by K. I. Lynn
Then . . .
“If you go near him, Kira, I'll tell Ryan.”
Oh my God. Is he serious right now? “You're fucking disgusting.”
“And I'll head down there myself and I think I will kill him, baby.”
Another shiver.
My legs move restlessly on the bed.
I catch myself and force my body to still.
What's wrong with me? I felt nothing but fury when Ryan came here and fought with Austin.
But hearing Brayden's warning leaves me panting. Breathless. My skin is feverish, humming with anticipation.
Dear God, I'm sick!
“Fuck. You. Brayden. Austin likes me. He treats me right. I deserve a chance to have something, damn you.”
“You deserve everything, baby. Everything.”
I'm going to cry, I realize, horrified.
Brayden doesn’t wait for my response, his tone once again flipping from soft to hard in the blink of an eye. “But I’m going to be the one to give it to you. Not someone else. And definitely not Austin.”
“You're unbelievable, ” I whisper, shaking with yearning, pain—brutal rage. “I was once your friend, you bastard. You obviously remember that. Why do you keep playing with me like this?”
“I'm not playing with you, baby—”
“Stop calling me that!” I explode, unable to take the pet name. How many other girls has he called that?
He’s silent for a moment, before coming back, his voice measured and even. “Listen to me. I fucked up because I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was never playing a game with you. Never with you.”
My body is so wired right now that all I want to do is jump off my bed and pace some of the energy off, but I can't. I'm so lightheaded from everything I feel that I doubt my legs would work. It's too much, too big to contain inside me. Too volatile to keep it controlled.
I have no outlet for any of it.
What I really need to do is hang up this phone and find a way to get myself together, but I can't do that, either.
“Putting me through all of that is what you call doing the right thing?” If that's what he considers the right thing, he can keep it.
“You're my stepsister, thanks to those two fucks. I didn't think there was any way for us to be together.”
“You're right. There's no way for us to ever be together, so there's no reason for us to continue this conversation. Leave me alone.” I start to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Don't you dare hang up the phone, or I swear I'll rent a car and drive straight over there.”
Brayden here? In person?
No. He can't come near me. Not when I feel like this. I'm done giving in to this need, letting it control my body.
He has to stay away from me.
“I don't want to see you,” I tell him, and I know he can hear how much I mean it.
“Liar.”
Asshole. “You said it. I'm your stepsister—”
“I don't care anymore. Don't you get it? We'll figure something out. I'm sick without you, Kira. I can't do this anymore.”
“Too. Fucking. Late.” Too late to realize that. Too late to finally tell me the one thing I waited years to hear. The one thing I would've once given anything to hear. “I hate you. I really, really freaking hate you. I hate you so much that I don't know how to deal with it or who to even aim it at.”
A sharp inhale on his end. A few seconds of stunned silence.
“I refuse to believe that's the only thing you feel for me, baby.”
I fist the covers tighter with my free hand. My whole body's on fire. Hate fuels it. The masochistic hunger for his skin.
Shame that after everything he's done to me, I still want to fuck him so badly.
“You don't have to admit it,” he murmurs. “I can feel it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Press my thighs together.
“Remember when you rode my face and came all over me?”
Every fucking day.
A whimper bubbles up inside me.
“I came just from tasting you,” Brayden groans. “You were that fucking good.”
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper miserably, the need to come driving me crazy.
“Because there’s still something between us, and it isn’t just your hate for me. I can fix it, baby. I can make it right.”
“No.”
“Yes, Kira. Let me fix it. Give me a chance.”
“No.”
His next groan is part frustrated, part completely turned on. “It’s meant to happen. I’m meant to—”
“What? Fuck me?” I try my best to sound indignant.
And fail.
“I’m meant to have you. All of you. I’ll give you everything you need.”
I hear a rustle of what sounds like covers moving on his end. His panting breaths. Is he on his bed? I imagine him lying there, aroused, and every nerve ending sparks to life. “You don’t get to just change your mind. Not after everything,” I remind us both.
“Then hurt me. Hurt me as much as you need to so you can make it even, but don’t be with anyone else. Have me.”
Spoken like a man that still doesn’t appreciate what it was like to love him for so long and know he was fucking other girls left and right.
Then he went off and got himself a girlfriend.
“I don’t want you. I want to try with Austin. See where it goes.” My body might not want it. The stupid thing beating in my chest might not want it. But I do.
I jump when I hear a loud crash on Brayden’s end, followed by a wild snarl. “Are you telling me you have actual feelings for that fucker?” he asks me in a hoarse voice.
Do it. Open your mouth. Say it. When I open my mouth, no words come out. At least not the one lie I so desperately need to tell him. “Why do you care? You obviously had enough feelings for that girl to make her your girlfriend.”
“I didn’t. Don’t you get it? I was trying to get you out of my mind. I thought she could do that. I thought fucking all those other girls would. It never worked. You were always fucking there. Even when I was with Amanda, you were all I could think about. You have no idea how many times she tried to cuddle with me, tracing our tattoo, and I couldn’t get her hands off me fast enough because it wasn’t you touching me.”
A tattoo? What is he talking about?
