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A Smashwords Edition

Cry Little Sister © August 2012 by Parker Ford

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First Edition August 2012

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Cry Little Sister

By Parker Ford

Chapter 1

“Right there.”

Silence.

“Right. There.”

That growl was Gareth’s, no doubt. Jordan crept through the house. She hadn’t thought that using her key, even after all these years, would be wrong. But it sounded as if her brother was fighting with someone.

She didn’t want to interfere, but she did want to make sure he was okay. She’d just peek and sneak back out and call before pretending to show up. This hadn’t been her home in years, but it had been his alone for quite a while now.

He came home to take care of dad and you stayed…gone.

No time for guilt. Her mother had always said it was a wasted emotion and Jordan figured her mother would know. Kelly Davis had been gone with the wind for years. Since she was thirteen and Gareth fourteen and a half.

“Right. Fucking. There.” He growled it out and in the silence of the house his voice sounded nearly monstrous. The boogie man in the closet. The big bad wolf on the prowl.

The hair on her nape prickled and she dropped her bag by the archway that divided dining room and living room. She’d snag it on her way out.

The downstairs bedroom was the master suite and had become Gareth’s room as he cared for their dad. He’d put Doug Davis, and all the medical equipment he required at the end of his life, in the study where there was more light and more room to operate.

The master suite was big, but not as big as the study.

Jordan walked as silently as she could on the cream colored carpet and approached the cracked bedroom door.

“Do it. Do it.”

“God damn it, Gareth. You are so not supposed to top from the bottom. You told me I could try.”

“Well you suck at it,” he snarled.

She gasped—whoever she was—at the insult. Jordan knew at that instant that she should turn tail and run, but she didn’t.

This isn’t the first time you’ve snooped on him while he was doing it…

Another rogue thought, another chance to ignore her annoying internal critic. Instead she took another step toward the cracked bedroom door.

She had long red hair. Bottle red—the color of artificial cherry candy. She was long and lean with large breasts and a small waist and pale skin. Her hair swung around her jaw line as she straddled Jordan’s brother. Gareth was also long and lean but more muscular that most men with his body type. All that time working outside, busting concrete or laying fresh road, or roofing and installing windows. All the hard work had left him sinewy and buff. He kept his wheat colored hair close cut but in style.

The couple on the bed could have been brother and sister. They looked more alike than Jordan and her own Gareth ever would. And speaking of her brother, he was the one currently tied to the bed with black silk scarves. His cock was hard and long—and she remembered that yes, this was not the first time she’d seen him this way—naked and erect. And with a woman.

She—whoever she was—lowered herself an inch at a time while Gareth jerked up under her.

The girl swatted his chest and the sound was crystal clear and sharp in the silent house. “Stop it. I’m in charge. Now lay still.”

He growled and made himself still for a moment and his lover rocked from side to side, grinding her body down on his. Her pubic hair was gone but for a tiny strip that was black. Jordan had always thought that lone strip looked silly—like a mustache in the wrong location.

A hysterical burble of laughter tried to rumble up out of her but she clamped a shaking hand over her mouth and watched the girl ride her brother. Her naked, gorgeous, stubborn and apparently into sex games brother.

Gareth chose that moment to thrust up hard under the woman and he hissed, “Jesus Fucking Christ, Isabel, fuck me or get off.”

“I am fucking you,” she said and pinched his nipple between her dark fingernails.

Gareth roared at her. “You’re only doing what feels good to you. We talked about this. If you’re topping, then your premiere job is finding the balance between your pleasure and your bottoms. And you are only worried about you.”

She pinched him harder, her mouth had narrowed down to a mean line and that alone made it almost possibly for Jordan to ignore the very real and very inappropriate thump of arousal in her cunt. She should totally not be watching this.

“And!” Gareth roared louder. “You are supposed to balance pleasure and pain and not just hurt me because I’m pissing you off.”

He bucked up under her, but not to fuck her. The buck was intended to—and succeeded in—bucking the red headed beauty off of him.

Jordan got another fast, but magnificent glance at her brother’s cock and heat flooded her cheeks. Why was she still here? Why had she not fled the scene?

Pervert.

“You cocksucker!” Isabel shouted. It was a screechy kind of cry that set Jordan’s teeth on edge. Not a sound that evoked sympathy by any means.

“Untie me,” Gareth growled. He was struggling now and Jordan couldn’t quite peel her eyes from the scene. Other people’s sex was very much a car wreck in that respect. His body moved, taut and angry, on the bed and against the bonds on his wrist.

Isabel the Red as Jordan had already come to think of her was busy storming around the room naked, hair flying, gathering her clothes. She shoved her legs into faded jeans without bothering to pull on panties. Those panties were shoved in her back pocket, a pale yellow surrender flag. She pulled on a greenish-blue tank and tucked her bra under her arm.

“You’re so fucking good, G. You go ahead and untie yourself. Maybe your magical dick can help you out with that.”

Jordan took a step back, ready to flee. Her brother’s voice slid along the air like thick smoke. He simply said, “Isabel, if you leave me tied here, don’t come back. Ever. Not drunk, not sober. Not horny. And certainly not because you’re craving the kind of pain with a pleasure chaser you know I can give you.”

Jordan watched her consider it. Even through the crack, she could see the woman waver. But at the last moment she turned on her heels, feet still bare, and stalked toward the door.

“I’ll be just fine,” she said with false bravado.

“I sure hope so,” Gareth said softly and yet it carried perfectly in the still home.

Jordan backpedaled into the bathroom and ducked behind the door just as Isabel flung the door open and stalked down the short hall toward the front of the house. Jordan just hoped the girl was too angry to notice her bag on the floor as she left.

Jordan held her breath and heard Isabel getting her stuff, presumably. And then there was no need to hold her breath to hear that front door slam. Which it did with a resounding boom.

She had two choices here—she could sneak past and pretend to come in, or she could just go and check on Gareth.

…craving the kind of pain with a pleasure chaser you know I can give you…echoed in her head and she shook it off. What did that mean? But she didn’t even have time to consider the words or what they might mean because she heard the most bizarre thing ever.

Gareth. Laughing.

He was laughing his ass off in his bedroom, still buck naked and tied to his bed.

She damn near rolled her eyes. That was Gareth. Very little floored him and even less upset him. She hurried to help him out, realizing it would mean seeing him naked. Touching him while he was naked. Remembering what Isabel had apparently wanted from him.

All very confusing. So confusing and so oddly arousing, judging by the wetness of her panties, that all Jordan could do was not let herself consider any of it.

Chapter 2

“Hey, little sister.”

That was what he said when she popped her head in the doorway—mortified but hell bent on helping him.

“Hi,” Jordan whispered. “Need any help?”

“With the hard-on or the bondage?” He winked.

“Gareth!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

She swore she heard him mutter “mostly” as she started to work the knot on the first black silk tie.

Jordan did her best to ignore the nearly sickening pound of her heart. It wasn’t the most normal thing in the world to be this close to your brother while he was bound and naked. But what could she do…leave him here?

“Stop thinking so hard,” Gareth said, arching up just a bit.

She didn’t miss the jut of his cock or the cut of his hips in her peripheral vision. But Jordan focused hard on the knots in the silk and worked them with trembling fingers.

She’d spied on Gareth and his girlfriend once in high school. He’d been a cocky, horny sophomore and the girl a junior. It had been years of trying to convince herself that it has been the act—the scene—that had stuck with her and erotically haunted her, not her brother.

But deep down you know it was seeing him that did you in. All those nights with it in your head and your own sticky slick fingers between your thighs…

“—okay?”

She blinked and tugged the remainder of the tie off his wrist. A quick glance from the corner of her eye showed her he was still hard. Rock hard. And Jordan swallowed fast and turned away.

“What?” she managed.

“I said are you okay, little sister?”

“I am.” She smoothed her jeans as if they were a skirt and cleared her throat. “I’ll just let you get dressed and then we can—“

“I’ll need a few minutes before I can get dressed,” he said. He sat up and touched her arm. “Welcome home. Now leave the room so I can jerk off. Unless you want to help…”

She started. “Gareth!”

“Kidding, kidding. You know the old saying. Two hand are better than—“

She turned on her heels and headed to the door. She turned at the last second and said, “I didn’t know you were into…that kind of stuff.”

Jordan nodded to the silk ties, looking harmless and merely decorative, hanging from his headboard.

“There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me, Jordan,” he said.

She stood there, keeping her eyes away from his waist, his lap, his hard-on. But even when she unfocused her eyes she could still sort of see it there in the fuzzy unfocused halo of her vision. Jordan waited for him to wink after such a cocksure off-the-cuff statement.

He didn’t. And finally she shut the door for him to take care of business, as it were. The vision of him naked and perfect and grinning remained locked in her head, an after-image she couldn’t shake. The wetness between her legs was a traitorous bit of evidence about feelings she shouldn’t be having.

In the bathroom she washed her face and hands and put a wet cool washcloth on her pulse points. It was easy to try and make noise and hard to blot out the sound of Gareth. She knew he was getting off in there. She knew her brother was highly sexed and also the most straight forward person she’d ever met.

If Gareth said he had to take care of business, he would.

Jordan heard a soft groan and imagined him in there, hand coated in come and his face tense before smoothing out to a peaceful façade. She’d seen Gareth have an orgasm once in her life and it was still a very easy image to recall.

Funny, she knew that coming home would be hard. She did not know it would call up old this old…stuff and leave her feeling not only perverse but oddly thrilled too.

The quickening in her belly bled warmly into her cunt and Jordan pressed her thighs together for a moment. Only realizing at the last second that it was a bad move—it only made her desire worse.

“You need to calm down and find a man. So you stop thinking those bad things about your only sibling,” she told her own pale reflection.

A sharp rap on the door made her jump.

“Who you talking to in there, Jojo?”

“Singing!” she called and then she wiped her face once more with the hand towel. The lie had flown easily off her tongue and she was grateful.

“Well come out here and have a beer with me and we’ll see if Isabel did any damage on her way out the door.”

Isabel. The red headed wonder with the shaved pussy and the big breasts and the horrible laugh and…the woman who’d been impaled on her brother’s hard erection. The woman who had been feeling him. Inside of her.

Jordan blew out a breath and shook her head. It couldn’t be jealousy she was feeling. It was something else.

It had to be.

* * * * *

Gareth put his feet up on the wrought iron railing. Jordan tucked hers under herself. The big white wicker chairs were still dominating the front porch. The oversized ferns their father had grown shielded them somewhat from view. They were huge monstrous things he was ridiculously proud of, even bringing them inside the house during the winter months.

“So he died and now you’re here, Jojo. And the mother is still missing.”

“No word at all from her? Does she even know that dad’s gone?”

He shook his head, took a swig of beer from his green bottle. “Nah. And as far as I’m concerned she has no right to know.”

Jordan nodded succinctly. It put her belly in knots to think that way but Gareth was right. When their mother left, she’d grieved for a long time, thinking she’d done something wrong. Her grief had bled into anger and often rage, which her father and brother had soldiered through with amazing patience and grace. And then a soul sucking sadness, followed eventually by acceptance.

When Jordan turned eighteen she hightailed it from Allisonville to move to a small California town. She currently ran a steak house and lived in an efficiency a block from the public beach. And life was good—but she often missed Gareth and she now sincerely grieved the loss of their dad.

And you weren’t here…

“Stop it,” Gareth said, draining his bottle and grabbing a fresh beer from the bucket of ice at their feet. Isabel, thankfully, had done nothing more than throw Gareth’s mail all over the porch upon leaving. Gareth had picked it all up with a simple, it’s all junk anyhow.

“Stop what?”

“Stop blaming yourself and picking at yourself and all that shit you do, Jojo.”

“God, do you have to keep calling me Jojo?”

“Yes. It’s my name for you, Jordan. What’s the matter…” He turned his sea green eyes on her and she felt a blush rush to her cheeks. The heat reminding her that she really had to get control over her strange emotions. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, drinking her beer and watching the fern-obscured view of the street. “Of course I do. I’m just sorry I missed dad’s…passing. And his funeral and all that.”

“What funeral?” He grinned. “You want to see him, I’ll take you to see him.”

“Jesus Christ, Gareth, you didn’t do something weird and ‘modern’ like stuff him did you?”

Gareth nearly spit out his mouthful of beer but managed to swallow. “Um…no.” He continued to laugh before wiping his streaming eyes. “But dad wanted to be cremated so I have the urn. I figured you and I could scatter his ashes—together.”

She really didn’t expect it when her throat narrowed and her eyes overflowed and the emotion of gratitude slammed her like a runaway train.

“Oh thank you,” Jordan sobbed and went to hug her brother.

He laughed softly and pushed her hair—a lighter corn silk color than his—out of her wet eyes. “Hey, Jojo. Don’t cry now.”

“I can’t help it.”

He kissed her cheek and she turned her face into it, relishing the warmth of his lips and the feeling that always came with being around her brother.

Safety.

Gareth always made her feel safe. And loved. Once upon a time people took them for twins. As they aged people started mistaking them for boyfriend and girlfriend.

As one woman put it, “You just seem to have that special connection.”

“It’s okay, kid. We’ll take care of dad’s final request together.”

Chapter 3

They were going to go the hiking trail the following day. Doug had adored a good hike alone. The only thing to trump that was a good hike with his kids. So they were going to give him a final hike. And spread his ashes so they could day goodbye.

“I need a shower,” Jordan said, stretching. The plane ride home and then the taxi ride from the airport and then all that had followed left her feeling ready to stand under a hot spray for a good twenty minutes…or twenty hours.

“You go do that and I’ll call and order us…?” Gareth pointed at her.

“We can cook,” Jordan balked.

“Listen, little sister, I know you can cook. I know you run a steak house, yada-yada-yada. But I was tied up to a bed and left by a nasty, albeit sexy, lunatic and you just flew all the way back here from sunnysideupCalifornia. So, pick—pizza, wings or Chinese.”

Her stomach roared and Jordan sighed. “Chinese from Lee’s?”

“Done and done. Let me guess. Shrimp Lo Mein and eggrolls.”

“And shrimp toast and egg drop soup,” Jordan said and turned toward the bathroom. She’d dropped her bag in the office that had been cleared of their dad’s medical equipment but still had a very nice and surprisingly comfortable pull-out leather sofa.

“Wow, you are hungry.”

“And dirty. I’ll be back.”

“Nothing wrong with dirty,” he called and then she heard him dialing the phone.

Sure. Nothing was wrong with dirty as long as it was appropriate.

Jordan shut her eyes and doused her head under the hot spray. Heaven. A steamy shower with a really good showerhead was perfect. Her showerhead back home was low-flow and weak and for weeks after moving in she’d felt like a drowned rat when she tried to wash her long, straight hair.

Now used to the weak spray, her brother’s shower was like being shot with a fire hose. Jordan snorted and used his plain old generic non scented shampoo on her hair. When she shut her eyes again to dip under and rinse, the vision—crystal clear and unbidden—of her brother hard, naked and being ridden bloomed behind her closed lids.

“Jeesh,” she sighed.

The sight of him bound that way, muscles taut, lean face tense and angry. How he’s roared at that woman and tested his bonds. How he’d looked helpless with is hard cock jutting up waiting to be enveloped by someone’s heat and wetness…

“Fuck,” Jordan said. She reached for the shower head and switched it to the jet. The low jet. The higher setting would be too much, but judging by the damp pulse in her pussy and the flickering throb in her clitoris, the low jet would be perfect.

“Just get it over with so you can think,” she told herself.

She saw the wall sconces and the low light and the vague outline of the sink and the mirror though the pale shower curtain. It was nearly opaque but not quite and when she really focused, she could see the foggy-ghost of her image in the clouded mirror.

Jordan put one leg up on the lip of the tub and set the heated pounding water to her clit. She hissed instantly as an aggressive flex of the orgasm to come surged through her pelvis. This would not take long at all. Especially when she allowed herself—simply because it was a fantasy and nothing more—to imagine it was her straddling Gareth. That it was her body his long dick was nudging. That her soft folds were the ones penetrated by that rigid length.

One step closer to coming. She felt it, that heady nearly-violent tightness in her cunt. She swirled the water jet around so that it wasn’t pounding her clit, but teasing it. Her head dipped back to rest against the wet tile and her breath came in wispy rushed spurts.

He would grip her hips, in her fantasy. He wouldn’t be bound. He would grip her hips in his big work-strong hands and he would pull her down onto his cock even as he thrust up hard beneath her.

He’d whisper to her and tell her what to do. But he wouldn’t roar at her and yell at her because she’d do what he said. She would do what he said–whatever he said—and she would be a good girl. When he’d tell her to roll her hips and rock from side to side as he drove into her from underneath—she would. When he told her to pinch her nipples while he delivered one smart blow to her ass cheek as she rode him—she would.

“Jesus,” she breathed, coming in a hot blissful rush of spasms. The warm water licking her between her legs. The forbidden image of all that she’d fantasized over, more than once—crystalline in her mind.

Jordan blew out a long breath, her body boneless and blissed out. Until she opened her eyes.

On the other side of the curtain stood Gareth. Watching her. She couldn’t see him clearly but there he was with a front row seat to her shadowed but explicit show. He pushed is hand to the curtain so she saw his palm print darken where light bled through the curtain.

“Nice,” he said.

“Gareth…you shouldn’t...I was…I mean—“ She shook her head, ready to weep but too startled to do it.

But under it all was also a lightning strike of awful, perfect joy. He’d seen her. He’d watched her. How very bad was that? And yet…exciting.

“Hush up. I know what you were doing. And it was gorgeous, Jojo. How can a man look away from that?”

All she could hear for a moment was her pulse and the water hissing in her ears.

“The food’s ready. I’m going to get it. I came in to say but then…I got distracted. Be back.”

He was gone and her heart felt like it would never ever slow down.

*****

She was prepared for it to be super weird, but it wasn’t. Not so much. It appeared that the entire scenario had bordered on normal for Gareth while remaining completely bizarre to Jordan. She pushed it out of her head and dipped enthusiastically into her Shrimp Lo Mein.

“So spill. What’s up around here?” She swigged another beer and swore that would be the last. Trying to drink beer to keep up with her brother would land her one place—drunk, hung-over and miserable. The man worked construction, was ripped and had the metabolism of a jack rabbit. Jordan had none of those things.

“Greg and Melinda got married.”

“No fucking way,” she laughed.

“Yep. He cheated on her when they broke up right out of high school. She caught him in bed with Rene Burns and broke his arm with her purse.”

“What was in her purse?” Jordan asked, startled but amused.

“Everything. And a lamp she’d just bought at a second hand store. The base was one of those old fashioned irons. That was made of…”

“Iron!” Jordan laughed.

“So good old Greg went out of his way and twisted himself in knots etc, etc, etc. She almost sort of forgave him and then he asked her to marry him and gave her a nice rock and tada!”

“She forgave him,” Jordan chuckled, forking up a shrimp. “What else?”

“Bradley Monroe is gay.”

“No shit?” She rolled her eyes. “But we all knew that, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but captain of the football team didn’t know it until last year so...the bulk of Allisonville was a bit ahead of him is all. No biggie.”

“Anything else?”

Gareth rolled his eyes and scratched his head. He sighed contentedly and finished off his beer. Then he pointed to his left, “Mr. Barkley behind us killed his wife.”

“What!”

“Euthanasia. Stage five cancer.”

“Oh god.”

“The Myers across the street had their sixth grandchild in a year.”

“Lord.”

He leveled those surreal green eyes at her and said, “And I’m not sure we’re brother and sister.”

The noodle she’d been eating got stuck in her throat. No fan fare, no hoopla. She just suddenly could not swallow. Until Gareth looked at her and said: “Breathe.”

Chapter 4

“You can’t drop a bomb like that on someone and then…go to bed!” Jordan said. She was trembling. Even here teeth were chattering.

Gareth, calm as ever, stood and grabbed a crocheted afghan from an arm chair and covered her. “I don’t have many details. Just a few things that dad said that made no sense. At the end he was in and out a lot. And even when he was in he was out of it. Spacey and exhausted and medicated to the gills.”

Lung cancer was rarely pretty and Jordan felt another staggering stab of guilt at not having been in Allisonville to help Gareth with that burden.

“Like what?” She spun her empty beer bottle wondering how the day had unwound down to the darkness that now pressed to the windows. It was only a bit past eight but she was wiped and it felt much later to her.

“I’ll give you one and then you go rest. You look like something the cat dragged in.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Gee, thanks.”

“Hey,” Gareth cupped her face in his hands and his thumbs swept along the arc of her cheekbones. “You are always gorgeous, little sister, but you look tired. Sorry, I cannot tell a lie.”

He winked at her and Jordan tried very hard to not acknowledge the burning trail of what could only be labeled as arousal. He was beautiful, her brother, and for the millionth time she wondered if other women felt this way for their brothers…or just her. Did they have the kind of thoughts she’d had? Did they wake up from dreaming about him and have to, with absolutely no choice, touch themselves and come like she did?

Or was it just her? Alone?

It was irrational and wrong and completely heavy on her shoulders. The world’s heaviest cashmere throw, the diamond so big its wearer couldn’t life her hand—it was a terrible wonderful weight on her.

“Go on,” she said.

For one blissful and bizarre moment in time she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her. Her lips tingled with the imagined pressure and the invisible energy of him. Instead, he smiled and released her.

“Right before he died—I mean, the day before—he said to me ‘when your sister and you finally met’…and that was the first time I really paid attention. I mean, he’d said thing that didn’t make sense before. Hell, almost the whole time he was sick. But that…”

“When we met?” Jordan whispered.

“Yeah. And one of the other times he said ‘the place where you were born’…”

“You?” she asked.

Gareth nodded. “Yep. And I’d always been told I was born here in Allisonville. But…” He shrugged—broad strong shoulder rising and falling.

“Maybe he was just…hallucinating?”

Gareth shrugged again. “Maybe. Now go to bed you. We’ll talk more tomorrow on our hike. You need rest.”

This time he did bend, clearly intent on kissing her, and Jordan had to suppress the fine tremors in her body that wanted to manifest and shake her until she wept. But he only kissed her forehead. His lips warm and firm but soft on her skin. He stroked her hair with his hand and smoothed it along her back.

“Go to bed, Jojo.”

Jordan nodded. “Okay. Love you.”

“Ditto.”

*****

It had only been the one time. Jordan pushed a fat pillow under her feet and two under her head. She turned the TV up just a bit and watched people trying to pawn their goods.

Once, right before their mother left them, Jordan had heard her say to her dad. “Jordan’s dad.”

Jordan’s dad…

Then Doug had seen her standing there and had laughed loud and jovial saying, “You don’t have to be so formal with me Kelly. You can just call me Doug.”

And then she’d laughed and Jordan had laughed and given how their lives had unfolded, Jordan had forgotten it all. Until now.

She wiggled her toes and tried to get her body to relax. Between the surreal nature of being home and the bomb Gareth had just dropped on her, she was bad. Throw in seeing him with Isabel—naked and bound—and him watching her in the shower. Oh, and accent it with her wanting him. Because there was no denying that’s what she was feeling…Well, relaxation seemed damn near impossible. She felt more like someone who’d swallowed a live wire than someone who was going to try and drift off to sleep soon.

Someone’s dog was barking down the road and she figured it was the new folks who’d moved into the Kaylin house. They had a huge Great Dane that she’d seen earlier while they were sitting on the porch.

“Barking at the fall moon,” she whispered to herself.

At ten it became clear she was both exhausted and restless. An infuriating combination. Jordan clicked off the TV and tried to settle.

It took ten minutes of tossing and turning to be truthful with herself.

You know you want to…you know you need to.

And with that thought, it was not hard to call up the first time she’d seen her brother with another girl. She’d been going to ask him for batteries for her camera, they were the only ones home, and he’d been giving it to Sherrill aka Sugar Talb. And hard.

She’d walked in to see him with his face buried between her pretty thighs, pressing his lips and his face to her pussy. There had been a flash of pink as his tongue set to her clit and then he’d sucked hard enough to make the pretty cheerleader shiver and clutch at his pale hair.

“Do it, Gar…Oh God.” That is what she’d said and it had sent a sympathetic shiver and tremble through young Jordan.

The wetness in her panties that day had been more violent and sudden than anything she’d felt in her eighteen years.

It did the same now. Jordan pushed a hand down into her pajama pants and found her own body responding already. The hard nub of her clit was eager to be worked and she pressed a trembling finger there and let out a sigh.

Gareth had slid a condom on that day and then worked his length into the waiting rosy split of Sugar’s pussy. Her long legs had come up to grip him, her pale hands clutching his tan muscular back. She remembered the sight of him thrusting into her. His tight ass flexing with each driving movement.

Jordan slid her other hand into her pj pants and slipped three fingers into her already soaked and flexing cunt. “Jeesh,” she whispered. “You’ve got it bad.”

Memories flooded her of him speaking in Sugar’s ear, fucking her in even strokes—his control so much greater than one would expect of someone his age. Jordan realized that now. When the girl had come, and come with a rowdy cry that had made the spying Jordan blush and back up a step as Jason had pulled free of Sugar.

“Where’re you—” Sugar had started.

“Turn,” he’d growled and put her hands to the doweled slats of his head board. He’d curled her fingers around two dowels for her and had muttered something that Jordan couldn’t hear but took to be ‘hold on’

Then her brother, her sweet, funny, gorgeous brother, had hiked Sugar Talb up by her hips and knocked her knees apart to his liking. He’s teased the girl’s anus gently with the sheathed tip of his cock until she begged him not to ‘do her there’. Then he laughed, wiped a hand along his tip and then drove into her red cunt from behind.

Sugar wasn’t shy. Sugar was loud.

It all played out Jordan’s mind as she fucked herself with dripping fingers. At the last moment, driving a wet finger into her ass as the other two slipped back into her pussy. She abused her clit with the most perfect rough pressure and came with a pretty loud cry of her own. So loud that the silence that followed echoed in her ears.

Oh shit.

She heard the pounding of her heart that nearly blocked out everything else. Jordan wasn’t sure if the slight creak and rustle was something she was hearing or something she was imagining. She held her breath but that only made her heartbeat louder. Then…

“Jojo?”

