Garrett
Thunder cracks, rattling the windows on the house, and my eyes fly open. I pick up my phone off the nightstand to check the time. It’s three in the morning. So much for getting a full eight hours.
I’ve tried the sleep aids and the supplements and the white noise machine, but nothing seems to work. I’m lucky if I get in four hours at a time.
That nap on the recliner today didn’t help much either. When I woke up, Mia was in her bedroom, and she didn’t come out. I couldn’t go for a run in the rain, and being in the house was making me stir-crazy. The last few hours have felt long and torturous.
Suddenly, there’s a figure standing in my doorway, and I freeze. Her long blonde hair is hanging down over her shoulders, silhouetted in the darkness.
She pauses there for a moment before crawling into my bed.
“Hey,” she whispers so delicately, I barely hear it. With her head on the pillow next to me, we stare at each other in the darkness, the only light coming from the moon through the window.
“Hey,” I reply, “storm wake you?”
She nods.
Something is up. I can feel it. It’s in the way she’s staring at me, her eyes searching mine as if she’s looking for something. And even though we had our fun in the kitchen, I assumed she was still mad at me from this morning. But she’s lying next to me peacefully. We’re not bickering or jabbing each other with insults, so this is not like us at all.
“Can I sleep here again?”
“Of course,” I reply.
We lie together for a while in comfortable silence, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I was around someone without talking for so long. I always assumed the laid back comfort I felt around Mia was because of our sibling relationship, but looking back on the last few years, I’m starting to see things differently. Even if we were always giving each other hell, it was just easier to be around her.
She moves to her back, staring up at the ceiling as she breaks the silence.
“Remember when you came to my high school graduation and booed when they called my name?”
My cheeks heat up as I turn toward her, and I expect a scowl, where there’s a smile.
“Yeah…” I reply.
“Or remember when you gave my prom date condoms right in front of Mom and Dad?”
Great. So she wants to relive all of the times I was a shithead to her.
“Or when you wrapped a box of tampons in an iPhone box and gave it to me for Christmas?”
“This is a fun trip down memory lane,” I say sarcastically.
“You’ve been tormenting me for years.” Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling, a warm expression on her face, and not at all what I’d expect. Mia has hated me for years for being such a bully to her, but suddenly, it’s like she’s seeing it all differently.
“You must really hate me,” I reply, lying on my back, one arm folded under my head. As she turns toward me, her crystal blue eyes catch the moonlight and sparkle with more warmth than I’ve ever seen. Something in my chest swells at the sight—at being the one those beautiful eyes focus on. It makes me feel like the only man in the world that matters to her.
Then, she crawls into my arms, resting her head against my chest in the same way she was this morning, her long blonde strands like silk against my skin. The coconut scent of her shampoo wafts up to my nose and something stirs inside me. Not quite lust, but not quite love either.
It has me thinking about Emerson and Charlie. Is that what he feels when he’s with her? If so, I can understand why he’s so attached. I can understand now why he loves without shame or regret. Because having Mia in my arms like this fills every crack and crevice inside me. There are no shadows or anxiety or fears. It’s just peaceful, quiet comfort.
“I don’t hate you, Garrett,” she whispers against my chest.
“Good. I don’t hate you either.”
Her arms wrap around my chest as her breathing starts to slow and she lets out a deep yawn. It’s so domestic and traditional, something I’ve always rejected the idea of, but now that I have her here, cuddling with me while the rain pours outside…it’s not so bad.
“I had fun today,” she murmurs in a sleepy slur.
“You mean the ice cube in the kitchen, I assume.”
“Yes, idiot.”
This time, I’m the one yawning, and the warmth of her body and the drone of rain against the windows are pulling me under.
“Good. I did too.”
Her hand drifts downward over the front of my pants, and I jolt, grabbing her hand before she can do any more. As enticing as playing again is, I don’t want to lose the sleep that’s just within my reach.
“Tomorrow,” I mutter against her head. “We’ll play some more tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she replies with another yawn.
With my lips against her head, I mumble, “I have something fun in store for you.”
“If this is what you had in mind for me today, I’m not impressed,” she whines as she pauses on the side of the trail, bending over to rest her hands on her knees and gasping for air.
I laugh as I pat her back. “Stop your bitching. It’s not that bad.”
There’s a hiking trail within walking distance of the house with a moderate incline and some breathtaking views. But what we’re really walking up here for…is the privacy.
