8. Coming
Coming
Soriah
W hen I roll over, expecting to find Zade’s hard, warm body lying near me, my eyes pop open as cool sheets brush my skin.
The spot next to me is empty, and not even the imprint of him remains, meaning he hadn’t laid next to me for some time.
I sit up in the bed, fighting an oncoming rush of panic, swinging my eyes around the empty room.
His black wood desk, complete with a three-monitor desktop, large sketchbook, and computer chair, lies empty to my right.
Cherry wood dressers resting against the opposite wall don’t provide a clue to the owner’s whereabouts, but a mirror on top of one of them shows my tousled hair falling around my shoulders.
My hands pat the bed down for my hair tie as my eyes land on the bathroom door.
It stands ajar, and the sound of running water trickles through. Pressing a hand to my chest, I force my heart to calm down by taking deep, even breaths. Zade’s here. He didn’t up and leave me while a stranger stalks our house. I knew he wouldn’t .
I slide out of the bed. Walking toward the bathroom door, I pull my hair up into a bun. While biting my lip, I stand in front of the cracked door, skin tingling as I debate pushing it wider.
Just to make sure it’s really him , I tell myself. That’s the only reason my hand reaches out, slowly nudging the door wider.
Tingles erupt into sparks of electricity, racing across my skin and traveling straight to my core as I stand in the open doorway, taking in the sight of a very naked Zade under the spray of water.
Oh. My. God.
A very detailed tree etched into his skin spans the length of his back and snakes slither through the branches and writhe along the floor of his lower spine.
Some wind up his sides, wrapping around each other and baring their fangs.
More tattoos race up and down his arms and my breathing hitches as my eyes lower to his taut ass.
His legs remain ink-free, and muscles bunch, causing my sex to throb. I hadn’t seen Zade naked since we were children, and nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight of him as a fully grown man. With his back facing me, I can’t begin to imagine what his cock looks like, but I bet it’s huge.
I’m a panting fucking mess, ogling my naked brother. I’m going to hell. And maybe Zade’s going with me because when he whirls around to face me, heat simmers in his eyes, raking them down my body like he wants to devour me.
It’s such an unguarded and ravenous look that I take a wary step back, uncertain of how we proceed from here as siblings. With a will of their own, my eyes drop to his cock and I fucking moan, nipples tightening.
It’s pierced. Holy fuck.
Zade turns his back to me, switching the water off and stepping out of the shower. Wordlessly, he stalks to the towel rack, wrapping one around him and shielding his cock from view. It’s a damn travesty. It’s beautiful, swinging between his muscled thighs, demanding my attention.
Zade shoots me a look without stepping closer like he doesn’t trust himself. Or me.
I thought you were still sleeping. I’ll be out in a minute.
Unbidden, tears sting my eyes at the curt dismissal. He wants me to leave the bathroom, to let him dress. I don’t know why that cuts, sharp as the one I gave him across the Adam’s apple.
Before I can embarrass myself further, I turn, slamming the door shut behind me and sagging against it. I press my hands to my face, fighting tears. Dammit. And damn him for being so damn attractive, like a damn piece of forbidden fruit, taunting me.
The door opens, and I stumble backwards, landing against Zade’s still damp chest. I look up at him, and his hand slides to my neck, pulling me up so his lips can lay claim to mine.
My mouth parts for him, releasing a moan.
I reach a hand up, gripping the back of his head to press his mouth firmly to mine and slipping my tongue into his.
His groan makes my nipples pebble, aching for his touch, and my panties dampen, core clenching for his cock.
All night, he’d behaved like the model brother, concerned and firm with me, focusing on my safety.
But now? Now that the danger has somewhat lifted, albeit temporarily, he kisses me like a starved man, practically inhaling my mouth. Nails press into my throat and hip. His cock digs into my ass and I wiggle against it, silently begging for more. But he doesn’t give it to me.
His mouth pulls away, eyes half-lidded, and I mewl in protest. He can’t leave me like this, wet and needy. Maybe he sees the demand in my eyes. I hope he does. With hands still gripping my neck and hip, he walks us forward, straight for the bed.
