’ll know…
“That’s crazy,” she whispered in the dark.
The lights flipped on and Jordan blinked, raising her head to find the source of sudden brightness.
“Was it good?” Gareth asked.
She wanted to answer him but her mouth wouldn’t work. Her lips were frozen and her tongue a traitor. She blinked again as Gareth stepped into her room and shut the door.
*****
She backpedaled on the bed, her head hitting the back which was actually the sofa. Springs squeaked and that horrible iron bar that she made a production of not sleeping on, smacked her bottom.
“Jesus, Gareth! You scared the shit out of me.” She wanted so badly to sound irate. She sounded guilty. It was audible to her so it had to be audible to him.
“Was it good? That orgasm I told you not to have?”
“I—”
“Was it?” he roared. He looked angry—really angry—his face was red and his voice was booming.
Shit.
“Gareth, I mean…come on. It was silly. I was just—”
“Doing what I told you not to,” he said. His voice had dropped low and somehow that was scarier than the yelling. His voice was all potential rage and malice.
“I just…I didn’t think—”
“That I meant it?”
She shook her head, bit her lip. Her teeth kept returning to her lower lip, plucking, gnawing, biting it hard to focus her attention.
“Take your pants off.”
“What?” she chirped. Two emotions flooded through her simultaneously. Fear and excitement.
Her body shook with the force of her feelings and the confusion of it all. Goose bumps rose up—a surge of prickly flesh—and her nipples spiked against her tank. She shivered.
“You heard me.” He toed the lip of the mattress so the shock of his movement shook the bed. “Do it.”
“I—but we don’t know if we’re not—“ Jordan broke off shaking her head. She felt so incredibly tongue-tied and frustrated. The urge to tip her head back and just scream at the ceiling was almost overwhelming.
And why hadn’t she just gone up to the second floor to sleep in her old room? To be alone? To be off the first floor?
She knew why. Because Gareth was down here.
He narrowed his eyes and said, “Last chance, Jordan. Take ‘em off.”
Something in his face told her he wasn’t fucking around. She pushed her fingers into the waistband and shoved. She was bare underneath and her internal muscles were still letting off random ticks and pops of post orgasmic pleasure. His eyes on her almost made her moan.
“Spread your legs.”
She didn’t question him. She let her thighs fall open and a rush of heat flooded her face as his eyes tracked her. She could see Gareth studying the plump, red folds of her sex. The moisture she could feel would be visible to him. The slick juices of her need and her disobedience shone for him between her legs.
When he took a step toward her, she shivered. It was a sudden violent reaction and it startled her.
“Don’t move.”
“I didn’t—”
“Shut up. No one told you to speak. You need to be punished.”
Punished?
Images of red headed, shaved, stormy Isabel stomping out of the house swirled in her brain. It had been her turn to be in charge but what kind of pain had the girl been into? What had she liked? What kind of punishment had been meted out to her?
Jordan realized as he came closer to the bed that a hot thumping jealousy had rooted in her belly. Isabel…best to forget her.
“Turn on your belly,” Gareth said. He had one knee on the bed and the whole mattress dipped and squealed with the added weight.
This time she kept her mouth shut. Jordan nodded, her mussed ponytail swaying around her face. She rolled to her belly and kept her lips sealed in a tight line while he shoved pillows under her belly.
Two pillows propped her and her ass was raised in the air. Jordan fought to breathe normally; she could barely get a deep breath in her lungs. What was he going to do? Fuck her? Not yet. They didn’t know. Surely he wouldn’t…
But under it all she knew damn well she wanted him to. Had wanted him too for far too long to even calculate. Dreamed about it, fantasized about it, thought about it…and always rejected it. But what if this time…
“Count,” Gareth said.
She barely had time to register his word when the first blow fell. A full heavy-handed palm slap to her ass. Fire blossomed on that skin in the shape of his large hand. She swore she felt fingers and a palm print and all of it. The thought fled when his hand fell again, criss-crossing the original blow.
Now an X made of handprints throbbed on her ass and she let loose a wail that people down the block probably heard.
“Be quiet. Accept your punishment. And I told you to count.”
“Two,” she managed, a breathless stutter.
Was this her Gareth? Her lovely Gareth doted on her and adored her and—
“Three!” she barked as the third blow fell on her pristine untouched left ass cheek. Fire raged under her skin but she mindlessly ground her pelvis to the pillows and the harder mattress beneath. The pressure from that movement triggered a slick rush of fluid between her legs and then the first pulse of pleasure.
“Four,” flew off her lips in an almost joyous moan.
Gareth laughed. “I think my slutty little sister is enjoying her punishment too much,” he said.
She waited for the blow but what she got instead was a probing hand between her legs and then the hard thrust of his fingers in her cunt. A single digit forced into her bottom. Her anus instinctively trying to clamp down but Gareth pushed past it.
Her blood thrummed in her bottom, his fingers curled in her cunt, that rogue digit moved slowly buried in her ass and if he’d just thrust the fingers in her pussy a bit harder she’d…
Chapter Ten
“Count,” he whispered and those fingers were gone and another blow landed.
