Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Ace
I thought two laps in water cold enough to make my chest seize would fix this need I always feel when I’m around my stepsister. But no. It’s fixed fuck all.
Fuck, it’s been months since our parents announced the vow renewal at Christmas. Which, by the way, is the only time I see her since she left Cali the day after her eighteenth birthday.
She didn’t even say goodbye. The day after I kissed her, she hauled ass out of here like she couldn’t stand being near me. And now… fuck, now we’re forced together in this small room.
The fan overhead turns without accomplishing much, and she’s asleep next to me.
We’d established the boundary without discussing it. An invisible line running straight down the center of the mattress, mutually acknowledged, mutually respected. I’m on my back with one arm behind my head, and the other slung over my stomach.
She’s on her side, facing away from me, her shoulders rounded and her knees tucked up slightly. Whatever space’s between us isn’t enough.
Not when her fucking camisole has ridden up, showing me glimpses of her round ass. And the pale thong she’s wearing isn’t helping matters. At fucking all.
Li’s ass is… fuck.
She shifts in her sleep, stretching her legs and somehow moving closer to me with the movement. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off her skin without us touching.
I don’t move. I lie perfectly still and stare at the ceiling and count the rotations of the fan and wait for my body to get the message that this is not available to me.
My body does not get the message.
Her shoulder blade grazes my arm. Just barely, just the lightest possible contact. She mumbles something incoherent as she pulls the sheet up tighter one second, just to kick it half off her the next. Sadly, it’s still covering her ass.
“Li?” I whisper, but she doesn’t react at all.
I lift the sheet enough that I can admire her ass again. Including the way her thong cuts a clean line between her cheeks. Fuuuuuck, all my blood rushes south. My body doesn’t care I’m her stepbrother. And… I’m not sure I do either.
With that thought in my head, I do what I’ve been wanting to do since we got into bed. I slowly move my hand inside my boxer briefs and pull my cock out.
I wrap my fingers around the base and stroke myself. Using my thumb, I spread the pre-cum leaking from the tip down the shaft. Fuck, it feels good.
Stroking myself harder, faster, I keep an eye on the back of her head, looking for tells to make sure she hasn’t woken up.
Fuck, this feels amazing. Jerking off with my hot-as-fuck stepsister next to me. The taboo of it all makes me even harder, and… bolder. Bold enough to cup her ass with my free hand.
Luckily, she doesn’t move. Her breathing doesn’t change. I trace the thong strap where it runs between her cheeks, pressing lightly, following the line of it down.
I drag my thumb over the fabric at her center, and I feel it immediately—the heat there, the dampness. Oh, fuck, she likes this. Likes me touching her. She’s wet from my touch.
My brain short-circuits as my grip on my cock tightens.
I press two fingers against her opening through the thong, just enough pressure to feel the give of her. I keep the rhythm with my other hand, slow and controlled, even though my pulse is anything but.
I hook two fingers beneath the thong and pull it aside.
The slick heat of her against my fingers is enough to pull a sharp breath out of me that I have to swallow before it becomes a sound.
“Lila!”
A groan escapes me as I stroke myself harder while I press my fingers harder against her wet opening, exploring. I’m going to lose my mind entirely here if I don’t come soon.
* * *
Lila
I surface slowly, the way you do when sleep is still pulling at you from below, and the first thing I register is movement. Subtle. Rhythmic. The mattress rocking in the smallest possible increments.
The second thing I register is heat. The solid wall of warmth pressed close behind me.
The third thing—the thing that snaps the last of the drowsiness clean off—is the pressure of fingers against my pussy.
I go completely still.
My brain catches up in pieces. The fan overhead. The dark. The thin fabric of my thong damp and pressed aside, and the unmistakable sensation of someone else’s hand between my legs.
Someone’s fingers.
His fingers.
Ace.
My stepbrother is in this bed with his hand between my thighs, and I am awake, and I am not moving, and every single cell in my body is screaming at me to arch back into him.
This is wrong. This is Ace. This is the boy who kissed me at eighteen as a dare to laugh at me with his stupid friends.
