Cry Little Sister (12 page)

“Then what’s wrong?” He smiled, looking patient and beautiful…and in control. His fingers stroked her cheek. “Tell me, Jordan. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know if I can…not come, I mean!”

Chapter Seventeen

“Why don’t you just try,” he said. But he said it like it would be a bad idea to fail.

Jordan’s skin rippled with nervousness, her stomach bottomed out. But she forgot it all when Gareth drew the tip of his cock along the outer edges of her nether lips. The pressure was nearly overwhelming and he wasn’t even near her clit.

“You just do your best,” he said, his voice seductive and rough. “Not to come.”

He slid the head of his cock along the other side, effectively circling her inner lips and building the pressure that started a heady bang of blood in her clitoris.

When he nudged in between her folds to press the tip of himself to her swollen clitoris, she clutched at her own bonds.

She was so wet, so fucking wet she could feel her own moisture on her upper thighs. She spread her legs, wantonly. Wanting him to see how red and flushed and ready she was. How wet and plump her pout was. She arched her hips—terrified she would come but also hoping against hope that she would.

Gareth drove into her, his big hands on her shoulders, pinning her to the bed. His body slammed her body and she was pushed a few inches up on the mattress. He was so rough—it was so fucking good—she cried out. The ties on her ankles tightened with the impact even as the ones on her wrists loosened a bit.

Gareth lowered his mouth to her ear and started to talk. That’s when she knew she was in trouble.

“When I would lie down here at night in my bed, I’d think about you. I’d masturbate to dirty fantasies about my own sister.”

“Oh God,” she breathed, that familiar tightening already starting. “Don’t Gar—”

“Hush up, little sister,” he said amiably, reminding her of her promise. “You don’t tell me what to do, I tell you what to do.”

She nodded, chewing her lip even as her hips jolted up to meet him, her cunt gripping tight to take him. She sighed and he started to talk again, his breath hot on her ear.

“I wondered what was wrong with me. Most boys hated their sisters. Most of them couldn’t stand the sight of their sisters. Me, I was fucking in
love
with my sister. I beat off thinking about her pretty pink pussy. Thinking about taking her small perfect breasts in my hands and pinching her nipples until she cried. But then begged me to do it some more.”

Jordan felt her inner muscles flicker, the blood quickening in her brain and growing heavy and in intense in her pelvis. With each driving thrust, his sharp pelvic bone banged her clit and the pressure and need for release inside of her grew bigger. So big she felt it would push her under and she’d simply disappear.

She wished she could wrap her legs around his waist and tilt herself to take him deeper. She wished she could use the muscles in her thighs to thrust up to meet him but her ankles were bound. She wished she could say anything that made sense but couldn’t because he’d reduced her to soft sighs and needy sounds.

“I thought I was crazy. Wanting you. Dreaming about you. Getting myself off to thoughts of fucking you, taking you every way that I could imagine. Fucking your mouth. Your pussy. Your ass.” He pushed his lips to her earlobe when he said that one and Jordan felt the first sudden jolt of release.

She was never going to make it.

“You’re so tight and wet, Jordan. You’re going to come. Aren’t you?”

“No.”

It was a lie.

“Yes, you are. Very soon. You like to hear how you made me come undone all those years.”

He grasped her hips in his hands, his body crushed to hers—pinning her down—as the thrust in a faster tempo. His hipbones banged hers hard enough to bring a flash of pain to her nearly crushing pleasure.

“No,” she whispered.

Another lie.

“I watched you once, in your room. Did you know?”

“No,” she gasped and this time it was the truth.

“I watched you get off. I watched you lying on your bed with your legs wide open. You pretty little cunt almost the same shade of pink as your bedspread. And the way your paler pink fingers played over your wet folds. Over that hard little bud of you clitoris. How you pushed your fingers into your pussy and arched your back and lifted your hips.”

She was coming. The spasms jumping to life deep inside of her and then rippling out like waves in water. Jordan tossed her head and moaned but he kept his mouth close to her ear so she could hear.

“And I stood there, risking being caught at any moment, and jacked off. Right at your door. Dick in hand, pumping for all I was worth so we’d come together. And when you came, I came, right on the rug by your door. Like some kind of twisted offering to you, the sister who haunted me.”

The force of her orgasm settled on her and Jordan sobbed with it. She’d have given anything to be able to hold him as she came. Instead her arms twisted and whipped around inside their dark bonds. Gareth clamped his teeth to her jaw, his teeth pricking at her skin. Then he growled at her, his body bucking with his own release.

“And you’re doing it again. Making me come undone. Fuck Jordan, I always unravel when it comes to you.”

He pressed his forehead to her forehead and his lips to hers as his own violent release took him. Jordan relished the feel of her body clamping up tight around him, milking him and taking him and connecting with him.

She rode out all the sweet little spasms that followed and watched his body tense over hers. God, how she loved him.

God, how it scared her.

*****

Jordan washed her face and her hands. She’d used the bathroom and considered a shower but blew it off. After dinner. The sweet pulsing pleasant ache in her sex wasn’t something she was ready to wash away. And the heat would keep her from feeling the subtle pulse of where her bonds had been.

When she shut her eyes, alone in the tiny bathroom, she could feel the heavy welcome crush of his body on hers. The wet stroke of his tongue over hers. His hot breath on her ear and her neck. And the words…all that he’d said to her—all that had pushed her over the edge—ricocheted around inside her head, a constant cherished hum of information.