We used to take this hike a lot when we first started coming to the lake house, and my perverted mind has been holding on to this fantasy of possibilities in these secluded woods for years. Now I’m ready to live them out. With the last person I’d ever expect to.
What still confuses me is the idea that if I ran into Mia at a bar or even at the club, would I see her the same way I see her now? Would she just be another beautiful woman I’d fail to connect with? Is our connection the result of years and years of plutonic chemistry and a deep, familiar relationship?
I want to believe that I’d be attracted to Mia, no matter what circumstance or universe we’d meet in, and this isn’t some creepy stepsister obsession I’ve developed. Or maybe I’m only this comfortable with her because I’m a coward, too afraid to even try building a relationship with a stranger.
That thought still nags at me. What if I’m unable to connect with anyone for the rest of my life? I was so content with being alone, but with each passing day, that idea grows more and more depressing.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, knocking me with her elbow.
“Nothing,” I lie.
“You’re not…regretting—’
“Regretting what?” I ask her. “Getting frisky with my stepsister? I’m not. Are you?”
“Not as much as I probably should,” she replies with a grin. “We’re both adults. Not blood-related. I mean…do you think our parents would even be that angry?”
My expression changes into one of shock. “Yes, I do. Your dad might actually try to drown me in the lake. People see us as siblings, and I’m thirteen years older than you, Mia. I’ve known you since you were a child.” I grimace. “That’s not going to go over well.”
“I’m not going to let him drown you,” she says. “As long as you make this hike worth it, because I gotta tell you…this is not the sexy surprise I had in mind.”
She shoves me in the chest, and I get the strange suspicion, based on the way she touches me, that she’d rather wrap her arms around my waist instead. The cuddling in my bed last night was different. It didn’t count. And when we woke up this morning, we went right back to being us again. No touching or intimate whispering. Back to being more…enemies-with-benefits, I guess you could say.
“Well, then tell me, camgirl…” I say, teasing as I crowd her, moving us toward the edge of the trail. “Have you ever touched yourself in public?”
Her eyes light up, staring up at me in shock. Then, her surprised expression morphs into a mischievous smile. “No…”
I crowd against her some more, and she steps backward again, until we are in the woods together. Turning behind her to see the crowded grove of trees that hide us, realization dawns on her face.
“Here?”
“Yes, here,” I reply. Leaning down until my mouth is next to her ear, I mutter, “I want to watch you come with strangers just a few feet away. You’ll have to be quiet, though. Can’t let them hear you.”
Her smile grows, but as I push her farther back into the woods, she tenses before looking up at me to say, “No.”
I pause. “What do you mean, no?”
It’s not the response I expected. Mia is an exhibitionist, and I want to be the one to take her to the limit of her comfort, pushing her to her max to see just how much she can take. And a nearly desolate hiking trail in the middle of nowhere is hardly a challenge. Don’t back out on me now, Mia.
To my surprise, she doesn’t argue. Instead, she takes my pants by the front and pulls me along, deeper into the expanse of trees, just far enough that we can still see the trail but have a touch of privacy.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I don’t want to touch myself anymore. How about you watch me…touch you?”
My heart nearly pounds its way out of my chest as I gaze down at her, her lips pinched between her teeth as she starts unbuttoning my pants.
“What?” I stutter. “No.”
The giggle that escapes her lips is equal parts sweet and devious. “What do you mean, no?” she replies, mocking me. The way her fingers are fumbling with my zipper is making it hard to breathe as her fingers graze the inside of my briefs.
“Mia,” I say, almost about to let it slip that it’s been a very, very long time since my dick was touched by another person, and that I’m not mentally prepared for it to be getting any attention today. But I’m too far gone now. Just the mention of her touching me has me over the edge and desperate for it.
I don’t think my dick could get any harder, but Mia quickly proves me wrong when she reaches in and wraps her warm hand around my aching length.
I groan as loudly as she does. Holy shit that feels good. I forgot how amazing someone else’s soft, warm touch could be.
With a giggle, she says, “You have to be quiet. Don’t want people hearing you.” No chance of that—I couldn’t keep it down if I tried.
I almost wish she knew just how long it’s been since I had a woman touching my cock, so she could know just how special this is. But she has no idea. For all she knows, this is just another hand job to me. But it’s so not.
She strokes me slowly, her grip tight enough to tease me, but not too tight to have me blowing too early. This wasn’t what I had planned today. I thought I’d bring her out here and watch her stroke her clit in broad daylight on a trail during the tourist season.
