Chapter 8
Nate
Those fucking shorts.
Those shorts that ride up her ass if she doesn't pull them down.
Those fucking shorts that have me jacking off in the shower as I curse my forbidden desire for my stepsister. As I stroke myself, imagining ripping them off her body and burying my cock in her tight pussy.
And the worst part? It's like she has no clue of the effect she's having on me.
But then, why would she? Raised as sheltered as she is, she probably has no fucking clue.
It's not like Robert is going to enlighten her either.
He still obviously sees her as his little girl and thinks nothing of the woman parading around in clothes meant to tease and torment.
Or, it's because I'm her fucking stepbrother and they shouldn't affect me like this.
I'm sure if I'd grown up with her, I wouldn't care.
It would just be clothes same as the bathing suit she'd wear to the community pool.
That didn't affect me then, and it's even less clothing than what she's wearing now.
But then… she also didn't look like this back then. She didn't smell like this back then. Her body didn't entice me. Honestly, I don't think I even saw her back then. Oh, what years apart can change.
As she nibbles on another muffin—raspberry this time—Robert and my mom walk in without even saying a word about the pajamas Lila's wearing today.
The dark blue molds to her body in a way that makes me want to peel them off and toss them to the ground.
It clings to her curves, outlining every dip and swell.
Hell, even her nipples are practically visible through the thin material.
Ugh. January first can't come soon enough.
Forcing my gaze away before anyone can see the effect she's having on me, I sip my coffee and study the scene going on. Until now, I thought dealing with explosives required the most precision and gentleness. Yesterday proved that wrong.
Soft laughs vibrate from my mom's throat as she slaps Robert on the shoulder, joking and teasing while they bring their mugs to their lips. It's as if yesterday never happened. As if Robert never crushed Lila with just a few sentences.
Even now, he teases Lila in a gentle and easy manner, all trace of the exacting, controlling Alpha gone… like it never existed. All the while, he ignores the dark circles under her eyes, the small, thin smiles, the pain lurking behind the depths of her gaze.
But I see it. I see every fucking bit of it.
Rage boils just under the surface as I study the man, really watching him as he moves about the room. Broken is right. I can see how he hangs on by a thread. It's the same look I've seen in other soldiers' eyes after a near-death experience or, worse, losing a friend and colleague.
Though I don't blame him for the pain, I do blame him for how he acts on it. Turning back to Lila, I watch as she drinks her coffee and stays silent. Such a difference from the rambunctious girl I knew. Such a startling contrast to the brat I spanked in my room.
As hard as I try to hold on to my anger, it slips away every time I think about the feel of her under my hand, the warmth of her skin, the way she squirmed on my lap, her soft little sounds.
Her body beckons me, calls me to mark it up, to mar it, to turn it pink and red, as I make her cry out.
Shaking my head, I drain the rest of my cup and murmur my plans to clean up, and rush up the stairs.
Just being in her presence is enough to get me hard. Soon, someone will notice. Soon, someone will see the bulge at a time and place that can't be explained by morning wood.
Gritting my teeth, I turn on the shower, but not before I hear the door open to her room.
As the water pours, the squeak of her drawers opening and closing meets my ears.
Though I can't hear her undress, I know she is.
I know she's naked, just on the other side of that door, stripping off those pajamas, bare skin exposed, probably bending over to step out of her shorts.
Fuuuuuuuuuck.
Balling my hand into a fist, I nearly slam it against the tile before a tentative knock sounds at the door. Do I answer it? I know she's there. Lila is the only one who would be wanting in.
"What do you want?"
"Can I come in really quickly before you shower?"
"I already have the water running," I snap back.
"Please?" she whines. "I need to pee. Can't you just stay inside until I'm done?"
I wish I could say yes. I wish I could tell her in no unmistakable terms that I have no problem staying inside while she bares herself to do something as intimate as peeing. But no. I don’t think I have the strength.
"Can't you just use the one downstairs?" I ask, hoping she’ll get the fucking hint.
"I'd rather not watch Dad devour your mom's face if that's all the same to you."
Unfortunately, she has a point. With a ragged groan, I shuck off my clothing and step into the hot spray, my cock already hard and angry as precum beads at the tip.
As soon as I close the curtain, I invite her in.
I stand there, back against the cool tile as I listen to her open the door and walk inside.
My cock is hard and pulsing, angry as my knot already swells.
Fuck. It’s throbbing, aching, and so desperate for relief.
Reaching down, I grip the swollen bulge, wringing it until I can get a modicum of relief.
I squeeze the base of my knot in a pathetic attempt to ease the pressure that just keeps building.
"You're not gonna peek, are you?" she purrs from the other side of the curtain. "I don't think I can go if I'm worried you're watching me."
"You're my sister," I grind out, running my hand up and down my stiff cock, stroking slowly, trying to stay quiet. "I'm not going to fucking watch you pee. Besides, even if you weren't my sister, I'm not into that sort of thing."