“Five,” she sobbed.
Who knew sex could be so fucking frustrating. Not sex. Games. Power. Playing.
One landed very hard, startling her, and she bucked, almost screaming, “Six!”
Jordan waited for the next one and it didn’t come. What came instead was the gentle stroke of his hand on her hot flesh. A sinister soothing touch that made her whimper. “That was pretty good for a new girl. You didn’t try and grab me or beg or anything. Though I would have liked to hear you beg, Jojo,” he said softly.
Gareth slipped his finger between her ass cheeks, tracing the line of flesh from the small of her back to her anus.
“Gareth—“
“Shh…”
He was whispering. So quiet she had to strain to hear him.
“Next time I’ll make you beg.”
“Gareth—“
Again he cut her off, but this time by flipping her onto her back. Her ass and hips were still thrust high on the pillows so her head was lower than her lower body. He leaned in slowly, green eyes pinned to hers and kissed the top of one thigh and then the other. His pink tongue darted out to lick a line along each hipbone and the slick fluid in her from the spanking was augmented by seeing his mouth on her skin. By feeling it there, hot and wet and so fucking close.
“Gar—“
“Hush.”
She hushed.
He kissed her shaved mound and rested the upper ridge of his teeth to her flesh. Barely pressing, it was still enough pain and pressure to cause her heartbeat to bang mightily in her cunt. The hot skin on her ass from her punishment thumped
in time. Jordan felt like one big pulse.
With his thumbs he pulled her wide, spreading her outer lips and studying her sex. “Such a pretty pout,” he whispered.
Another rush of fluid. She felt his gaze somehow liberating and shameful all at once. Moisture slid from her body. Gareth dipped his finger in it and spread it over her swollen clit. She bucked up and he pushed a forearm to her hips to hold her down.
“Easy.”
He leaned over her and sucked her clit. His lips gripping it before his tongue swooped over it. His tongue was hot and insistent and he swirled that greedy bit of flesh so that she hovered right on the verge of coming. Right there.
His fingers traveled near her aching slit and she begged him silently with her body to push his fingers in. Or God, better yet, himself. She imagined him—it felt like a fever dream—stripping off his pajama pants and driving into her.
But he didn’t put his fingers in her. Or anything else. He licked heated paths up either side of her inner lips and then clamped his teeth on her erect clitoris so she hissed and her hips shot up.
Then he sat up, wiped his mouth and said, “Put your pants on.”
“I…what?”
“Put them on. And come with me. I don’t trust you, Jojo. Not alone. You’re sleeping in my bed with me.”
“I won’t. I won’t do it again. The spanking…that was my…my punishment.”
Gareth chuckled and grabbed her wrist. Pulling her after him he said, “That wasn’t punishment. What I just did to you, and now being next to me all night where I can keep you from finishing yourself off…that’s the real punishment.”
Jordan followed him and realized he was right. Her body was throbbing and wanting all over again. It was all concentrated down to her need to come. And now she’d have to lie next to him all night long and feel this way and not be able to touch herself. Or him. Or do anything about it. At all.
*****
Jordan swatted at her hair. She was caught on something. Startling light bled into the dark comfort behind her closed eyelids. What time was it?
She’d barely managed to get to sleep. Her lust, her want, her body had beat a steady greedy rhythm until the wee hours when finally exhaustion had won. It had been even more confusing to wake mere hour later with Gareth’s arm throw across her midsection, the gesture felt entirely normal. Even the clearly palpable possessive nature of it.
Sleep had won again and she’d drifted off with that warm weight draped over her. Now something was caught in her hair.
Tug-tug-tug
“Wake up, sunshine.” His breath feathered her cheek and she caught the scent of wintergreen and under it a faint touch of morning coffee.
“Go away,” she whispered.
Gareth’s chuckle made the fine hairs along the back of her neck prickle. He tugged her ponytail again and said, “No can do. I have to go to work and you have to get up.”
“Why?” she groaned.
He pinched her nipple and her eyes shot open, the squawk of outrage dying in her throat when she saw that crooked grin of his. How very weird was it to want to grab your brother’s face and kiss him like it could be your last kiss?
Very.
“Because I said so.”
“I thought it was only dirty sex stuff you got to boss me around with.”
“Well, that’s true with what you asked me to show you. But I am your big brother—at least for now—so the bossing extends to all areas.”
She hit him with her pillow.
“Come on, kid. I made coffee and this is for you. So get up and get at it. I only have to put in half a day but we’re stripping a roof so I have to make an appearance.”
Jordan felt the slide of paper between her breasts and popped her eyes back open to peek at the rolled scrap of paper in her pajama top.
“What’s that?” She could smell the coffee and gave up even the last tiny shred of a fantasy of going back to sleep.
“That’s Tom Sweet’s phone number. I did an online search for him and narrowed it down. Then I finally paid twenty bucks with my credit card to wrangle that thing. So call him. He might be your father. Which means, he’s not mine.”