“Yeah?” she whispered.

“You okay?” She could hear his footsteps on the carpeting. Had he been asleep? Had she disturbed him?

“Fine.” It came out as a sigh.

The bed depressed and she went rigid as he climbed on. He laid so that he was facing her and she could barely make out the dark shadow of him in the already dark room.

He stroked her hair like he used to when they were kids. “You sure? Were you crying.”

“I had a dream.”

More like a memory…

“Bad one?” She could feel the heat baking off of him and the closeness of him. She could feel his concern and his love and the very maleness that was Gareth. It sounded crazy but it was entirely true.

“Not so much bad as startling. I’m sorry. I guess I just woke up with a bang.” And then she was biting her lip for saying something so very inappropriate.

“What do you think it will mean for us if we’re not really brother and sister?” he asked. He was winding a long strand of her hair around his finger.

“I don’t know.” It was such a struggle to get the words out. Even more of a struggle to keep her heart beating reasonably and her mind from going to a very, very wrong place.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said softly. “Sleep well, Jojo.”

Then he kissed her. He kissed her cheek and she tried to stay still. When he leaned himself against her to kiss her—chastely, she reminded herself—she felt the hard ridge of his cock press her thigh. Even through clothes he was harder than hell and warn and it was seductive.

She turned her head, maybe to say goodnight, maybe to kiss his cheek—Jordan knew she could spin it a million different ways by sunrise. But what happened was their lips collided and for a heartbeat they both stilled. And then the kiss continued, gentle and hesitant and when his tongue touched hers for just an instant, she feared she’d come again.

“Night, Jojo. I’m going to do the right thing and leave now. But maybe next time you’ll let me help you with that.”

“With what?” she gasped.

“What you did right before I came in here. What you did to yourself.”

And then he was gone, shutting her door behind him, before she could even say goodnight in return.

Chapter 5

Again she figured it’d be awkward. She could hear Gareth out there making noise while making breakfast. He’d taken the day off for their hike because it was rainy and chilly and gray—Jordan loved it. She loved rain more than sun and snow more than anything.

She pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and put a dot of pink cream blush on each cheek, one swipe of mascara on each eyes and some lip conditioner.

“You’re so high maintenance,” she laughed at herself in the mirror. Then she pulled on jeans and some rubber boots that would keep her feet dry. A black plaid sweatshirt topped it all off.

Now you don’t look sexy at all. Good girl.

She could still feel his lips on hers, the tip of his tongue that somehow seemed hotter than anything she’d ever felt…the feel of his erection pressed to her thigh.

Jordan blew out a sigh and pushed out into the dining room.

“Digging the boots,” he said. “Orange rubber suits you.”

“Good to know,” she snorted.

“Hungry?” His eyes flashed at her, green and bright, and he looked like he’d slept well.

“Very.” She was lying. The thought of eating anything turned her stomach. But the hike would take time and she knew it was nerves making her feel queasy.

“You’re lying. How about a yogurt or just a piece of toast?”

“You’re freaky,” she admitted. “I think you’re a witch.”

“Nope. I’ve just known you forever.”

Jordan’s father…

How could that be true? How could it possibly be anything other than her father’s delusions triggered by pain and a dizzying cocktail of palliative medicine?

Gareth dropped a small container of organic peach yogurt in front of her and a cup of black coffee. “Fixings are on the table.”

Jordan dropped two teaspoons of brown sugar and cream in her coffee. Toast popped and Gareth buttered it liberally and sliced it on the diagonal. He added that to her placemat and pointed to her. “Eat.”

She ate.

“And I don’t know how it’s possible, I just know we have to look into it,” he said, plucking the worry from her mind.

“We even look alike. I mean…seriously,” she said wearily.

He shrugged and put sugar and cream in his own coffee before taking the seat opposite her. “That would make it even more brilliant if they wanted us, and everyone else, to think we were siblings.”

“But…why?”

“Did you know mom had been married before?”

The toast she ate swiftly lodged in her throat. This was becoming a habit, choking on her food. “No she hadn’t.”

“Yes, she had. I found the certificate of marriage in the desk. Kelly Singer married Kurt Paulson two years before you were born.”

“I…”

“And dad was married before too.” He watched her as he sipped his coffee.

“To..when?”

“Two years before I was born. Doug Davis married Bonnie Donaldson at a small church in Virginia.”

“I…”

He smiled at her. “I know. It’s a lot. But it’s got me wondering if he was married two years before I was born and she was married two years before you were born. And then they met and fell in love we’d have been…”

“About a year or so apart,” she finished, forcing one more bite of yogurt into her mouth.

Gareth reached across the table and squeezed her arm. The feel of his skin on hers shot up her arm, bloomed hot and red in her chest. Jordan bit her lip, waiting.

“I’m just wondering if it’s true because we’ve always been close Jojo…but since we were teens…there was more. And not necessarily in a good way. And we’ve danced around it, ignored it, joked about it but you know…it’s there. There might be a reason why. And it might be okay.”

It might be okay. That socked her in the gut—the implication that the things she sometimes thought or felt for him were okay.

“Okay. So we sprinkle dad’s ashes and we look into it.”

“We look into it.” He nodded. “But let me ask you a question.”

“What?”

“If I were to act on all this shit I feel for you…what would you do?” He cocked his head, waiting for her to answer.

“I don’t know.” She kept her voice low but her heart was racing.

“Would you run from me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

* * * * *

The trail ran alongside the river and because of the weather, Gareth and Jordan hadn’t seen anyone for miles. They were trying to get to the small waterfall that flowed year round barring the occasional severe drought. Even during those dry periods, it was a trickle of water over the rocks.

“Hello?” Jordan called.

No one answered.

“Who are you helloing?” Gareth chuckled and shook his head at her. She was amusing to him, Jordan could tell.

“Anyone who might be here. I don’t just want to start flinging…dead person around.”

Her brother began to laugh in earnest and she punched him briskly in the arm. He hissed and flinched but it was all for show. Jordan knew that had hurt Gareth about as much as a fly bouncing off of him.

“Hello?” he called, raising his voice so anyone in the vicinity might hear.

Nothing.

“I think we’re good,” Gareth said and took her hand.

They walked to the edge of the water and Gareth dug in the pack until he found the urn. Jordan swallowed hard against the prick of tears in her eyes. She hadn’t expected the sudden emotion but there it was.

“Here. You do it.” He broke the seal and handed her the brass container. It was simple, small and engraved with just their father’s name. Not even birth to death dates. Doug Michael Davis.

That was all.

“We love you, dad,” she said. That was all she could really think to say beyond the obvious. “You were a great dad, a wonderful man.”

Then she tossed them. The ashes for the most part drifted and some even clumped on the still water. “Oh shit,” she breathed.

But then the rain came tumbling down—a sudden rush of water from the sky—her tears on a larger scale. “There we go,” Gareth chuckled.

“Good. I was afraid we’d have clumps of…” A sob ripped out of her and she was mortified. “Dad,” she finished on a tortured wail. How embarrassing.

But Gareth simply smiled and pulled her in against him. He locked her in the bonds of his strong arms and held her while she cried. “It’s okay, Jojo.”

“That would have been bad. Clumps of father drifting on the water.” She started to cry harder and she felt the rumble of Gareth’s laughter in his chest. It bounced her cheek gently and though she wanted to be angry with him for laughing, she wasn’t. She knew her reaction was fueling his.

And it was funny in a dark and twisted way, which was normally the kind of humor they shared.

“Dad would be pissed,” he whispered to her earlobe. “Break me up and let me float, God damn it.”

Then she was laughing. Messy unfeminine snorts and guffaws that shook her body. “Jesus. We are sick.”

“You have to laugh. It’s imperative.”

He patted the small of her back and there was that unexpected rush and bustle of her body reacting, shifting due to the feel of his hands on her.

Not now…not now!

They stood there for a few minutes while the rain slowed. The ashes had mingled well with the water by then. Most of it having washed away with the now swirling current.

She waved once and turned away, done with the sadness. Wanting just to remember the good stuff about her dad and not the fact that he was gone.

But what if he wasn’t her dad? Or what if he wasn’t Gareth’s dad.

She was shaking a little as she walked across the slippery rocky trail and Gareth kept a steadying hand on the small of her back.

Everything she knew was shaken and upside down. It was an unsettling feeling…to say the least.

Chapter 6

They slowed when the rain began to fall harder again. Gareth ducked off the path and walked out onto a small overhang. The rock was a bit slippery but the view was astounding. Jordan watched the water dance under the deluge.

“It’s nice here,” she said.

“I know. I come here sometimes. Just for the quiet.” Gareth hooked his elbow around her neck and tugged her in. He kissed her above her ear without looking at her. It was an old familiar gesture. The kiss. The embrace. The comfortable silence.

But under it all ran a current of unease and worry for Jordan. She couldn’t stop what-iffing and it was driving her mad.

“Stop it,” he said.

“Stop reading my mind,” she whispered. Her voice barely audible above the hiss of rain.

“Sorry, old habit,” he laughed and squeezed her briefly.

When Gareth turned to face her full-on, she realized how close they were. That only a few scant inches separated their faces. How once upon a time she would never have thought of it, but now things might be different. She might not have to feel so…bad.

Gareth inclined his head and she had the thought to pull back. To move her head, to stiff-arm him…to just say no. And yet, she didn’t move to do any of those things. Instead, she moved in to meet his lips.

His mouth, soft and warm and perfectly aggressive as it pressed down on hers. The embrace moved from sibling affection to passion and she didn’t let the thought take root. If she did, she’d cry or scream or maybe dive into the pounding river.

Instead, Jordan parted her lips and took the kiss, wishing for conflicting things—for everything to change and nothing to change.

Jordan tried to breathe as his tongue dragged over hers—lazy and sensual and so forbidden. Gareth pulled her in, pushing his hard thigh between her legs. When she tried for a split second to back off, he cupped his hand to the back of her head and she surrendered, taking the kiss as hard as he wanted to give it.

“You said you wouldn’t run,” he said, holding her to him.

“But we don’t know yet and—“

“I won’t even touch you,” he said. “So let me.”

He started to move her just a bit from side to side, his strong hands easily directing her and his muscular leg grinding to her. Jordan felt the sweet bite of pressure on her clit and the thick rush of juices in her pussy. She moaned and Gareth took that sound and swallowed it down in his kiss.

“Just let me,” he repeated.

He added more pressure, deepened the kiss, rocked her a bit and the thump of her pulse thundered through her cunt. Gareth reached between them and zeroed in on her clit. Event through her jeans, even through her panties. He pressed his finger to the thick jean seam that split her sex and used it in his favor. The pressure increased, the pleasure followed along and she made another small sound of desperation.

“Almost,” Gareth said.

He pinched her nipple through her top and the lighting fork of pain added to her wet pleasure. It was goodness and perfect and she was going to come…

One more kiss and he paused to bite her other nipple through her blouse. His teeth moving against the cotton barriers of top and bra but sharp none the less and his…they were his teeth so it was bigger than any sensation from any other person.

“Come for me, little sister,” he said, dragging his tongue along the slope of her throat. Nibbling her collar bone before bending to bite her breasts again. He pressed hard to her clit with his thumb and she obeyed. Coming hard and fast for him as he continued to hold her close.

“Gareth, I—“

The heated blush of shame had worked up into her cheeks from her chest. But she had made a decision to let him…to let them have this. So she wouldn’t acknowledge the shame at all.

“Hush, Jojo.” He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock, long and hard and flushed red with blood, free of his boxers. “Just let me do this—“

She thought for a moment he was going to take her. Bend her over, make her bare, fuck her until it was all okay even if it wasn’t. And for that moment Jordan wanted him to. She wanted him to do all of those things to her and more. She wanted his fingers on her and his tongue. She wanted to feel his teeth and his cock and the gentle slap of his balls to her bottom as he fucked her hard.

How many times had she been with a man and imagined that man to be her brother? How many blond, green-eyed men had she shared a bed with so that she could look at them through slitted hazed eyes and imagine it was Gareth? How long had this need, this want…this urge, been in her?

Too long to consider.

He took himself in hand and threaded the other hand in her ponytail. Using it to yank her in, he kissed her, his fist working his cock in long easy strokes…at first. But when her tongue touched his tongue and she was the one to move in and kiss him harder, Gareth started to handle himself more roughly. He jerked and thrust and yanked until his orgasm swelled out of him in a big surge of breath and words that weren’t really words.

More like a war cry.

He broke the kiss and smiled. He was just about to tuck himself back in but Jordan said, “Wait.”

And reached out a single finger to stroke him. She touched the tip of his cock and then traced the divot in his smooth glans. The pressure made him hum deep in his throat.

“Fuck. Jojo,” he said and gave her one more kiss.

Everything was different.

*****

“Show me the marriage certificates,” Jordan whispered.

Gareth watched her for a moment and then went into the room she was using. Jordan heard the drawers open and close and he came out with two white squares of paper.

“Mom,” he said placing one square in front of her. “Dad.”

He stroked her ponytail and touched her forehead. “Lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Soup, salad or sandwich?”

“Pizza bagel.”

Gareth laughed. “Of course, it wasn’t an option.”

She grinned. “I know we have everything bagels and Bowman Deli’s Provolone and pepperoni. I know we have fresh tomatoes. And I know you make a kick ass pizza bagel.”

“You’re not going to learn anything from those other than our parents were married before.”

He bent and kissed the top of her head before heading into the kitchen.

Jordan stared at the name on the white piece of paper. Kurt Paulson. The phone book was in the hutch as always and she flipped through the P section for Paulson. Seven. There were seven Paulson listed.

“Are you my father?” she whispered.

“What?”

“Well, Gareth, doesn’t it stand to reason that if we aren’t actually brother and sister. If that’s true. That the man mom was married to before was my dad. Or your dad? Someone’s dad.”

“I have his eyes,” he said softly.

“Pardon?”

Gareth wiped his hands on a red striped dish towel. “I have dad’s eyes. Same color, same shape, same light sensitivity.” He forced a laugh.

“So that means mom would be my mom and dad your dad. Which means Kurt Paulson could be my dad. My real dad.” She ran a hand through her long bangs, ruffling them and then smoothing them repeatedly. “If you’re right.”

“If I’m right,” he echoed.

The buzzer sounded and Gareth ducked into the kitchen to grab their lunch.

Chapter 7

She didn’t really want to eat. The whole scenario from their hike kept crowding her thoughts. It was all he could think of. That kiss. That orgasm. Her brother getting her off. And now… Kurt Paulson.

The pizza she’d requested, that she’d salivated over, tasted like paper and soggy tomatoes in her mouth. She ate half and couldn’t eat any more.

“You upset?” Gareth was watching her carefully.

“About what?”

“About any of it. The certificate,” he nodded to the paper. “Or…us.”

“Not upset. Overwhelmed.”

He nodded to her. “Understandable, Jojo.”

“What’s it like?” she blurted.

“What’s what like?” he swigged his iced tea and studied her.

His gaze on her was like a touch. Her nipples pebbled and her stomach felt nervous and buzzy. Her pussy grew soft and wet and a steady pulse took up residence in her entire body. From head to toe the thrum of lust filled her.

She considered him, wondering if she should just tell him never mind. If she should just push it all aside. But the image of him bound to the bed and Isabel naked and angry and all of it rushed back and she blurted, “The games you play. The pain and…stuff.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. Clearly this is not what Gareth had expected of her. “You want to know?”

“Maybe.” Her mouth was dry and her throat felt tight.

“You’d have to listen. Whatever I say. Whatever I want.”

“And you?”

“And I reward you for it if you do…and punish you for it if you don’t.”

A small rush of fluid escaped her and she shifted in the hard dining room chair. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You’d hurt me?”

“Enough,” Gareth said, popping the final bite of the bagel in his mouth.

“What do you mean enough?”

“Enough that you’d want more. Enough that you’d crave it.”

Jordan placed her hands flat on the table and pressed down to steady herself. “Will you teach me?”

“Will you learn?”

She nodded.

“It would mean more stuff like earlier. I don’t know how long it will take us to figure out…this.” He waved a finger over the paperwork on the table. “And we might end up being wrong about our suspicions.”

“I know.” It was hard to force the words out but she managed. Barely.

“So that means at some point, you’d be fucking your brother.”

A tremor shook her chest and worked down into her belly. Jordan struggled to find air. She tried to steady her galloping pulse and failed. “I know,” she breathed.

“Fucking. Your. Brother.” His eyes were sharp and bright in the soft light of the dining room. The day outside was still gray and dreary.

“I know.”

“If we’re wrong…and this…more between us is just some glitch in us, then how are you going to feel?”

“I don’t know.” Best to be honest. She was always honest with Gareth, but it was a relief—like a huge weight falling free of her—to be honest about this particular topic. It had been locked up inside of her, gnawing away at her soul, for way too long.

“But you want to go forward?”

“I do.”

“I will fuck you, Jordan. At some point.”

She nodded, her heart having lodged itself very suddenly in her throat. She felt giddy and lightheaded and terrified.

He smiled at her. A barely there, half grin that made her body warm and tingly. She wanted to touch him right then. Now that she’d admitted it, the urge to touch him—inappropriately—was overwhelming.

“Now?” she asked, tracing the edge of the marriage certificate with her fingernail.

He smiled again and her blood leapt.

Then he said, “No.”

*****

Gareth left the house for a run. Left for a run!

It had Jordan reeling. The conversation. The possibility that they weren’t siblings…not really. She pushed his words out of her head only to have them burst right back in.

I will fuck you, Jordan. At some point…

She grabbed the phone book and the phone and started dialing Kurt Paulsons.

The first Kurt was deceased. The second well on his way, so deaf she had to shout into the phone loud enough to make her throat sore. The third had no idea who Kelly Singer was and had been married to the same woman for fifty years (making him too old). It was on the fourth call that she hit pay dirt.

“Kurt? What do you need with Kurt?” An older woman asked.

Jordan tried to keep her frustration at bay. “I’m looking for the Kurt Paulson who was married to Kelly Singer. She was my—“

“Kelly! How is Kelly?”

“I don’t know,” Jordan said with a sigh. “I haven’t seen my mother in years.”

There was silence and then a tentative, “I’m sorry, dear.”

“Do you know Kurt?”

“Kurt’s my son. And he’s just moved to Delaware. Got a job there and a house and he’s dating a nice woman already. I hope there might be some wedding bells on the way. But who knows. He’s no spring chicken but he’s not old either. You know?”

Jordan laughed. “I do.”

She explained the possible connection and got his phone number and address. With shaking hands she wrote it all down and thanked the woman who said her name was Catherine. She could be your grandmother…

Jordan left her info on the table, stripped out of her rubber boots and jeans and everything else—still damp from the hike—and climbed into the shower. She had it cranked as hot as she could get it, her skin reddening to the point of absurdity. The room filled with steam. She’d just washed her hair with her peach scented shampoo, finally rescued from her bags, and rinsed when she heard the door.

“Now,” Gareth said and pulled the curtain back.

Jordan moved to cover herself and when he cocked an eyebrow—a long lived habit of her brother’s—she froze. Her hands dropped to her side and she waited, heart thudding.

“Good girl,” he said with a smile. That smile went right to the center of her where she was hot and wet and suddenly eager to please. Hearing him say good girl had her head spinning. It was lust she was feeling and it was time to just stop hiding it and accept it.

“I figured you’d be a faster learner. You always did defer to me,” Gareth said, barely audible above the rush of the shower. But his words and his tone insinuated into her ears and her head.

She watched, feeling frozen, as he reached out and traced a single bead of water on her breast. He wicked it away before letting the next drop descend. Her nipple puckered at his nearness and he pinched her until a small needy sound rushed out of her.

“You like that burst of pain. Like a salty finish on a super sweet dessert. It’s a contrast that makes the pleasure so much bigger, so much brighter.” He leaned in and pressed the very tip of his tongue to the very tip of her hard nipple. Then looking up with those bright green eyes he said, “So very real.”

He captured the hardened nub in his mouth and sucked once, very hard, so that she felt a resounding tug all through her belly and her cunt. She shifted just a little, trying so hard to release some of the pressure that had built in her pussy and her womb, but he tsked at her. “No, no, no. Stay still please, Jojo.”

She froze.

His finger slid from the valley between her breasts and down over her belly button. Jordan watched mesmerized as the goose bumps appeared on her skin, a mob of taut flesh reacting to his gentle touch. Gareth’s fingers slipped a bit lower, stroking the tender skin a few inches above her shaved mound. Then he feathered his fingers over her wet sex and just let the heat of his body seep in. “Spread your legs.”

She did it without a second thought. He leaned into the shower, his hiking boots a stark contrast on the pink bathmat that covered the bathroom floor. She had a second for that one odd observation and then Gareth drove two fingers into her. Instantly hooking them so the touched the swollen knot of her G-spot.

Jordan shivered and almost came. Just from that one touch. Just from that one thrust.

He kissed her, licked water from her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone and thrust those fingers one more time before pulling free of her. Jordan made a noise of distress and wished them back.

Instead, Gareth took the showerhead off the wall and aimed the medium speed jet at her clit. “Hands on the tile please.”

She pressed her hands flat to the wall and tried to breathe. It was hard since it felt like all of her energy—the part of her that made her Jordan—was rallying for this moment. Rushing up to the surface ready to burst out of her with the orgasm that she could feel swiftly approaching.

Just when she was on the brink, he angled the shower head just to the tender spot just above her clit. Jordan sighed. Gareth’s eyes never left her, he tracked every twitch, every flicker, every move as he manned the showerhead. Jordan felt more naked than naked.

The water warmed some and he again settled the flow right on her clit. Her fingers curled to the tile as more pressure bloomed in her pussy. She felt so tender and swollen and ready she could scream. And yet, she wanted him to drag it out. She wanted to savor this.

I will fuck you, Jordan. At some point…

She gasped at the memory and he angled the water jet to the left of her clitoris. This time, Jordan fought the urge to scream.

Her eyes found his, her eyes that were stormy blue like her mother’s and not green like his—and she whispered, “Please, Gar.”

“Hush up now. You said you’d listen.”

She bit her lip and moved her hips some. Not even realizing she was about to until she did it—tipping her pelvis just so to get a better angle on the bursts of water.

“Not cheating,” he said and angled it to the left of where she wanted it.

She swallowed her words but a short strangled sound slipped past her lips.

Gareth grinned.

The water left her and he leaned over like a man bowing properly to royalty and licked he nipple until she felt fluttery spasms in her cunt. His tongue dragged slowly from her left breast to her right and he sucked that pointed bud also.

She gripped the slippery tile wall fruitlessly. He had to let her come soon…right?

When he stood fully and tugged her to him he said, “Kiss me, little sister.”

She kissed him. Flirting with him with her lips, her tongue, her teeth. His strong hand wound in her wet hair and held her close as he bullied her with his tongue. The jet of water continues to hit the bottom of the tub, not doing anyone any good. And Jordan continued to try to ignore the steady demanding pulse of her own desire in her pussy.

Gareth released her and put the shower head back in the holder on the wall.

“Do not get yourself off. You may not use that shower head. You may not use your fingers. No toys, no bottles, no vegetables…whatever you could think of to stick up there and get yourself off…don’t.” His gaze was intense and Jordan realized he wasn’t kidding. “Do not have an orgasm until I say so. Got it?”

“But—“

“You said you’d listen. Will you listen?”

She blew out a huge breath, confused and aroused and a little pissed. But his eyes left no room for argument and she nodded once. “Yes.”

Chapter 8

He couldn’t be serious. He. Could not. Be serious.

Jordan dried off with shaking hands, her body one big urge to come. It was all she could think of and all she could feel. Which she had to assume was the point.

According to him, it would be worth her while. She doubted it.

Jordan sat on the bed, cross legged and naked and tried to breathe. Would he really know if she…

She pushed that temptation away. This was Gareth. Yes, he would know. He was freaky aware that way. He always knew when she was lying just as he could always tell when she was sad.

“Freaky mind reader.” She pulled her hair up into a messy bun and clipped it. Then she pulled on big gray sweatpants, a huge maroon sweatshirt and her dingy pink slippers.

If he was going to torturer her, she was going to look as boring and blah as possible. It was a meager weapon, but it was something.

Gareth knocked and when she called out he peeked in. “What are you going to do about this number?”

“Not sure,” she sighed.

“Do you want me to call?”

It was tempting. And yet, she had the feeling if they weren’t siblings…that she was Kelly’s child and Gareth was Doug’s. She felt compelled to be the one to talk to her possible father.

“No,” she sighed. “I think it should be me.”

Gareth gave her a sharp nod. “I understand.”

He slowly—so she knew he was doing it—dragged his gaze over her body. Then he laughed loud and sudden. “Nice outfit. Do you think that’s going to show me?”

Her face flooded with heat and she forced what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “No, I was just going to get comf—“

Gareth pushed into the room and grabbed the string to her sweatshirt hood. He tugged it tight so the hood swiftly gathered behind her head and he tied it once, without knotting it under her chin. So it was cutting into her skin. Cutting off some of her air.

His huge hand cupped the back of her head and he roughly reeled her in for a kiss, pinning her against him with that hand in her wet hair. His other hand swiftly snaked down into her huge sweat pants and he pressed her clit hard. It was as if he’d memorized her body already—zeroing right to the hard taut bit of flesh so riven with this fresh craving for Gareth.

“You’re so close,” he said, sliding a single finger into her soaking wet hole and thrusting into her like he was fucking her. She imagined him fucking her. Allowed herself that privilege finally. Imagined his cock, big and hard and blushing, sliding into her wet, wet pussy and filling her. Stretching her and working her and how it would feel to come around his hard, warm flesh and…

Her pussy tightened greedily around his single finger. Gareth grinned like some fairytale bad guy and pulled his finger free. “Not yet, kid.”

Then he kissed her nose and left her standing there in her baggy close. Way worse off than when he’d come in.

*****

“Is Kurt there, please?” Jordan had to keep her voice from trembling like the rest of her. Besides cold calling a man who could possibly be her father, she was still reeling from her brother sticking his hand down her pants and his finger in her body.