Oh, yes. I want this. I’d hid my attraction to him behind platitudes and reassurances that it’s normal to admit I have a hot brother so long as I didn’t act on any urges.
But morality left the room when I saw him naked under that shower head, skin slick and water sluicing down taut muscles.
I would’ve licked him clean myself if he’d asked.
The mattress meets my outstretched hands when Zade shoves me forward. I land on all fours, and I don’t think my panties can get any wetter. He’s a silent presence behind me, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my shorts to slide my bottoms and underwear down my thighs.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan as his hands come back up to spread my ass cheeks, baring my wet pussy to him. His thumb slides along my folds teasingly.
“Zade, please,” I beg. I’m not even sure what I’m begging for. For him to fuck me or for him to finger me. I just need something, anything. If he leaves me like this, I’ll scream and never speak to him again. He shouldn’t have kissed me if he hadn’t planned on following?—
Abruptly, a finger slips into my sex, and I moan, all coherent thought ceasing.
“Yes,” I moan, leaning back to take that one digit all the way inside me.
I’m eighteen, so while I’m a virgin, I’m not a saint.
I’ve done nearly everything except vaginal and anal penetration.
Zade doesn’t need to know that, but I’m hoping he doesn’t hold back because he thinks I’m some prim and proper princess.
I’m down for whatever he wants to do to me.
When he pulls his finger out and thrusts it back in, I’m on cloud nine, moaning and begging for more.
He adds a second finger, and I can hear him breathing heavily behind me.
It occurs to me, I’m naked from the waist down, and he’s also completely naked.
His cock is only inches away. I could probably reach between us, line it up, and sink back onto it.
My walls clench around Zade’s fingers. I nearly come just from imagining his cock inside me. I’d probably melt into a pool of goo if he slides it into me now. All those piercings, going up the length of his cock and one on the tip.
“Zade,” I whine, edging closer to release as he keeps pumping his two fingers into my soaked pussy. Wetness coats his hand and slides down my inner thighs. I’ve never been more turned on in my life.
His other hand slides over my hip before dipping between my thighs. Fingers trail through my curls like they’re hunting for something. My clitoris? My walls contract around his fingers at the thought of Zade also being a virgin. We could be each other’s firsts, and suddenly, I want that. Crave it.
“Lower,” I gasp, rolling my hips to match each thrust of his fingers inside me. Zade follows my instructions and my eyes roll when his fingers trip over my clit.
“Yes! There,” I cry out, letting my arms crumble so I’m pressed face down and ass up into the mattress.
A sound like air being expelled comes from behind me—perhaps Zade’s version of a moan.
Oh, God.
To be the source of his sounds, to know he’s making them because of the sight of me being fully exposed to him, sends me over the edge.
Pleasure slams into me, and I moan his name, gripping the sheets beneath me, feeling liquid drip down my thighs.
I fucking cream his fingers, pressing my face into the comforter as aftershocks course through me.
I’m a twitchy mess, going limp while he slowly extricates his hands from my pussy. Movement in my periphery has my head turning to Zade standing on my right. Our eyes lock, and he brings his hand to his mouth, eyes drifting shut and tongue swirling around his wet fingers.
I clench on air, wishing he had shoved his huge, pierced cock inside me. But watching him clean his fingers, savoring my taste is a sight worth the delayed inevitability.
And it is inevitable. Someday soon—maybe not today—I am getting my big brother’s dick inside me. Not even a masked stalker is going to get in my way.
Zephyr
I’m pretty sure my cousin is an idiot or has a questionably low IQ.
Ezekial Lewis sits across from me, tattooed hands wrapped around a burger, ketchup and mustard dripping to land on the plate beneath it. He’s already taken a huge bite, head tilted back and a lustful groan passing his lips as he chews.
Metal glints, and I curl my fingers tighter around the stem of the wine glass in my hand. It’d be all too easy to pick up the knife, lean forward, and slice it cleanly across his throat.
