She barks out a harsh laugh. “Through marriage, not blood, Eric. Is that your issue? Too incestuous for you?”
Bile creeps up my throat. “No. I don’t care about that. It’s… What will our parents think?”
This has the hurt bleeding out of her and concern taking its place. She chews on her bottom lip, eyebrows crashing together, as she considers my question. Finally, she sighs and nods. “They wouldn’t be happy.”
Understatement of the century.
“Dad would murder me,” I tell her. “Yolanda would hate me.”
She scoffs. “It’s not just you. Do you think your dad would murder me too?”
“Of course not,” I bark out. “He adores you.”
Her dark eyebrow arches. “So you think there are different rules for you? Like you’re more at fault with this than me?”
I shove my plate away, no longer hungry. “I see your point, but I still feel sick about it. Like I’m doing something I can’t undo. Something that has the power to destroy my family. I love you too much for that to happen.”
She shifts and then her foot is on my thigh. I hiss as her foot rubs against my dick. “If you were sick about it, you wouldn’t be hard. I bet, like me, you’ve been waiting all day to be alone again.”
I grunt, closing my eyes as I relish her touch on my cock. “All damn day.”
“Thought so,” she purrs, a playful lilt in her voice. “No one is saying we have to announce what we’re doing to the world. It feels good. We’re both lonely and consenting adults. Can’t we just let it play out? Maybe it’s nothing more than a phase. When it’s over, we can go back to normal.”
I’m intoxicated by her lies.
We both know there’s no stopping this once we get the ball rolling. It’ll go faster and faster, gaining momentum and growing bigger and bigger, like a snowy avalanche. It’ll destroy everything in its wake, and in the end, we’ll be buried by it.
Catastrophic.
Painful.
Crushing.
And my stupid ass knows this.
Yet…
“Yeah,” I croak out. “You’re right. Maybe just let it play out. It’ll be fine.”
Nothing about this will be fine.
I’m a great liar, especially to myself.
Clara
Ithought I’d lost him. Not earlier when he was rubbing me into oblivion while at work. After. When we were home alone together. Eric’s emotions are fairly easy to read. It was clear by the sickened expression on his handsome face that he was feeling regret over our hookup.
But now, I think we’re on the same page.
His eyes track me, narrowed and starved despite our just eating, as I slide out of my chair and stand. I purposefully wore a silky, nightgown that only comes down about mid thigh because I wanted him to look at my body. To crave seeing what’s beneath. I want him to open me like I’m the best gift he’s ever received.
He turns in his seat to face me as I approach. A whisper of a grin curls up his lips when I lower myself onto his lap. His cock is straining in his sweatpants, eager for attention. I thread my fingers behind his neck and then grind my pussy against him. We both gasp in pleasure. His hands grab onto my ass through my nightgown, squeezing me roughly enough I’m sure I’ll bruise.
“You’ve always been so fucking tempting to me.”
This surprises me. “I have? This isn’t something new?”
He grips me tight, urging me to rub against him. “Since I was old enough to get an erection. I wanted you all the time. I thought I was a fucking sicko.”
