by Selena Kitt
“He did this to me, didn’t he?” she whispered. Lara felt him nod his assent. “And he did this to you, too, didn’t he?”
Her fingers moved over his collarbone, touching his throat, from which that one pained word had been uttered.
Another nod.
“I wish I could remember,” she whispered, her fingers moving up to trace his lips, feeling their fullness, his breath warm.
But she wasn’t sure, anymore, if she did want to remember. Maybe her mind was protecting her from things she really didn’t want to know.
“I love you so much,” she breathed, finding her lips with his and pressing them there.
She felt his hesitation, felt him holding back. Did he not want this? Had she misjudged his feelings for her?
“I don’t blame you,” she choked, pulling away from him. “I know it’s sick. It’s all so sick and wrong and twisted. You’re better than this. I get that. You always were.”
Lara turned her body away from him, not wanting him to see her face contorting with tears.
“I can’t help loving you,” she confessed, tears overflowing, as much as she tried to hold them back. “I know it’s wrong—I know I shouldn’t. And I want you to know—”
She felt his hand on her bare shoulder and her breath hitched. “I don’t… I don’t… blame you… for not loving me… that way.”
“Lara.” His throat crackled with her name as he turned her to face him. She felt him struggling with his words, struggling with his throat to say them. He forced them out, thick and guttural. “I do. I… do love you.”
“How?” she whispered. She had to know. “Like a sister?”
One growled word. “No.”
Then he was kissing her, and there were no more words. His mouth claimed hers, his hands roaming over her, hot and demanding. There was no more hesitation in him now, and Lara reveled in it.
She gasped for breath when they parted, suddenly paralyzed by what they were doing—what they were about to do. There was no going back from this.
But in spite of her fear, Lara’s hand moved down to his waistband. She hesitated, waiting for him to stop her, but he didn’t. Her fingers explored his length through his jeans, stroking lightly through the denim. He shifted his weight on the bed, giving her more room, and Lara accepted the silent invitation.
Unzipping him, she reached in, astonished at her sudden boldness. But her need for him was desperate, overwhelming.
She heard his breath catch when she freed him, shoving his boxers and jeans down his hips. She wished she could see his face, watch the pleasure grow as his cock grew thick in her hand.
But his moans told her exactly what she needed to know—he wanted this.
He wanted her.
And she didn’t care anymore if it was wrong—it didn’t feel wrong. That was all that mattered now.
Preston slipped his jacket off, an easy, unhurried gesture. Lara pulled his shirt up and off after it, eager to feel his skin against hers.
It was strange to her, this growing lust, because she’d never enjoyed sex. For her, it had always been something to be tolerated. With her stepfather, it was always painful in some way, a show of submission to someone far more powerful than she was. And of course, he had never allowed boys around, although there were plenty who had tried. A few of them had managed to break down her barriers enough to allow them in, however briefly. But those sweaty, fumbling boys with their groping hands and fast, hot thrusts had done nothing for her. She’d borne it once or twice, hoping that maybe it might induce some feeling in her, only to find herself disappointed.
But Preston was different. He’d always been different. She sensed his alertness, watching her. He was in no hurry—didn’t greedily grab her breasts and suck them like they weren’t even attached to her body. He didn’t force himself on top of her and take what was his.
Instead, he leaned back and let her explore, let her set the pace. She stripped him down, wishing she could see every inch of him as her hands moved over his skin. There were scars she didn’t understand, couldn’t fathom, on his legs, his belly, his back. They were old wounds, not new, and she frowned as she traced them with her fingers.
When Lara kissed her way past those scars and nuzzled his cock against her cheek, she heard him let out a pent-up breath. His hand moved through her hair, caressing, not guiding or forcing.
Her lips closed around him, tasting him for the first time, salty and hot. She used her mouth and tongue, wrapping her fist around the base to hold him still, hearing his breath coming faster as she worked her head up and down. The sound of him, the feel of his hips shifting to meet her, was darkly exciting. She’d never wanted a man like this, had never felt the stirring of lust deep in her core that she experienced now. It was like she’d been waiting for Preston all along, had been denying herself because he’d been taken from her, and now that he was home, in her arms, nothing could hold her back anymore.
“I want you,” she told him, gasping as she came up for air, feeling his hands pulling her toward him.
He kissed her, his tongue outlining her lips, seeking entrance, and she knew he could taste himself in her mouth as she opened to him. Preston rolled her to her back, easing his weight onto her, his thick, powerful thigh pressed between hers. The heat of it was almost enough to make her faint with wanting him. She’d never wanted anything more. She was utterly astonished by the intensity of her desire for him, but she didn’t question it. Her body was like liquid fire under his, melting at his touch. She was desperate to have him inside of her, clinging to him, begging him for it like a child, whimpering, but he didn’t acquiesce.
Instead, he kissed every inch of her, his big hands leaving trails of heat all over her body. There was no groping or fumbling from him—instead he seemed keenly attuned to her response. He played her like he was tuning an instrument, warming it up for a big performance.
