We are at the hospital for a few more hours while the doctors confirm that Jameson has an ACL injury. His ligament isn’t torn, thank goodness, but it has been badly stretched and the joint is really swollen, which is why he’s in so much pain.
Janice refuses to stay out of Jameson’s cubicle and looks at me like five-day-old fish when she finds me in there with him. I jump up from my chair as though I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar and make my excuses to leave. Dad is in the waiting room with the guys so I go to hang out there.
In the end, Jameson is loaded up with anti-inflammatories and his knee is fixed into a brace that he’s going to need to wear for a while. He’s also been sworn off football practice for at least a month, with physical therapy recommended. The doctor has recommended he keeps his weight off his leg as much as possible and to keep the brace dry too. He’s basically confined to bedrest. It’s a lot for him to take on board, but I guess he must be relieved it wasn’t a tear. That definitely could have ended his career.
Dad drives me home and Janice travels with her sons.
And when we’re all back at the house, I make my excuses and head to the pool house. I call Sara to give her an update but she doesn’t pick up. Maybe she’s out with Red already. I message her to tell her to call me as soon as she can. I don’t want to be missing out on any of that kind of gossip.
When I’m showered, I put on my PJs and start to towel-dry my hair. It’s then I hear a knock at the door.
I pad through the den and open up to find Kyle on my doorstep holding a plate of food. So someone was thinking about me today.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he says. His eyes drift down my body like a feather stroking bare skin, and I feel completely exposed in my shorts and cami combo.
“That was a good thought,” I say, taking the plate. Kyle glances over my shoulder and into the room.
“You liking the place?” he asks. “Or is it a bit lonely out here?”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m getting used to it.”
He takes a step forward and looks around, like someone interested in buying a house. “You know this used to be used as storage, but then Mom decided we needed to do it up. Me and the boys…we did the decorating and tidied it up before you came.
“Well, that was very sweet of you,” I say. Suddenly my banishment out here doesn’t feel like such a rejection.
“We didn’t do a bad job,” he says.
“You did a great job,” I tell him. “Has Jameson settled in for the night?”
Kyle nods, swiping his hand through his glossy dark-brown hair. “Mom has made him go to bed already. She wants him off that knee and resting as much as possible, just like the doctor recommended. I mean, I know that rest is important for him, but he could have chilled on the sofa with his leg on a pillow. She’s gone into hyper nurse-mode. Next thing you know she’ll be sticking a thermometer up his ass in the middle of the night.”
“Ewww…she wouldn’t do that, would she?”
“Who the fuck knows what goes on in her head sometimes.”
I grimace, feeling pretty grateful that my mom is as cool as she is. “So, y’all just hanging out then?”
Kyle shakes his head. “They’re all studying…wanna hang out here?”
“I’m in my PJs. I was going to get into bed and watch TV.”
“Sounds good,” Kyle says without missing a beat, and I’m left clutching my plate of food as he heads into the back. Is he seriously planning on getting into bed with me to watch TV? I guess it’s the kind of thing that siblings would do, but I know his mind has been way outside of where sibling minds should stay.
I follow behind, racking my brain for some way of telling Kyle that this is a bad idea, but I come up with nothing that wouldn’t expose my snooping at the door yesterday. He toes off his shoes and flops on top of the covers, grabbing the remote and switching on the TV. I guess he probably fixed it to the wall for me and that’s why he’s so familiar with my bedroom.
I round the bed and perch on the other side, placing my dinner on the nightstand. I need cutlery so I have to make my way back to the kitchen and I’m sure I can feel Kyle’s eyes on my ass as I leave the room. Oh Lord. I need to keep my wits about me tonight.
By the time I’m back, Kyle has found a stand-up-comedy special for us to watch and is chuckling at the jokes.
“I love this guy,” he says. “He just nails it every time.”
“He’s pretty funny,” I say, trying to take small bites of food so I don’t end up choking and making a fool of myself.
Kyle puts his hands behind his head and stretches out. His t-shirt clings to his chest, curving over his rounded pecs and hugging his tight stomach. He smells good, too, of alpine-fresh manly soap, and my head feels woozy. How can I concentrate on TV when I’ve got so much man here to keep track of?