My knee jerks beneath the table, foot tapping out a nervous beat. I need to get home, get the fuck away from the son of a known serial killer. Uncle Zac—or Uncle D, not that I’d call him that to his face—would peel the skin from my bones if I harmed a strand of coily hair on Zeke’s bleached head.
Zachary Lewis has the hard glint that says he enjoys watching the light fade from his prey’s eyes.
And by light, I mean hope. Once it fades, he’d have the time of his life carving them up and storing them in neat little packages in his fridge while whistling a jaunty tune.
My stomach roils, imagining blood instead of ketchup dripping from Zeke’s burger.
I wonder if he shares his father’s taste for flesh.
“Can you tell me what the fuck you wanted?” I snap harsher than I need to. Golden eyes snap open, shooting me a reproachful look. He sets the burger down and grabs a napkin, dabbing at his condiment-soaked fingers and mouth.
“Somebody’s testy. I guess it’s a twin thing.” My back straightens, tension pulling at my limbs.
“What the fuck that’s supposed to mean?” I narrow my eyes at him, wondering if he’s spoken to Zade recently. He must have to make that comment.
He grins widely, amber eyes dancing with mischief.
He definitely knows something, clearly enjoying lording it over me.
Normally, I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass what Zade gets up to but what if he did get run over by a car and my mom was too distraught to call me?
Dad wouldn’t have the fucking frame of mind to call.
Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s ever called me. Odd. But, not really. After I turned ten, I noticed he bought a padlock for his “pet” room. Only he and Zade ever went in there. My fingers tap the table, my mind crawling to a conclusion.
A classic symptom of sociopathy is cruelty to animals and my father fucking loves his insects and snakes. Hell, we’re on Sheba 2.0. He’d lost his last python after burning his childhood home to the ground.
So, Daddy dearest suspects I’m not as mentally well as the good doctors say, taking necessary steps to protect his precious pets. How quaint. Maybe I should’ve burned that fucking room down.
I frown at the thought.
But why? To see a man who’s never hurt me suffer, just because he’s protecting something he cares about, while treating me the same as he does Zade?
He’d never singled me out, and I hadn’t realized he had his suspicions until now, a testimony to the parental skills he’d gleaned from Mom. We’re her first and only set of twins, but Lauren was her trial child. She had motherhood down to a science with us.
“Zade’s got a secret,” Zeke sings songs, making me reconsider not slitting his throat. Obnoxious fuck.
“I’m not a fan of gossip or my twin. I hope you’re buying,” I say, gesturing at the busy restaurant we’re sitting in the middle of.
I’ve got a photo shoot in a couple of hours, and I figured I’d kill some time with Zeke when he called, asking me to meet him downtown.
To say I’m regretting that decision now is an understatement.
“Oh, you’ll be a fan of this bit of gossip. It involves murder,” he says, that delirious smile of his making a reappearance.
“What is it?” I deadpan. To let my interest show is to reveal a critical weakness, to declare I’m just like him and his father.
“Poor little Riah has a stalker. They broke in last night?—”
“Why the fuck am I just now hearing this?” I snap, leaning across the table and ignoring his fucking loud ass chuckle. He’s too damn pleased with himself for getting a reaction out of me.
“You’re not a fan of your twin, remember? Why would he call you?” His smile falls away, dead eyes funneling into me. Fuck. There’s an echo of a kindred spirit lurking within his gaze, a tale of another hard-fought battle for control.
We’re the same.
I swallow, forcing my fingers to loosen their grip lest I break the glass.
“What’s the plan?” I grit out, dropping my eyes to the table. I can’t take anymore of looking into a mirror. It’s too harrowing.
“Tito should be on a flight now. I’ve got a bag packed in my truck, and after we leave here, I’m heading to your parents for a cousin campout. You coming?”
My eyes jerk up to the question shining in his.
Am I coming? When my family needs me most, when my “condition” could be a benefit?
I close my eyes, letting out a breath. Fuck.
“Yes,” I whisper, knowing he can see my capitulation in every line of my body. “I’m coming home,” I say with a hint of resignation, shoulders drooping.