“Hold on, please.” It was a pleasant female voice and she assumed it was the woman Kurt’s mother—her possible grandmother—had mentioned.

“Hello?

“Hi, Mr. Paulson. My name is Jordan Daniels…” She tried to sound calm and sure of herself but her voice felt trembly and weak and Jordan was sure that it sounded the same to him.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

Jordan cleared her throat and she could feel, more than see, her brother standing in the archway that separated living room from dining room. She drew a thick and heavy spiral on the pad in front of her, pressing down so hard she feared she’d break the ball point.

“My mother’s name is Kelly. Kelly Daniels but it used to be—“

“Kelly Singer,” he finished.

“Yes,” she said, rushing on. “I know that you and my mother were married a few years before I was born.”

Silence.

She rushed on, determined not to lose her nerve. For just a moment, to still the clamor of anxiety from talking to this man, she let herself focus on the memory of Gareth touching her. The feel of his hands—hard and callused from work, but very talented and very gentle when need be—on her skin. Inside of her.

“Anyway, my mother isn’t here and my father…her second husband, I guess, just died.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” He finally spoke in a soft wary voice.

“Thank you…thanks.” She put her head in her hand for a moment and tugged her bangs sharply to focus her attention. “But he was kind of delirious at the end and said a few things to make me and my brother believe that maybe…Doug really wasn’t my dad.”

Gareth’s hand settled on her shoulder—warm, reassuring, and under it all—and maybe she was just hallucinating that part—possessive.

“Oh,” Kurt said. Sounding surprised but calm. “And you think—“

“That maybe you are actually my dad,” she rushed on. “Yes. Maybe…um. Possibly?”

“No,” he said.

Her heart sank and her vision fuzzed over. She felt like she was suddenly in a misty painting by Monet. Everything went soft around the edges. Colors muted. Jordan put her head down and said, “Oh.”

Gareth squeezed her shoulder and she tried to steel herself. She wanted to cry or rage or just simply sniffle and sob until she melted into a puddle of goop. Instead she started to reply, “Thank you for your time, Mr—“

“But I know who your dad could be.”

Jordan froze, her heart skipping a step and then flopping chaotically before remembering its intended rhythm. “You do?”

“Sure. Your mom and I only made it a year. The intention was good but the execution sucked, as it were. We were both young, stubborn, head strong and the most we had in common was…well, passion.”

Jordan smiled. “I see.”

“But after me she met a man named Ted Sweet. Can you believe that name?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Anyway, they were together for a while. I heard they’d broken up because he was stationed elsewhere. I want to say he was a marine but he might have been in the Army. Either way, they were very much together right after Kelly and I called it quits. The time frame fits for you, though, Jordan.”

She gave him her number and thanked him profusely and asked him if he’d call her if he thought of anything else. Kurt Paulson said he would.

Jordan hung up and Gareth kneaded her shoulders. “Well?”

“Well, he’s not my dad.”

His grip grew tighter but his hands stayed on her.

“But my dad might be a man named Ted Sweet.”

Gareth blew out a breath and kissed the top of her head. “Best news I’ve heard all day. Want wine?”

“No. I want to curl up with a good book and go to sleep.”

“Just make sure that’s all you do,” Gareth said and left her sitting there.

Chapter 9

It was stupid. It was stupid and it was dumb and it was horrible. Jordan tossed to her side and then back to her original angle.

“God damn it.” She hissed it in the dark and then proceeded to beat the shit out of her pillow.

If Gareth had told her she could finish herself off, she’d never want to. She could have just gone to bed.

It was that he’d told her no. And she knew it. And Jordan knew that Gareth knew it.

“What a mind fuck.”

She flopped on her back and tried to steady her breath. Her hand trailed her belly, sliding beneath the tank she wore. The waistband of her sweatpants teased her with memories of Gareth pulling them wide and shoving his hand inside.

She groaned softly and then covered her sound, realizing he might hear her. Fuck!

Jordan slid her fingers below the cloth covered elastic, sweeping her fingers back and forth over the tender skin above her mound. Her body thrilled at the touch. Her hips arching up on their own at the tender brush of skin on skin.

She spread her hand wide over her shaved sex and let the heat from her fingers seep into her body. The tip of her middle finger grazed her swollen desperate clit and she sighed with contentment.

She couldn’t make herself come. She’d just…give herself a moment.

Jordan thought that maybe if she slid her fingers along the outer edges of her inner lips, she’d be better off. Not as sensitive. Not as intense.

But it didn’t work. Her blood flow reveled at the pressure and her clitoris took up a war drum beat, all of it concentrated maddeningly in that tiny knob of flesh.

Finally, she shook her head at it all. How silly and ridiculous it was. “So stupid.”

She rubbed her clit in earnest. Her pressure much harder now than the usual since she’d had to wait so long. Since her need had grown so large.

Jordan forced three fingers deep into her cunt and curled them to her deepest spots. The suede patch of hidden flesh responded, shooting a warm pleasure through her pelvis and her belly. Her legs felt heavy and her toes curled. So this is what waiting forever and ever to get off felt like.

Her thighs fell open as her body greedily demanded the orgasm it was due. She didn’t have to think, her body did its own fluid dance. Hips pulsing up, swaying a bit—heels digging into the mattress as she tipped up enough to get her finger deeper. Jordan ground her clit to the palm of her hand, fucking herself the way she wished Gareth would. Hard and demanding and completely intense.

The pleasure swelled, burst, leaked throughout her. The orgasm banging into her hard before shaking her all over. The rush was sweet and sudden and seemed to unfurl forever. Aftershocks moving in her pussy triggering warm waves of pleasure in her legs and arms. Her face was hot, her chest slick with a sweat.

She shoved her hand in her hair and felt it slightly damp too. Her heart was a wild thing pounding to get out of her chest and her stomach fluttered with anxiety. She’d broken his rule. As the orgasm faded, the realization hit her.

Jordan had promised she’d behave. She had given her word. And she’d broken it. Gareth had told her no—no release. Jordan had decided otherwise…

She blew out a sigh and turned to her side, her body calmer for the orgasm. There was nothing she could do about it now. She’d broken the rules and she’d decide in the morning if she was going to tell him.

He’ll know…

“That’s crazy,” she whispered in the dark.

The lights flipped on and Jordan blinked, raising her head to find the source of sudden brightness.

“Was it good?” Gareth asked.

She wanted to answer him but her mouth wouldn’t work. Her lips were frozen and her tongue a traitor. She blinked again as Gareth stepped into her room and shut the door.

*****

She backpedaled on the bed, her head hitting the back which was actually the sofa. Springs squeaked and that horrible iron bar that she made a production of not sleeping on, smacked her bottom.

“Jesus, Gareth! You scared the shit out of me.” She wanted so badly to sound irate. She sounded guilty. It was audible to her so it had to be audible to him.

“Was it good? That orgasm I told you not to have?”

“I—”

“Was it?” he roared. He looked angry—really angry—his face was red and his voice was booming.

Shit.

“Gareth, I mean…come on. It was silly. I was just—”

“Doing what I told you not to,” he said. His voice had dropped low and somehow that was scarier than the yelling. His voice was all potential rage and malice.

“I just…I didn’t think—”

“That I meant it?”

She shook her head, bit her lip. Her teeth kept returning to her lower lip, plucking, gnawing, biting it hard to focus her attention.

“Take your pants off.”

“What?” she chirped. Two emotions flooded through her simultaneously. Fear and excitement.

Her body shook with the force of her feelings and the confusion of it all. Goose bumps rose up—a surge of prickly flesh—and her nipples spiked against her tank. She shivered.

“You heard me.” He toed the lip of the mattress so the shock of his movement shook the bed. “Do it.”

“I—but we don’t know if we’re not—“ Jordan broke off shaking her head. She felt so incredibly tongue-tied and frustrated. The urge to tip her head back and just scream at the ceiling was almost overwhelming.

And why hadn’t she just gone up to the second floor to sleep in her old room? To be alone? To be off the first floor?

She knew why. Because Gareth was down here.

He narrowed his eyes and said, “Last chance, Jordan. Take ‘em off.”

Something in his face told her he wasn’t fucking around. She pushed her fingers into the waistband and shoved. She was bare underneath and her internal muscles were still letting off random ticks and pops of post orgasmic pleasure. His eyes on her almost made her moan.

“Spread your legs.”

She didn’t question him. She let her thighs fall open and a rush of heat flooded her face as his eyes tracked her. She could see Gareth studying the plump, red folds of her sex. The moisture she could feel would be visible to him. The slick juices of her need and her disobedience shone for him between her legs.

When he took a step toward her, she shivered. It was a sudden violent reaction and it startled her.

“Don’t move.”

“I didn’t—”

“Shut up. No one told you to speak. You need to be punished.”

Punished?

Images of red headed, shaved, stormy Isabel stomping out of the house swirled in her brain. It had been her turn to be in charge but what kind of pain had the girl been into? What had she liked? What kind of punishment had been meted out to her?

Jordan realized as he came closer to the bed that a hot thumping jealousy had rooted in her belly. Isabel…best to forget her.

“Turn on your belly,” Gareth said. He had one knee on the bed and the whole mattress dipped and squealed with the added weight.

This time she kept her mouth shut. Jordan nodded, her mussed ponytail swaying around her face. She rolled to her belly and kept her lips sealed in a tight line while he shoved pillows under her belly.

Two pillows propped her and her ass was raised in the air. Jordan fought to breathe normally; she could barely get a deep breath in her lungs. What was he going to do? Fuck her? Not yet. They didn’t know. Surely he wouldn’t…

But under it all she knew damn well she wanted him to. Had wanted him too for far too long to even calculate. Dreamed about it, fantasized about it, thought about it…and always rejected it. But what if this time…

“Count,” Gareth said.

She barely had time to register his word when the first blow fell. A full heavy-handed palm slap to her ass. Fire blossomed on that skin in the shape of his large hand. She swore she felt fingers and a palm print and all of it. The thought fled when his hand fell again, criss-crossing the original blow.

Now an X made of handprints throbbed on her ass and she let loose a wail that people down the block probably heard.

“Be quiet. Accept your punishment. And I told you to count.”

“Two,” she managed, a breathless stutter.

Was this her Gareth? Her lovely Gareth doted on her and adored her and—

“Three!” she barked as the third blow fell on her pristine untouched left ass cheek. Fire raged under her skin but she mindlessly ground her pelvis to the pillows and the harder mattress beneath. The pressure from that movement triggered a slick rush of fluid between her legs and then the first pulse of pleasure.

“Four,” flew off her lips in an almost joyous moan.

Gareth laughed. “I think my slutty little sister is enjoying her punishment too much,” he said.

She waited for the blow but what she got instead was a probing hand between her legs and then the hard thrust of his fingers in her cunt. A single digit forced into her bottom. Her anus instinctively trying to clamp down but Gareth pushed past it.

Her blood thrummed in her bottom, his fingers curled in her cunt, that rogue digit moved slowly buried in her ass and if he’d just thrust the fingers in her pussy a bit harder she’d…

Chapter 10

“Count,” he whispered and those fingers were gone and another blow landed.

“Five,” she sobbed.

Who knew sex could be so fucking frustrating. Not sex. Games. Power. Playing.

One landed very hard, startling her, and she bucked, almost screaming, “Six!”

Jordan waited for the next one and it didn’t come. What came instead was the gentle stroke of his hand on her hot flesh. A sinister soothing touch that made her whimper. “That was pretty good for a new girl. You didn’t try and grab me or beg or anything. Though I would have liked to hear you beg, Jojo,” he said softly.

Gareth slipped his finger between her ass cheeks, tracing the line of flesh from the small of her back to her anus.

“Gareth—“

“Shh…”

He was whispering. So quiet she had to strain to hear him.

“Next time I’ll make you beg.”

“Gareth—“

Again he cut her off, but this time by flipping her onto her back. Her ass and hips were still thrust high on the pillows so her head was lower than her lower body. He leaned in slowly, green eyes pinned to hers and kissed the top of one thigh and then the other. His pink tongue darted out to lick a line along each hipbone and the slick fluid in her from the spanking was augmented by seeing his mouth on her skin. By feeling it there, hot and wet and so fucking close.

“Gar—“

“Hush.”

She hushed.

He kissed her shaved mound and rested the upper ridge of his teeth to her flesh. Barely pressing, it was still enough pain and pressure to cause her heartbeat to bang mightily in her cunt. The hot skin on her ass from her punishment thumped in time. Jordan felt like one big pulse.

With his thumbs he pulled her wide, spreading her outer lips and studying her sex. “Such a pretty pout,” he whispered.

Another rush of fluid. She felt his gaze somehow liberating and shameful all at once. Moisture slid from her body. Gareth dipped his finger in it and spread it over her swollen clit. She bucked up and he pushed a forearm to her hips to hold her down.

“Easy.”

He leaned over her and sucked her clit. His lips gripping it before his tongue swooped over it. His tongue was hot and insistent and he swirled that greedy bit of flesh so that she hovered right on the verge of coming. Right there.

His fingers traveled near her aching slit and she begged him silently with her body to push his fingers in. Or God, better yet, himself. She imagined him—it felt like a fever dream—stripping off his pajama pants and driving into her.

But he didn’t put his fingers in her. Or anything else. He licked heated paths up either side of her inner lips and then clamped his teeth on her erect clitoris so she hissed and her hips shot up.

Then he sat up, wiped his mouth and said, “Put your pants on.”

“I…what?”

“Put them on. And come with me. I don’t trust you, Jojo. Not alone. You’re sleeping in my bed with me.”

“I won’t. I won’t do it again. The spanking…that was my…my punishment.”

Gareth chuckled and grabbed her wrist. Pulling her after him he said, “That wasn’t punishment. What I just did to you, and now being next to me all night where I can keep you from finishing yourself off…that’s the real punishment.”

Jordan followed him and realized he was right. Her body was throbbing and wanting all over again. It was all concentrated down to her need to come. And now she’d have to lie next to him all night long and feel this way and not be able to touch herself. Or him. Or do anything about it. At all.

*****

Jordan swatted at her hair. She was caught on something. Startling light bled into the dark comfort behind her closed eyelids. What time was it?

She’d barely managed to get to sleep. Her lust, her want, her body had beat a steady greedy rhythm until the wee hours when finally exhaustion had won. It had been even more confusing to wake mere hour later with Gareth’s arm throw across her midsection, the gesture felt entirely normal. Even the clearly palpable possessive nature of it.

Sleep had won again and she’d drifted off with that warm weight draped over her. Now something was caught in her hair.

Tug-tug-tug

“Wake up, sunshine.” His breath feathered her cheek and she caught the scent of wintergreen and under it a faint touch of morning coffee.

“Go away,” she whispered.

Gareth’s chuckle made the fine hairs along the back of her neck prickle. He tugged her ponytail again and said, “No can do. I have to go to work and you have to get up.”

“Why?” she groaned.

He pinched her nipple and her eyes shot open, the squawk of outrage dying in her throat when she saw that crooked grin of his. How very weird was it to want to grab your brother’s face and kiss him like it could be your last kiss?

Very.

“Because I said so.”

“I thought it was only dirty sex stuff you got to boss me around with.”

“Well, that’s true with what you asked me to show you. But I am your big brother—at least for now—so the bossing extends to all areas.”

She hit him with her pillow.

“Come on, kid. I made coffee and this is for you. So get up and get at it. I only have to put in half a day but we’re stripping a roof so I have to make an appearance.”

Jordan felt the slide of paper between her breasts and popped her eyes back open to peek at the rolled scrap of paper in her pajama top.

“What’s that?” She could smell the coffee and gave up even the last tiny shred of a fantasy of going back to sleep.

“That’s Tom Sweet’s phone number. I did an online search for him and narrowed it down. Then I finally paid twenty bucks with my credit card to wrangle that thing. So call him. He might be your father. Which means, he’s not mine.”

Jordan eyed the piece of paper even though her vision was still sleep blurred. Tom Sweet. Maybe her father. Which would make them not…

“So if you call him you can see if he might have, you know…”

“Knocked my mother up?” she sighed.

“Our mother,” he said.

“Only for now.” Jordan sat up and the sheets puddled around her waist. “Let’s be honest. We’re hoping that he’s my dad right? We’re hoping that we’re not really related. So that this all makes sense. So we’re not so…” She waved her hands, searching for the right word.

“Perverse?” He grinned at her.

Her whole body warmed and her pussy gave an insistent warm thump that reminded her of the torture he’d inflicted the night before.

Jordan tugged her ponytail elastic free and ruffled her hair to relieve the ache that had her scalp tight. “I guess technically perverse works. It’s more taboo. I mean some states have repealed the laws against incest. But it’s still…”

“Twisted?”

“Stop.”

“Mangled, broken, weird, strange…fucked up?” He rattled it off with that slight half smile.

“Shut up,” she snapped, surprising even herself.

Gareth dropped to the bed and put his arm around her. He kissed her ear and whispered. “I’m sorry. But if we don’t embrace it—make light of it, even—it just sort of hurts my head. All I know is, it’s not new…and it’s not going away. So…”

“Maybe there’s a reason for it.”

“Exactly.”

His fingers moved to brush her breast through her tank. Her skin tingled and hummed and then flourished with goose bumps before he tugged her raised nipple lightly. She wished the tank top weren’t in the way of his skin against hers. But she needed to focus.

“And Jojo?”

“Yes?”

“If you do a good job…if you get some info for us…”

Her mouth went dry and suddenly her heartbeat was very loud in her ears. “Yes?”

“I’ll reward you for it. Make you happy. Give you that orgasm you’re chasing.”

She swallowed hard and waited.

“But you’d better not do anything while I’m gone. I need to be able to trust you.” He faced her, training those bright green eyes on hers. “And I’ll know.”

She believed him.

Chapter 11

Tom Sweet lived in Brookstown. A forty-five minute drive from Allisonville. He’d invited her to lunch after a long sigh and an, “Oh yeah. Kelly. What a lady…”

Which had kind of freaked her out but upon hearing he might be her dad, he didn’t run screaming into the night either. Which scored him points. Even though she was pretty sure she was going to throw up, she pulled on some black leggings and a very short gray dress as a tunic. Black boots and a scarf completed the whole deal. She was too freaked out to do much by way of makeup so she made do with bronzer some blush and a touch of mascara.

“Done. You’re trying to see if he’s your dad not date him. Though with your track record—” Shook her head and cut off her own joke.

She wouldn’t continue to beat herself up over Gareth. It was what it was and they were doing their best to actually figure out what it was.

It could be normal attraction between two people entirely unrelated by blood.

“From my lips to God’s ears,” she whispered. “Because I know I want him. I want to be with him. I want him to spank me again and I want him to tie me up and make me beg and fuck me. All the dirty things I think Gareth is capable of…but I also…” She stared into her own blue eyes, fear prickling along her upper lip and making her armpits hot. “Think I love him. Like…love him.”

She turned off the light and left the room before she could gauge her own reaction.

*****

He was a big man. Tall and blond and blue eyed. Jordan took in the ‘towhead’ color of his hair and her belly fluttered. That was the same color as her hair. Granted, it was Gareth’s too but his was a shade darker, leaning a bit more toward honey than her rare white-blonde hair. Doug Davis—their father—had been honey blonde. But this man…this man was surfer boy white blond and it made the hair on her arms raise.

“Hi there,” he said, extending a hand.

She shook it, feeling the big soft warmth that enveloped hers. “Hi.”

“Wow,” he said.

When their eyes met she felt her face flood with heat. My god. His eyes were the same color as hers. And his lips were the flared bow of hers. He was bigger, of course, but he was a man. Otherwise…

“I guess we should sit?”

She nodded, unable to really speak beyond the whole hi statement.

He waved a finger at a waitress who guided them to a booth at the back of The Cock and Bull restaurant. Farm fare was what they advertised but Jordan had no appetite so it could have been the most elite cuisine and she wouldn’t have cared.

“You do see the resemblance?” He smiled at her and she saw the same crookedness in his smile that she often saw in her own smile when photographed.

“I do. But I’m so confused that I’m not sure what to think.”

They allowed the waitress to take their drink orders and distribute menus. When she left, he said, “Well, at least tell me how you ended up with me today. I’m dying to know.”

“My father died…” She cleared her throat.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words.”

Jordan shrugged. “Oh, hey, you didn’t know. He died and while my brother was caring for him he said some things that didn’t make sense.” She toyed with her fork and steadied her breathing. “So we started poking around and found out that both our parents—we thought they were our parents—were married before they married each other.”

“Wow. That’s quite a shock after a pretty big blow,” Tom Sweet said.

The waitress—Kathy according to her nametag—brought them their coffee and Tom ordered an omelet with biscuits and fruit.

“Nothing for me,” Jordan said, smiling.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “You have to eat. You’re almost see-through. At least have a biscuit. They make the best biscuits. Tell her, Kathy.”

Kathy, grinned, apparently very pleased to have someone invite her into a conversation. “It’s true. Homemade. No frozen biscuits here. Put some butter and jam or honey on them and…” She rolled her eyes.

Jordan laughed. “Well, how do I turn down a glowing endorsement like that? Give me a biscuit.”

“Have two,” Tom whispered, winking. “You won’t’ be sorry.”

“He’s right,” Kathy said. “The first one goes down easy.”

“Make it two, then,” Jordan said.

“Good choice!” Tom said.

Kathy sauntered off and Jordan blew out a sigh. “Boy, y’all ganged up on me.”

“Sorry, but you should eat. Listen to me bossing you around. Sorry. You’re a grown woman.” He sipped his coffee, his gaze darting over her again and again. Jordan felt the same. She just kept looking at this man. It all felt so surreal.

“You were saying, your dad said some stuff that didn’t make sense…”

“Right. And at one point, he said “Jordan’s father” to my brother. So we really started poking around. We called my mother’s first husband but that was a dead end. When I spoke to him, he remembered you and suggested…” She shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

“It was.”

“I can tell you that your mother and I were intimate.” He looked down, blushing slightly. Just like her. Jordan had to suppress a laugh that this huge, open, friendly man would blush at the word ‘intimate’. It was sweet.

“But you were unaware if—“

He shrugged. “If she got pregnant, she never told me. I certainly would have stepped up had I known. I loved your mom very much.”

“Did she love you?”

“I thought she did. But she said she’d gotten out of one marriage and wasn’t ready for another.” He shrugged again and Kathy delivered their food.

“That was fast,” Jordan said.

“Working man’s restaurant,” Kathy said. “Fast keeps us in business.” She put some butter, honey and jam on the table and then to Jordan, “Eat up. He’s right, kid. You’re too skinny.”

“So she didn’t want anything serious, is what happened?” Jordan moaned when she bit into the biscuit.

Tom pointed and said, “I told you. Best in town. And yes, I wanted more. She didn’t. Sounds like she ended up getting married again anyway.”

“She did. But I don’t think she planned on it. They always told me and Gareth that it was love at first sight. Kismet.”

“So then what? They decided that they’d tell you that you were siblings?”

She nodded, eating the rest of that half of biscuit. She loaded up the other. “We assume so. There’s a year and few months between us and we think they just figured it was easier. I think they wanted a fresh start and together they had an instant family. I don’t know about Gareth’s mom. If he’s looked into it, he hasn’t told me about it. Knowing him he doesn’t care.”

“Sounds like legal brother or not, you’re lucky to have him.”

“I am.”

“It’s clear you love him very much.”

She swallowed hard around the fluffy buttery biscuit that was suddenly too dry. “I do.”

He nodded. “Well, it’s pretty darn obvious to me. Not many folks have our hair. It’s Nordic, I think someone told me once. And usually this color blond comes out of a bottle. On top of that your eyes are like looking in a mirror. And your smile. And your build. You look very much like my sister, Elise. But I’m willing to do a DNA test so you can have your concrete closure.”

She was overwhelmed with gratitude. Unexpectedly. It swelled up in her until her chest ached and her eyes prickled hot with tears.

“Thank you.”

“And I know you’ve had a ton of change in your life lately…”

Death, returning home, sex games with my brother…

She had to suppress another burble of laughter, but this time it was the stressed out hysterical kind. “Some.”

“But when things calm down, if this test shows what I’m ninety-nine percent sure it will…I would like to be a part of your life. I didn’t know about you until now, but I’d like to be around you sometimes if I can.”

Another huge burst of emotion and she started to cry.

“I’m sorry, Jordan,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No. Good tears,” she said. “Good ones.”

He didn’t look convinced. Tom’s face was a mask of concern.

“Hey, if you’re going to have a daughter, you need to get used to emotional moments and the occasional rush of water works.”

Tom patted her hand. “I can do that.”

She ended up finishing the biscuit, content to chat with the man who might be her dad. It distracted her from thinking about the news she had to share with Gareth. And what her possible reward might be. And what she hoped it would be.

Chapter 12

He pulled her in from behind the front door. She hadn’t seen it coming. His big tan arm snaking out to snatch her around the waist and draw her back. Pulling her hard against him so she felt the rigid length of his erection press to her bottom.

Jordan let out a sigh that shivered just like her insides.

“What’s the story, morning glory?” he whispered in her ear. Nuzzling her hair, her neck.

Jordan felt the fine hairs all over her prickle. It was the same sensation she got right before a violent summer storm. Her nipples grew hard and peaked in sympathy. Her pussy rippled—wet and ready—hoping to be filled.

By him.

“What did Mr. Sweet say?” Gareth cupped her breasts in his warm hands. The sensation radiated over her skin. Invisible waves that made it hard for Jordan to think of anything else but him. But him finally…finally fucking her.

“He said he loved mom. And he said…”

He was spinning her, kissing her. When they were face to face she let out a shuddering breath and Gareth’s exhalation echoed hers. His fingers tangling in the fine hairs over her ears, his mouth a rough insistent reminder of every single dirty thought she’d ever had about her brother. Every filthy dream. Every forbidden daydream. Every fantasy that had gotten her off late at night when it was okay to think the things you weren’t allowed to think during daylight hours.

His pelvis pressed to hers, his cock nudging the split of her sex through her jeans.

“He said what?” He nibbled along her throat, pinching her nipples through her top.