He loved her.

He’d loved her for a long time.

It made loving him a bit easier for her to handle.

A soft knock and she turned toward it. “You eating, Jojo?”

“Yes. Of course.”

When she opened the door he was filling the doorway, his lean body looming over hers. Jeans low on his hips, feet bare, hair mussed—he was a work of art, she thought. So much like her though now that she knew…she saw their differences.

Bonnie Donaldson. You’ll make it right for him…

“Steak’s ready. Simple sides. A salad and some bread. Some wine.” He pinched her nipple gently through the light robe she’d thrown on. The pink tip pressed the fabric in response to his touch.

“Sounds good. Sounds perfect.”

He leaned in, kissing her gently at first but then pushing her to the wall and taking her mouth. His cock ground against her hips and she wanted him all over again. It was a slam of emotion she had not expected and it made her throat tight and her stomach tingly for a second.

“And you’re still in trouble,” he said.

“For what?”

“For coming.”

“But—“

“And for pushing me over the edge and making me come.”

So that’s how it was. She would be punished for both. A buzz of terrified anticipation raced along her skin.

“This time we’ll get you used to leather.”

“Leather?”

“You’ll see,” he said, taking her hand. “But first, we eat.”

The steak was perfect. He’s always been the one to cook it the way she liked. Their father had always turned it into a crispy critter, as she and Gareth called it.

“What are you going to do tomorrow? I do have to work on that roofing job with Mikey.”

She shrugged. “No idea.” But she did. She’d try and find Bonnie.

“What are you going to do about your job…your apartment?” His voice changed a bit when he said it.

There was fear in there.

“I don’t know,” Jordan said. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

It would be silly to assume just because they were weeding out the truth and they were sleeping together that she was welcome to stay indefinitely. She’d never assume that or try and move herself into his life. Gareth had always prided himself on his bachelorhood and his lone wolf attitude.

Besides their dad, no one had been a constant in his life once Jordan moved away.

“Oh, well, you don’t have to worry about money while you’re here. The will’s being worked out and obviously you’re in it. But also, there’s a monthly allowance in place that will more than feed and clothe and put a roof over our heads.”

“Dad had his shit wired tight in that department,” she laughed. “The money guru.”

“You know it.”

They ate the rest of the meal in relative silence. A pretty comfortable silence. But under it Jordan could sense some kind of uneasiness from him. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.

When he wiped his mouth and threw his napkin down he grinned at her. “Dishes first or after?”

“What?”

“Dishes
first
or
second
?”

“First or second to what?”

“Your punishment.”

Jordan had so struggle not to choke on her final bite of dinner.

“You were serious about that?”

He brushed an errant hair from her brown. “Sweetheart, I never joke about
that
.”

Chapter Eighteen

She’d chosen the dishes. But as she washed them she wondered why she’d made that choice. Her hands were shaking and her mouth was dry and her stomach tossed with nerves.

“Don’t take too long,” he’d said and patted her bottom. She knew what he could do with that hand on her ass and her whole body surged with anticipation.

Easy girl. It’s just a pat. But he said leather…

And she couldn’t even ponder it without her hands shaking harder so she scrubbed the square white plates with a vengeance.

When they were all done and all stacked and the counter had been wiped down three times, she went to him. Jordan had never felt anything so confusing: intense curiosity and trepidation.

Riven.

A word her mother had used once and she’d always been fascinated by. And here it was. That feel of it. Part of her wanting to rush forward into the mouth of the beast–her lust—and part of her wanting to run.

“Walking slow won’t change the outcome.” He said it from a dark corner of the living room. Gareth sat in the easy chair but she couldn’t see him due to shadows. Dusk was coming at five thirty and darkness swiftly followed. Autumn was here. It was just past six but it could have been midnight judging by the dark.

“I know.”

“Why don’t you come in here?” It wasn’t really a question.

“But…” There were four big windows in that room. Jordan could see by the white magical dots in the room that the venetian blinds were tilted up. Someone could see in if he were to turn a light on.

And yet, it never crossed her mind to disobey. She walked toward Gareth on feet she could not feel. Her knees were trembling and it was a true fear that they’d buckle and simply dump her on her butt half way to her destination.

“Come on then.”

She entered the room and saw that the streetlights had painted a white streak on the far wall. It looked like something that had fallen from the heavens and landed in their childhood home.

“Over my lap, Jojo,” he said. He patted his lap and her pussy went wet.

It was hard to hear her own thoughts over the pounding of her heart in her ears. She went to him and when he patted again, she draped her body over his lap. Her belly pressed firmly to his thighs, her hair hanging down in a curtain to cover her face.

Gareth’s hand smoothed soothing circles over her bottom and she was grateful that—at least for now—she had her jeans on. He could have a heavy hand, she knew. But then again, Gareth knew how to be tender when the punishment was done.

That thought made her shift and tremble like a spooked horse. Gareth chuckled.. “Stay still, Jojo. Don’t freak yourself out.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“Don’t hurt me.”

“Just enough.”

“What if it’s too much?” She bit her tongue after she said it and waited for him to answer.

His hands drew invisible symbols on her body. She tried to feel through the cloth that covered her what he might be drawing. Or if he was perhaps writing words instead. She thought he traced an A but became distracted when he said, “Pick a word.”

“A word?”

“If it’s too much. If you simply cannot take it, say the word. But make sure you mean it, because if we say it, it’s done. Totally.”