I manage to eat most of the salad and some of the chicken before I give up, leaning back on the pillows and trying to relax. The room gradually darkens as the sun sets outside and Kyle is still next to me, finding us new shows to watch each time one finishes.
Now we’re watching a detective show, but the main character is getting involved with one of the suspects and it looks like things are going to get hot on screen. This is so awkward and I know I’m blushing. Out of the corner of my eye I catch a quirk of a smile on Kyle’s lips that tells me he knows I’m feeling embarrassed. Then, out of nowhere, it turns violent and I almost jump out of my skin, screeching and hiding my face in the pillows right next to Kyle.
“Hey,” Kyle says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay.”
I mutter something about hating scary shows and Kyle shakes his head. “Tell you what. Take this pillow and come a bit closer, then you can hide if anything else comes on that you don’t like.”
It sounds like an innocent-enough suggestion and I’m really scared about what might be coming so I do as he suggests and move closer, holding the pillow in front of my nose so that I’m ready to duck behind it.
We watch the show for a while longer and the next time it gets scary, Kyle puts his arm around me and pulls me so my face is kind of buried in the pillow, which is pressed against his chest and his hand is over my ear. I can feel him shaking with laughter and I want to be pissed off with him but I’m not. He’s trying to protect me from feeling scared and that makes my insides feel like melted chocolate.
When it’s safe, I start to move back again, knowing that I need to put some distance between us while I can, but Kyle doesn’t seem to want to let go of me. I gaze up into his eyes and they’re not fixed on the screen anymore, but on me. I can feel his heart beating fast against my palm and his breathing quickens too. I know what he wants and even though it’s so wrong and foolish and dangerous, I find myself wanting it too.
“I think it’s going to get scarier,” he whispers. “Are you sure you can take it?”
I shake my head and he smiles, putting his finger under my chin and tipping my face upward. He blinks, his eyes roaming from my lips to my eyes. I can’t breathe, there is so much sexual tension between us.
“You got so pretty,” he says huskily.
My heart goes from racing to practically arresting in a second. Pretty. Kyle, God’s gift to womankind, really thinks I’m pretty.
I don’t know what to say. If I say no then that sounds like I don’t love myself, and if I say thanks, then I’ll sound really arrogant, but as I’m debating how to respond, Kyle seems to take my silence for something else.
I know he’s going to kiss me before he even moves. Something in his eyes screams intention.
I know that I should clear my throat and move away. Pretend I need to use the bathroom, or something, but I’m frozen in place. In truth, it’s less about me being overwhelmed at the idea, and more that he’s so gorgeous and smells so good.
The first press of his lips against mine is testing. It’s as though he’s going slow to give me a chance to tell him that his actions are inappropriate. Oh God, I should. I definitely shouldn’t be leaning in to deepen the kiss or putting my hand on his chest to check out the firmness of his body. It seems that’s all he needs to move from tentative to certain in one tiny moment, then his hands are grasping me and practically tossing me until I’m on my back on the bed and Kyle is looming over me.
“Shit,” he mutters as he kisses my neck, his huge palm sliding up my ribcage until it’s resting just below my breast. I think he’s going to move at a hundred miles an hour but, even though I can sense how tightly he’s coiled, he shows restraint. I want to tell him how badly I need his hot mouth on my nipples and his big cock between my legs, but I know he’d be shocked. He thinks I’m still the same little girl he knew, just bigger. He doesn’t realize that I’m a woman inside too. So instead of saying it, I show him.
I pull the strap of my camisole over my shoulder and expose my breast and Kyle’s eyes practically bug out, but he knows what to do. Thick fingers circle my nipple, pulling it tight and then he does what I’ve been fantasizing about. He latches on and sucks and I almost hit the ceiling with the pleasure of it. What happens next is frantic; me pulling at his clothes and him pulling at mine until I’m naked and panting. My mind is addled with lust, and foolish with something else. A need to belong. A yearning for someone to call my own.
I shouldn’t let my stepbrother slide down the bed until his face is between my legs and his hands are holding me down. I shouldn’t want his tongue to lap at my clit until my hips are rising off the bed and my body is tight with pleasure. But I do. I want it all and more, and he gives it to me, fingers parting my folds and pushing inside me at just the right moment to make me come and come and come.