Jordan felt the free-fall in her gut. Felt that rush and tingle like she was slipping through air.

“He said it was like looking in a mirror.”

His fingers shoved up under her shirt, sliding it high along her body, exposing her pink bra. “Was it?”

Gareth froze, his hands on the lacy cups of her undergarment. He swept his thumbs back and forth, back and forth over the hard points of her nipples, making it hard for her to think. Hard for her to breathe.

“It was.”

“Do you think he’s your dad?”

She nodded, her voice fleeing when he slowly peeled the lacy bits back and the cool air kissed her bare breasts–they felt hot and swollen and achy with need. Her pussy echoed the urgent desire that was currently flooding her system.

“What if he’s not? What if we’re wrong?” he whispered.

Gareth bent his head and sucked her nipple into the heated velvet of his mouth. He sucked so that she felt a sizzling tug in her pussy and when he moved to the other nipple and sucked even harder, she gasped.

“I don’t know.”

Gareth popped her button and pulled down her zipper. Burrowing his hand into her underwear and touching her clit with a single fingertip.

“Do you want to wait? Just in case we’re wrong?” he murmured.

He slid a thick finger into her cunt and all of her gripped up around him. The wet greedy clench of her sex made her knees weak.

“No.”

Off came her blouse and off came her bra. Gareth pushed her to the wall after kicking the door shut. “No?”

He tugged her jeans and she wiggled her hips to help him.

“But you could be fucking your brother,” he went on, placing a hot kiss on her jutting hipbone before helping her out of her boots and getting her jeans all the way off.

“You’ll always be my brother on some level,” she whispered because it was true. Jordan pushed her fingers into his wheat colored hair and tugged just enough.

He growled. “So I’ll always be fucking my sister to some degree?”

Green eyes looked up and saw every dirty secret she’d ever had. He knew. He knew that she had fantasized about this forever and a day. Ever since she’s seen him the first time. She’d always wanted to be the girl he’d been doing those things to. Deep down. In the secret part of herself.

“Yes.”

The one word was like a lock in a key. He pushed the heat of his mouth to her pussy and sucked. Her entire mound flooded with heat and he sucked again. The hard line of his upper teeth reminding her that he could bite should he choose to. That he could hurt or pleasure or best scenario yet, do both.

Gareth held her hips firmly in his hands, trapping her and drawing her closer. Finally, finally, when she thought she’d weep with frustration, his tongue fond her. Taking one teasing swipe at her clit at first. A slow gentle drag that had her fighting the urge to actually yank his hair and hurt him. To make him do what she needed.

But that wouldn’t work and she knew it.

His big hands pressed her hips back to the wall. She felt her ass kiss the cool plaster and her shoulders followed suit. “Spread your legs.”

Even as he said it, he spread them for her and that sent another marching band of goose bumps across her skin.

His mouth was hot and hard and perfect on her clit. His tongue a rigid invader into her wet slit before returning, gentling itself, along the swollen nub of her clitoris. When he started to suck that bit of flesh hard enough to make small spots blossom in her field of vision she surrendered.

She let herself come.

It meant that first sweet orgasm of this first forbidden encounter was done and gone but she enjoyed every flicker and spasm that wracked her body.

“Good girl,” he said.

She almost laughed but he was tugging her down slowly. Her back sliding along the green wall so that it hissed like some small living thing. She hit the ground with a muted thump and he pushed her back, her ponytail fanning out over the Welcome mat at the front door.

“Take your hair down. I like it loose. I used to fantasize about wrapping it around my hand and using it to control you while I fucked you from behind. Doggie style,” he rasped. When he kissed the flat of her belly the muscles bucked at the feathery touch.

The words alone had her internal muscles clutching. When he kissed her shoulder and plunged a thick cluster of fingers into her pussy, she came again. A small but intense release that left her shaking like she’d been crying.

She felt like crying. But not because she was sad. She was overwhelmed and thrilled and pleasured and it was all too good for her to comprehend.

“Surprise, surprise, little sister.”

He kissed her lips and it was the sweetest kiss. Gareth’s tongue touched hers and pushed deeper into the wetness of her mouth. She tasted her own musky sweet scent on his lips and it made the kiss that much better.

When he started to tug at his jeans her hands joined in, clashing with his but trying to help. To speed it up.

“Let me do it. You’re trembling.”

When she didn’t listen immediately his voice grew darker and he said, “Put your hands down, Jordan.”

Jordan obeyed and he made a satisfied sound in his chest. His jeans were gone in one fast move, his boxer briefs too. Gareth stood over her, unbuttoning in his checkered shirt, pulling off his tee. Jordan’s eyes were everywhere on him. His bright gaze, his stubbled jaw, the hunk of hair that hung in his eyes that she itched to push away. She let herself take in the rough cut six pack of his abs—working outside was his gym he always joked. His lean hips and strong legs and the substantial jut of his cock.

She said it before she even registered the though. “Please.”

Gareth knelt over her, his knees on either side of her hips, the warm flesh of his cock pressing against her belly. “Please what, Jojo?”

“Let me.” She put her hands on his ass, gently trying to nudge him up her body. So that he straddled her chest instead. So she could reach him, get him in her mouth. It was an undeniable urge now that they were naked.

“Let you what, Jordan?” He gave her a half smile. She knew that he knew damn well wheat she wanted.

But he wanted her to say it.

Her face flushed with heat and she whispered, “You know. Just let me. Please Gareth.”

How many? How many dirty dream had she had of sucking him off. Of his cock jerking in her mouth as he came. Of the briny ocean taste of his semen on her tongue, sticky on her lips? So many that now it was staggering…so close. She was so close.

“Do you want to suck my dick, little sister?”

He’d moved up just a bit. His knees on either side of her elbows. When he leaned just so his cock pressed thick and silken between her breasts.

“Yes.” She forced herself to be brave. To say the word with strength.

“Then say it.”

He touched her nipple with the tip of his cock and she saw the small clear drop of pre-cum there. It would tasty salty but a little sweet. The flared head of his erection would be rose petal soft on her bottom lip. She would rub it back and forth along her mouth of a minute before taking it in. She would…

“Say it,” he said again, running himself over the swell of her breast.

“I want to suck…you.”

“My what?”

She was mortified but so turned on. Jordan felt a hot rush of fluid between her legs, the wetness already gracing the very tops of her thighs. How long had it been since she’d gotten so wet? Had she ever been this wet?

“I want to suck your…cock.” She looked away the moment she said it. Her face was literally burning, her stomach a knot of anxiety.

“Good girl.” That was all he said before moving up and putting him in her mouth. His hand slid beneath her head and angled her just a touch. “Suck my cock, little sister,’ he said.

It was so raunchy. So horribly horribly perfect. The tone of his voice, the raw emotion on his face, the nearly reverent tone in his voice. The words were beyond dirty but his voice was all about love.

She kissed him chastely to start. A simple kiss dropped on the helmet of his erection. His eyes slammed shut and she could feel the tremble in his body as he cradled her head in his hand.

She let herself have that moment of running the smooth head of his cock over her bottom lip. She licked him quickly, just to capture that drop of fluid, and he hissed. When his eyes met hers and seemed to urge her on, she sucked the tip of him in and licked in a lazy swirl.

“You’re killing me, you know? I don’t want to come.”

“Then don’t, “ she said, before taking him as best she could at that angle.

A chuckle burst out of him at her response.

She could get much of him and he let her head down gently, moving himself up a bit more so he could literally fuck her face. Angling his narrow hips to plunge his cock into her mouth. His force was restrained, allowing her to control how deep he went. But now that he was over her and the smell of him was in her head and his flesh was buried in her throat, she wanted as much of him as she could get.

Jordan cupped his ass in her hands and tried to drive him deeper. Her breath tore in and out of her nose, the smell of him invading every part of her. Spice and heat and leather and some innate Gareth smell that couldn’t be named.

“Easy, Jojo,” he said, his voice tense.

When she trailed a fingernail along the crack of his ass, he pulled free of her with a grunt.

“What?”

“Not that way. Not now. I want to be in you. I need a moment. You’re…evil.” He grinned.

Jordan parted her legs, letting him see. Letting him look at exactly what he did to her. “I need you, Gar.”

Her voice wavered when she said it, her throat itchy like she was about to cry.

“Fuck.” He said it like a plea to heaven.

“Yes, please.”

She touched his hand and he bent over her, moving between her thighs. Not entering her, but letting the ridge of his hard-on press her clit. His kiss was soft at first. And she melted into it.

This was really going to happen.

Chapter 13

When he slid into her, one easy slow thrust, she felt that catch in her throat. Her eyes threatened to spill over but she swallowed hard to stave it off.

Gareth caught her look and kissed one eyelid and then the other as he started to thrust—slow and controlled and so, so good.

Jordan wrapped her legs around his waist, held his shoulders in her hands and felt the heat of his blood and muscle and skin.

“Don’t cry, Jojo. I love you.”

It was all mixed up together. That love you. They’d loved each other forever, but this was different. And him being him being inside of her, moving over her, kissing her…it made the reality of it huge and looming.

“Gareth,” she said and kissed him because there was too much behind that word to say. She simply didn’t have the words.

Her tongue touched his as he drove deeper, his cock nudging all the places in her that needed the pressure the most. The base of his cock banged her clit over and over so that her pulse filled her neck and her ears. Her fingers tingled and her skin—oh her skin, felt so tight and too small, like she might burst right out of herself soon.

“I’m not going to last long.” His lips were pressed right up to her ear and the warmth of his breath sent a tingling shiver down her neck and up under her hair. Her scalp prickled and she gasped.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long fucking time. Dreaming about it.”

“Wishing about it,” she filled in.

“Yes.” Gareth shoved his hands under her ass and tilted her just a touch. He tipped her so he could drive deeper, the wet and slippery sounds of their fucking filled the small still room.

“Hoping for it,” she babbled. Jordan moved up just a hair, making the tip of him brush those tender nerve endings clustered deep inside her pussy. Her womb felt hot and swollen, her nipples so hard and sensitive that the brush of his skin over hers was nearly unbearable. But so good she moved against his chest intentionally.

“Yes.” His fingers gripped her bottom so hard she feared bruises. Dark fingerprint bruised so match the light freckling of purple on her ass cheeks from her spanking.

As if reading her mind, her brother chose that moment to pinch her. She came. A sudden and violent release that had her clutching at him with her hands and her ankles. She held him tightly to her as the orgasm rode her. It’s grip was strong and intense and she heard herself muttering words and she had no idea what they were.

Gareth slammed into her hard, the sounds of her own peak had done him in and he was muttering under his breath as the need overrode his control. “You just undid me, Jordan,” he growled.

His big hands spanned her hipbones, pinning her flat to the floor. She couldn’t move and surrendered to his mercy and his need. She had become a willing receptacle for his urges. His teeth, white and sharp, latched onto her shoulder and he bit her just enough to make her hiss. One more thrust and he was coming, his forehead pressed to her breast, his body shaking with the force.

Silence.

Gareth pressed his lips to her skin. He licked the fine sheen of sweat there and whispered, “Salty.”

“My God,” she said.

“I know.”

He was still buried in her, his cock softening but very present. He moved a bit and a small echo of pleasure sounded in her cunt. Jordan made a soft noise and Gareth rotated his hips a little to make her do it again.

He buried his hands in her hair, crushing her under his weight,staring her down. “Are you okay with just happened?”

She nodded, chewing her bottom lip. “I am. Are you?”

“Jojo?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just wondering when we can do it again.”

That sent a thrill through her. It started in her throat and shook her all the way down to her toes. She’d been wondering the same thing.

*****

“So, I’ve found who I think is my dad and he’s agreed to DNA testing. What about you? Your mom?”

Jordan crushed some butter crackers in her tomato soup and blew on her spoonful to cool it.

Gareth was stirring his soup, not eating. A late easy lunch and chit chat. They were dancing around what was underneath. More lust, more need, a bigger urge. The deed had been done, the gateway opened.

Jordan watched his mouth as he blew on his own spoonful. That was a mouth she’d been staring at for twenty some years. A mouth that had teased her and whistled for her at the dinner hour and kissed her cheek before Junior prom. That was now a mouth that had crushed down on her own and bullied her mouth into blissful submission. That was a mouth that had settled on her nipples and slipped along her goose bump studded skin. That mouth had now been on her pussy, sucking at her, licking her, tasting her.

She shook off the sledgehammer effect of desire when he shrugged and said lowly, “She’s not on my radar. Dad said a lot more when he was out of it. I have no interest in any of it. I’m glad that things worked out for you and Tom. I’m glad he wants to be present in your life. His was a case of not knowing. From what I can gather, my mother just wasn’t interested.”

Her stomach bottomed out. Gareth’s voice was a sickening mixture of sadness and anger and hurt. She wanted to make it better for him.

She ate another bite of soup but didn’t taste it. Taking his hand and squeezing, she whispered. “I’m sorry, Gar. What did dad…what did he say?”

Gareth’s mouth clamped down into a thin pale line and she thought for a moment he wouldn’t answer. Finally, he pushed his shoulders back and stirred his soup some more.

“He said, when your mother wanted to give you up, I couldn’t. You were my life.”

Jordan swallowed hard but kept silent. She could see by his face he needed to say what he needed to say and be done with it.

“He said, you were such a good boy. And Kelly loved you like her own. You were such a good boy and a good person. A great big brother. And a now you’re a wonderful man.”

Jordan crumbled more crackers into her soup though the existing ones were already turning soggy and gross. Her appetite had fled.

“He said…” Gareth blew the words out on a long, long breath. A weary breath. “It’s her loss, considering herself nothing more than an incubator. It’s her loss that she left the moment you were born. It’s her loss but it’s been my gain, son.”

His voice broke on the word son and Jordan felt like her heart would too. She got out of her chair and climbed into his lap, wrapping him in her arms. She could feel his body shaking slightly, a keyed up electrical current feeling that made her sad for him.

“It’s okay, Gareth. It’s okay. You had a family who loved you. Always. And that’s all that matters.”

“My other mother left me too.” His laugh was acidic.

“She left us all,” Jordan sighed, brushing her fingers through his hair. She kissed him lightly, squeezed him tighter.

She felt the hard press of his cock beneath her bottom. No time for that. That could wait. He was hurting and Gareth hurting always hurt her. Ever since she was little.

“What does that mean?” he asked. His arms snaked around her waist, binding her to him.

Jordan could feel Gareth’s heart banging against her own. “It means we suck at holding on to mothers,” she said.

He laughed softly and she kissed his forehead. Chastely. Until he captured her face in his hands and pulled her into a very unchaste kiss.

Chapter 14

There really was that moment for her when she nearly got up to go. They were still figuring this all out and even though what they’d just done on the living room floor was staggering in its goodness, she felt some confusion.

So for Jordan, there really was that moment. And yet, his teeth capturing her lower lip and that spark of pain that Gareth seemed to know how to deliver, pushed all her hesitation away.

“Get on me,” he said, his lips brushing the curve of her earlobe.

“I am on you.” Her voice was low and breathless and despite what she said, she knew what he meant. There was that greedy part of her that wanted to hear him say it.

“Put me in you, Jojo.”

She’d never gotten fully dressed. Just her panties and her top. Her bra and her jeans were abandoned in the hall to be placed in the dirty laundry. Gareth was sitting there in nothing but jeans. His chest and feet bare, his body smelling sun-warmed though they’d been inside for hours.

“I—“

“Is there a problem?” he asked. She could hear the smile in his voice and it heated her blood.

“Just that I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Jordan turned her body to press her breasts to his chest, her sex straddling his. And she let him take her mouth. He wasn’t gentle about it. Gareth cupped the back of her head and kissed her hard. He pinned her to him so he could take her mouth and tongue the way he wanted. Without thinking, when he plunged his tongue into her mouth, she sucked it. She sucked it the way she would a cock and felt the jump of his hard-on between her legs. A warmth flooded her womb and her limbs felt pleasantly heavy. Fuck, but she wanted him in her.

And all she had to do was put him in.

“I thought you were going to teach me,” she said.

He froze. Jordan waited, rocking her hips just a touch to feel the friction of his erection to the split of her nether lips.

“I will. After.”

She rocked some more and kissed his stubbly jaw. Jordan grazed the line of his throat with her teeth—it was a light slide of teeth on flesh but she felt him shudder under her. A surge of power spread through her. “Do you promise?”

“I do promise. And look who’s topping who,” he chuckled.

She paused for a moment, mulling that over. She smiled and slid herself against the hard line of his dick. She felt rippled burst of joy in her sex and knew that if she just kept doing what she was doing she would come. Especially with the heated weight of his strong hands resting possessively on her hips. The feel of him holding her in that claiming way was a surprising heavy peace in her belly. It felt right even though on so many levels it was tinted with wrong.

“Put me in you, Jojo,” he growled.

The small fine hairs on her body rose up and her nipples pebbled, rubbing her top in a way that was almost maddening. She fumbled with her panties and he grabbed her hand. “No time. Just push them to the side.”

Gareth grabbed his button fly and yanked so it all came apart under his fingers. He grasped himself and pulled his cock free so that she could see him. And seeing him stole her breath and made her wetter than she already was.

Gareth plunged a finger into her, testing her—again his touch possessive. “Juicy,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. His half grin set her off and they both felt the small clench of her cunt around his finger.

“And ready,” he said, barely audible.

He pulled her in for another kiss as she moved to position herself over his waiting erection.

Jordan held herself up just enough. Just enough that he was forced, by his need, to run the head of his cock along her slick opening. Her body fluttered in response, wanting him, wanting her to give in and sink down on him. It was all she could do to hold herself there, gripping the rungs of the chair.

Finally he shoved her back so her hair brushed the dining room table and her fingers had to grip impossibly tight on the back of his chair. His teeth claimed her nipple, so roughly she wondered if he’d drawn blood, but the spike of pain made her cunt grasp around nothing at all and then she was done. Her need was greater than her curiosity or her playful attitude.

This was not the time to play. This was the time to get what she’d wanted for so long. What he’d wanted. What they were giving in to.

“Do you know the night of your eighteenth birthday when you wore that blue dress out to dinner?”

She took the tip of him in, her thighs shaking with how slowly she was going. Jordan forced herself to take him slowly. To relish every slippery inch, ever moment of penetration, every second that he stretched her only to fill her up.

“Yes,” she said, nodding, eyes closed.

It all felt somehow more magical right then with her eyes closed and his hands on her.

“I fantasized all night,” he whispered, one hand straying up to brush her breast, to stroke the hardened tip of her nipple.

“About what?”

“About burrowing under the skirt of that dress. Pulling off your panties.” He thrust up hard, yanking against her with that one strong hand. He tweaked her nipple and kissed her throat, murmuring, “I fantasized about getting down on my knees under that table when dad excused himself from the table. Putting my face under that dress. Licking your pussy until you couldn’t sit still.”

Jordan heard herself make a noise that was half cry, half moan. It ripped out of her before she knew it was coming and then she was coming. Her cunt rippling greedily around him as he continued to drive up from under her.

“I wanted to lick you and suck you and taste you. I wanted to do that until you were so wet….so fucking wet…”

Jordan rocked from side to side to milk every last spasm out of her pussy. She held her breath to hear his words, wanting to know everything he’d ever thought about her. Every time he’d wanted to take her or kiss her or touch her. She wanted to know because it meant she wasn’t crazy.

They hadn’t known they weren’t brother and sister and yet…something in them had known. That was both sad and amazing.

“We got home that night, the three of us,” he went on, clutching at her, pulling her down into his lap as he buried himself deeper. “And all I could think of while I laid there in my bed was you. Upstairs. In that dress. Or out of it.”

He moved his hips just so and Jordan tilted her pelvis. She let go of the chair and leaned back a bit, her back pressed to the lip of the table, her hair whispering secretively on the dark wood.

“I wanted to go up there and flip you over onto your back. I wanted to press your legs high…” He paused to lean in and press his lips to the jumping skin above her heart. She felt his warm mouth sealed there to the racing beat of her blood. “I wanted to drive into you and fuck you, Jojo. Until you said my name. Until you cried it out. And then…”

She gripped his shoulders, tight, moving in synch with him now. Rotating her hips so that his cock brushed and nudged and pressed every tender bit of flesh inside of her that needed the pressure and the friction. Pleasure flooded her pelvis, making her stomach jump and her hands shake while she held him, the adrenaline rush of his words almost overwhelming.

She drove herself against him, feeling the hard bite of his pelvic bone to her swollen clit. She was going to come again, and all she could do at the moment to stave it off was chew her bottom lip to distract herself for a few precious moments.

“And when you said my name, when you came, when I felt that wet slick rush of your orgasm then I’d flip you over.” He drove up hard and yanked her down. Gareth gripped her shoulder with his teeth—nipping her so that the jolt of pain accented her pleasure.

She’d bruise. She could feel it. And that knowledge is what actually tipped her over. That and when he said, “And then I’d fuck you from behind, Jordan. I’d grab your hips and fuck you and spank that sweet ass. I’d fuck you so hard—” His words broke for a desperate moan. His face told the tale, he was going to come.

“—so hard that you’re pretty face would be pressed to your silly pink sheets and you would say my name. And say my name. And…” His face went still before showing his release. His jaw tight, his eyes slammed shut, his lips pressed together to stifle his cry as he came. “And say my…”

Jordan came with him, feeling the wetness from his release already. Letting is lubricate that one final thrust she gave against him, bullying her clit into giving her one more sweet peak. “Gareth.”

She said his name and then pressed her lips to his waiting mouth.

Chapter 15

“Go take a shower, Jojo,” he said and patted her on the ass. “I’m going to mow the lawn.”

“It’s fall.”

“It’s still growing. No frost yet.”

There was a shift in him and she thought that maybe—though she had no proof—it had to do with he suggesting that he try to find his mom.

He’d seemed more hurt than she’d ever seen him when he’d mentioned two mothers leaving him and Jordan wondered if there was anything that she could do. Could she find his mom without him knowing?

“Poke through dad’s study tonight,” she whispered to herself. She couldn’t seem to not call Daniel dad. He was her dad. Had been her dad for as long as she had memories. There might be no blood between them, but there were years and years of love and respect and all the stuff that went with family.

The water was hot right off the bat, something she missed when she was back home in her apartment where the water ran tepid until right before she was done. Then it got hot and she usually stood there in the downfall of hot-hot water until she was pruny.

Would she stay in her room tonight? Should she? Or would he want her with him? Anxiety unfurled in her belly and she shivered with the extreme heat of the spray. Goose bumps sprang up along her arms and her breasts. Jordan stepped back and let it rain down over her head, the warmth of it making her body go limp.

“You’ll work it out,” she said.

It was all very strange.

“Who are you talking to?”

She jumped, nearly slipped and grabbed the curtain rod. “Jesus, Gareth.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He’d pulled back the curtain and was grinning at her.

“I’m not. Well, I am sorry you almost fell.”

“Good. You should be.”

He stepped in and she froze. Naked and grungy and entirely sexy. She touched his stomach and the muscles there danced for her. “What are you doing?”

“Pretty sure I’m trying to get clean.” He pushed his hands past her and rinsed them. Dirt and grime and muck fell away from his tan skin.

“I thought you were mowing,” she said, running a finger along the slope of his biceps.

“Too wet near the back. I only managed the first third of the yard.” He shrugged and she watched the muscles ripple for her.

A wetness started deep inside of her that had zero to do with the shower water. Jordan smoothed her hands down his muscular back, playing a light touch along his lower back where the skin went from golden to pale. Gareth turned and grabbed her by her upper arms and the breath in her lungs and throat stilled. Her heart hammered and Gareth dropped a soft kiss on her parted lips.

“You still want me to teach you?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll behave? Better than last time.”

“Yes.” She took his cock in her hand. He’d grown long and hard and when she squeezed his lips pressed together as he wrangled his control. She loved to see him at war with himself. Trying to manage what he was feeling and his outward appearance. Jordan marveled at how he could feel something good and yet look so stern.

“Promise?”

“Yes.” She squeezed again and his eyes drifted shut. But when they opened, he took her hand away.

“There are no real rules. We’ll play around and see what gets you off. I know what I like to do, but I don’t know what works for you. But the bottom line, Jojo, is I’m in charge. As you saw the day you showed up here, I don’t switch. I like the reins. Bottom line.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Good, let’s start. Get down on your knees and suck my cock, little sister.”

She swallowed hard. Not because she didn’t want to. She’d actually given herself some nifty orgasms while imagining doing just that. It was more because of the way he said it. The gorgeous rude words that came off his lush lips to tickle her ears.

“Do it, Jordan. Get down and suck my dick.”

He pressed her shoulders and she lowered herself, dropping to her knees on the silly pink no-slip appliqué flowers. He’d picked pink on purpose, said it amused him. The rough adhesives bit into her kneecaps but she ignored it. When Gareth twisted his hand into her wet hair and tugged her toward him, she made as small inadvertent sound at the lust that flared inside her.

“I know. I know,” he whispered, pressing the head of his erection to her lips.

She licked him, parting her lips and relishing the silken glide of his flesh on her mouth. He was long and hard and she had to stretch her jaws to get him in as deep as she wanted. Her pussy flexed up tight and eager and she bowed her back some to get the right angle.

She imagined him taking her from behind, then. Some unknown man in her mouth, that person was irrelevant. But she pictured being filled up both ends. Gareth slamming deep into her pussy, his hand rough and strong on her hip, the other tangled in her hair to hold her.

She shivered, on the verge of orgasm. She hadn’t even touched herself.

“Don’t you do it,” he said in a warning voice.

Her heart sank but she impaled her mouth on him, gagging slightly to get him deep, trembling with pleasure when he grunted with satisfaction. She looked up at him for a moment, just to watch his face, just to see the emotion she could ring out of him with nothing but her lips and tongue.

“You don’t get to come yet, Jojo. This is about me and what I want. And I want to come in your mouth.”

She gasped when he said it and the vibration of her sound must have skittered through him because he groaned. He tugged her hair hard enough to bring prickling tears to the edges of her eyes but she loved it. She wished for nothing more than for something to fill her up, stretch her wide, get her off.

