Then, I don’t mean to, but I press the heel of my hand to that throbbing part of her, her clit.
Her reaction to it wrecks me in the best way.
“Oh God,” she cries out quietly. “Fuck, please.”
“That’s good for you?” Every word I say feels like pressing another button. Talking to Skylar sends more wetness trickling down my hand. My cock aches to replace my fingers. “You want my hand on your clit?”
“N-No.”
“Liar.” I’m a live wire, ready to snap and bury myself in her.
I can’t. Not here.
Once I fuck her, I know I won’t be able to stop.
The floors would shake. The house would rattle. They’d hear sounds that belong to me and no one else.
No.
I can do this, though. Keep grinding the heel of my hand on her clit, fucking her with my fingers.
I’m ravenous, working her up. Her body responds to me, shivering as I force pleasure into her.
As I claim her.
“No. No, no, no.” Her hands splay flat on the wall, fingers flexing against the wood. Except she isn’t trying to push me off. Skylar leans into me. “My sister.”
“Fuck your sister.” My muscles are pulled tight. Teeth locked. I’m hot every-fucking-where. “And fuck yourno. You don’t get to hate it. You don’t get to lie to me. You want this.”
“I don’t.” She’s being quiet as she moans. As she lies. “You’re going to kill me. You manipulated me. With the green charm. With this. This is fake. You’re fake. Fucking fake.”
“Liar. My hand is soaked, down to the wrist. Your pussy”—saying that word out loud stirs something in me—“grips my fingers. It means you want it, right?”
“My sister. Please, stop.” Her voice is beautiful. So full of ache. Of confusion. “I have to get her.”
“She has no place here.”
“She does. She’s my twin.”
“Just you.” I’m locked onto her, a predator sighting prey. The desperation in her eyes, I can’t get enough of it. Her fear and need, they’re mine. “Now shut up.”
The head of my cock leaks with precum.
I ache all over as I try to make her come.
Yeah, she hates me. She’s saidnoa few times. She fights this pleasure, but it won’t help her. Whether she wants this orgasm or not, she’s getting it.
She’s gettingme.
“Shut up… That’s what you need from me?” Skylar’s breathless, yet somehow able to talk while I plunge my fingers in her as brutally as I can. “To be quiet because you’re scared of them? Is that why you’re doing this? Why you stalked me? Why you’re hurting me? Because they told you to?”
“Hurting you?”
“Yes, you’re hurting me.”
“Doesn’t feel like I’m hurting you.” I buck my hips, eyes on her, catching on the conflicted expression on her pretty face. “Are you in pain, Skylar?”
“You’re making me feel”—a suppressed moan propels me to finger-fuck her faster—“all these things. How you’re touching me. It’s wrong.”
