Chapter 17
Nate
I watch the varied expressions crawl over Lila's face. If she thinks she's good at hiding them, she's dead wrong. The only saving grace is that her dad knows nothing about what transpired between her and me. As such, he doesn't have the cipher to decode the little nuances.
But I know. I understand each flash of anger, each hint of annoyance. I can read them as easily as I read her. I haven't even fucked her, and yet I know her all too fucking well.
As she climbs up the stairs, I check my phone. Looks like she did pick out some fancy stuff. It doesn't add much to my total, but I'm still happy she was able to get something out of the deal. After ruining her pretty set of underthings, it seemed only fitting to replace them.
My cock stiffens as I picture her bent over that desk, the red thong bisecting those perfect ass cheeks. Ugh. Why can't I fucking get her out of my head? Rising, I smack my hands on my thighs and nod over to Robert.
"Guess I better get going too. Tomorrow will be bright and early."
He hands me a card and smiles. "I know you want to do this on your own, but please at least give this one a try. I think you'll like it."
My lips thin into a semblance of a grin, but on the inside, it feels more like a grimace. Lila won't like it. If her father has any hand in it, she'll reject it outright. Best to not tell her right away.
With a final nod, I make my way up the stairs and pause outside my door. Faint music drifts from hers even with it closed shut. Normally, I can't hear anything. It's odd. Expected, but odd. At some point, the rebellion was due to come out.
Shaking my head, I slip into my room and lock the door. Though I taught her a lesson about her recklessness in dealing with Alphas, I hadn't thought about her going hungry. That wasn't part of the plan.
Who am I fucking kidding? None of this was part of the plan. Gritting my teeth, I plop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. All day with Lila in the car with me. Will we survive? Will she?
Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is that soft vulnerability when she confessed she was a virgin.
The fact that she probably still doesn't realize just how much danger she put herself into boggles my brain.
I can understand the need, the desperation, and the lengths she resorted to… but to lie on that form?
With all the books I know she's read, there's no way she can be that stupid. Desperate? Yes. Stupid? No. With a soft growl, I rip my pants down, freeing my erection. Already I'm fully hard and desperate to fuck her sweet little pussy.
Forbidden pussy.
Virginal pussy.
Taboo pussy.
Off. Fucking. Limits pussy.
But good luck telling my brain that. It's as if it doesn't care. Consequences be damned.
Downstairs, underneath the heavy thump of Lila's music, I hear the soft clinking of mom cleaning up the dishes and putting everything away. I can't do this to her. I can't rip her away from the one Alpha she's ever truly loved.
She's bound to Robert. If given the choice between him and me, she'll have to choose him. No… she won't really have a choice. I can't force that on her. I can't saddle her with that guilt all because I can't keep my fucking cock to myself.
Frustrated, I jump out of bed, yank my pants back up, and stride into the adjoining bathroom. Still, the music pumps into the space, a little louder as I get closer. I can't stand it. I can't handle the teeth-jarring, blood-pumping, pulsing music.
Even now, my hips long to find the rhythm, to rock back and forth as I think of fucking her into the mattress to it. This is sex music. Pure and simple. I don't care what the lyrics are.
I give a soft knock and wait for her to let me in. When she doesn't, I try the knob. Unlocked. Just like last time. Will I catch her masturbating again? Will I find her fingers deep in her pussy as I watch from the shadows?
A low growl rumbles in my throat as I slide into the room and stare at the bed. She's clearly in there. I can tell by the lump of covers. However, the soft snores tell me she's somehow already asleep.
Turning the flashlight on my phone, I shine the light on the bed, making sure to not wake her up with the sudden brightness. Tears stain her cheeks as dark circles shadow the underparts of her eyes.
I should feel guilty. This is my fault as much as it is hers. But I don't. Not really. All I feel is a savage need to mark her again. To make her mine. To strip her down and taste the lingering arousal I smell drifting from her pretty little pussy.
It's a madness that haunts me as I look down at the naked swell of her breast as it rises with each inhale. The fact that she sleeps naked shouldn't surprise me, but it hits me like a ton of bricks. How easy would it be to touch her, to taste her?
Sinking to my knees, I scent her skin, dragging the tart smell into my lungs like an addiction I'm forced to consume. In the quiet dark, I stroke myself, biting down on my lower lip as hard as I dare to keep from crying out her name, from startling her awake.
While she's sleeping, I can keep my hands to myself. I can treat her like the little porcelain doll she is—so easily fractured, so easily broken. If she wakes up and starts with the sass all over again, I'm not sure I can help myself.
Gripping my cock in my fist, I grunt low and soft under my breath. She stirs, not fully waking, but not all the way asleep either. Will she catch me like this? Will she see me here next to the bed beating my meat because I can't fucking stay away from her?
God, but the scent as it drifts off her body makes me hungry, feral. Shame, guilt, lust, and desire all war inside my body as I stare at that one nipple, the only thing I'm allowed to see while she's sleeping. Such a perfect taut peak just begging for my lips.
Leaning forward, my harsh grunts wash over her breast, pebbling the skin of her dusky areola. She stirs then, shifting and twisting in the bed until she's flat on her back. The covers ride down, exposing her other breast to my hungry view.