But when she lowers to her knees in front of me, I realize…I picked the wrong girl to toy with. Mia is not meek or shy or afraid to fight back. I should have known this. I might have made it sound like I could play with her, but this girl plays back.
While my mind is going a mile a minute, she suddenly gazes up at me and licks a wet circle around the bulging red head of my cock. My jaw falls open and my brain shuts off completely. Not a single thought registers as she takes me into her mouth.
Jesus-fucking-Christ.
“Oh fuck, Mia,” I whisper. My fingers dig into her white hair at the scalp, messing up her ponytail as she lets me slide my way in toward the back of her throat.
She moans around my solid length, taking it as far back as she can go.
She’s incredible. Fucking amazing. And even if I had been getting blow jobs in the past decade, this would still be the best one. Her mouth is so impossibly warm and wet and her movements aren’t rushed or too eager. She’s slow and delicate and perfect, feels like heaven around my dick.
With her hands gripping my hips tightly, she bobs her mouth up and down, moaning and slurping her way through my reckoning. She’s ruining me at this very moment, unraveling me piece by piece, until I barely remember my own goddamn name. How the fuck did I let this happen?
“Goddamn, baby. Look at you,” I mumble, staring down at her.
Her big blue eyes gaze up at me, tears pooling in them as she swallows me down.
“My cock is down your throat, Mia. It looks so fucking good from this angle. I can’t stop watching you.”
I feel my balls tighten with the threat of release, and I immediately stop her movement.
“Wait, wait,” I bark, pulling out. Closing my eyes, I take in deep breaths as I force myself not to come all over her. As the feeling finally subsides, I open my eyes and gaze down at her. She’s waiting with her lips parted. “Open your mouth, tongue out,” I say in a commanding whisper.
She does as I say, and I gently rest my swollen dick against her tongue.
“I want you to just hold my cock on your tongue. Don’t move, hear me? Just let me look at you.”
She obeys beautifully, not even wrapping her lips around me or fidgeting in the slightest. She knows I’m already at risk of losing it, so she stays as still as a statue, so I can just savor the feel of her soft, wet tongue against my cock and the amazing view in front of me.
We both flinch at the sudden sound of voices from far away. We wait, her mouth still frozen as a couple walks up the trail behind me.
I gaze down at Mia and put one finger to my lips as I ease my cock farther into her mouth.
The people are dangerously close now—and so am I.
“Look at me,” I whisper, and she gazes up again, tears welling in her eyes. With my hand on the back of her head, I force myself farther down her throat until I see her flinch with the need to gag, so I ease myself back.
It’s the proximity of the people on the trail and knowing that we could be caught at any moment with her mouth holding my cock that is so filthy and hot. I know she can feel it too.
“Close your lips around me,” I whisper, and she does. “Now, suck.”
The intensity of her mouth practically swallowing my shaft brings me to the edge. The suction is exquisite, warm and wet, and I’m cursing myself for depriving myself of this for ten years. With a hand on the back of her head, I fuck her mouth.
“I’m gonna come in your mouth, Mia.” I groan a little too loudly. A couple quick strokes later and my orgasm slams into me. I unload against her tongue. The sight is fucking surreal: her beautiful blue eyes on me as I cover her mouth with my cum. The pleasure hits in waves, lasting longer than I think I’ve ever lasted, shooting from the base of my spine and reaching every inch of my body in intense euphoria.
Once my cock is spent, I pull away and watch her. She’s staring up at me with wide eyes, tongue out, and I can tell she’s a little nervous.
“You can spit it out,” I say with a laugh.
With a look of relief, she leans over and expels my cum into the grass and leaves on the ground. I can’t keep in my howl of laughter as she gags and spits. When she’s done, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and I can’t keep my hands off of her.
Dragging her to a standing position, I kiss her hard. I don’t care about the salty taste on her tongue. I just need her in my mouth.
“Sorry,” she mutters into my kiss.
“Don’t be sorry. That was so fucking hot.”
“Really? I wanted to swallow it, but I just couldn’t do it.”
I laugh again. “I’m so proud of you.”
She giggles as I kiss her again. “Thank you.”
As we make our way back down, I keep replaying that last moment over and over in my head. Why did I say those things to her or kiss her the way I did? Maybe it was post-orgasm delirium or something, because that does not sound like something I’d say at all. It sounds too much like something a man in a relationship would say.
