Once inside, I set Frosty down and make a beeline for my room. Maybe a few minutes alone will shake me out of this weird ass mood.
After I close the door, I change out of my clothes and into something more comfortable. Sweatpants and a T-shirt are my go-to loungewear. I’m still cold from spending the day outdoors and decide to crawl into bed to warm up.
Things with Clara are strange. There’s this electric buzz between us. It’s always been there in some way or another, but since I came back from New York, it’s different. Hotter, brighter, more intense. Like a live wire writhing around at my feet. I’m soaked and my bare foot hovers dangerously above it.
What happens when I make contact?
Does everything blow up around me?
I’d touched her mouth earlier today. Ran my thumb along her succulent lip. My cock hardened as I was hit with an image of tasting her. I ached to kiss my stepsister. In front of everyone no less.
That shit can’t happen.
Ever.
Especially when I’d been so worried about seeing our family again, but it actually went better than I expected. Indulging in these fantasies about Clara is too weird. Too disrespectful to our parents.
It. Can’t. Happen.
I’m not sure how long I lie in bed berating myself, but eventually there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Yeah?” I call out, voice husky.
“A cute Hallmark Christmas movie is about to start. I made some hot cocoa. Come join me and Frosty.”
My mind screams at me to deny her—that I need to put some space between us. But, I sit up in bed, aching to make her happy in whatever way I can. “Be right there.”
“Yay,” she says through the door. “Frosty can’t wait.”
I hear her bedroom door close as she no doubt changes into something more comfortable. Because I’m a sicko with no chill, I immediately conjur up mental images of Clara pulling off her clothes. My cock plumps up in my sweatpants.
I’m an idiot.
And yet, I palm myself over my pants, needing to calm the desire burning hot through my veins.
I shove my sweats down until my cock breaks free. A hiss of air escapes me as I grab onto the unruly monster. Gritting my teeth, I stroke my length, trying to think of anything else besides Clara.
But, she’s the only thing on my mind as I squeeze my dick. Why can’t I think about my ex-girlfriend, Tabby, or that one hot chick from a Netflix show I like to watch? My brain is zeroed in on my stepsister’s pretty lips, bouncy breasts, and sexy ass.
Fuck.
I scramble to retrieve the lube from the bedside table and then squirt a gob onto my cock. As the liquid sluices over me, I slick my fist and cock with it. Biting into my bottom lip, I fuck my hand, imagining filthy scenes where I’m inside Clara instead.
It’s so fucking wrong.
Does it stop me? Do I lose my hard-on?
Hell no.
I jerk off like I’m thirteen and got my hands on internet porn for the first time. I’m unsure the last time I got laid, but I know for damn sure it’s been too long ago if I’m beating my fucking meat with these forbidden thoughts racing through my head.
Shamefully, this isn’t the first time I thought about Clara this way. It’s been something, over the years, I’ve shoved into a box in my mind. At one time, I’d thought about it so much, I ended up losing my virginity to one of her friends, just to stop thinking about it.
It worked. Sort of.
Having sex felt good and it was easy to get distracted when losing myself in a woman’s body.
But another woman’s body doesn’t appeal to me right now. I’m fixated on a particular one. Clara’s.