“And now you’re telling me you actually want that little shit to be your man?”
My throat closes up,and my mind races to process everything he just said. “Austin’s really nice to me. You stopped giving a fuck about how I felt a long time ago. You can remind me all about how we used to be friends all you want, but my friend decided to be a dick to me all these years. So fuck off.”
“Kira, God. I . . . I’m sorry. You are my friend. You and Ryan are the only real friends I’ve ever had, okay?”
I shake my head, pushing everything he said to the back of my mind. Refusing to believe him. “We’ll never be friends again. Get it through your head. And we’ll definitely never be more.”
“Are you going to tell me you don’t think about it anymore? What it would be like to date you, to have the right to touch you? Kiss you?”
My breath hisses out of me, loud, needy, and I know he heard.
“What it would feel like when my cock’s inside you, fucking you hard and deep.” His tone is ragged with lust.
I’m lost in the white-hot rush of desire that leaves my body aching even more. Biting my lip, I focus on fighting the sensation of my pussy clenching.
“You do think about it, don’t you?”
I hate him. God, I hate him—I want him, as hard as he promised. Hopefully hard enough to finally purge him from my system.
The sheets rustle again.
My breath hitches, and it feels like more blood rushes to my throbbing clit. With my eyes closed, all I hear is the loud beat of my heart, each of his loud, racing breaths.
When he moans out of nowhere, low and masculine, I jump and whimper behind
tightly clenched lips.
“That’s right, baby. You feel that. I’m the one touching myself, but you’re the one feeling it, aren’t you?”
His dick is in his hand? Now? Oh God. My cunt goes utterly wet. I’m so swollen with need I can feel it and can’t stop myself from rocking my hips uselessly on the bed.
“You’re wet for me right now. I know you are. No matter how much you hate me, that pussy still needs me.”
I clench my jaw, afraid to speak, of what I'll end up saying if I do. Every sense is overwhelmed by him, and I'm on the verge of forgetting every ounce of pain he's caused me.
My mind remembers that cock. What it looked like, hard for me, while my pussy glided up and down the underside. It'd been nudged right up against me, teasing me with the promise of all the pleasure it could give me.
“I should have fucked you that night,” he says, and I almost die when I realize we've been thinking about the same thing. “I should've just ignored everything and taken what's mine. You're going to make me come so hard the day I'm inside you.”
My hand fists in frustration. I can't take it anymore. Biting my lip, trembling, I lean back on the headboard and work my hand inside my shorts.
My fingers slip through wet lips, sliding over my distended clit, and my back arches at a sharp angle. I stroke gently, panting under my breath and hoping he can't hear me.
“I want to fuck you so bad, Kira.”
I want to fuck him, too. Always him.
Fuck, this is incredible, and I can't fight it. Him, on the phone, moaning for me while we play with ourselves.
I rub circles into my clit, slide a finger inside. A small mewl breaks out of me at the sensation.
“Shit,” Brayden whispers. He sounds desperate. Wild. I've never heard him like this, not even that night back in his room when we almost fucked. “Kira, talk to me. Tell me how wet you are. My cock's so hard. No one ever gets me like this. Only you.”
I refuse to give him anything. This is for me. It's about how good he can make me feel while listening to him fall apart for me.
Being with Austin left a gaping, unsatisfied void in my body. I need this pleasure Brayden's giving me to fill it. Make it go away, if only for a little while.
I pump my fingers in and out, teasing my opening. “How hard are you?” I ask him, not caring anymore if he can hear how horny I am.
He'll never be truly mine. I won't allow it; no matter what he does to my body, I don't want it. He'll only end up hurting me more.
But right now, he's mine to use as I see fit.
Fuck. That turns me on.
He's been nothing but a whore, fucking women all over the place. If I want to use the image of his cock and the sound of his voice to get myself off, I will.
“I'm about to fucking explode,” he growls.
I arch up, my walls clenching eagerly around my finger. It's not enough, so I slide in another one. “You didn't answer my question, Brayden. Exactly how hard are you?”
Jesus. What is this? What's gotten into me? I have no clue where this is coming from; all I know is that each sound he makes sends another jolt through me, and I need more.
“God. I can't take it. You sound so—”
I let out a moan, needing to jack him up higher. I want him delirious. Out of his mind. “Do you want me?”
“Fuck. I need you. You sound so sexy right now. Do you know what it's doing to me? My dick aches. It's yours.”
I whimper, fucking myself faster. “You fucking liar.”
“No. I'm yours. Just like your pussy is mine. I'm going to be inside you one day, Kira, this cock stretching you wide open, and you're going to take every fucking inch into that tight, juicy cunt. Then you'll feel how much it belongs to you."
I writhe on the bed, riding my fingers faster, using every bit of my willpower not to call out for him. Beg him to come and give me everything he's describing.
“I'll fuck you until you scream, begging me to stop, but we'll both know you'll be lying. You'll want it deeper. That pussy will be so greedy for me, baby, I know it will.”
This is torture. The most delicious torture, but I can't take much more. I grind my palm into my clit, feeling more pleasure spark through my body.