But Jordan had promised him she would behave. And she would. No matter how hard. Because she knew her brother well enough to know that when all was said and done, he’d make her happy. He’d reward her well.

“Deeper,” he said.

She struggled but made it, his hand was strong in her hair. The tug that caused a streaking bit of pain made the excitement she felt that much more. The combination of emotions was a heavy presence in her chest, her bliss was palpable and he must have felt it too. As she sucked him—even as he tried to slow his ragged breathing—he chuckled.

“Your nipples are so tight. I bet you’re wetter than hell.”

She wiggled a bit. His words stoking the heat between her legs, making her cunt tense up and beg for attention.

“Do you want me to come in your mouth, Jordan?”

She nodded, a small pleaful sound escaping her.

“I know, I know. You want me to.” He said it like he was soothing her. The water had cooled to tepid but was starting to heat again. “You want me to come in your mouth. On your pretty pink tongue. I want to leave small white trails on your pretty pink lips and a small streak of my come on your soft cheek.”

Her pussy was on the verge of spasm. She was right there, just from hearing him talk. She shifted on her knees and he tugged her hair. “None of that. Just enjoy the torment. Enjoy the lack of pleasure. In the end, it’ll make the real deal that much more succulent.”

She froze, listening to him—sucking his cock hard enough to elicit another groan from him. When he rammed himself deep, holding her hair, fucking her mouth, she made that whimper-sigh-moan sound again.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m coming.”

And he was. The rich salty rush of it on her tongue was overwhelming She tried to swallow and as he pulled free her tongue darted out to slide along the silken soft length of him. He did as promised, jetting some come across her lips, her cheek and in her hair.

He grinned at her, bending at the waist to kiss her. His own lips pressing to hers, his semen still smeared on her face. That did Jordan in even more. The mingled fluid and shower water with the kiss.

“I’ll give you yours later but you must behave.”

“I will.”

“I plan to make you come, little sister.”

She blinked at him, water dripping in her eyes, her own moisture dripping from between her legs.

“Hard,” he clarified.

“Okay” was all she could think to say.

“Because I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“But first…I plan to make you cry, little sister. And beg. And when I fuck you…it will just be so good you’ll cry again.”

Jordan believed him.

Chapter 16

“What do you like? What do you like?” She kept repeating it like a mantra as he led her to his room.

Jordan glanced at her room and wondered when she could get in there to see the marriage certificate from their dad. It only offered her a brief distraction as Gareth tugged her down the short hallway.

“I like a lot of things.” His voice was all intention and dark smoke and hidden corners. Fear laced with excitement lanced through her.

“What?” she asked again. Her voice a little desperate—which seemed to make him smile.

“I like you. I like fucking. I like to see a pretty girl tied up on my bed. Waiting for me. While I take care of business and such. To know she’s there. To know you’ll be there makes my dick hard. It makes me want to do things for that girl. Things that make her say my name in that…way.”

She’s said his name in that way while alone. Many nights with Gareth as her wet dream, her dirty fantasy, her masturbatory fodder. She blushed hotly and stumbled a little as he tugged her again.

“On the bed, Jordan.”

When he hovered over her, she thought he was going to plunge into her. Fuck her again. And she was ready—beyond ready—wet and hot and swollen. The pout between her legs felt beyond ripe. Like she would come on entry and then again when the true fucking started.

But he didn’t. He reached under the side of his bed and drew up a black sash. But it wasn’t a sash. It was a tie. He tied her wrist and then moved to the other side. After tying that wrist, he kissed her—soft but demanding. Teasing, really. His tongue trailed her from neck to belly button and he sucked gently there so she felt the tug and echo of it in her cunt.

He drew a hot wet line from there to her mound, resting the ridge of his teeth to her flesh, clamping his mouth over her sex but not moving. Not a suck, not a lick, not a tease, just the humid exhalation of his breath over her pussy.

Then he was tying her ankle and her head was spinning. Busy praying, wishing, hoping he’d come back and lick her until she came.

Instead of that, he stood and pulled on a pair of jeans and then a checkered red shirt hanging on the bed post. “I have a job to check out real quick and then I was going to grab a steak for dinner. I’ll be back.”

His grin was beautiful—full of humor and a touch of malice. Rage shot through her. “Are you really leaving me here? I thought you meant you’d be around the house!” she thumped her useless arms and legs against the mattress.

Gareth chuckled. “Go on. Get pissed. It makes it sweeter in the end.”

“Gareth,” she hissed. It was fear, really. Just fear hiding behind anger. She wasn’t mad, she was terrified.

“Relax, Jordan. The job is only fifteen minutes away. The grocery store less than that. And I’ll be prone to hurrying knowing I have my beautiful sister tied to the bed. Naked. Waiting for me.” He ran a finger up her instep and her body jumped and her blood leapt.

Jordan tugged at her bonds, even though she knew there was no way it would help. He chuckled and she growled. “Gareth Michael Davis. Let me out.”

He traced the bottom of her other foot with the tip of his finger and said softly, “You said you’d behave.”

She froze even though that light tickling touch had produced a gush of wetness between her thighs and her skin was a rash of tight tingly goose bumps.

“Didn’t you?” he asked, cocking his head. He was goading her. Putting her in her place. Playing the one card he knew always worked with her. Honor.

Jordan was fanatical about keeping her promises.

“I did.” She said it through gritted teeth which made him chuckle again.

“I won’t be long,” he said, kissing one knee and then the other. She studied the fall of his dark blond hair over his forehead. His handsome profile. The curve of his body as he bent over her.

Another rush of fluid and she felt her cheeks bloom with yet another blush of embarrassment. Gareth studied her and drawing it out—to make her tremble—he put a hand between her legs and thrust a finger into her. Testing her. And proving to her how wet she was.

“Nice’ he said, pressing his thumb to her clit for a single instant and then withdrawing his hand a split second after her heart sped up and her head went light and woozy. “Be right back.”

He patted her thigh and was gone.

She wanted to cry but refused. She wanted to scream but refused. She wanted to thrash and yank at her bonds but knew it would do no damn good. So she sprawled there, thinking.

*****

What had her name been?…Jordan tried to remember. It had been a D like Davis. That stuck in her mind. He’d recited the names to her. The name on her mother’s previous marriage certificate. And the one that had been on Doug’s certificate.

“What was it…what was it!” she growled. “Think girl.” It was hard to think when you were naked and bound and a bit angry. And scared. Don’t forget scared.

“It was a D like Davis but not Davis. It was B and D. Doug Davis married B and D. Doug Davis married Barbara…Benradette…Bonnie! Bonnie is a B and the D is Donaldson.”

She let out a victorious woop and struggled for a moment to do a happy little dance. She’d done it. Now she could start with that. Possibly there was more information in the box of files on Bonnie and where to locate her. She could do that. Talk to this Bonnie woman on Gareth’s behalf. Things went well with Tom Sweet, why not Bonnie.

“I can set him up with a woman in his life who won’t leave him,” she whispered.

She knew this plotting was to distract herself. Her stomach roiled with butterflies and nerves and her pussy ached, a constant thumping pulse drove her mad between her legs. She shifted restlessly, pushing her legs together hard and then realizing it made the aching thump worse.

Time had passed but not enough. How the fuck long was he going to be gone? How long would it take to check a job? What kind of job? How far away? And what if—

She heard the door and froze. “Gareth?”

Nothing.

Movement through the house—footsteps down the hall—rustling in the kitchen.

“Gareth!” she yelled a little louder. But then suddenly terrified it wasn’t Gareth she bit off another shout.

Cabinets slamming and the basement door opening. She glanced round the room, heart thundering, and realized for the first time the bedroom window slats were open and angled down.

Jesus, anyone next door at the Weil’s house could see right in here. A bound and naked woman. Maybe not my face but still…

She cringed. What would happen if the neighbors knew. “Flash mob with pitchforks and torches before we can even explain we don’t think we’re related by blood?”

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked softly from the doorway.

She had somehow missed the sounds of him moving down the hall despite her red alert. Jordan let out a little startled cry and jumped. “Damn it.”

“I thought you heard me come in–you were calling me.”

“And you weren’t answering me,” she hissed.

“So did you think someone broke in to stock the kitchen?”

She swallowed hard and struggled just a bit when he unbuttoned his fly. He moved slow, with malicious intent and hunger in his eyes.

“N-no,” she whispered.

“I didn’t want to answer you. Because I wanted you to wait. And sweat. And worry.”

“The blinds are open,” she blurted.

“I know. You’re face isn’t visible.”

“But—“

“I like part of my girls visible. And you are the girl now. I like you visible. A little…”

“I—“

“Have you behaved?”

“Yes.” An incredible stab of lust assaulted her and her voice cracked.

“What did you do when I was gone?”

“Thought.”

“About what?”

“You,” she whispered. Not a lie, but she wouldn’t be admitting her plot over Bonnie Donaldson.

“I thought about you too,” he said, pushing his jeans down and kicking them away. His fingers worked the buttons one at a time but his gaze stayed pinned on her. “It made my cock hard.”

She shifted on the bed, rustling the sheets with her body as she tried mightily to release some of the need she felt.

“Are you still wet for me?”

Gareth spoke so low that she had to struggle to hear him. Jordan had to focus every bit of energy on hearing his words over the drumbeat of her blood in her ears.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He leaned over her, predatory and beautiful, and slid two fingers deep inside of her. It brought her down to a hum, that touch. All the air escaped her and the hyper-awareness she felt as his touch invaded her body was audible in the noise that flew past her lips.

“Good. Now listen up. Do not come. Not until I tell you to.” His green eyes bored into her and she flushed hotly before suddenly growing cold.

Jordan chewed her lip and watched him move to straddle her. He had a sleek and sinewy animal grace that mesmerized her.

“Did you hear me?”

She nodded.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded again, on the verge of tears.

“Then what’s wrong?” He smiled, looking patient and beautiful…and in control. His fingers stroked her cheek. “Tell me, Jordan. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know if I can…not come, I mean!”

Chapter 17

“Why don’t you just try,” he said. But he said it like it would be a bad idea to fail.

Jordan’s skin rippled with nervousness, her stomach bottomed out. But she forgot it all when Gareth drew the tip of his cock along the outer edges of her nether lips. The pressure was nearly overwhelming and he wasn’t even near her clit.

“You just do your best,” he said, his voice seductive and rough. “Not to come.”

He slid the head of his cock along the other side, effectively circling her inner lips and building the pressure that started a heady bang of blood in her clitoris.

When he nudged in between her folds to press the tip of himself to her swollen clitoris, she clutched at her own bonds.

She was so wet, so fucking wet she could feel her own moisture on her upper thighs. She spread her legs, wantonly. Wanting him to see how red and flushed and ready she was. How wet and plump her pout was. She arched her hips—terrified she would come but also hoping against hope that she would.

Gareth drove into her, his big hands on her shoulders, pinning her to the bed. His body slammed her body and she was pushed a few inches up on the mattress. He was so rough—it was so fucking good—she cried out. The ties on her ankles tightened with the impact even as the ones on her wrists loosened a bit.

Gareth lowered his mouth to her ear and started to talk. That’s when she knew she was in trouble.

“When I would lie down here at night in my bed, I’d think about you. I’d masturbate to dirty fantasies about my own sister.”

“Oh God,” she breathed, that familiar tightening already starting. “Don’t Gar—”

“Hush up, little sister,” he said amiably, reminding her of her promise. “You don’t tell me what to do, I tell you what to do.”

She nodded, chewing her lip even as her hips jolted up to meet him, her cunt gripping tight to take him. She sighed and he started to talk again, his breath hot on her ear.

“I wondered what was wrong with me. Most boys hated their sisters. Most of them couldn’t stand the sight of their sisters. Me, I was fucking in love with my sister. I beat off thinking about her pretty pink pussy. Thinking about taking her small perfect breasts in my hands and pinching her nipples until she cried. But then begged me to do it some more.”

Jordan felt her inner muscles flicker, the blood quickening in her brain and growing heavy and in intense in her pelvis. With each driving thrust, his sharp pelvic bone banged her clit and the pressure and need for release inside of her grew bigger. So big she felt it would push her under and she’d simply disappear.

She wished she could wrap her legs around his waist and tilt herself to take him deeper. She wished she could use the muscles in her thighs to thrust up to meet him but her ankles were bound. She wished she could say anything that made sense but couldn’t because he’d reduced her to soft sighs and needy sounds.

“I thought I was crazy. Wanting you. Dreaming about you. Getting myself off to thoughts of fucking you, taking you every way that I could imagine. Fucking your mouth. Your pussy. Your ass.” He pushed his lips to her earlobe when he said that one and Jordan felt the first sudden jolt of release.

She was never going to make it.

“You’re so tight and wet, Jordan. You’re going to come. Aren’t you?”

“No.”

It was a lie.

“Yes, you are. Very soon. You like to hear how you made me come undone all those years.”

He grasped her hips in his hands, his body crushed to hers—pinning her down—as the thrust in a faster tempo. His hipbones banged hers hard enough to bring a flash of pain to her nearly crushing pleasure.

“No,” she whispered.

Another lie.

“I watched you once, in your room. Did you know?”

“No,” she gasped and this time it was the truth.

“I watched you get off. I watched you lying on your bed with your legs wide open. You pretty little cunt almost the same shade of pink as your bedspread. And the way your paler pink fingers played over your wet folds. Over that hard little bud of you clitoris. How you pushed your fingers into your pussy and arched your back and lifted your hips.”

She was coming. The spasms jumping to life deep inside of her and then rippling out like waves in water. Jordan tossed her head and moaned but he kept his mouth close to her ear so she could hear.

“And I stood there, risking being caught at any moment, and jacked off. Right at your door. Dick in hand, pumping for all I was worth so we’d come together. And when you came, I came, right on the rug by your door. Like some kind of twisted offering to you, the sister who haunted me.”

The force of her orgasm settled on her and Jordan sobbed with it. She’d have given anything to be able to hold him as she came. Instead her arms twisted and whipped around inside their dark bonds. Gareth clamped his teeth to her jaw, his teeth pricking at her skin. Then he growled at her, his body bucking with his own release.

“And you’re doing it again. Making me come undone. Fuck Jordan, I always unravel when it comes to you.”

He pressed his forehead to her forehead and his lips to hers as his own violent release took him. Jordan relished the feel of her body clamping up tight around him, milking him and taking him and connecting with him.

She rode out all the sweet little spasms that followed and watched his body tense over hers. God, how she loved him.

God, how it scared her.

*****

Jordan washed her face and her hands. She’d used the bathroom and considered a shower but blew it off. After dinner. The sweet pulsing pleasant ache in her sex wasn’t something she was ready to wash away. And the heat would keep her from feeling the subtle pulse of where her bonds had been.

When she shut her eyes, alone in the tiny bathroom, she could feel the heavy welcome crush of his body on hers. The wet stroke of his tongue over hers. His hot breath on her ear and her neck. And the words…all that he’d said to her—all that had pushed her over the edge—ricocheted around inside her head, a constant cherished hum of information.

He loved her.

He’d loved her for a long time.

It made loving him a bit easier for her to handle.

A soft knock and she turned toward it. “You eating, Jojo?”

“Yes. Of course.”

When she opened the door he was filling the doorway, his lean body looming over hers. Jeans low on his hips, feet bare, hair mussed—he was a work of art, she thought. So much like her though now that she knew…she saw their differences.

Bonnie Donaldson. You’ll make it right for him…

“Steak’s ready. Simple sides. A salad and some bread. Some wine.” He pinched her nipple gently through the light robe she’d thrown on. The pink tip pressed the fabric in response to his touch.

“Sounds good. Sounds perfect.”

He leaned in, kissing her gently at first but then pushing her to the wall and taking her mouth. His cock ground against her hips and she wanted him all over again. It was a slam of emotion she had not expected and it made her throat tight and her stomach tingly for a second.

“And you’re still in trouble,” he said.

“For what?”

“For coming.”

“But—“

“And for pushing me over the edge and making me come.”

So that’s how it was. She would be punished for both. A buzz of terrified anticipation raced along her skin.

“This time we’ll get you used to leather.”

“Leather?”

“You’ll see,” he said, taking her hand. “But first, we eat.”

The steak was perfect. He’s always been the one to cook it the way she liked. Their father had always turned it into a crispy critter, as she and Gareth called it.

“What are you going to do tomorrow? I do have to work on that roofing job with Mikey.”

She shrugged. “No idea.” But she did. She’d try and find Bonnie.

“What are you going to do about your job…your apartment?” His voice changed a bit when he said it.

There was fear in there.

“I don’t know,” Jordan said. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

It would be silly to assume just because they were weeding out the truth and they were sleeping together that she was welcome to stay indefinitely. She’d never assume that or try and move herself into his life. Gareth had always prided himself on his bachelorhood and his lone wolf attitude.

Besides their dad, no one had been a constant in his life once Jordan moved away.

“Oh, well, you don’t have to worry about money while you’re here. The will’s being worked out and obviously you’re in it. But also, there’s a monthly allowance in place that will more than feed and clothe and put a roof over our heads.”

“Dad had his shit wired tight in that department,” she laughed. “The money guru.”

“You know it.”

They ate the rest of the meal in relative silence. A pretty comfortable silence. But under it Jordan could sense some kind of uneasiness from him. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.

When he wiped his mouth and threw his napkin down he grinned at her. “Dishes first or after?”

“What?”

“Dishes first or second?”

“First or second to what?”

“Your punishment.”

Jordan had so struggle not to choke on her final bite of dinner.

“You were serious about that?”

He brushed an errant hair from her brown. “Sweetheart, I never joke about that.”

Chapter 18

She’d chosen the dishes. But as she washed them she wondered why she’d made that choice. Her hands were shaking and her mouth was dry and her stomach tossed with nerves.

“Don’t take too long,” he’d said and patted her bottom. She knew what he could do with that hand on her ass and her whole body surged with anticipation.

Easy girl. It’s just a pat. But he said leather…

And she couldn’t even ponder it without her hands shaking harder so she scrubbed the square white plates with a vengeance.

When they were all done and all stacked and the counter had been wiped down three times, she went to him. Jordan had never felt anything so confusing: intense curiosity and trepidation.

Riven.

A word her mother had used once and she’d always been fascinated by. And here it was. That feel of it. Part of her wanting to rush forward into the mouth of the beast–her lust—and part of her wanting to run.

“Walking slow won’t change the outcome.” He said it from a dark corner of the living room. Gareth sat in the easy chair but she couldn’t see him due to shadows. Dusk was coming at five thirty and darkness swiftly followed. Autumn was here. It was just past six but it could have been midnight judging by the dark.

“I know.”

“Why don’t you come in here?” It wasn’t really a question.

“But…” There were four big windows in that room. Jordan could see by the white magical dots in the room that the venetian blinds were tilted up. Someone could see in if he were to turn a light on.

And yet, it never crossed her mind to disobey. She walked toward Gareth on feet she could not feel. Her knees were trembling and it was a true fear that they’d buckle and simply dump her on her butt half way to her destination.

“Come on then.”

She entered the room and saw that the streetlights had painted a white streak on the far wall. It looked like something that had fallen from the heavens and landed in their childhood home.

“Over my lap, Jojo,” he said. He patted his lap and her pussy went wet.

It was hard to hear her own thoughts over the pounding of her heart in her ears. She went to him and when he patted again, she draped her body over his lap. Her belly pressed firmly to his thighs, her hair hanging down in a curtain to cover her face.

Gareth’s hand smoothed soothing circles over her bottom and she was grateful that—at least for now—she had her jeans on. He could have a heavy hand, she knew. But then again, Gareth knew how to be tender when the punishment was done.

That thought made her shift and tremble like a spooked horse. Gareth chuckled.. “Stay still, Jojo. Don’t freak yourself out.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“Don’t hurt me.”

“Just enough.”

“What if it’s too much?” She bit her tongue after she said it and waited for him to answer.

His hands drew invisible symbols on her body. She tried to feel through the cloth that covered her what he might be drawing. Or if he was perhaps writing words instead. She thought he traced an A but became distracted when he said, “Pick a word.”

“A word?”

“If it’s too much. If you simply cannot take it, say the word. But make sure you mean it, because if we say it, it’s done. Totally.”

“Licorice,” she whispered.

“Licorice?” he laughed.

“We used to eat it. Those long, long shoe string pieces. You’d start at one end and I’d—”

“Start at the other,” he sighed. “And we’d meet up in the middle. And then one of us would tug and it would break and that person would get the final bit.”

“But I always wished…” She shook her head.

“That we’d meet in the middle and kiss?” he asked, stroking her bottom so that her eyes drifted shut and her body hummed with invisible energy. It was need and want and love and lust all bundled up together and it skittered along her skin like a living thing.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Me too,” he said softly, almost wistfully. “Now let’s get you out of these pants.”

Everything in her twisted when he said that and she had to focus hard on working her button. And not come undone when he tugged at her pants. Underneath were fresh white panties, nothing special—boring white cotton. But he groaned when he saw them and quickly palmed her ass through the thin fabric. The heat from his palm radiated through her skin, into her pelvis. He seemed to heat all of her just by touching her that way.

Jordan shimmied and Gareth tugged and together they managed to get her jeans off. She kicked them to the side, feeling the hard line of his cock under her belly. She wanted to pull back some, free his erection and suck him until he begged.

But Gareth was calling the shots. She’d promised and he was adamant.

“Because you’re new to this, the first two can be with your panties on.” Only the slightest bit of tremble was audible in his voice to tell her that he was distracted by her ass.

Jordan assumed spanking. But she quickly remembered that you should never assume. In this case it didn’t make an ass out of him and her. It made an innocent target out of her ass.

The belt, looped in on itself, kissed the cotton with a brush of worn leather. Heat and pain sparkled over her skin and made her pulse race in all over h body. Her pulse points pounded like small drums trying to burst free of her flesh.

“It’s a belt,” she breathed.

“It is.” He sounded amused. “I thought you knew when I said leather.”

“I didn’t ponder it too long. I was…afraid.”

He brought down the second blow and the pain was intense but fast. Then ripples of pain moved outward from her and slowly bled into a heady strange kind of pleasure. She was nervous but muzzy headed. Excited and calm. Each of her emotions was mirrored by its opposite and yet she wriggled on his lap like a fish on a hook.

Gareth’s cock twitched beneath her belly and she moved again just to feel it.

“That’s your two. Only four more to go…” Gareth peeled her panties off slowly. The cooler air of the room kissing her hot and stimulated flesh.

Jordan gasped as the difference in temperature affected her. “I know you were scared but…”

He slid his hand, shaped like a blunt blade, between her thighs and ran the edge of his hand along her slit. Her clit responded with a burst of heat and pleasure and she shuddered, still draped over his lap. He tested her with a finger and then added a second. Her body accepted him with wet resignation and then gathered greedily around his fingers, flexing.

“See how wet you are, Jojo. You’re such a good bad girl.”

“How was I bad?” she gasped when he nudged her G-spot with his fingertip.

“You made me lose control. You made me come,” he said and the belt hissed as it fell and the heat and pain revisited her.

“You lost control,” she said. Another blow fell and she found herself grinding, pushing her pelvis and her sex to the side of his leg. It was a mindless, desperate, shameful act that somehow augmented her arousal.

“I lost control because you lost control,” Gareth said, his voice steeped with great patience.

Another whistle, another meaty thud, another eruption of pain and she bucked, tilting her pelvis like he was fucking her. Fire spread along her bare bottom, a thudding rush of mixed signals that had her shaking her head even as the tears dripped.

“What did I tell you not to do, Jojo?”

It was hovering there. She could feel it. Leather worn to a cottony softness hanging over her but not striking. The potential so much bigger, so much more powerful than the actual act. “Not to come,” she said.

“Right. And what did you do?” He lowered the belt, but slowly, so her flinch was unwarranted.

Gareth painted her with the tip of the leather strap. It lulled her, a mesmerizing slide of hide on skin. She moaned and fucked the air with little tiny thrusts of her hips.

He chuckled and pushed a finger back into her. And then that finger slid into her bottom, an intrusive but somehow blissful penetration. She bit her lip, too startled to even exhale.

“I came.”

“You came. So then I came. Now…one more blow. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she lied.

He slid a second finger into her ass and she moaned. Once again she humped the air, feeling a heady kind of shame at being so feral about this thing that they were doing.

He kept his fingers buried deep—where no fingers or anything else, for that matter had ever been—and struck. The blow rocketed up through the meat of her bottom and along her lower back. it burned like a brush fire and the afterglow of it raced up her spine and made her limbs weak.

A small spasm sounded in her cunt—an almost orgasm. Not quite a release but definitely a defiant rush of pleasure.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he said.

She slid from his lap—boneless, terrified, excited. Her ass in the air, her knees rubbing the carpet painfully. When he positioned himself behind her, his zipper sounding like a chainsaw to her over sensitive ears, but Jordan pushed back boldly. Presenting. Here I am. Here is my cunt, here is my ass, here I am bowed before you. Use me. Take me. Fuck me.

It all ran through her head on high speed and she shivered as she waited, feeling beyond naked and beyond ready.

Her whole body thudded with her pulse and her arousal.

“I know, sweetheart. We’re almost there,” he whispered. Gareth could read her always. Naked or not. Talking or not. He was the only person in her life who could peek into her mind and her heart—and even her soul—without her saying a word.

“Please,” she said anyway, blushing in the darkness.

“I know, shh…” Gareth ran the head of his cock along her sopping split. She moved back to try and hurry him, to get him in but he pulled back, tsking at her.

“Patience, Jojo,” he said.

“I have none,” she gasped.

“Learn.”

Again he painted her with the head of his sex. He slid it up and down her needy opening. When it pressed to her ass, she stilled. It felt so big in comparison to what she could accommodate there.

Gareth pushed just enough to make her whimper. “Not this time, sweetheart. But soon,” he said to her.

His tone made it clear that it would happen. It was more a question of when, not if.

Before she could process that information, he slid into her. No hard, though. One even stroke and his cock was seated deep inside of her and Gareth was moving. Moving just the right way to get her worked up. She sobbed and he held the flare of her hips in his big warm hands.

“Hush up and fuck me, Jojo.”