"Step," she corrects as she lifts the toilet seat cover with a bang. "So what are you into then? Is it safe to assume spanking?"
I bite back a groan as I continue to pleasure myself, keeping my breathing light and even so she doesn't know what I'm doing in here while she's just simply trying to relieve herself, my fist tight around my shaft as thick ropes of precum make the glide easier, slicker.
"I'm not having this conversation with you," I bite out. "It's inappropriate."
"Oh," she giggles. "And spanking me was?"
"It wasn't really a spank. Two light swats barely qualify."
I lean my head back as I jerk my hand up and down, faster now, my hips bucking slightly into my grip. My balls draw up tight, sending pinpricks of pleasurable pain down my spine.
"Did you like it?" she breathes.
I nearly come at that soft question. My cock jerks in my hand, so close to the edge.
"Did you?" I eventually counter once I can find the words. Several moments go by where all I can hear is the sound of the shower rushing near my ears. "I don't hear you going. Are you done yet?"
"I'm trying. It's hard when I know you're in here."
"I suggested going somewhere else."
"I know."
Unable to help myself, I peek around the edge of the curtain. Lila sits there with her pajama shorts around her ankles, thighs spread, sitting on the toilet, so vulnerable and exposed. She bites down on her thumbnail as I continue to stare and jack off like the pervert I am.
From this angle, I can't really see anything, but my imagination doesn't need that visual.
I already have more than enough from those godforsaken shorts she keeps walking around in.
I can picture exactly what's between those thighs. It’s not hard to imagine how pink and wet she'd be.
As she opens her mouth, I duck back behind the curtain, my hand working faster as I grip tighter.
"You never answered my question," she says. "Besides, it's not like we're related or anything. If you tell me yours, I might tell you mine."
"Oh, you don't have to tell me," I blurt out as need swirls through my veins and pleasure coils tight at the base of my spine. "I already know."
The only excuse I have for blabbing my mouth like this is that there's no blood in my brain. Not one drop. Every fucking bit is down in my cock and balls.
She doesn't answer but soon flushes the toilet and washes her hands. After, she stands in front of the curtain, and based on the shadow, she has her hands on her hips.
"What exactly do you think you know?"
"Forget it," I grit out.
Fuck. So close. Right on the fucking edge.
"Tell me," she demands, "or I'll rip open the curtain and embarrass you. Want me to see you naked?"
"No!" I roar.
"Then tell me."
"God, you're such a brat."
"Why don't you spank me again then? Not that it did all that much the first time."
Sparks blur my vision as annoyance, lust, and longing coalesce into one massive ball of need.
Fuck, if she only knew. If she only knew I want to bend her over right now and spank her until she's sobbing, until her ass is crimson and she's begging.
Biting down on my lower lip, I continue to furiously stroke, desperate to purge myself of this unholy desire.
My fist flies up and down my shaft as my knot swells even more and becomes so sensitive that every splash of water that grazes it nearly makes my knees buckle.
Her delicate fingers wrap around the edge of the curtain, sending a frisson of fury and desire cutting through me like shards of glass.
"Fine," I snarl out. "You win. I've been the one approving every single fucking thing you buy from SwiftCart. I know what you read, what you wear, what you like to watch, and things you buy for adult fun time.”
Her fingers still as a waft of unease flits through the small gap. "E- everything?" she asks, her voice soft and timid.
Fuck. Just hearing that vulnerable tone is enough to send me over the edge.
Turning, I angle my dick toward the hot spray as I come.
It spurts out thick and hot, rope after rope as my knot pulses in time with my heartbeat.
It takes everything not to moan out loud as relief shudders down my spine and into my balls, forcing them to clench as more cum spurts from me onto the porcelain.
My whole body jerks as my thighs shake, forcing me to brace myself against the wall.
"Everything," I groan as I rest my back against the tile and do my best to get my heart to stop racing by taking slow, measured breaths. My hands drift up and down, still stroking in slow, lazy measures, milking out every last drop.
"Fuck," she mutters under her breath.
"Fuck indeed."
"Are you going to tell my dad?"
"No," I murmur as I wash the remaining bits of cum off my sensitive tip, my cock still half-hard and overstimulated. "But I am tempted to spank you again."
"Then do it."
Unfortunately, my spent cock twitches at that breathy plea.
"No, brat," I growl. "You'd like that too much. Now get out of here so I can dry off. I'd rather not have to explain to your dad why you know what I look like naked."
Though I can't see her, I can nearly feel the heat coming off her cheeks as she stands there, mulling over my words.
Problem is, those aren't the cheeks I want blazing.
I want her ass red and marked. I want her squirming and wet.
Her asking me to spank her again would just play into her fantasies, and there's no way I won't ruin her—and us—in the process.
Fuck. I just have to get through to January first.