“You’re gonna pay for name-calling.” I wink.
My sister’s not picking up. On purpose for sure. I spoiled her, and I love her, but when I call, she better fucking answer unless she’s dead or hospitalized. Which I’m sure she’s not.
Isla stares at me. “I can’t believe you. I really can’t believe you’re trying to get your wife on the phone right now. What do you think she’s doing? She’s not your bitch, you know.”
“Okay, this is getting out of control.” My jaw works, and I send my sister a text.
Pick up or lose the ranch house.
The phone rings, and I put my sister on the speaker.
The moment she answers, she laughs. “Oh my God, I was doing my nails and didn’t want to ruin them. What?”
“Did you tell my girl you’re my wife?”
“Your girl? You have a girl? Like a daughter? Because I can’t see you with a grown woman.”
Isla smiles. “Me either,” she says.
“Is that her?” Ivana asks.
“Tell her the truth, or lose the fucking ranch.”
“Don’t be a dick, Stefan. I was just kidding.”
“Tell her.”
“Hi, girl, I’m Ivana, and Stefan is my brother. Unfortunately, as you can see, he doesn’t get jokes. Don’t marry him. He’ll make a horrible husband.”
I hang up the phone and stare at it. Gonna get back at her for this one.
Isla dunks underwater, stays there for a while, and I spread my legs in case she’s eyeballing my balls. When she comes back up, she gets busy with shampoo, which I let her use, then conditioner, then mask, then I have no idea what’s in that bottle, and she’ doing all this as if I’m not around. The more I let her think she’s in control of this situation, the less likely she is to bolt.
After what feels like two hours have passed of her hair ritual and my patience has tripped over the wire and I’m gonna blow, Isla rinses her hair. She takes a bottle of shampoo and crawls to me, then squirts some on my hair.
I put a palm against the small of her back and press her body closer, pulling her up at the same time so her tits come out ofthe water. I lift one and put it in my mouth, regretting my mouth isn’t bigger so I can get the entire thing in there.
She’s got one of those little nipples that poke out of large tanned areolas, and I suck one while rubbing the other with my palm. Isla stills from washing my hair and throws her head back, and I feel her hips jerk forward. That’s a pussy flex. That pussy’s looking for dick. It’s empty, and she’s gonna dry hump me soon. There will be no dry humping in this cabin.
I switch to the other tit and feel the shampoo sliding from my forehead, traveling to my eye. Before it stings, I slide underwater, between her legs, and press my mouth on her. I latch onto her clit, because that’s the only thing that matters, and set a goal. I need to get her off or die down here with no air and a pussy attached to my face.
While lapping her clit, which is swelling by the second, I pump two fingers inside her to stimulate the soft spot. Isla’s riding my face. The back of my head hits the seat, and I use it to rest my head so she can sit better. She does and grinds onto me. I use my other hand to rub her back, then come around to the front, slap her breast, then squeeze the nipple, slap it again, then rub the nipple with my palm.
My palms are rough, so the rub must feel good. She’s rubbing and rubbing on my face, and I’m pumping my fingers and sucking on her clit, running out of air. My throat tightens, my lungs start burning, and my instincts scream that I need to come up, but I fight them and really get up into that pussy. She’s not coming.
I got one ace in my sleeve, and if that doesn’t work, I need to breathe or die as the most incompetent pussy eater that has ever lived.
I shove my thumb into her pucker hole.
Isla sits on it, her body stills, her thighs clamp my face, and I stick my tongue inside the channel so I can feel those tremors, taste some liquid before I pass out. Goals. I have them.
7
At some point before she suffocated me underwater, Isla realized I was still down there and leapt up, dragging me by my arms.
“Oh my God, Stefan, are you okay?”
I fill my deprived lungs with air, then slump against the tub, spreading my arms and resting my elbows on the edges. I wipe my face and look up. She’s standing over me like a mother hen, a concerned look on her face. I smile. “I’m a dandelion.”