Confusion lingered for a moment and then she gave in to her body’s impulse. Moving back to take him in, moving back when she needed more pressure, more penetration, more force.

She was fucking him and he was fucking her and there weren’t any restrictions this time around. When she had to come, she could.

Gareth smoothed his hands over the welts on her bottom. There was a reverence in his touch that made her throat feel too small and her heart feel too big. He stroked the back of her legs and along her flanks. Then his finger was back in her back hole, slick with her juices and insistent.

“I’m going to come, Jojo. I can’t seem to get control of myself with you. Maybe it’s too many years of—“ Gareth broke off, stilling himself to stave off his orgasm.

“Wanting,” she finished, going still.

That single finger drove in and out of her bottom even though they were frozen there, his cock buried in her but motionless. He fucked her ass with his finger and his breathing was getting louder, more aggressive.

“Soon, I’m going to fuck you here.”

Fear rocketed through her, tightening her up.

He judged it simply by that one connection to her body. “Shh, Jojo. I will make it good. I promise.”

His hips moved just a touch and she felt a burst of goodness in her pussy. Their brief respite from movement had heightened every single sensation.

“I’ll make you so wet. So ready. I’ll make you mindless, Jordan.” His finger drove deep and he thrust hard with his cock. She felt the friction between finger and cock with nothing but a small flesh barrier between

Jordan gasped.

“I will make you beg. You’ll beg me to fuck your ass, Jo. And I will. And I’ll make sure you come. Hard enough that you’re not afraid again.”

His free hand claimed her hip and he drove into her, keeping time with his words—hot, intense, nasty words that had her on the edge.

“I’ll fuck you…so…good.” He growled.

And his finger curled inside of her as his cock gave that final perfect nudge and she was coming, a low sobbing sound bursting from her lips as Gareth practically roared his release.

They stayed frozen for a few heartbeats, exhausted but unwilling to move. Until he curled his warm body over her back and hugged her to him. Gareth rolled them to their sides and held her there for a few moments. Draped across the rug, staring at the splashes of white streetlight on the dark wall.

Chapter 19

“Stay in your room,” he said.

Jordan blinked. “But…why?”

“I want you to. I want you to think about what we’re doing. What you’re going to do.”

“About what?”

“Staying, going. Whatever.” He shrugged, something in his eyes had drifted far away from her and Jordan felt a stab of fear at seeing it.

“I…” Again that unwillingness to assume that she was going to be a permanent part of his life reared up. It was a silly notion—a happily ever after for them. What would they do, set up house in Allisonville and pretend that it was totally normal for them to be together? Even if they weren’t blood related, for all intents and purposes—to everyone around them—they were. It would be a hard taboo to face head on.

And it wasn’t as if he asked her to stay. This was just them acting on their fantasies. Working out their love for one another and where it stood. Figuring this whole confusing ball of yarn out day by day.

“I don’t expect anything of you,” she said to him quickly.

Gareth’s mouth narrowed down and his green eyes appeared more gray than green.

“I get it. Sleep tight, Jojo,” he said and kissed her forehead.

Jordan tried very hard to ignore the lump of anxiety in her throat. And her chest. He wasn’t being mean, he was being practical.

“Maybe it’s part of this Top shit,” she muttered.

Her gaze fell on the box of papers and she sighed. At least she’d have something to sink her energy into. She shut the door and opened the box to find a slew of papers. All she needed was to find the original marriage certificate for Doug and Bonnie and she could work on finding the woman for her brother.

Tom Sweet had called earlier in the day to remind her to go to the hospital the following day for DNA testing. She had nervous butterflies over it, but not too bad since Jordan already knew what the outcome would be. He was her father and Doug wasn’t. Which meant, barring Kelly being both their mothers, which she wasn’t—Jordan could feel it—they weren’t related.

“Now I just need that piece of paper and—” She found the certificate and stopped talking. Stuck to the front was a bright orange sticky note that said Bonnie Donaldson and then an address.

“Well, he did the work for you,” she breathed, running her fingers over the words. The address of Gareth’s mother. “He must have not had the nerve to contact her yet.” Jordan remembered how he’d shut her down when she brought up finding the woman. He was just scared. That was all.

It was hard for him to come to terms with mothers, Jordan thought. Kelly had left and now her brother was probably gun shy about giving yet another mother figure the chance to hurt him.

Gareth was fragile despite his outward strength. It was part of why she wanted to show him that she didn’t expect him to rearrange his life for her. That she didn’t think this was some fairy tale where it would all be happily ever after and all that jazz. She was a big girl who knew life was more gritty than fantasy and not everything had a happy ending.

She touched the orange paper again. She’d deal with Tom and then go find Bonnie Donaldson and talk to her on his behalf. Maybe she could bring this one particular thing to a happy conclusion.

*****

“There she is!” Tom Sweet’s big grin warmed her. They really did look an awful lot alike.

She’d left Gareth eating breakfast and reading the paper. He had a job to work today but had told her he’d catch up with her tonight. That he wanted to see how she dealt with a good paddling. He’d said the words like he wondered if she’d like rice pudding or wool socks.

Every time she thought she’d forgotten it, she’d shiver and break out in goose bumps thinking about a paddle slapping her flesh.

She still had a bit of pink and purple freckled bruising on her ass, and she’d spent a bit of time admiring it in the bathroom mirror. As she’d passed, Gareth had tugged the waistband of her leggings and tugged them down. He’d dropped a hearty kiss on the most bruised ass cheek before tugging her pants back up.

“Nice,” he said and patted her once.

Now she stood before the man that was probably her dad and realized she’d zoned out.

“Sorry? What?””

“I said, it’s not a big deal. A swab of all things. Can you believe that?”

“It’s very CSI,” she laughed.

“True! I love that show. You?” Tom led her to a counter where they signed in and he paid a the receptionist when she presented him with a bill.

“Only the original.”

“Right. Me too!”

When she heard the total and he started to write a check, Jordan panicked. “I had no idea it would be so…expensive. Let me…” She rifled through her purse thinking she must have some money on one of her cards.

Tom stilled her hand. “Please. Let me. It’s such a small price to pay to find out I might have…family. A daughter.”

He said it with such awe and reverence she blushed. “Thank you. I promise if it’s negative I’ll pay at least half.”

He chuckled. “Stubborn. Definitely from Kelly. Not me.”

He winked and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I am a bit…tenacious.”

“Good word for it. Let’s go. All we need to do is say ah and in a week to ten days, maybe sooner, we’ll know.”

“Sounds painless enough.”

If she could get Bonnie Donaldson to acknowledge her brother as easily, it would all be golden.

A woman in a lab coat swabbed the inside of their cheeks, capped the swabs, labeled them, had them check her labeling and sign off on their inspection. She smiled and was gone.

Tom shrugged. “There ya go! Now we’re done.”

“That was freakishly easy,” she said.

“I know, right?”

“So are you married, Tom?” she asked, following him out.

“No, but there’s a woman in my life, so there’s hope for me, yet.”

“Congratulations. And do you maybe plan—”

“No kids,” he said, cutting her off. “She can’t and I can’t. So that rules out kids for us if we ever even get that far. Far enough to consider such things. Unless we wanted to be one of those couples who adopted later in life.”

“Oh,” she said, studying her feet. Unsure of what to say.

“So, you’d be a miracle kid if Linda and I got married. A child, a family, someone else to love. Not to be all weird but can I hug you?”

She threw herself into his arms so fast and hard he chuckled. “Of course,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes. “And I’m not even going to ask permission,” she said, kissing him on his stubbly cheek.

She left Tom in the parking lot, promising to get together for a drink to open the envelope with the test results. Excitement buzzed through her just at the thought of finding out for sure. He was a good man. And she might still have a dad. A brand new one to get to know and build a new part of her life with. Now to get that for Gareth.

Bonnie Donaldson was only thirty minutes from the hospital and about thirty minutes from Gareth’s house. So close and yet so far. It made it impossible not to wonder if they ever ran into each other at the grocery store or post office. If they’d been seated near each other in restaurants or movies or even out to dinner.

Jordan was a bit anxious about approaching the woman, but equal to the anxiety was the happy possibility that she could do something amazing for Gareth. That he may still have family too. Family had always been very important to them. To the point that they had kept their urges and secret thoughts and desires to themselves until this new information came to light.

It had been more important to have a secure and intact family than to act out their desires.

Until now.

Jordan blew out a breath, put on her blinker and turned left into Bonnie Donaldson’s street. Marigold Way of all places.

“Hopefully, she has a sunny disposition to match her sunny street name,” Jordan whispered. She could hear the nerves rattling her voice and it made her cringe. She hated to sound weak and unsure.

But this was big.

17 Marigold Way was a large cottage style house, with a roof that was starting to show wear. The shutters were painted red and the rest of the house was a taupe color. Overall, it was a cute house with a cute yard on a cute street.

“Cute means nice, right?” She laughed a little too high. Why was she suddenly so worried that Bonnie wasn’t nice? Why were her internal bells and whistles going off?

“Because you are loco.” She stepped out of the car. The only way to do this for Gareth, was to do it.

She started up the nice little walk behind the nice white picket fence. If only her knuckles didn’t feel made of lead when she rapped on the nice red door.

Chapter 20

It was kind of surreal. She felt like a fairy tale character knocking on the witches door. Stupidly announcing herself to the evil that lurked within. Which was nuts because she had no indication that this woman was anything other than a normal pleasant person. Even her house looked pleasant.

“Yes?”

She hadn’t heard the door and Jordan jumped, giving a little yell and clutching her chest. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry!”

“What do you want?” The woman asked. She wasn’t mean about it, but she was gruff. She was tall and very thin and had the same honeyed hair as Gareth but shot with some gray. Jordan couldn’t make out the true color of her eyes through the screen in the door. But she was almost sure they were green.

“I…didn’t see you,” she said, softly.

“You knocked on my door,” the woman said brusquely, “So what do you want? If you’re selling anything, you need to go ahead and move on down the road.”

“I’m not. Selling, I mean. I wanted to talk to you about—”

“It better not be Jesus or Krishna or any kind of religion because to me, honey, that’s the same as solicitation. And read the sign.” She pointed to the left and Jordan’s eyes found the small sign to the side of the door.

ABSOLUTELY NO SOLICITATION

“No, not soliciting. I just…”

“What?”

She pushed and pushed and Jordan’s anxiety reared up and she blurted. “I’m here about your son! Gareth Davis. I think he’s your son and—”

But then she was being forced back because the woman was pushing the door open and storming at her. She was thin but she looked angry, so the overall effect was imposing at best.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, lady, but I want you off my property.”

Jordan blinked, so startled for a moment she wasn’t sure what to say, then, “Oh, I’m sorry, I just wanted to—“

“I know what you wanted to do. Put pressure on me. I don’t know who you are to him, girlfriend, fuckbuddy, wife…whatever. I don’t care. But I’m going to tell you the same thing I told him when he showed up here last week. I don’t want any part of him. Or you. Or his life. If I’d wanted him, I wouldn’t have given him to his dad and left.”

Jordan chewed her bottom lip to keep from screaming. He’d been here and this wretched woman had cruelly dispatched him for the second time in his life. Her fingers shook so hard, she clenched her hands into fists. “Yes, well—”

“Now you get the hell off my property before my husband gets home for lunch.”

“I take it he doesn’t know.”

“That is none of your business,” Bonnie Donaldson hissed. But Jordan could tell by the way her face paled and her eyes narrowed that it was the truth.

“I just want to say one thing.”

“What?” The woman demanded.

“It’s your loss, you miserable, miserable woman!” And then she fled before the bitch could see her cry.

It was everything in her to start the car and pull off from the curb while appearing in control. Bonnie Donaldson stood there and watched her go, making sure she was truly gone.

When she turned the corner off of Marigold Way, Jordan pulled over and cut the engine. She put her head on the steering wheel and cried—feeling stupid and rattled and more on edge than she had in a very long time.

“Poor Gareth,” she whispered. “Poor Gareth. He went there with hope and met up with…that.”

No wonder he’d dismissed her immediately when she broached the subject of finding his mom. He’d already found her and already tried and she’d made it perfectly clear that he was unwelcome in her life in any way.

“Bitchbitchbitchbitch!” Jordan growled and hit the steering wheel hard enough to hurt her palm and make it sting.

Then she got back on the road and headed home. Gareth was working. She’d make herself a nice lunch and maybe look into making him a really nice dinner. If she stayed home much longer, she’d need to address her apartment and her job and all that jazz. But for the moment, it could wait.

*****

Jordan was still shaking from the adrenaline rush when she got home. Gareth was nowhere to be found. She’d simply make them something for dinner. A nice pot pie or lasagna. Something—anything—that would take her mind off her rage.

He never needed to know that she’d looked up Bonnie Donaldson. He never needed to know that she knew how that wretched woman had reacted to him.

Jordan rummaged the pantry finding a box of unopened lasagna noodles and a sealed bag of flour.

“Looks like the fresh items will dictate our dinner.” The fridge held fresh ground beef but no chicken. She found some provolone which could substitute for mozzarella and parmesan. The ricotta filling wasn’t a necessity. Their mother—her mother, actually—used to make a lazy lasagna. Basically noodles, sauce and the cheese without all the fancy filling.

“Back to the pantry,” she whispered, humming to herself to try and calm down.

Crushed tomatoes, tomato sauce, tomato paste, spices. Jordan was in business. She set a pot of water on to boil and started to chop some garlic, setting the ground beef on the counter to come down to room temperature a bit.

“You deserve a better mother than that, Gareth,” she said aloud. No one could hear her so she could rant all she wanted. “I know our mother left, but god, she did love you better than that monster ever could have. At least until she up and left us all…” She snorted, shaking her head.

Two missing parents, one runaway parent and the one decent parent they’d shared—whether blood or not—was dead. “What a fucking mess.”

The doorbell rang, making her knife jump. Jordan let out a shaky sigh, grateful she hadn’t cut her finger. She wiped her hands on a towel, hurrying as the doorbell rang again.

“Coming!” she yelled. Then she had a horrible image of that horrible woman at the front door, ready to yell and screech and belittle again.

But it was Mrs. Phelps from next door.

“Oh, hi!” Jordan said, smiling. “How are you, Mrs. Phelps?”

“I am tired of your brother’s shenanigans, that’s how I am,” the plump woman said. Her mandarin orange colored lips were pressed down in a tight angry seam.

“Gareth? What do you mea—”

“If he is going to insist on bringing a string of women in here—women he is not married to, the least he can do is make it so that I do not have to be scarred by his nonsense. I have a family. I go to church. I have grandchildren who visit!” She tapped her fat little foot on the front porch and Jordan stepped over the threshold and looked down at the shorter woman.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Phelps but I’m not sure what you mean.” Though in her gut, Jordan had a sinking feeling that she did know what she was talking about.

“He ties them up, you know,” the woman said on a growl. “He ties them to the bed and I can see their feet. I can see them! I can hear them sometimes, too for the love of Pete! The caterwauling and the carrying on. The least Gareth Davis could do is close his darn blinds!”

It was then that the woman’s gaze fell on Jordan’s feet and she gasped.

At first Jordan was confused but then her stomach bottomed out.

“You?” Mrs. Phelps gasped. “You and your…brother? You two are…going to hell!” she managed on a squeak.

Jordan’s eyes fell to her neon orange toenails.

“Mrs. Phelps, I—“

“I saw your feet,” the woman said, waving her arms around. “I saw them!”

She pointed and Jordan wondered if this was how the witches felt in Salem. She felt nauseous but also angry. Very angry.

This day just kept getting fucking better and better.

“I don’t know what you think, Mrs. Phelps, but you need to calm down.”

“You are a heathen,” the woman said.

And that was that, Jordan snapped. She’d had enough. Of the confusion, of loss, of the horrible woman who should be embracing her brother and this nosy ass neighbor who was waving her fingers in Jordan’s face.

Jordan grabbed her finger and said, “You need to leave. Maybe if you didn’t spend your time looking in people’s windows, you wouldn’t see things that upset you.”

“I’ll tell,” the woman said.

Jordan yanked her finger hard enough to make Mrs. Phelps blanch but not hard enough to do any damage. “You do that. Who do you think everyone will believe? Two kids who just lost their father and are grieving, or an old busybody who spies on people to pass the time?”

The woman opened her mouth and shut it with a snap.

“You think about it,” Jordan said, turning toward the door. “Now get off my fucking porch before I call the police.”

She slammed her front door wanting nothing but anger and stoicism to come through. But inside the house, when she was safely out of sight, she started to shake all over again.

Chapter 21

Jordan slipped the freshly assembled lasagna pan into the oven. In just over 45 minutes, they’d have a nice hot lasagna. She set about making a salad and searching the freezer for the loaves of frozen bread their dad had usually kept in the freezer. If she set one out now to thaw, it might be ready by bed time.

The front door slammed and she jumped.

“Gar! Is that you? You scared the shi—”

“What did you do?” He stormed into the kitchen, dropping his lunch cooler in the archway. His stance was aggressive, his face enraged.

“I…what?”

“What did you do, Jordan. What did you do?”

His voice did not rise. Unlike other people, the angrier Gareth got, the quieter his voice. He was speaking so low she was having trouble hearing him over nothing more than the tick, pop and whoosh of the oven heating up and leveling off.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered. All of her skin had broken out in goose bumps. Her mouth had gone dry and her nipples had peaked painfully hard from the rush of adrenaline.

“Why would you meddle? Why would you shoot your mouth off?”

Her mind scrambled wildly to make sense of what he was saying. Was he talking about Mrs. Phelps and Jordan tossing her out? What did he mean?

“You should have just left it alone. No one asked you to butt in.” His jaw clenched taut with anger, his green eyes narrowed. He looked almost dangerous to her and it made her stomach tumble in on itself and her hands started to shake.

And then she made the connection.

“Oh…oh, Gareth. I didn’t know—” She tried but he cut her off.

“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. Who the fuck wants everyone to know that none of his mothers want him? That he’s a goddamn woman repellant unless it’s fucking.”

He threw his keys at the back door with a growl and they hit the small pane of glass, cracking in.

Jordan felt a burst of shock and cried out. He was advancing on her and she backed up a step in response.

“Why couldn’t you just leave it alone, Jojo?” His eyes were shiny like he might cry, but he shook his head. Tamping down the pain and letting the anger flare. “Get in the bedroom,” he said, pointing.

“What?” She was genuinely surprised.

“Get. In. The. Bedroom.” He ground out each word like he was spitting out rusty nails.

“No,” she breathed.

He took her arms in his hands, squeezing just enough to make her flinch, but no more. “Get in the bedroom, or get the fuck out,” he said. “Your choice.” Then he stalked into the mudroom and started untying his boots.

*****

She was ashamed of herself that she did it. But secretly thrilled, too. A dirty secret she wanted to keep even from herself. The way he ordered her, the anger in his voice, the ultimatum. He’d never been that way with her and Jordan remembered his offer earlier suggestion about paddling.

“You’re not a woman repellent,” she said to him. Her voice was soft and meek and her hands warred in her lap with nerves. She’d never take that tone or orders from anyone else, but this was Gareth. The person she loved more than anything in the world. Who was hurting. Who was alone, or so he thought.

“Be quiet, Jordan,” he growled and pushed his dirty jeans off. He tossed them in the hamper and then shoved his socks down and yanked them off. Every movement was performed with anger. Every breath was exhaled with frustration.

“I’m sorry.”

“Be quiet, Jordan.”

Her throat went tight and she fisted her hands against her jeans. She was fully clothed and she had no idea what he was going to do. None.

“Gareth, just let me—“

“If you say another word one of us is leaving and not coming back. I just don’t know which one yet. You want to test me?”

She shook her head and clamped her tongue between her teeth. She bit hard in frustration and tasted a sharp coppery burst of blood. She was a talker. Especially when nervous. So this was torture. Feeling sorry, being sorry, and unable to express herself was maddening.

“Take your clothes off,” he said. “Everything.”

She gave him a surprised glance and when their eyes met, and she saw the true anger there, she considered saying no. She truly did. But in those eyes was also love. And pain. And she had to trust he’d never hurt her for real.

Not for real.

She stood and pulled off her long sleeved pullover. It dropped into a navy blue puddle at her feet. Bra followed and then her loose faded jeans. No panties underneath so that left her in slouch socks, which Jordan promptly kicked off.

His eyes ate her up but his hands stayed down, straight but rigid, by his sides. “On the bed, face down.”

Jordan took a deep breath, trying to still her rattled nerves. Then she slowly splayed herself on his bed, face down, arms out and legs down. Maybe all he needed to calm down and talk to her was some contrition. Some penance.

The straps were back out and he tied her wrists and then her ankles. Her body was tense with worry and she considered telling him about Mrs. Phelps but thought better of it.

Gareth went to the closet door and opened it. She had her head turned in his direction so she could see everything he was doing. His body was long and lean and gorgeously muscles—and his cock was hard, jutting out in front of him almost angrily.

He seemed to be searching for something. She expected it to be a paddle he pulled out but she felt the blood drain from her face when he pulled out a crop.

“She called me at work,” he said, testing the crop on his own palm. It made a teakettle whistle in the air as it flew and a maddening heavy crack when it landed. Gareth nodded with approval before moving toward her.

“She called me at work to tell me to stop sending my crazy friends to bother her.” The crop landing with a whistling crack on the meaty part of Jordan’s ass. Her entire body jumped with the impact. The sharp and biting pain quickly dulled to a roaring throb and then slowly bled into a rush of adrenaline fueled pleasure. She felt a flicker deep in her cunt even as a sob ripped out of her throat.

Sweet Jesus. What was this insanity?

“She thought I sent you. How pathetic would I seem if I sent you? I mean she told me in no uncertain terms that she’d handed me off to dad the moment I was born because she did not want me. And she still did not want me. Nothing had changed.”

Lulled by his voice, she had relaxed some, pained at hearing the sadness and anger in his voice. So when the warning whistle sounded she didn’t react immediately. Gareth striped another blow along her other ass cheek. The meaty bit of her taking the blow and absorbing most of the impact. That sharp bite of stinging pain stealing her breath and making her eyes water. No sound came out of her this time. The pain was too great. She gritted her teeth until that stealthy slow fade arrived and then on its heels a tawdry rush of bliss.

Her cunt flexed tight. She imagined if he pushed a single finger into her she’d come. She imagined if he so much as touched a fingertip to her clit or, sweet Jesus, the tip of his tongue, she’d come like a firework bursting on a hot summer night.

“She wanted me to know that if she heard from me again—or you for that matter—she’d call the police. So thanks, Jordan,” he growled and laid a third blow across both cheeks, hitting the first two striped with a horizontal contrast.

She sobbed on that one. The pain was fierce—with teeth and claws and fire on her skin—and sudden. Her fingers reflexively clutched at the sheet beneath her and when the tears that stung her eyes rolled away, she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision.

His face pale, green eyes wide, mouth set tight. She dropped the crop like it had burned him and quickly walked out of the room.

She almost called out to him, but wasn’t sure if she should. Wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

She lay very still as the pain faded away in slow, concentric ripples. As the core of her punishment started to burn like hot, red coals. After a few moments, when he didn’t return, Jordan shifted on the bed, her pelvis driving down into the resistance of the mattress and she was surprised—but not really, not honestly—to feel a blip of pleasure from the contact.

Her bottom was hot and feverish and felt marked, but under all that she was worried. About her brother, about her lover, her friend. About how her meddling had pushed him and made him hurt.

She heard her timer go off but didn’t call out to him. Gareth wasn’t stupid. He’d check the oven and turn the timer off. She strained to hear and finally did hear him open the oven and then the bang of it being closed. She heard the fridge and then the shower cut on, the pipes shaking the wall behind her head.

He was really angry. He was leaving her here.

She pushed her hips down again, feeling the grind of the firm mattress, feeling the slow slide of pleasure in her cunt. She spread her legs even wider than the straps held her and tilted her pelvis as severely as she could. The pressure was remarkable and sweet and she humped against the bed shamelessly.

It didn’t matter that it was something she’d have sworn she’d never do. It didn’t matter that he could catch her if he left the water running and popped in—in fact, the thought of him catching her made her pussy that much wetter and her hips move that much faster. It didn’t matter that she felt the hot blush of embarrassment for her predicament.

None of it mattered. What mattered was the liquid and lazy contraction starting deep inside of her. She ground harder and flexed her internal muscles, gritting her teeth with the effort.

Jordan rolled her hips from side to side-desperate and hopeful—like she was doing the hula. When the water cut off and fear lanced through her, she came. It was a sudden shock and it rocked her hard enough to make her bite her lips so Gareth wouldn’t hear.

Fear. Adrenaline. Punishment.

She was learning a lot. She just hoped she could do damage control with her brother. The thought that she’d truly hurt him made her chest ache.

*****

He came in after another half an hour had slipped away. Jordan had watched the red numbers slowly change until she thought she’d scream. Finally, he came in, hair still damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats. He had a piece of her lasagna on a plate and a fork.

The bed sank with his weight and he took a bite of what was supposed to be their dinner.

“You always did make good lasagna, kid,” he said softly, forking up a bite. “And you still do.”

She had to crane her head over her shoulder to see him. He wasn’t sitting within her easy line of sight. “Thanks.”

“Sorry I had to leave you.”

“No you’re not,” she said, tears she hadn’t expected stinging her eyes. “I was sorry that I upset you with what I did. I didn’t know you’d been there. I was trying…” Her voice wavered and she stopped talking. She didn’t want to cry. Not even a little. Then she would feel stupid on top of angry and sad.

“Were trying to what?” Gareth asked softly. She heard him take another bite. Jordan had to let her head rest or she’d hurt herself trying to see him.

Why wouldn’t he let her see him?

“Do something nice for you. Surprise you. It was wrong, I guess, but it wasn’t with malice.”

“And you think I left you in here alone due to malice?”

She nodded, silent and angry as the next wave of unshed tears assaulted her. Jordan swallowed reflexively to keep them at bay. “Yes. It’s all part of what you’re teaching me. All part of the game.”