Her breasts molded to his hands, her nipples bursting forth, seeking the heat of his mouth. The honey between her legs flowed easily. His fingers played in it, tracing unintelligible patterns on her inner thighs in the wetness before exploring her soft folds. His palm rocked against her pubis, slowly stroking up and down her slit. Then he focused on her clit, strumming it lightly, making her moan and lift her hips to meet him. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, he pushed her thighs back and captured her clit between his lips.
The soft lash of his tongue was something she couldn’t have imagined, even in her wildest dreams. No one had ever done that to her before, and if she’d had any control over her body whatsoever, she would have been embarrassed by the way she bucked her hips and begged him not to stop, to never stop, because it felt so good she thought she just might die if he did…
And then she did die, for one brief, shuddering moment, her entire body became a livewire, jerking and contorting with the pure, lightning sensation of her first climax.
Lara came so hard she saw stars in the darkness, her eyes wide and staring blindly at the ceiling, at the vast ocean of the universe circling far above them, Preston her only anchor, his big hands holding her hips so she wouldn’t float away. Gasping, she reached for him, more than ready now, aching to feel him fill her.
He propped himself on his elbows, nuzzling her ear, tracing the shell of it with his tongue, his breath hot and fast. She could feel the heat of his cock, the full, thick length of it riding the seam between her thighs, not inside of her yet, where she desperately wanted him. Lara cupped his face in her hands, turning his head so he had no choice but to look at her. She wished more than anything she could see his eyes, but she could feel them, and she closed her own as she kissed him deeply, drawing him into her.
Preston let out a moan against her mouth, shifting his hips and aiming himself. Lara wrapped her legs around his waist, arching to meet him as he pushed his way into her flesh. She was more than wet enough, but he wasn’t a small man—anywhere—and the sheer size of him made her gasp. She’d never been so fill
ed before.
He eased back slightly, his voice a croak in her ear. “Hurt… you?”
“No,” she whispered, pressing her heels into the small of his back, pushing him in deeper. “You’re not hurting me.”
Slowly, he pressed in and groaned as she tightened around him, a fierce, clinging welcome.
Lara had a moment of clarity—it had never been like this before. She was far from a virgin, but her body had only ever been used. No one had ever caressed her this way. Things had been taken from her—but never given. Not like this—selflessly, with no strings attached.
No one had ever reached inside her like this man and drawn out the pureness at her center.
Then, Preston began to move, and she couldn’t think about anything anymore. She couldn’t see a thing, but she could feel him, all of him, as he gave her long, tender strokes with his cock, petting her pussy like it was a cat arching for more, more. Lara’s hands moved over his chest, damp with sweat, settling on his biceps as he propped himself above her. She felt his muscles working, flexing with every motion, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, following the heated pattern of his breath against her cheek.
He took her hand and guided it between them. Lara’s whole body flushed when she felt the place where they were joined, his cock wet with her juices, pounding into her now, seeking to fill her with heat. His fingers moved, guiding hers to the throbbing button at the top of her slit. She let him do it at first, moving in a tight, delicious, little circle around her clit, her fingers growing wetter, her pussy fluttering with feeling. Her body writhed under his, completely out of control.
“Come,” he growled, driving deeper, harder, into her flesh, and the sound of his voice made her shudder all over.
She was ready for the sensation this time—her hips bucking up to meet his as her pussy clamped around his cock again and again, pleasure jolting through her. Lara rubbed her clit to increase the feeling, moaning as she felt his cock begin to throb deep inside of her. Preston grunted, giving one last, hard thrust, grinding his pelvis into hers, pinning her quivering body to the bed with his.
They rode the wave together, a raging torrent, a tsunami racing to shore and sweeping away everything before it. For Lara, there was no more pain, no more fear, no more shame. She clung to him and knew that this was meant to be, that she was his and he was hers, and there was nothing in the world that could change it.
She gasped when she opened her eyes and saw his face, the love shining there.
I can see!
“Preston,” she whispered, tears blurring her newly-returned vision, as she reached up to touch his cheek. “I can…”
Remember.
Suddenly, she remembered everything.
~ Twenty-Four Hours Ago ~
“But I don’t understand.” Lara kept saying it, over and over, even though he’d explained it to her as quickly as he could, given their time constraints. “He said you were dead.”
Preston snapped her suitcase closed, picking it up off the bed and heading toward the door. “Do I look dead to you?”
She blinked at him from where she was standing in front of her open closet door, clothes strewn everywhere. He’d only given her five minutes to pack, after all.
“Is it really you?”
Preston put the suitcase down and went to her, pulling her into the circle of his arms and holding her close. “I know this is a lot for you. I’m sorry. But we just don’t have time—”
“Kiss me.” She turned her face up to his, searching his eyes.
He looked like Preston—despite his shaved head and the dark circles under his eyes—and he sounded like him, too. She desperately wanted to believe him, but she’d spent so long mourning that she couldn’t quite believe this was real. Was she dreaming? She needed something more—something to prove to herself that he was flesh and blood.
