Chapter One
?Isla?
The first time had been a mistake.
The second time, a choice.
I chose to stay up.
I chose to sneak out after everyone was sleeping.
I chose to slip into the guesthouse to watch.
Afterwards, after I’d cum all over my fingers and the scent of sex and sweat clung to the air, I chose to creep back to my bed like some sick thief in the night.
But that’s just it. In those few moments while I huddled outside the door, knees up and open, fingers slipping through an insane amount of arousal, a lot happened. Not just the shameful act I committed by listening, but the secondary act taking place on the other side of the wall.
I’m sick.
I’ll never disagree with the fact. If ever caught, I have no leg to stand on. I’d have to throw myself at the mercy of my brother and his best friend and beg them not to deprive me of this one joy.
I have considered that this is partially their fault. Who doesn’t lock their doors in this day and age? They practically threw down the red carpet welcoming me in.
Mom is also to blame. Had she not sent me to grab the box of Christmas lights from the guesthouse basement, I never would have walked in on what started this whole thing.And Walker, Mom’s husband who put the decorations in the guesthouse in the first place.
So, realistically, I’m probably only twenty percent at fault. I can’t be blamed for the errors of others.
“Isla?”
I blink out of the sweet memory of the previous night and focus on my mother’s expectant expression.
“Sorry,” I say, dropping my forgotten spoon back into the bowl of soggy O’s.
Mom’s lips purse. “I’ve been talking to you for the last twenty minutes. It’s rude to ignore people like that.”
I wince at my own lapse in judgment. The events of the previous night have me distracted.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“Where did you go?” she presses, turning to grab a bowl of something under a dishcloth.
Sense tells me she might not appreciate the truth. She would definitely have follow up questions I’m not able to answer without getting a one-way ticket to jail.
Do they send people to jail for breaking into people’s homes and watching them fuck? I checked. They do. It’s pretty frowned upon.
“Just tired, I guess,” I lie.
A plump ball of dough is scooped out and dropped on the counter, sending a cloud of white dust into the air.
“Are you not sleeping again?”
It’s been a while since my insomnia kept me up at night. That’s not what has me lying in bed, wide awake, pussy throbbing and wet, staring at the ceiling waiting for her and Walter to go to sleep.
Even now, seated in her immaculate kitchen with my forgotten breakfast, my mind is trapped in the memory of Nicolas on his knees, hard, ripped body slick with sweat, grayeyes squeezed shut tight as Dominic fucked him from behind. My brother of nineteen years had whimpered when his best friend since diapers fisted his hair with one hand and gripped his cock with the other.
???
Even now, seated in her immaculate kitchen with my forgotten breakfast, my mind is trapped in the memory of Nicolas on his knees, hard, ripped body slick with sweat, gray eyes squeezed shut tight as Dominic fucked him from behind. My brother of nineteen years had whimpered when his best friend since diapers fisted his hair with one hand and gripped his cock with the other.