“Wrong.” He stood and set the plate on the dresser. When he came back, he sat right at her hip and smoothed his hands over her bottom. The tender places jumped with blood and Jordan couldn’t help but sigh.

“I’m embarrassed. I’m sad. I’m angry. I know you didn’t know, but I wish you didn’t know that yet another woman didn’t want me.”

“I want you,” she breathed.

Gareth straddled her, his body not pressing down on hers but his knees brushing her outer thighs. He touched her neck and she shivered. His fingers stroked delicately over her shoulder blades.

“I was angry and it started to come out in my punishment of you. You deserved a punishment for meddling…” He trailed a finger down her spine and Jordan chewed her lip to try and keep still. “But you didn’t deserve my anger. No one topping should ever ever punish you when angry. You remember that…” His voice wavered for a moment. “For when you’re not with me.”

Her heart dipped and ached when he said that. It felt as if it had fallen into her stomach like a rock. More embarrassing tears pricked her eyes but she managed to blink them away. What had she expected? A happily ever after for brother and sister? Whether there was blood or not, it was laughable.

Gareth shifted her focus by reaching between her legs and testing her. “My goodness, little sister, you’re wet. What have you been doing, Jojo?”

Her face blazed and she said nothing. Silence was her best defense.

He climbed off her and sat by her side, his fingers probed her, spread her outer lips, tickled over her still tender clitoris and Jordan could not suppress the gasp and jump that came with contact.

“Did you get yourself off, bad girl?”

She had no idea what to do. She had no idea what to say. So again, Jordan opted for silence, chewing her lip until she was sure it would bleed.

Gareth slid three fingers at once deep inside of her and her cunt grabbed up at his fingers eagerly. “You came didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

He pushed a wet finger into her back hole and she froze. “Tell me, Jojo.”

“Yes. When you were…” Her words trailed off in a low moan as he shoved that finger into her bum up to the hilt. He wiggled it and the pressure was sweet and odd all at once. Taking his other hand, he pushed his fingers inside her pussy and when he flexed his fingers in both her holes at once, managing to tickle at her clit with his pinky, she cried out.

“When I was?”

“When you were showering. It was an accident. I was all…there was pain and then the pain wasn’t pain anymore. And there was, oh God…”

He thrust slow and easy as he listened, tsking when she stopped. “Go on.”

Jordan had trouble focusing. Her entire body was thrumming with the need to come. It was ridiculous and fabulous and awful all at once.

“There was so much pressure in my…” She shook her head, her shoulders starting to ache form being bound. Her neck muscles were getting tight and she wanted him to just unbind her and hold her. But she was afraid to ask.

“In your what?”

Deeper, faster, he fucked her with only his hands.

“Say it,” he said.

“My pussy. There was so much pressure in my pussy. So when I moved, it was an accident, the friction it—”

“Felt good.”

“Yes.”

“Something you want to ask me, Jojo?”

A sob ripped out of her and she started to shake. “Please don’t be mad at me. Please untie me and just hold me. Please, Gareth,” she said in a rush. Her words tumbled all over each other and she started to shake with a tremor that had her shoulders screaming as she pulled involuntarily at her bonds.

“Oh fuck,” he sighed. “Sweetheart.”

And then he was untying her ankles and when he got around to her hands she was blubbering and he was talking to himself. When he gathered her in against him and held her, it was the first time since he’d come home she felt as if she’d taken a real and true deep breath.

“I love the sex. I love that…stuff,” she whispered as he brushed her hair out of her face. “But it hurts my heart to think you’re mad at me. I’d give it all up for you not to be angry with me, Gareth. I can’t handle that. You’re all I have left.”

He shook his head and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I’m an asshole,” he said.

Chapter 22

Jordan turned into his embrace, molding herself to him. She was shaking but was too relieved that he was holding her to care. Gareth reached down and pulled the extra quilt at the foot of the bed up over them to keep her warm.

“You’re not an asshole,” she said.

“I am.” His voice was full of menace aimed at himself. Jordan had never heard him sound so down on himself.

“No, you’re good and I never should have—”

He cut her off with a kiss. She cupped his face in her hands, returning the kiss. Pushing her tongue against his when he penetrated her mouth. She could taste sweet tomato sauce and beer on his breath. The whole room smelled of him. Spice and suede and sunshine.

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I should never have punished you in anger. Anger is not a part of play. Ever. You remember that if—”

“Don’t say it, don’t say it!” Jordan sighed. “Please. It hurts my heart when you say when you’re not with me. I know that there can be no—”

“Jordan—”

“Let me finish, God damn it, Gareth!”

“There is no fairy tale ending for us. You don’t want that stuff. And I’m your sister for fuck’s sake and—”

“Jordan,” he growled, pulling her completely flush to him. His cock hard between her legs. His body seeming to hum with something he had yet to express. She could feel it working through his muscles like a fine tremor. Like touching a high tension wire and feeling all the energy that zipped and flitted within the casing.

“Shut up,” she sobbed. “I know that when you say you love me you mean you love me and not that you love me. Like happily ever after or white picket fences or babies or…”

“But it does.” He shook her so she’d look at him.

“I—”

“Every woman in my life has left me but you. You’re the person who always felt like the other half of me.” He looked down.

Jordan wasn’t sure why she did it, but she put her hand on his cock. Squeezing. Feeling the power she had over him when he made a near sobbing sound and the breath tore out of him.

“It was never okay to feel that way, Jojo,” he breathed. He put his hand between her legs, slipping a finger inside her.

It was Jordan’s turn to make a noise. It rushed up out of her, half joy, half relief.

“But now it’s okay. Pretty much,” he sighed. “Now hush.”

He kissed her and rolled her onto her back. Gareth got her how he wanted her, her knees pushed up high and her pussy exposed and he drove into her, eyes pinned to where he was penetrating her. Arms shaking on either side of her head. He drove into her hard and the first wave of an orgasm rushed up to greet her and pull her under.

She’d been so turned on and so upset and so afraid for so long that the blissful friction from first entry was enough to set her off. “I’m sorry,” she said as she came.

She felt bad, but she felt good.

“No, I’m sorry. I love you, Jojo. For real. Not for fun. Not for a fuck. I love you. You’re the only woman I ever loved.” He rotated his hips—back and forth, back and forth, grinding down on her, filling her up. His cock impossibly high and hard and his face intent.

“It was never okay before and now it’s okay,” he growled. “It’s okay.” He rotated his lean hips a bit slower, backing off just enough to give her body room to process. And then he moved in another lazy sweep and she felt it explode in her. Another, sudden violent release that stole her breath.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay. I won’t go unless you want me to. Not unless you tell me to,” she sighed. Tears trickled from under her closed lids.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice had a bit of steel in it.

Jordan forced her eyes wide.

“You don’t go anywhere unless you take me with you,” he said.

She nodded, bit her lips, gasped when he rocked against her with the pressure she needed to make her cunt throb with another build up to a peak.

“Turn over,” he said. “Get on your knees for me.”

She’d brought him down to a rumble, his voice thick and almost malicious. It made her shiver all over—the excitement of it. The anticipation of him mounting her from behind. Making her come. Taking her.

*****

He didn’t actually give her a chance to turn over. Gareth gripped her and turned her forcefully, flipping her as if she weighed no more than one of the pillows that adorned the bed.

He ran the head of his cock along her slit, from front all the way back and up the split of her ass between her still tender cheeks. Jordan shivered when the tip of him pressed to the tight ring of her anus.

“One day, sweetheart,” he said. “But right now—“

He drove into her cunt and she pushed her hands to the antique headboard. Jordan remembered the blinds were slatted and their feet could be seen, but part of her was so overjoyed at his response—at his love for her—she simply didn’t care. Mrs. Phelps could kiss her ass.

Gareth pushed one strong hand to the middle of her back, holding her steady as he thrust. Jordan swayed with his movements, feeling the full thickness of him invading her and taking her over. A fine tremor started in her thighs and Gareth felt it, looping a muscular arm under her waist. With a hand on her spine and one under her middle, he held her there. Securing her.

Gareth always made her feel secure.

He moved the hand on her spine low and smoothed slow circles over her bottom. The slightest pressure made the welted skin tingle and throb. The throb slid into her pelvis, filling her cunt, her womb. Making her arms feel weak and her chest flare with the same heat that made her face feel so hot.

She wanted to come but she didn’t. She wanted to stay here, suspended in his arms, no other thoughts for as long as she could.

Gareth pressed the pad of his thumb to one of the crop stripes on her ass and her body sagged a bit with weakness. “How does that feel?” he growled, driving deep, his cock brushing all the plump bits of her pussy.

“It feels—”

Her voice dissolved into a moan when he pressed that fragile flesh again and drove deep into her cunt. She felt so full of him—her head, her heart, her soul—that she wanted to weep she felt so overwhelmed.

He brushed a fingernail over a weal and she cried out. Not because it hurt so much as the mild discomfort merged with her slick pleasure and she was right there. Right on the cusp. It would take very little…

Gareth pulled free of her filled her with a cluster of his fingers. Jordan tossed her head, hair flying…confused. Until he returned his cock to her and slid in slowly, relishing every inch he penetrated. She could tell by the way he exhaled as he slid home.

Then those wet fingers—dripping with her own pussy juices—slipped into the narrow ring of her asshole and she froze.

“Just relax. Feel me both places. Three fingers. Hurts at first, but sweetheart, give it a minute. Relax, breathe.”

She did. Pushing out a big breath before drawing in a slow controlled breath. When he started to move his cock and his fingers in tandem, small white lights danced in her vision. She took another sip of air and moved back to take him deeper.

His fingers curled in her tight hole and his cock brushed her swollen cunt. She put her head down and started to reach under and stroke herself but thought better of it. “May I?” she asked softly over her shoulder.

Gareth froze, green eyes flashing, face serious with lust and intention.

“May you what?”

“Touch myself?”

He groaned, his turn to come undone. She could tell by the jerk of his hips that her words had affected him. Gareth clenched his jaw, nodded once and tried to slow his pace.

Her fingers shook violently but she managed a clumsy stroke over her engorged clit. She moved back harder to take him, brushing the tingly knot of flesh that controlled her orgasm at the moment. She was so penetrated by him—so stuffed with him—that it would take that direct contact to get off. Otherwise it was just a big blissful gush of pressure in her nether regions.

She stroked down over her outer lips, feeling those neglected nerve endings leap to life. When she returned direct pressure to her clitoris, she hissed like she was in pain.

“I can’t wait,” she said.

“To come,” he growled, sounding on edge himself.

“No. For what you said before. I can’t wait. I want to try.”

He slowed. Jordan could tell that Gareth was catching on, but was unsure of what she meant. Or was afraid to be sure. “What?”

Jordan looked over her shoulder to see his bright green eyes when she answered. She could see the stubble on his jaw and how his hair was still a little damp and the flash of jade in his irises. All of her had narrowed down to extreme alertness, superb observation.

Breathtaking need.

“I want you to fuck me, Gareth. I want you to take me…in the ass.”

He dropped his head and made a broken sound. All the while her body pulses with anticipation, fear and above all else—desire.

Chapter 23

His breath was a shiver across her back. His fingers delving deep to twist and rotate and open her up.

Jordan’s arms shook with nerves more than strain.

“It’s going to pinch for a moment. It’s going to hurt, Jojo. I’m telling you so you can change your mind.”

Jordan dropped her forehead to the sheets, pressed until colors danced behind her closed lids. “Do it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Do it,” she whispered, curling her hands into the sheets but forcing her body to relax. She pushed back just enough against his fingers so that she did feel her body relax a little, open some.

“Oh, fuck…sweetheart,” he said. There was a catch in his voice that made Jordan hum with arousal and need.

“Do it, please, Gareth, stop fucking around.” She chuckled then, amused by her slip. “Put it in me.”

And he was pressed to her, then. The head of his cock hot and imposing against the tight ring of muscle. He pushed so that just the tip penetrated and instead of obeying her body’s need to clench up, she pushed back and breathed and focused on how much she wanted this. Wanted him. There.

There was a pinch—an intense pinch—a flair of pain, she couldn’t deny it, but then he reached under her and slid two fingers into her pussy. Jordan put her head down, moaned.

“I’m in,” he whispered. “I’m in. And you should see this, Jojo. It’s…gorgeous.”

She knew he had to have done this before, but the awe in his voice made her throat tight. It was because it was her. He sounded that way because it was with her.

He started to move and she moaned again. Not sure why, but beyond the pleasure was something new and good and somewhat surreal. He was fucking her ass, fingers buried in her pussy and all it took was for her to press and swirl a fingertip to her clit and she came.

Her knees shook with the effort of holding herself up. Her arms trembled from the same. But the rest of her took up a fine tremor from the force of the orgasm.

Gareth rocked into her, his fingers on her hips were rough but not painful. It was a possessive grip she realized. She was his now, if he wanted her.

A tear slipped free and she brushed it away with surprise. Where was this coming from?

Gareth groaned. “I’m not going to last long this way, Jordan. You’re so tight. So, so tight. And good.” His free hand smoothed calming circles over her bottom. The skin he’s whipped into weals earlier sang at his touch. The echoes of pain made her pussy spasm again and she knew if Gareth could hold out, she would come again.

It was a marvel. This newness. And the bliss. And Jesus, how close she felt to him this way.

Another tear and she bit her lip, wiping it away.

Gareth pulled almost free of her and then plunged back in, pushing so fully into her that her forehead tapped the headboard. A sob escaped her and startled them both.

She felt him stall out, still and start to withdraw.

“No, don’t, please don’t!” Jordan babbled. The tears came fast and furious now and she felt his fingers, still buried in her, twist a little. Press. Nudge.

Her cunt gripped tight to his fingers and she could feel her heartbeat in the tender flesh of her ass, she could feel it slamming in her tight back hole where Gareth stayed buried—but unmoving.

“I’m hurting you,” he said. His hand smoothing along her back, her ass, down the backs of her thighs. Stroking her into a calmer state of mind.

“You’re not. I don’t know why I’m crying,” she said, trying so hard to keep her voice steady and true.

“Okay, then.” His voice was soft cotton, warm breezes, bright sunshine. Her spine relaxed and Jordan felt her heart expand with his soothing tone. “I won’t pull out. I just want you to feel good, Jojo.”

“I know,” she said, voice like still water. Jordan pushed back to take him. Liking the feel of so much pressure. Of being so full. Her fingers went back to work on her oversensitive clit and a bright flash of impending orgasm sounded in her body.

“It’s emotional,” he said, his voice having grown darker and rougher. Gareth’s fingertips tickled up the ridges of her spine. Jordan shivered as goose bumps threatened to bloom on her skin but didn’t. “Sharing yourself this way…if your heart is in it.”

“I never have,” she gasped. His fingers had pushed deeper and Gareth was rubbing his fingers to his cock through her body. Noting but a pink film of her flesh separated it, she realized. Hardly anything at all.

She chewed her lip and felt another embarrassing but unstoppable tear fall.

“I know. And that makes you mine in a whole new way,” he said. His rhythm increased and his breath came fast and she could tell—she could hear—that he was going to come.

“I’m….yours?” she asked, pressing her clit. She pinched it and knew that on the next pinch she would come.

“Sweetheart, I’ve always wanted you to be mine. But now I’m claiming you,” he said. “Sounds funny, but fuck it.” Gareth pressed his palm to her ass cheek, prodding her tender welted skin with his fingertip. He rammed into her, the fingers in her pussy curling suggestively as he did. And he said, “Mine.”

Jordan came. It started as a low moan and when he gave his own cry, clutching at her, stilling for a moment before pounding into her hard, her moan dissolved into a cry and that dissolved into a sob.

And she pressed her head to the mattress, all her defenses stripped away, all her control gone—and she cried.

*****

Gareth pulled from her, dropped to his side and positioned her so she was nestled up against him. He tucked her head under his chin and waited for the storm to pass.

It didn’t seem to want to. Jordan felt she’d cry forever now that it had started. She couldn’t seem to stop it and the more that came out of her the more tired and confused she felt—but also cleaner. She felt cleaner.

A breakdown cycle, Jojo…He’s explained it once when they were younger and Kelly had left. She’d been so broke and sad and he’d started reading—book after book on philosophy and healing and self-help. She laughed at him once, in an almost mean way and he hadn’t seemed to care. A breakdown cycle, he’d explained. The theory that coming undone, or being completely destroyed, could make you stronger in the long run.

Like burning down a forest for it to come back three times as thick…

She shivered, letting him brush her crazy fucked up hair off her forehead. And Gareth—being who he was—simply held her and hushed her and kissed her until it all passed.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted when she felt she could speak.

“Did I hurt you? Tell me the truth.”

“No.” She shook her head, hearing his stubble rasp against her hair.

“Then what the hell was that? You scared me, little sister.” Before letting her answer, he tilted her head back and kissed her lips. She could still taste the sweet tang of tomato paste on his tongue.

“I…” She shook her head, because the realization set in and she couldn’t bear to admit it.

“Tell me.” He pulled the blanket over them, waiting.

“I just reacted to you saying mine.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. Mine. I know there’s no chance…I mean I know this can’t be…”

He stiffened under her, his whole body growing tense. “What?”

“I know it can’t be like this forever.”

“Why?”

She stilled “Because we’re—”

“We’re what? People who were led to believe they were related?”

“I—”

“I love you, Jordan. I want you. In my heart, you’re mine. If that means we need to go somewhere else to be this way…”

“But you’re angry with me. You were. For what I did. And we’ve been raised together to believe—”

“I was angry at me,” he said, green eyes studying her. “I wanted you to stay. I need you to stay. But I needed to hear you say you wanted to be here. That you wanted me. After all the women I’ve run off—” He broke off with a harsh laugh.

“Gareth,” she said, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him quiet.

“I love you, I want you. I want to stay with you—I want to stay wherever you are. Here. There. Anywhere.”

He looked at her for a moment like he didn’t’ believe her. But when she nodded, it was Gareth’s turn to cry.

They ate room temperature lasagna and cold wine at midnight. Jordan shifted from cheek to cheek, trying not to feel the pain. But when she did, she experienced zings of aroused delight. The fact that he’d marked her was something that stayed stuck in her head and refused to let go.

She shivered when he dried her with a towel after their shared shower and took her to his bed. When he wrapped his arms around her, in her head she heard the echo of his voice. Mine.

Chapter 24

“What the fuck is that?” Gareth rolled, trapping Jordan to the bed.

When she tried to sit up a lanky, muscular man was blocking her way. She took her arms and pushed, but it was useless. He was heavy and intent on keeping her right where she lay. But the banging continued.

“Gareth,” she said, nudging him.

“Go away.” He wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to the intrusion.

She snorted. “I don’t think they can hear you.”

He sat up, opened one eye and roared, “Go. Away!”

And again he kept her from getting up. “What if it’s…” Jordan started. But then she realized what? Who could it be? They only had each other at the moment. Whoever it was would come back. Or they wouldn’t.

She wiggled, trying to pull free but instead, Gareth wrapped an arm around her waist and rolled, forcing her onto her belly. They were both nude and she felt the hot probing of his cock between her legs. “Where you going so fast, Jojo?”

The air rushed out of her and she smiled. “I was trying to go to the bathroom.”

Another knock sounded, but he ignored it, pressing his warm lips to the back of her neck and gently thrusting his hips so his cock slid between her slightly parted legs.

“Stay here.”

Another angry knock and she stiffened. “But I—“

“Shh, don’t go.” Gareth licked down her nape so she shivered, her nipples spiking into hard knots of flesh. He slid his hands beneath her and cupped her breasts. Each small thrust of his hips as he fucked her without actually fucking her made her wetter. The pressure from having to pee somehow made that better.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me,” she chuckled softly. Jordan parted her legs a little more and then he was plucking one of the pillows out of the pile, shoving it unceremoniously under her pelvis to tilt her. His cock, hard and hot, brushed her thigh as he moved. She wanted him. Badly.

Gareth wedged his hand between them and parted her thighs the way he wanted. And then he was sliding that smooth hard tip of himself along her soaking slit. Jordan pushed back to force him in—to at least get the head inside of her.

“Jesus. You’re hot,” he said, his breath feathering over her ear. His heart trip-hammered against her shoulder blade. Jordan couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the tone in his voice and the affection and want she heard humbled her.

“You’re not exactly chilly.”

She pushed her butt up and back to let him slip deeper. They rocked gently that way. One of his huge hands cupping her breast, one slid beneath her mound to touch and stroke her clit. The pressure in her pelvis had her biting her tongue as he drove into her on lazy gentle strokes.

“Come for me, Jojo. You started out tight. Now that sweet cunt of yours is just insanely snug.”

She gasped, pushing her cheek to the pillow even as she reared up enough to let him slide in and out of her freely.

“I’m going to come,” she whispered.

“Good.” He rubbed brisk firm circles over her clitoris, pausing every so often so that the blood thumped and pounded in the tiny organ. And then he would simply press his fingertip to her hard so the hiss of blood in her pussy made her want to cry.

“They went away,” she babbled, trying to keep her mind straight.

“Who went away?”

Gareth sped up a touch—his movements no longer lazy. They were more urgent, more driven and she heard the urgency in his breath.

“Whoever was at the door.”

“Good, fuck ‘em. It’s too early to be bothering me. I got my girl. I win. You’re mine and—”

Jordan’s cries cut him off. Her body spasming languidly around his cock. He shoved into her, yanking at her hips as he did so. The push and pull effect put her off balance and the lost in the mercy of his movements made her orgasm that much stronger.

He was controlling this. Controlling her. He was in charge. And that was good.

“So good,” he whispered and he came. His body tensing and jerking as he emptied into her. His lips brushed at her hair, her temple, her cheek.

“I love you, Jojo. Let’s get the fuck out of Dodge.”

She thought it was a brilliant idea.

*****

She was watering the ferns on the front porch when Mrs. Phelps sprang from the bushes like a demented rabbit.

“Jordan!”

“Why hello, Mrs. Phelps,” Jordan said, steeling herself. “Can you believe these things are hanging on this late into fall. They really should be dead by no—”

“I saw you,” the older woman said. “He left them open and there were your feet and you were…he was…you are going to hell, you do know that right, Jordan?”

Heat flooded Jordan’s face, her chest. Not just heat, though, anger too. Very quickly she was full of rage and she dropped the watering can, whirling on the other woman.

“Is that right?”

“That is right!” Mrs. Phelps said stomping her foot. “The Lord is very specific about what we should and should not do. And laying with your brother—”

“How may brothers and sisters in the bible fucked each other?”Jordan hissed.

“I…what…pardon?” Mrs. Phelps stammered. Her eyes wide, her cotton candy pink fingernails worrying at her jacket collar.

“It happened.”

“It also happened in the royal families and was forbidden because—”

Jordan cut the older woman off. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. The children were sick, weak, mentally compromised.”

“Exactly. And it’s one thing to be…unholy in this way but Jordan, he beat you.”

“He cropped me.”

“He…cropped?”

“Yeah, it’s a crop. It’s about yay long.” Jordan held her hands about sixteen inches apart. Then she laughed and said, “It hurts like a son of a bitch until the fu—”

“Jordan!” Mrs. Phelps yelped.

Jordan heard a chuckle and just knew that her brother—no, her lover now—was on the other side of the screen door in the shadows.

Jordan leaned in, put her hands on her hips, stomped her foot. She was pissed. People poking their noses in where they didn’t belong was a pet peeve of hers.

“We found out we’re not really related,” she said softly. Her voice was more growl than anything. “Not that that’s any of your business. So what we do, Mrs. Phelps, whether it’s sex or caning or spanking or doing it doggie style in the living room—“

The other woman let out a warbling cry and there came that slight laugher again.

“—is our business. Not your business, not anyone’s business…but ours. Got it?”

“But to everyone, even God, you are related. You are brother and sister. You have lived together as brother and sister and—”

“So if we were boyfriend and girlfriend for say ten years, we’d be married in the eyes of you and God?” Jordan countered.

“Well…no, but—”

“How convenient. And listen, Mrs. Phelps, I really do appreciate you coming here and talking on God’s behalf…” She took the short woman’s arm and propelled her to the porch steps as gently as she could force herself to be. “But I don’t have time for this. I don’t care what you think or God, for that matter.”

Because I’m happy. Finally…

“And we don’t care what everyone thinks, either,” Gareth said, finally stepping forward. “It’s irrelevant.”

“Enjoy Hell,” Mrs. Phelps said, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll see you there!” Jordan chirped and turned her back on her neighbor. Then she quietly slipped inside.

*****

He’d had to make her tea. She was shaking with rage and adrenaline when she got the front door shut.

“That’s going to keep happening, you know?”

“I know,” she sighed.

“And I hate the idea that we finally get to be together and we have to deal with this shit. No one is going to care that we’re not blood relation. We’ll just be the freaks. The weirdos.”

“I hate the idea of running,” she said. Jordan meant it, but part of her also wanted to just run—run far, far away from Allisonville. From all the people who’d watch them grow up together—small towns could eat you alive if you let them.

“How’s it running? How many people start lives together by moving?” He gripped her shoulders in his strong hands and started to work the knots out.

“True.”

“But we can’t afford it,” he laughed and then blew out a sigh. “Not until we sell this place. We need to empty it and get it ready and…” Gareth made a disgusted noise. “It’ll be a lot of work.”

Jordan nodded, letting him milk her muscles to the point of relaxation. “We can do it. Fuck that old biddy. And fuck anyone else. They won’t know unless we tell them.”

He dropped into the seat next to her and watched her drink her tea. “It’s really not anyone else I’m worried about, little sister. I just want to start fresh with you.”

She turned and kissed him. “I know.”

Chapter 25

She was scrubbing the kitchen floor when someone knocked again. Fiery anger blazed in her gut again and Jordan sat back on her knees. “Great.”

Gareth was in the shower and it would be up to her to ignore the knock or answer it.

“I swear if it’s that round weeble of a busybody,” Jordan breathed, stomping through the dining room toward the front door.

But it wasn’t. It was Tom Sweet holding an envelope out to her. She couldn’t read his face and that scared her. What if they were wrong. What if they were…

“I paid a bit extra—slipped a tech a hundred, actually—to get the answers faster. Not really fair, but so be it. I suck at patience.”