“Let me hear you. Please. I want your sexy little moans in my ear when I come this time. Please, baby. Please.”
I can't deny him. Not when he sounds that sexy begging me like that. “Brayden.” His name is a broken, breathless whisper.
“Fuck!” he cries out. “Oh God, yes. Say my name like that again. I'm going to come. Shit.”
He sounds wrecked.
My eyes roll back behind my closed eyelids. My hips lift off the bed as I thrust harder and harder. “Brayden. God. Brayden.” I'm dizzy from the rising pressure, my fingers slick with how aroused I am. I press my thumb into my clit—my back arches again as I shatter, the climax ripping through me so hard that I have to bite my lip to hold back my screams.
But there's no silencing the pleasure, and I hear the small, breathless moans that repeatedly leave me as I pump my fingers into my coming cunt.
Brayden's voice breaks on a roar. “Ah. Ah fuck. Yes. Oh, God. I'm coming for you, Kira. Baby . . . baby, yes.”
I'm trapped as another wave rushes through me, rocking me deep in my core, until I'm left spent on the bed.
My legs fall open, limp. My hand, panties, and shorts are drenched with my juices. My nipples are so fucking tight inside my bra.
The hunger remains. Slightly dulled, but still too powerful.
It wasn't his fingers, mouth, or cock that gave me an orgasm. Only his voice.
And my body knows it.
Brayden pants my name, sounding as shocked as I feel.
What the hell was that?
I know the answer to that, don't I?
“That's never happening again,” I say, shooting up into a sitting position.
“Kira—”
“No. I still want you to leave me alone.”
“Wait.”
“I don't trust you. I'm never going to again. Doesn't matter anyway because you're my stepbrother. Just forget everything. You're good at that. Goodbye, Brayden.” I hang up the phone and shut it off.
Then I spend the rest of the night trying not to cry.
Kira blocked my number.
It took me less than a day to figure that out. At first, I thought she was just refusing to reply to my messages, sending me straight to voicemail.
At around three in the afternoon, years of knowing the girl finally kicked in and I came to the most logical conclusion.
Kira is the queen of shutting people out when she's angry at them. So many times Ryan and I would annoy the crap out of her when we were kids. We'd cross the line, and she'd throw us in the furniture corner. Meaning she'd start treating us like nothing more than another piece of furniture.
Immobile. Inanimate. Unfeeling.
Completely ignorable.
And it got to us every single time. Especially me. I could never ignore her stubborn little ass for more than a few seconds at a time, but she could somehow go hours. Sometimes even days.
It drove me absolutely fucking insane. It'd get to a point where I'd end up doing anything to get her attention again. Because she figured out early on that it was the most effective form of punishment, she got good at it really quick.
Now, I wasn't one hundred percent sure she'd blocked my number when I called my service provider, but my gut told me I wasn't wrong.
I also wasn't about to take any chances, or waste any time. So once my new number is active on my phone, I text it to anyone that matters, then I text Kira.
Stop blocking me.
My fucking God, you're crazy.
I love that she responded instantly and that she knew it was me. Crazy because of you. Now save my new number.
How about I block this one too?
See? I knew she blocked me. I know my girl. Then I'll just keep getting a new one. I'm not giving up on you Kir
a.
I'll change my number. How about that?
Fine. I'm gonna let your brother know I need to borrow the car. I'll be there by tonight.
No!
I smile. Her fear of seeing me reveals so much. I wonder if she's even aware of that. Then don't block me.
It's really fucked up how you're trying to not give me a choice in this, asshole.
You never gave me a choice. It's true. She merely existed and I was hooked.
You had your choices! Thousands of them if I dare to count.
I told you. None of them mattered. It was only ever you and I'm going to prove it.
You had that chance.
It was taken from me. I’m taking it back.
She didn't block my number again, but she doesn't really respond to my messages either.
Which is fine, like I originally said. As long asshe's seeing them, it's all good.
It's been two weeks since then. Spring break is days away. Ryan was planning on going home. Now he's decided last second to travel down to Florida with his forever crush, Dana.
Leaving me to battle that urge to go see Kira like the gladiators of old.
A little less than two months, I tell myself. Two more months, and I can finally see her without worrying about losing control.
But it seems like a fucking eternity. Every day, I pass the limit more and more, and I'm so far beyond it at this point that I can't even see it anymore.
Before, I at least had the other girls to dull the ache just a little. It never really worked for long, but it was something, a release. Now, I refuse to do anyone else. I'm on track to getting my girl, and I don't want any random chick's hands on me. Not anymore.
Abstaining has never really been my thing, I'll be the first to admit. I'll do it now, though. It's a no-brainer. I now know what it feels like when someone else has touched the person you love.
I won't do that to her anymore.
I won't do it to myself.
But it also means I'm literally fucked. Stuck with this hot, mounting frustration, my cock counting every second down.
My dreams revolve around her.
I wake up, fucking my bed or my hips thrusting into the air, while thinking about her.
It's hell, and I'm so worked up all the time, remembering my girl's sex voice, the tiny moans she tried so hard to hide from me, that it feels like every stroke of my dick against my jeans is going to set me off.