“Where the fuck have you been?” I asked, marching toward her.
She wasn’t scared to see me flying toward her. Instead of shrinking down, she straightened her back. She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “I told you. I was with my friends.”
“Have you been drinking?” I asked, stopping directly in front of her.
“I had a couple of beers. Nothing like what I had the other night, so save your speech.”
“This is ridiculous,” I said, running my hand through my hair.
“I am allowed to have a life outside of this house, you know?”
I set the bottle of whiskey on a nearby table. “You’re only allowed when I say so. And right now, you’re not allowed anything. You might have the night off, but that doesn’t mean that you can walk in here after a night of drinking for Sophia to see.”
She snorted. “Yeah, she sees that enough with you.”
“I pay you to be here. And I pay you quite nicely if I say so myself. You’re to be responsible. You raise her right. I can’t have her thinking it’s okay to grow up and turn into the kind of woman who roams from bar to bar. She’s too good for that. And so are you, if I’m being honest. I know you didn’t see that behavior growing up.”
“This is so fucked up. You don’t own me, Roman. You can’t dictate what I do, where I go, or who I hang out with! You can’t be my boss and my warden!”
I didn’t remember making a decision. All I knew was that one minute, I was standing in front of her and the next, I wasn’t.
“I do own you,” I said as I slammed my body against hers, pinning her to the wall. She stared up at me with big, colorful eyes, her small body trembling against mine in the pretty little purple sundress she wore.
My mouth came down on hers hard, my tongue thrusting into her warm, sweet mouth. Her lips were soft, yet frozen in surprise. She didn’t kiss me back, yet she didn’t push me away either.
I broke the kiss, my eyes finding hers. They narrowed as I watched her pupils blow out, the green rings growing darker as she looked up at me. Her tongue ran across her bottom lip as if she was savoring the taste of me on her lips.
Something told me to try again. This time, I moved my hands to cup her face, and I slowly leaned down. As my lips got closer and closer to hers, I kept my eyes open, trying to judge her next move. I didn’t know if she’d push me away, if she’d freeze up again, or if she’d give in. I was just drunk enough that I didn’t care. I was going to try regardless.
My mouth found hers, and I felt her melt into me. Her lips softened, becoming more fluid-like as they moved against mine. My tongue teased her plump bottom lip, silently asking her to open for me. When she did, I thrust my tongue inside.
I tasted, teased, explored every facet, and was surprised when she wrapped her arms around my neck and deepened the kiss. Our lips moved in sync as our tongues danced and tangled together. I savored every second of being able to taste her. Every inch of me came alive and burned with need for her. I could tell she was just as excited. I could feel the way her heart wasslamming against her chest as I kept her pressed against me. I could feel her labored breath on my lips. I wanted so much more, but it was like every warning echoed through my head all at once.
She’s too young for you. She’s twenty-one. You’re thirty-one.
She’s your wife’s little sister.
She’s innocent. You should be protecting that, not working to steal it away.
As good as she felt against me, I knew I had to stop myself while I still had a handle on reality. I pulled away, nearly jumping back a foot. My eyes found hers, and neither of us moved an inch as we stared at one another, wondering what the fuck was happening with us. We both wanted more, but we were both too confused to act on it.
My hands ached to cup her jaw again. My stomach felt like it had been tied into knots. My cock was rock hard and throbbing with a need that only she could take away. But if I acted on my deepest, darkest desires, it would be crossing a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. It would fuck up everything. Nothing would be easy, and I’d be eaten alive with guilt.
“Fuck,” I grumbled before turning and walking away.
She didn’t speak.
Nor did she try to stop me. I think she was just as thrown off by it all. I entered my room and closed the door behind me. My hand suddenly felt empty, and I realized that I’d left my bottle out there. I clenched my hand into a fist, knowing I couldn’t go back out there to get it. If I did, I didn’t know if I could trust myself to stay away from her.
I took a step toward the door, changed my mind, and fell back a step. I turned and moved to the bedside table. I bent over and tugged the drawer. There was a pint-sized bottle there, but it barely had anything left. I took it out and uncapped it. I tossed the cap to the side before bringing the bottle to my lips. Thealcohol killed the taste of her that she left on my lips and tongue, but it didn’t touch the memories I had.
I closed my eyes, and the memory formed. I relived the taste of her, the softness of her lips, the strength of her tongue. I remembered the heat that rushed from her body and the way she conformed to my chest. Her breasts had been pressed against me. So round, soft, and fuckable. I wondered if she’d ever let anyone touch them?Would she let me?
I imagined the way I’d tease her nipples, making them harden and stand at attention. I saw myself sucking one into my mouth, causing her to arch her back and wiggle with need. I wanted to tease her until she was begging me to fuck her. I wanted her to want my cock, if for no other reason than to make me not feel so guilty about giving it to her.
A growl ripped from my lips as I turned for the bathroom. I hadn’t jacked off so much since I was going through puberty as a teen boy, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t have her, and nobody else would do. I’d tried tricking myself into believing that I was fucking her while I was with someone else. My dick wasn’t that dumb. Only she’d do, yet I wouldn’t allow myself to touch her. So until I could manage to work her out of my system, I had to settle for jerking off into the shower drain.
I climbed into the shower and turned on the water. I took a swig of whiskey and wondered what she was doing. Instead of imagining myself fucking her every way possible, I imagined her in her own shower, rubbing one out while thinking of me. I imagined the sound of her gasps and moans as they echoed off the tiled walls. I pictured her facial expression: brows knitted together, lips parted and shaped like an O. I wondered how she’d touch herself… left hand massaging her breast, the right beneath the water in the tub, rubbing vigorously at her needy, swollen clit. My cock jumped from the mental image, and I wrapped my hand around the base of my cock, working myself over.