“Me too,” she said softly. “Hey, sorry. Come in.”

Tom stepped over the threshold and put the envelope in her open hand. Her fingers were trembling she noted in a sort of detached way. “This is…”

“The results. Yep,” he said and smiled at her.

“Have you opened it?”

He chuckled. “I told you I have no patience. What do you think?”

She felt both relieved and anxious. He knew and still she couldn’t read his face. Every time she’d met him he’d looked good natured and mildly amused. Which is pretty much how he looked now.

Jordan noticed that the shower had cut off. She could wait for Gareth or open it before he came out. If it was positive, they could share that moment together. If it was negative, then they’d be crushed together and what they were doing would be an entirely different thing that it was at this fragile moment in time.

She ran her finger under the loose seal of masking tape Tom had applied and popped it. The tape let go with a mild complaint. It was hard to find the papers within with her shaking fingers but she finally managed. When she unfolded it she saw spots before she saw words. Everything hinged on this test. Everything.

Her eyes darted around trying to take in and process what was on the form. The paper jitterbugged in Jordan’s hand and she tried to hold it still. Finally, Tom took her forearms in her hands to steady her and said, “Focus.”

She took a deep breath, trying to do just that. “Sorry. I’m…jumpy.”

“As you can see by the small graph,” he said, nodding toward the information dead center of the white page. “The probability that I am your father is 99.99999996 percent. There might be more nines in there, I’m not sure.”

A great sob escaped her and Jordan felt her knees start to buckle. Tom pushed her back gently with three big steps and had her seated on the ottoman so she didn’t fall.

Jordan couldn’t stop it—her cries wouldn’t be ceased and now that she’d started she couldn’t stop. More sobs tore out of her even though she was trying to get herself under control.

“What the fuck?” Gareth said, rushing in, nothing but a towel slung across his hips. She saw it happen. Saw him assess the other man, how he was holding her forearms, how she was sobbing.

“Gareth, don’t. This i—“

But she never got it out because Gareth grabbed Tom Sweet, propelled him back and promptly clocked him once—succinct glancing blow, thank goodness—as Jordan made even more noise but for an entirely different reason.

Poor Tom sagged against the wall and Gareth’s towel dropped to the ground and it would have been almost comical had it not been so terrible.

Tom groaned and Gareth finally faced her, fury etched on his handsome worried face.

“Gareth,” she said, suddenly laughing with the absurdity of it all. “This is my father. Tom Sweet. He just brought me the DNA results.”

Tom gave Gareth a single finger wave and Gareth grabbed his towel. “Shit,” he said. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry. I came in and I saw…and she was crying…and…shit.” He offered Tom a hand after he draped the towel back around himself.

“So…”Tom said, taking the hand offered and shaking with some understandable trepidation. “This is your brother.”

“Sort of,” Jordan said and promptly burst into tears.

*****

Jordan decided she had to trust Tom. If he was half as decent as he seemed to be, he deserved to know the truth of why she was so upset—or appeared to be.

Gareth looked anxious. He’d slid into a pair of faded jeans and a plaid shirt but he paced the floor like a caged animal as she tried to find her voice to explain.

Poor Tom clutched a bag of frozen Snow Peas to his face and waited patiently.

“There have been…times…” She blew out a sigh and sat up. Then she sat back. she moved in her seat until Gareth said, “Jojo!”

“Sorry,“ Jordan said.

“We’ve had moments all through our lives where we’ve…” She stared at Tom’s open and patient face and said. “Well, we’ve felt things beyond what a brother and sister should feel.”

Realization dawned and he nodded once, saying nothing more than, “Go on.”

“And we never did anything about it. Ever,” she said.

“Ever,” Gareth echoed.

It was then that she realized he really did care how people viewed them. Probably, knowing him, more her than himself. But he cared how Tom saw them at this moment and she felt both honored and worried for him.

“And when I came back due to Doug’s death—our dad—” she added, feeling as if she were disrespecting Doug by not acknowledging him as her dad. “Things got sticky. Sort of. We’d started to piece it together and we were nearly 100% sure we were right and…”

“I love her,” Gareth blurted, saving her. She knew that was what he was doing.

Tom actually smiled, and though she liked him already, she adored him in that moment. “So you’d felt it forever but you just realized why?”

They nodded in unison. “I just thought I was…broken,” Jordan confessed. “Or maybe that I was too close to my brother, relied on him too much emotionally.”

“I get it. It’s not the first time siblings have felt attraction. Some appropriate, some not. But yours was rooted in something real, and that you were unaware of until now.” He sat back against the sofa cushion, finally relaxing a little.

Gareth grunted noncommittally. It struck Jordan that he possibly didn’t like a new man in her life. Or maybe he felt threatened. She reached out for him and he took her hand.

“It can’t be easy,” Tom said.

Jordan snorted before she could think better of it. “I doubt anyone in Allisonville is going to care that we aren’t actually related. To their very small minds, we are. So that’s all that will matter to them.”

Tom nodded.

“She’s already had a run-in with the nosy busybody next door.” Gareth put his hand on the back of her neck, his fingers sweeping along her skin.

“I imagine that wasn’t pleasant,” Tom laughed.

“Not really. But whatever, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Gareth rasped. “It’s no one’s business, but we grew up here,” he said, facing Tom. “So everyone here thinks it is their business.”

“What do you do, again?” Tom asked, adjusting his bag of frozen vegetables.

Gareth had the good grace to look chagrinned. “I’m in construction. And look man, I’m really sorr—“

But Tom waved him off and smiled. “I have an idea,” Tom said. “If you’re up for it.”

“And that is?” Gareth stiffened next to her, on guard but willing to hear him out.

“Me starting this whole relationship off by being a meddlesome busy body father.”

“Go for it,” Gareth said.

So Tom sat and laid it all out for them, point by point. Jordan kept waiting to wake up or come to, assuming she was either dreaming or hallucinating. That didn’t happen.

Chapter 26

Gareth let out a low whistle. “Holy shitballs, Batman.”

Jordan looked, blinked, looked again. She understood the sentiment. It was a bit surreal. Tom had said a farmhouse in Virginia. Where his people were from and where he had every intention of returning. He’d inherited a farmhouse and was in the process of fixing it up. Slowly. With haphazard laborers who kept leaving him in the lurch.

It was four hour drive from Allisonville and should put enough distance between them and the current situation. And with Gareth being a laborer who knew his way around everything from drywall to brickwork, it would give him some reliable labor and someone watching the house in the process.

“Double duty,” he’d grinned. “Security and fixer upper.”

“This is not an average farmhouse,” Jordan gasped when they parked in the dooryard.

“Nope.”

“This thing is huge.”

“Yep,” Gareth said, putting the car into gear.

“It’s like a big house and a medium house had sex—“

“And fused together,” he said, laughing.

Together they climbed the wide wooden steps that had been whitewashed to brightness. Gareth took her hand and instinctively, Jordan glanced around to see who was looking. Then it dawned on her that no one was looking.

“Stop,” he said, not even looking at her, just knowing.

“Sorry. Habit.”

“No nosy neighbors here. No buttinsky Mrs. Phelps. No one who even knew that I’m Gareth Davis and your Jordan Davis.”

“You know, I was thinking maybe not to fuck over everyone’s head, I become Jordan Sweet.”

He shrugged, pushing the doormat back and rescuing the key that Tom had told them would be there.

“You could. Or we could have a great how we met story. We can sit up late tonight, drink some wine and make it up as we go along.”

“How would that be a great story?” she snorted. The door swung in and Jordan took in the high ceiling, the big staircase, a very old small stained glass light fixture that reminded her of an inverted half open umbrella.

“Punch line: and we both had the last name Davis. So that makes it easy. If we ever get mar—”

Jordan turned, pushing her finger to his lips. Just him starting that sentence scared her to death. She shook her head. “Don’t say it.”

He cocked an eyebrow and kicked the door shut behind them. It echoed loudly in the mostly empty space.

Gareth looked hurt for a moment and she felt her heart crimp.

“You don’t love me?”

“I love you more than I can comprehend. But I’m just…it’s never worked out for anyone we know, has it?” She laughed nervously.

Gareth pressed his lips together and shook his head. They walked through the foyer and studied the high ceiling and then into a side room that she assumed to be the sitting room or the family room. A battered but useable chair rail. Another pretty stained glass light fixture. A few cracks in the ceiling and some small gaps in the wide planked wooden floor, but not too bad.

A spot went spongy under her foot and when her ankle started to turn, Gareth grabbed her wrist. “Careful. Some of the spots are soft. Most are fine. Shouldn’t be too hard to pull out some of the rotten ones. The trick is to blend it in.”

“You can do it,” she said.

“See you believe in me and yet you won’t even hear me say the word marriage.”

He nudged her through into a large dining room. The window was broken and sheeted in plastic. The room was colder than the others. There was a newel post to the back part of a staircase, but no staircase. Jordan touched it and laughed.

“Clearly at some point they walled that off and separated the room,” Gareth said.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t think of…it’s just…I’m still adjusting,” she sighed.

“I know. But you broke my heart, Jojo.”

She glared at him. “I did not!”

“You calling me a liar?”

“No, of course not. I’m just…” She shook her head again.

When she turned to study a mostly empty built-in bookshelf she heard a sound. But he eye was drawn to some old cookbooks that looked circa 1950. There was a copy of War of the Worlds, Lolita and The Hobbit too. “Well read,” she started to say but Gareth pushed against her back and trapped her hands to the newel post to nowhere. With is free hand he looped his belt through a rung and brought it up and around, then around again. Then forming a loose X he buckled the belt and grinned.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, but her pussy, accustomed to his doled out punishments now, let loose a warm rush of arousal.

“Just helping you get your head on straight, darling.”

He reached around her, unbuttoned her jeans and yanked them down. Her maroon boy shorts came down with them and she was bare-ass naked from her waist to her knees. Gareth dropped to his knees, planting his warm lips firmly to her now chilled skin.

“You hurt my feelings,“ he said, but she felt him grin.

Gareth kissed each ass cheek, nibbling one so hard she jumped and banged her hipbone to the wooden post. Then he licked a hot line from up the crack of her ass, dropping a final kiss on her lower back so she shivered.

When the first blow sounded, like a branch breaking in the quiet room, she jumped again but bit her tongue. If she was silent, he’d lose interest and then she knew what he’d do. He’d lose his patience and his intent and he’d fuck her. And Jordan very much wanted that right about now. Now that he’d gotten her going.

But he didn’t lose interest, he landed a blow on her other cheek so that the blood rose hotly under her flesh. Gareth alternated loud palm-whacks along her bottom and then he stopped.

Jordan tried to turn and see but couldn’t manage. She felt his finger trail down her butt crack and it made her pussy flex. “Gareth.”

“Hush.”

He dipped a finger into her pussy and Jordan felt her head fall forward, the air rush out of her lungs. She moaned—almost against her will—and sighed when he added another.

“You’re so wet from hurting my feelings,” he chuckled, still on his knees on the dusty wooden floor.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

He pulled his fingers free of her—they must be dripping, because she was. His hand came down, heavy and stinging, four more times. Left, right…left right…so she bit her lip and tried to keep her breathing steady.

She failed and finally cried out—a sound that was half pleasure and half pain. Then she jumped when Gareth slowly pushed his wet fingers—slick with her pussy juices—against the tight ring of her anus.

“Gareth,” she breathed. Her voice warning and fear and need all at once.

His finger worked the tight ring of muscle harder and finally it relented, letting him pass, gripping around him tight. She moaned and so did he, his teeth pressed hard against the flare of her ass. When he drew back, Gareth soothed the bitten skin with his tongue.

“Tell me something I don’t know. Spare my feelings.”

“Gar—” she broke off when his other finger—palpably wet—pushed into her. “God,” she sighed.

“Tell me.”

He turned her just a little bit so he could keep his fingers where they were, buried deep in her ass, but he could reach the front of her with his mouth. Just the drift of his hot breath over the tops of her bare thighs had her feeling crazy and lusty. He kissed the top of each thigh, dragging his tongue along that fragile flesh. His lips puckered gently on her mound and he gave it a resounding peck. His breath washed over her clitoris, her nether lips, but he never touched it with his mouth.

Jordan heard herself moan loudly and she flinched to realized it had risen up out of her completely inadvertently.

“When I was little, I was in love with you,” she said.

At her new angle, when she looked down she could see him looking up at her with those startling eyes. His finger flexed inside her anus and she gasped.

“How little.”

She shrugged, feeling the bite of his leather belt on her wrists. “Always, really. I had a crush. But when I was about fourteen…fifteen..you know when we first get—” She groaned not wanting to say.

He flexed the fingers in her ass again and kissed her pout a bit closer to her clit, but never actually touching it. Torturing her.

“Get sexual,” he said softly. He pressed his face to the V where her pussy met her thighs and inhaled her.

Jordan’s knees went weak. “Yes,” she breathed.

“That’s when you what?”

“I used to daydream about marrying you,” she blurted. She said it fast and loud and then stood there panting as he stared up at her.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I loved you and I thought one day I could marry you. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew it was wrong so I kept telling myself I was nuts. And I…” She shook her head.

“Good girl,” he said. He smiled and then pushed his face to her pussy. His tongue traced her outer lips, tasting her, nudging her, working her wetly until she had to sag against the newel post. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it and shoving his fingers deeper into her ass. Pressing her G-spot from a new position than if they were fucking.

He flicked her clit hard and then sucked it to soothe it until Jordan’s fingers and hands warred with each other to give her something to focus on, because she didn’t want to come just yet. Not yet.

It didn’t work. When he nibbled her clit with his sharp white teeth and then sucked it hard before soothing it with his warm flattened tongue, she lost it. Jordan came—hard—stifling her own cries by pressing her lips together hard.

She felt the spasms and the tightness of her cunt press her flesh against his probing fingers and for a moment, he left them there in her bottom, flexing them to milk out each flicker of her orgasm.

When he finally stood, shoving his jeans down roughly to expose the hard jut of his flushed cock, Jordan was practically vibrating with need. She presented her ass, wrists still bound to the wooden post, and parted her legs so he could get into her. Fast.

“Jesus, little sister,’ he said and gave her cunt opening one perfunctory swipe with the head of his cock before driving in hard and deep.

It was a matter of strokes. He thrust into her a half dozen times before burying his face against the back of her neck and coming. His teeth pressed her skin, his fingers clutched her waist and Jordan felt herself come again—a small baby orgasm, but there it was. Another release.

“You’ll marry me one day, Jojo,” he assured her.

Jordan believed him.

Chapter 27

Tom was in the detached garage looking at the section Gareth had sectioned off as a work room. Gareth was in the attic laying flooring over the insulation. The floor had never been anything but some planks laid across exposed beams.

Jordan heard the crunch and pop of gravel from an approaching vehicle. Once upon a time it would have caused anxiety, but now that the small town had become here hometown in her heart—a brand new life for her and Gareth—it only fostered curiosity.

She headed toward the front door, wiping her hands on a towel. The whole house smelled of gingerbread. She’d made a double batch, both for the small party they were having with recently made friends and for the small work party at her new job. She was the official counter girl for a small Mom and Pop convenience store in town.

A small, simple job that made her happy in a new, simple life that made her happy.

“You’re like a freaking Christmas card,” she snorted. When she pulled the front door open, a vintage red Chevy pickup regarded her in the yard.

“Oh, hello,” said a well groomed older blonde. She climbed free of the truck and said, “I was looking for Tom Sweet? Did he finally up and sell the place?”

“No!” Jordan said. “I’m his…I mean, we’re just…” She shook her head. Tom had told her a million times he wanted her to introduce herself as his daughter, but Jordan still felt like she was spilling his secrets and it wasn’t her place.

She heard boot falls and turned to see her father, grinning wildly. “Hey, pretty lady. This is my daughter, Jordan. Jordan this is Linda Joy.”

Jordan nodded, smiled. It had not escaped her notice that her father was grinning and flushed and kept fidgeting. Ah…Linda was the woman he’d told her about. She stifled a laugh.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Daughter!” Linda took the wide wooden steps and kissed Tom’s cheek. He hugged her briefly but let her go fast, like a man fighting his attraction. It made Jordan grin again.

“I was just discovered. My mother left before Tom knew and…well, surprise! It’s a girl.” She smiled.

Linda patted her father’s chest. “That is the neatest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said. And it seemed genuine. The woman opened her arms to Jordan and said, “May I?”

Jordan stepped into the embrace. She hugged Linda and smelled her perfume. Something with spice and honeysuckle. She smelled nice and a woman embracing her was enough to nearly bring tears to her eyes.

It had been a roller coaster. Weeks of them finding a normal kind of niche in the farm house. Then the normalcy had come along. Gareth working the property and earning a paycheck—truly earning it with all the construction—from Tom. And her working shifts at Cartwell’s corner store. And now a woman hugging her, her father watching.

The screen door squeaked and the wind picked up. They were out on the porch. Why? It was freezing. Christmas was coming and winter in Virginia could be bitter.

“Who’s this?” Gareth asked. He smiled but Jordan could see the smile showed too many teeth and under the smile was a wary anger.

“This is Tom’s friend, Linda.”

Tom blushed and Gareth caught the look smirking.

“And this is Jordan’s better half, Gareth,” Tom said. His face never wavered. He simply smiled.

“And it’s freezing,” Jordan said. “Let’s go in. I just made gingerbread. Tom can give you all the gory details over some hot coffee. Sound good?”

There were appreciative murmurs and when she passed Gareth, he settled a possessive hand on her lower back. She leaned into him and he put his arms around her. She wanted him to realize it was okay. Because it was okay.

She heard Linda whisper, “They’re such a cute couple, Tommy.”

Jordan agreed.

The End

ABOUT PARKER FORD

Parker Ford is the author of Uncle Ed’s Lap, Father’s Keeper and Sterling, among other erotic novels. Quite often, she lives on the road with her brilliant, patient husband. When they’re home grilling, gardening and caring for the plethora of wild ‘pets’ on their property are favorite pastimes. Not to mention ‘research’ for her books. For more on Parker visit parkerford13.blogspot.com

If you enjoyed CRY LITTLE SISTER, you might also enjoy:

UNCLE ED’S LAP

By Parker Ford

Fiona volunteers to help her recently widowed uncle get his house in order before starting her freshman year of college. Uncle Ed and aunt Carole are two of her favorite people in the world. While trying to help her grieving uncle, she doesn't expect her school girl crush to turn into a torrid affair, but it does. She doesn't expect him to want her at all, but he does, more than he can handle. And as her uncle struggles with the thoughts of wanting and having his niece in so many ways, Fiona struggles to show him that it's all okay. That she's not a little girl any more.

"Wow. This story is most definitely not for the faint of heart....[T]his story is hot enough to burn the pages, but it also shows that with death you can also have love."-Claudia R., Manic Readers Reviews, 4/5 STARS

"[Parker Ford] writes scorching hot love scenes to compliment the somber tone of a man dealing with his wife's death...She has given her readers a near perfect balance...Who can resist the sexy older alpha male? Those alphas are like a fine wine and only get better with age." -Dakota, Dark Diva Reviews, 4/5 DIVAS

"The writing is vivid, sharp, and precise as emotions (guilt, grief, passion) are examined...Overall, Uncle Ed's Lap kept me engaged...it's exceptional whenever an author is willing to bring taboo subject matter to life, and do it justice." -Patrice F., Joyfully Reviewed

"Parker Ford has mastered the technique of writing sexual tension. It explodes off the pages...The sex was fully described and scorching hot! ... If you want to push the boundaries of your erotic reading experience, Uncle Ed's Lap is an excellent place to start." -LynnMarie, HEA Reviews, 5/5 CUPS

"The writing is smooth and titillating...Parker did a wonderful job incorporating a taboo subject with arousing sexual content with the sometimes-unexpected places a person can find love and comfort...Don't shy away from Uncle Ed's Lap because of the content warning or you will miss out on a wonderful story that will have you sweating with the steamy love scenes and emotionally poignant moments..." -Seriously Reviewed

Warnings: This work contains spanking, voyeurism, anal sex, explicit sex and explicit language.

Excerpt From UNCLE ED’S LAP:

Fantasies were just fantasies. You didn't have to act on them. Right?

I busied myself cleaning the kitchen. Bachelors suck at cleaning. So do young coeds but hey, I was bored and my mother Marie had taught me well. Cleanliness was next to godliness, plus if you threw yourself into it, it could make the afternoon fly in an blink. I ate cucumbers from the garden with homemade ranch sauce uncle had made the night before for dinner. That was all I really had the stomach for. I poured a big glass of lemonade and downed it in four long swallows. Then I started rearranging the cabinets and wiping down the liners. The worst chore I could imagine from my growing up years. Now it seemed to soothe me.

"Wow. I had no idea I would come home to such a tight ship," he said from the doorway. I jumped, a china plate shattering at my feet. A thousand tiny jagged teeth of china scattered around me on the red tile floor. Barefoot and in turquoise shorts instead of jeans, I was pretty much fucked. "Shit, I'm sorry, Fiona." He colored when he said my name aloud and my cunt responded with tightening warmth. "You're bleeding."

I looked at my calf where a thick nearly black rivulet of blood trickled slowly down my leg. "It's no big deal. Just as shard. But I am kind of...stuck." I shrugged, feeling horribly stupid. "I'm so sorry. I can go on ebay and try to replace it. I'm such a klutz!" I felt like I might start sobbing right then from frustration.

"Hey, I scared you. Don't talk about ebay or any of that. Stay there. I'm gonna grab you and take you in the dining room, then I'll clean up this mess."

His work boots crunched over the china shards as he picked me up and carried me out. He set me on the table and put my foot on one of the ladder back chairs. "Let me get the bandages."

I nodded, suddenly feeling little and helpless again. Letting him care for me the way he had when I was a little girl and I'd skin my knee. He caught that far away look when he came in. "You okay? You're not cut anywhere else are you?"

I looked. "Nope. Just there. Not too shabby considering the immense mess I made."

"We made," he amended. "You never would have dropped it if I hadn't startled you." He wiped the cut with a wet cotton ball. Wet with alcohol it seemed because fire bloomed in the cut and I hissed. "Easy, be good," he said, smiling. He blew on the cut to cool the sting. Just like old times. Only now, the feel of him blowing on my skin made my pussy keep a wet tempo with my heartbeat.

"Ugh," I said.

"Sorry it stings. It will be over in a minute. Promise."

I could only nod.

He squeezed a gem sized squirt of antibiotic lotion on and covered it with a big square bandages. "To keep it all covered," he said. His fingers smoothing the flesh colored cloth covering made me shift on the table. I felt trapped by his presence, the very hugeness of him and my pulse jumped at my throat from a mix of excitement and fear. So close like this I could picture him beating off to me. As close as we were, I could picture his hands pushing my legs apart. I could imagine a million scenarios I shouldn't. "Thanks," I managed.

"You sure you're okay?" He turned my chin so I had to look at him. I nodded and swallowed hard.

"Yeah," I said, thinking inside, God, just kiss me, kiss me already, kiss me and then touch me and we'll pretend it never ever happened, I swear...

It took a second for it to register his hands on my thighs, his long finger splayed out so they pointed like traitors to my pussy. Uncle Ed leaned in, his lips brushed mine so softly it was more like a kiss of wind than a person. I opened my mouth, spread my legs, begging him with my body. More.

I buried my hands in his too shaggy hair--I'd try to make sure I scheduled him a cut--and pulled him in tighter, closing my legs around his hands and scooting forward just a touch. I wouldn't think that I shouldn't do this. I'd think about how good and right it felt. Fuck feeling shamed.

"Fiona, I shouldn't..."

"I know...I do, but..." His fingers slipped over the hot moist V at the crotch of my shorts. I broke off in moan. It was like being burned, electrocuted, smacked so hard the blood seems like acid when it rises to the surface. I wanted his touch so bad that just a fingertip made my mind go red and my heart skip wildly.

"Don't make that sound," he said, but swept another finger along where the first had been. Two fingers running soft patterns over the crotch of my snug shorts. Over my pussy. Fuck. Directly over my clit.

"Sorry," I said. I tried, but another sound, deeper and more needy slid off my lips into the air.

Uncle Ed shook his head, no, no, no. But he popped the blue button of my shorts and tugged at the zipper. I raised up, shimmied, helped him get them off. He tossed them as he pulled at my panties and the shorts landed on the secretary. My tank was snatched off with ease. I don't wear bras, usually. "Spread your legs for me, Fiona," he said.

A hot rush of fluid puddled between my legs, and his fingers played through it like he was painting me. My head fell back and I sank into the feel of him. His mouth on my nipple. He kissed me and shushed me all at once. Like a child, like something precious. I watched his dark head as he kissed a path from my breast to my belly button. I arched up, trying to be quiet like he wanted when his mouth found my pussy and he sucked. His mouth was impossibly hard and then impossibly soft and then a tongue of perfect blazing wetness over my clit. "Oh, Uncle." I wanted to tell him how good it felt, how good he was. How perfect his mouth was on me and how it was what I wanted. So bad. What I needed--so much.

"Shh, Fiona. Don't."

So I didn't. I curled my fingers around the edge of the table and I held on. The bright afternoon sun trickled through the slats of his blinds and splashed across my belly. His dark head worked between my legs, I touched his hair, arching my pelvis to meet his mouth, greedy little girl wanting him to lick her. "I'm going to"

He shoved his fingers into me, curling and pressing against all the singing nerves. I gasped, my belly muscles rippling with my orgasm and my effort to hold myself up. I didn't bother. I lay back, giving over to him completely as he fucked me with his fingers, licked me with his tongue. Uncle Ed pushed my legs wide like a slut and attacked me with is mouth, he kept going, raking his dripping tongue over my clit. "Give it to me, one more, Fiona," he demanded and sucked my clit hard. Tiny purple spots filled my vision and I came for him again.

"Oh, uncle Ed, I--"

But he was standing, his face angry, his shoulders heaving. He wiped the shiny evidence of my juicy pussy from his face and I felt suddenly wrong. Bad. I had never felt more naked.

YOU’VE REACHED

“THE END!”

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27