This is the person I spent years putting an entire country between myself and him, and none of that matters right now because his fingers slide inside me and my teeth sink into my bottom lip so hard I almost draw blood.
I don’t move. I don’t open my eyes.
His fingers curl.
Oh God.
The movement at my back doesn’t stop — slow, rhythmic, unmistakable now that I’m fully awake. He’s touching me and jerking off simultaneously, and the knowledge of that, of what I’m doing to him, floods straight to my core.
Before I can convince myself it’s a bad idea, I push my ass back. I can’t help it. My body moves before I’ve finished deciding not to, pressing back against him, and his breathing snags.
A sharp, barely audible catch of air. The rhythmic movement behind me stops. His fingers withdraw from inside me, and the whimper that escapes my throat is involuntary and humiliating, and I don’t care.
There’s a beat of total, absolute stillness.
Then his hips shift forward, and the hard length of him presses against the curve of my ass. His mouth is close to the back of my neck. I can feel the warmth of his breath.
“Do you want to help me get off, Li?” he rasps. It’s low. Rough. Barely a question at all.
I moan.
He lifts my leg as one hand grips the back of my thigh, pushing the thong all the way to the side, and then he’s angling himself so that he’s between my thighs, the head of his cock dragging against my clit with every slow forward roll of his hips.
The friction is immediate and devastating. It feels so fucking good I can’t help but moan again.
Ace’s lips brush the nape of my neck, not a kiss, just contact, warm and deliberate. “Why are you pretending to sleep, Li?”
I don’t answer that.
He chuckles darkly when I don’t respond. His hand moves between us, fingers finding my clit while he keeps moving against me, fucking the tight press of my thighs in a slow, maddening rhythm.
The sensation compounds—his cock sliding between my thighs, the head dragging against me, and his fingers working my clit simultaneously—and my back arches of its own accord, pressing me harder into him.
“Ace!” I cry.
This is so forbidden. He’s my stepbrother. We grew up in the same house. I have thought about this more times than I will ever admit to anyone, including myself, and the reality of it is so much better than the thought that I’m already half out of my mind.
His free hand finds my throat, long fingers wrapping around it. He squeezes until my breath stutters and my eyes roll back in my head. I love it. Even when my vision goes slightly swimmy at the edges.
His rhythm picks up. Faster. His breathing breaks apart behind me, going ragged and uneven.
The combination of everything; his cock between my thighs, his fingers at my clit, his hand at my throat—the sheer filthy wrongness of who he is to me — builds into something that climbs so fast I don’t have time to brace for it.
“Ace,” I moan unashamed.
“I know,” he groans against my neck. “I’ll take care of you, Li. I promise.”
The orgasm hits me like something structural giving way, not a wave but a collapse. I scream his name into the dark with absolutely zero consideration for the neighboring cabins. My whole body locks and shudders,
His grip on my throat tightens just enough to make the edges of everything blur beautifully, and I am gone. Completely gone.
Ace pulls back while I’m still trembling. He jerkily rolls me onto my back, his weight shifting to kneel over me. Even in the dark, his eyes are intent and hungry and fixed on my face.
“Take your breasts out,” he demands. His voice is rough, low, barely above a whisper. “Now, Li. Show me.”
I reach up and pull both sides of the camisole down, baring my breasts to him. Pride swells within me as I watch his jaw tighten, watch the muscle in his forearm flex as his hand moves over himself.
He strokes fast. Urgent. His head drops back for a second.
“Look at me,” I order, not wanting his eyes anywhere else. “You wanted to see my breasts, then look at them.”
Ace smirks as his blue eyes lock back onto me. “Fuck. Li.” He strokes harder, his jaw clenched.
Then he’s coming in hot spurts across my breasts, his hips stuttering, his breath punching out in short, broken bursts.
“Fuck. Fuck.” His hand works every last shudder from his body, squeezing, gripping, his forehead tipped down like the effort of it is taking everything he has. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
The words land in the silence and just sit there.