Jordan eyed the piece of paper even though her vision was still sleep blurred. Tom Sweet. Maybe her father. Which would make them not…
“So if you call him you can see if he might have, you know…”
“Knocked my mother up?” she sighed.
“Our mother,” he said.
“Only for now.” Jordan sat up and the sheets puddled around her waist. “Let’s be honest. We’re hoping that he’s my dad right? We’re hoping that we’re not really related. So that this all makes sense. So we’re not so…” She waved her hands, searching for the right word.
“Perverse?” He grinned at her.
Her whole body warmed and her pussy gave an insistent warm thump that reminded her of the torture he’d inflicted the night before.
Jordan tugged her ponytail elastic free and ruffled her hair to relieve the ache that had her scalp tight. “I guess technically perverse works. It’s more taboo. I mean some states have repealed the laws against incest. But it’s still…”
“Twisted?”
“Stop.”
“Mangled, broken, weird, strange…fucked up?” He rattled it off with that slight half smile.
“Shut up,” she snapped, surprising even herself.
Gareth dropped to the bed and put his arm around her. He kissed her ear and whispered. “I’m sorry. But if we don’t embrace it—make light of it, even—it just sort of hurts my head. All I know is, it’s not new…and it’s not going away. So…”
“Maybe there’s a reason for it.”
“Exactly.”
His fingers moved to brush her breast through her tank. Her skin tingled and hummed and then flourished with goose bumps before he tugged her raised nipple lightly. She wished the tank top weren’t in the way of his skin against hers. But she needed to focus.
“And Jojo?”
“Yes?”
“If you do a good job…if you get some info for us…”
Her mouth went dry and suddenly her heartbeat was very loud in her ears. “Yes?”
“I’ll reward you for it. Make you happy. Give you that orgasm you’re chasing.”
She swallowed hard and waited.
“But you’d better not do anything while I’m gone. I need to be able to trust you.” He faced her, training those bright green eyes on hers. “And I’ll know.”
She believed him.
Chapter Eleven
Tom Sweet lived in Brookstown. A forty-five minute drive from Allisonville. He’d invited her to lunch after a long sigh and an, “Oh yeah. Kelly. What a lady…”
Which had kind of freaked her out but upon hearing he might be her dad, he didn’t run screaming into the night either. Which scored him points. Even though she was pretty sure she was going to throw up, she pulled on some black leggings and a very short gray dress as a tunic. Black boots and a scarf completed the whole deal. She was too freaked out to do much by way of makeup so she made do with bronzer some blush and a touch of mascara.
“Done. You’re trying to see if he’s your dad not date him. Though with your track record—” Shook her head and cut off her own joke.
She wouldn’t continue to beat herself up over Gareth. It was what it was and they were doing their best to actually figure out what it was.
It could be normal attraction between two people entirely unrelated by blood.
“From my lips to God’s ears,” she whispered. “Because I know I want him. I want to be with him. I want him to spank me again and I want him to tie me up and make me beg and fuck me. All the dirty things I think Gareth is capable of…but I also…” She stared into her own blue eyes, fear prickling along her upper lip and making her armpits hot. “Think I love him. Like…love him.”
She turned off the light and left the room before she could gauge her own reaction.
*****
He was a big man. Tall and blond and blue eyed. Jordan took in the ‘towhead’ color of his hair and her belly fluttered. That was the same color as her hair. Granted, it was Gareth’s too but his was a shade darker, leaning a bit more toward honey than her rare white-blonde hair. Doug Davis—their father—had been honey blonde. But this man…this man was surfer boy white blond and it made the hair on her arms raise.
“Hi there,” he said, extending a hand.
She shook it, feeling the big soft warmth that enveloped hers. “Hi.”
“Wow,” he said.
When their eyes met she felt her face flood with heat. My god. His eyes were the same color as hers. And his lips were the flared bow of hers. He was bigger, of course, but he was a man. Otherwise…
“I guess we should sit?”
She nodded, unable to really speak beyond the whole hi statement.
He waved a finger at a waitress who guided them to a booth at the back of The Cock and Bull restaurant. Farm fare was what they advertised but Jordan had no appetite so it could have been the most elite cuisine and she wouldn’t have cared.
“You do see the resemblance?” He smiled at her and she saw the same crookedness in his smile that she often saw in her own smile when photographed.
“I do. But I’m so confused that I’m not sure what to think.”
They allowed the waitress to take their drink orders and distribute menus. When she left, he said, “Well, at least tell me how you ended up with me today. I’m dying to know.”
“My father died…” She cleared her throat.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words.”
Jordan shrugged. “Oh, hey, you didn’t know. He died and while my brother was caring for him he said some things that didn’t make sense.” She toyed with her fork and steadied her breathing. “So we started poking around and found out that both our parents—we thought they were our parents—were married before they married each other.”
“Wow. That’s quite a shock after a pretty big blow,” Tom Sweet said.
The waitress—Kathy according to her nametag—brought them their coffee and Tom ordered an omelet with biscuits and fruit.
“Nothing for me,” Jordan said, smiling.