Preston tilted his head, a question in his eyes, but she didn’t let him puzzle too long. Instead, she put her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
The moment their lips met, her body responded. His mouth was soft at first, but when she opened hers, her tongue licking at his lips, he let out a little groan and pulled her closer, hard. Lara gasped for breath as he crushed her against him, his hands at her lower back, moving up into her hair as their kiss deepened.
When they parted, she looked at him through prisms, knowing once and for all that this really was Preston—she wasn’t dreaming.
Or, if she was, she didn’t want to wake up.
“I love you,” she told him, tears beginning to fall. “I always loved you.”
“Lara…” There was hesitation in his voice, a warning, and her heart dropped when he turned his face away.
“Why did you come here?” She clung to him, refusing to let him go. “You didn’t have to come back for me. So, tell me… why?”
“Because…” He looked pained, like the answer he was about to give hurt him to say. “You’re my sister…”
“No.” She vehemently shook her dark head, not letting him wiggle out of it, not now, not anymore. “Technically, I’m your stepsister. But that’s not why. Tell me, Preston.”
“Lara…” That warning again.
“The truth!” She gripped his big biceps in her hands, digging her nails in, seeing him wince. “Goddamnit, Preston—you owe me that!”
“No!” He pushed her away, so hard she nearly stumbled but caught herself against the bureau.
When she looked back at him, she saw he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.
Her heart broke, just looking at him. Lara went to sit beside him, feeling him jump when she put a hand on his shoulder.
“Preston…” She felt tears welling up again. “Please. After everything… can’t we at least be honest with each other?”
“I can’t.” He shook his head, not looking up at her.
“Why?” she cried, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat.
“Don’t you see?” He did look up at her, then, his eyes blazing. “It makes me just like him!”
His words nearly stopped her heart.
“No.” She shook her head, but he wasn’t listening.
“You want me to tell you I love you?” He let out a short, strangled laugh, running a hand over the top of his shaved head before standing and beginning to pace the room. “Okay! Fine! Yes! It’s true! I love you. And not like a goddamned sister.”
He stopped then, his gaze moving over her, the dark look in his eyes making her feel weak.
“That’s why he got rid of me, you know.” His words were soft, but there was power in them. “He wanted you all to himself.”
She sat there, feeling like she’d just been punched in the stomach, unable to move or breathe.
“If I’d known back then, what he was doing to you…” Preston’s hands clenched into fists. “
“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” she choked, unable to ebb the flow of tears down her face. “What did you mean he got rid of you? What are you talking about?”
“Lara, there’s no time.” He sighed. “Please. Let’s just go. I can tell you all about where I’ve been when we’re safely on a plane.”
“What did he do to you?” she whispered, wanting to know and, at the same time, afraid of the answer.
“He sent me away.” Preston’s jaw worked, the light in his eyes disappearing, becoming flat and dull. “Away from you.”
“Oh my God.” Lara was really sobbing now and she buried her face in her hands. “This is all my fault.”
Preston’s arm moved around her shoulders as he sat on the edge of the bed. She let him pull her into his arms, let him comfort and rock her.
“It’s not your fault.” He kissed the top of her head. “We were just kids, back then. He had all the power.”
“He still does,” she choked, clinging to him.
“I got away.” He lifted her chin, cupping her face in his hands and wiping at her tears with his thumbs. “And so can y
ou.”
“With you.” She couldn’t keep the hope from her voice.
“Please, Lara.” He swallowed, shaking his head. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“You’re not like him, Preston.” She felt her mouth tremble. “You’re nothing like him. You have to know that.”
“Yes, I am.” He frowned, his brow crinkling. “I spent years in hell, and all I could think about was you, Lara. You were the thing that kept me alive—kept me from killing myself. You were my hope. I knew, if I ever escaped, that you were my destination. I have never loved or wanted anyone more in my life—and, as long as I live, I know I’ll never feel as deeply for another woman as I do for you. Even if I can never have you. It doesn’t matter. I’m here to set you free—that’s what matters.”
“Preston, I don’t want to be free.” She put her arms around his neck, wiggling closer to him on the bed. “I just want you.”
He gave a little groan, closing his eyes and lowering his forehead to hers. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is. If I give in to this… to you… I’m no better than he is.”
“You are ten times the man he is, Preston. You are the only good thing to ever come out of him.” She cupped his face in her little hands this time, pulling back so he was forced to look into her eyes.
He frowned and shook his head but she kissed him, their mouths full of the salt from her tears. She felt the love in him, felt him holding it back, like a dam about to burst.
“He forced me,” she reminded him softly, her words eliciting a pained sound from his throat. “But Preston—I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you.”
Her stepbrother looked into her eyes and she saw the struggle there, saw him torn between what the world said was moral and what felt right.
“I wanted to die when you died,” she whispered when he didn’t respond. “I don’t know what kept me from killing myself. Maybe some part of me knew you were out there somewhere… but Preston… I can’t lose you again. It really would kill me.”