I’m not quiet and Kyle reaches up to cover my mouth with his big hand, chuckling to himself and looking pleased as anything.
And then, as if he couldn’t get any better, he doesn’t assume that because he’s made me come that I’m going to let him fuck me immediately. He moves to lie next to me, stroking my body as I recover from the most intense orgasm of my life. It’s because of that that I want to fuck him even more.
He’s still wearing his boxers but it’s pretty obvious what he’s hiding down there.
“Maisie,” he smiles as my hand finds his cock.
I don’t know what to do with it though. Even through the fabric it feels huge. Huger than I know how to handle. I mean, I guess a cock is a cock, but this feels like a baseball bat or a nightstick or a fricking tree branch. Kyle’s hand encircles mine and he encourages me to stroke him up and down slowly.
“Lemme see it,” I say, my heart beating double time in my chest as he tugs the waistband down and reveals the cock I’ve been waiting for my whole life.
Artists should paint it. Singers should write songs about it. Angels should fall to the floor and worship it.
Somebody should sculpt in in marble so that I can have it next to my bed for the rest of my life.
Kyle has a cock that all men should be proud of, and he wants to give it to me.
“You think you can handle it?” He asks the question, which should sound boastful, completely earnestly. Maybe he’s had girls who’ve struggled in the past. I can certainly understand why.
“I’ll give it a try,” I say.
“That’s my girl.”
We have the conversation about protection but I’m on the pill and we’re both clean so I tell him we’re good to go bareback. I swear his eyes close slowly, as though he’s trying to process the most overwhelming news.
I’ve never had unprotected sex before but I trust that Kyle wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Although the family connection makes this weird, it’s reassuring too.
I’m not a small girl, but lying beneath Kyle I feel tiny. His knees nudge my legs apart, his fingers gripping my rounded hips so firmly that I shiver. Then he’s taking that big cock and stroking it through my folds, covering himself with my arousal. Well, he got me this wet so I guess it’s only fair to let him enjoy it.
When he first notches the big rounded head of his cock at my entrance, I have a moment of hesitation. There is no way that thing is going to get inside me without it hurting. He uses his weight to push forward and I feel my pussy begin to stretch. His lips find mine and he kisses me good and deep, all the time bearing down against my soft pink flesh. There’s no rush now, and because of that, I open just enough for him to get an inch inside. When I look between our bodies, it’s about as explicit as anything I’ve ever seen. My labia are flared around the head of his cock like a split-open rose. I feel soft and pliable and he is hard and unyielding. Maybe between us we can make the best possible combination.
“Fuck,” he mutters as he manages to push a little deeper. “Fuck.”
“It’s okay,” I say touching his face. “I can take it.”
His eyebrows raise as though he doesn’t believe me but he rests more weight on me and I can feel him penetrating deeper. Oh God it feels so good in the basest way. I just want to claw at his back to get him to move faster, harder. Anything to give me some relief.
His hand finds my nipple, tweaking it as he thrusts until it’s a sharp and tender point. Then his hot mouth closes over it and I’m in heaven.
Where did he learn to fuck like this? Maybe all the groupies that hang around trying to get into the pants of the football team. That should make me feel disgusted or jealous but at this moment, all I can feel is grateful.
My body is like putty; soft and warm and pliable. He puts one of my legs over his shoulder and gives me that deep grinding penetration that I’ve been craving. His body is punishing. Hard and muscular with just a tinge of roughness that gets me hotter than I thought possible. Oh God, I think I’m going to come. His hips roll, cock hitting that little bundle of nerves inside me and pelvis grinding my clit until I’m seeing stars.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh…”
My pleasure only seems to spur him on, his hips pistoning faster and faster as my pussy flutters around his dick. He seems to swell up inside me even more and as he comes, his body seizes, his face burying in my neck and breath coming hot and fast.
I feel him emptying inside me and I love it. He’s claimed me in a way, leaving a part of himself behind. It’s primal and raw.
And when he kisses me, I melt into him. It feels so intimate. Perfect.
Until there’s a knock at the door.