They're large, heavy, and adorned with two perfect nipples. Ripe and ready for plucking.
Taboo.
Forbidden.
Virginal.
Off. Fucking. Limits.
If only my brain and cock could come to some conclusion. If only she wasn't temptation wrapped up in a barbed wire bow. If only I didn't care about her or my family.
But I do.
It's my failing.
It's my curse.
It's the only reason she's fucking safe in this house right now. Scrunching my eyes closed, I slide my hand up and down, furiously stroking myself as I picture the inevitable. If it had been any other Alpha than me…
It's rage that drives me now, an imagined impotence if someone else got to her first. It's one thing to rid an omega of their virginity, but it's something else if you don't know about it.
How I long to strap her down, to pin her to the bed and show her just how big, just how massive, we really are.
Oh, she saw it. She saw every inch of my massive cock just leaking for her. But there's a difference in seeing it and feeling it. Those toys she bought, those flimsy dildos don't even compare. The amount of time I spent looking at them, reviewing them, studying the measurements is pathological.
All of it equaled one thing.
Even at the biggest one, she's not prepared for me. Maybe I'm just a freak of nature. Maybe another Alpha would have been smaller and less likely to injure her. But that's not the point. The point is, she was so fucking reckless.
Fury blinds my vision as I stare down at her small form. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't fucking care. She's my stepsister. Someone I shouldn't want. Shouldn't need.
Why do I care so fucking much?
Why couldn't she just stay that small, insignificant pest who smelled like dirt and sunshine?
Why did she have to grow up to be a woman with a scent so lethal it can call pretty much any Alpha who's not mated to her side, convincing them to do unholy things with her body?
Convincing me to do unholy things to her body.
Dear God, but my balls draw up to the point of pain, stretching the supple skin taut as my knot swells at the base of my shaft.
She perfumed the room so sweetly when I handled her roughly.
Her pussy got so fucking wet when I defiled the cleft of her ass.
Fuck, my precum looked so perfect smeared across the red of her thong as it mingled with the slick staining the crotch a dark crimson.
I slam my fist to my mouth to keep from groaning out her name as I sit back on my heels and keep stroking. She lies there, unaware of what's going on around her. Even after that close brush with ruination, she still has no situational awareness.
Sliding out of my pants, I plop them on the floor in front of me. Precum slides down the underside of my cock, making my movements sticky and jagged. With each slide up, a thin rope eases out and drips down onto my pants. Great. Another pair that's ruined.
My knot continues to grow, angry and swollen from not allowing myself to feel relief earlier. I won't be doing that again. I need to get off. I need to empty my balls before I succumb to a rut.
Even now, I feel the pressure in the back of my head, an unrelenting ache as I watch my stepsister sleep without a care in the world. Her soft snores fan my face as she turns it toward me. There's a sweetness on her breath, as if she snuck some candy while up here alone.
I long to slide my tongue between her lips to savor what it is she ate, to see if I can figure it out by taste alone. I fucking got it bad. I know it. And unless I can fucking get off, it's only going to get worse.
Gripping my knot in one hand, I stroke with the other. Thick veins pop along my shaft with each ferocious grip. Hell, by the time I'm done, I won't be surprised if it's battered and bruised.
So close. So fucking close.
In her sleep, Lila slides her hand down beneath the blankets and moans softly. It whooshes out on her exhale, as if she intended that sound the entire time. She calls to me, entices me like none other.
I don't have to even see what her hand is doing to know she's pleasuring herself. Those small, tiny little grunts, the way her hips move beneath the fabric is all I need to know. It's all I need to see.
Somewhere in her sleep, in her deep subconsciousness, she must know I'm there. If she doesn't, her body does. It screams for me, calls to me, and demands I take her.
"Nate."
My name on her lips undoes me. It’s breathy and desperate, moaned in her sleep like an irreverent prayer. I can't hold back any longer, not when she calls for me so sweetly, so desperately, so fucking horny. I punch my fist into my pants to muffle the sound as cum pours from my cock.
It stains the fabric in thick, slimy ropes, coating it, soaking into it. Still, it pours out of me. No matter how much I stroke or grip my knot, it just keeps coming. My balls scream out in relief even as they cramp up in discomfort.
Gritting my teeth, I push past it until just a dribble drops from my slit, milking every last bit. Exhaustion overtakes me as blood drains from my cock and goes elsewhere. I sway back and forth for a moment before forcing myself to my feet, soiled pants in tow.
As I look over at Lila one more time, I force my mind to accept that she's not mine. She'll never be mine. If only she could stop smelling so fucking sweet. I turn from her and head to the bathroom where I clean up and shove my pants into a small bag so I can throw it out later.
My gut cramps as I lock the door behind me, fully shutting her out. It's delusional. I know this at my core. But I'm a soldier first and foremost. If anything, I know discipline.
Unfortunately, that's what scares me the most. Until Lila, nothing's been able to shake my resolve. Until my annoying little stepsister, I've been able to shove all distractions aside as needed to complete the mission.
But what if my mission is her?