Brother's Keeper (20 page)

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“Shall I tell you how it would feel to make love to me? Perhaps that would appease your need?” He has the most amazing seductive voice.

He doesn’t wait for my response before trailing his lips down the side of my neck, never taking his eyes off mine in the mirror. His voice is aroused and throaty. “The first thrust would be severe, but you’d welcome it greedily. In fact, you’d instantly want more.”

He continues to taunt me with his tongue around the nape of my neck, never losing sight of my eyes. “I wouldn’t make you wait more than a moment before I thrust inside you again. You’re wetness for me would let me go deeper, and with each thrust your body would accept more and more of me, until you’d taken every last inch deep inside you.”

He’s now on the other side of my neck, eyes searing holes in my brain. The head of his hard, thick cock is brushing my lower back, taunting me further. I want to turn and grab him and make him fuck me, just like he’s describing, but the seduction is just too pleasurable. “The pain would be extreme but equally gripping. Your body would rise to meet mine every time I drove into you, and before long you’d be thrusting your body against mine as much I was thrusting into yours. Your hunger for release would start to overshadow your pain, and as your clit starts to swell with need you’d beg me to fuck you harder … and I would.”

I’m now panting and my legs feel like rubber. I can’t take my eyes off his, and with every brush of his warm breath on my neck and ear, my desire reaches a new height. I want to feel his hands all over my electrified body, and I don’t think I can take much more of his torture. “I’d pound you until I was certain I must be hurting you, but the look in your eyes would tell me it was exactly what you needed.”

The fingers of his hand are now trailing down my back and sending shock waves up my spine everywhere they touch. “Your pussy would tighten around me like a vice, and when you finally came it would be harder than my tongue or fingers could ever make you come.”

His fingers are now sliding between the cheeks of my bottom. “Your body would spasm as my thrusting continued through your orgasm. I wouldn’t waste time after you’d finished to let go of myself.”

He’s now moved himself directly behind me and uses his other hand to gently but firmly lean me over the counter. My cheeks open to his still lingering fingers, and he makes no move to pull them away. He finally finishes his seduction. “And as I finally reach my peak, I’d come deep in your tight pussy and finally claim your body for myself.”

At that, he brushes his finger over my exposed anus as a shudder washes over my body. He watches me closely as I gasp for breath. He studies my eyes for what seems an impossibly long time before leaning over me and whispering in my ear. “I want you to let me taste your ass while you make yourself come.”

I gasp again, suddenly terrified and electrified at the same time. My self-consciousness is screaming at me to run, but my body, so starved for his attention, is locking me in place, wanting nothing more than to give him every part of me. He doesn’t wait for my response before he slips his hand between my thighs and pushes them further apart. He instructs me to bend over further to the counter so I’m bent at a nearly ninety-degree angle at the waist. He then kneels behind me. I’m mortified and can’t believe that I’m so exposed to him in this way. He starts stroking my anus again, relaxing the tightness I feel there. But before I’m able to fully relax myself to this sensation, I’m struck when his mouth touches the gathered skin. His mouth is warm and gentle as he kisses and licks the most vulnerable part of my body. He stops only long enough to demand I make myself come. He reaches up and guides my hand down to my waiting sex, where I start to rub my swollen clit.

He starts exploring me with his tongue, pushing past the rim of my hole. He shows no sign of hesitancy, and my arousal starts to build at his obvious satisfaction. When he urges me to push my finger into my wet, waiting pussy, I don’t hesitate a second. His mouth is suddenly off of me as he takes in the view of my finger sliding in and out of my hot entry. The pressure of his mouth is replaced by his finger as he gently but forcefully presses his finger into my bottom. This new sensation causes my muscles to tense and sends a sharp wave of pain through me until my muscles relax again. Once my body loosens to this new invasion, he starts to finger my bottom slowly as I keep fingering my other entry. I can feel his finger passing over mine through the thin wall of my vagina as he continues his gentle thrusting. His breathing has quickened, and it doesn’t take long for me to reach my climax. As I come, he removes his finger and returns to kissing and licking my puckered hole gently.

As my legs start to buckle, he stands swiftly and turns me into his arms. He kisses me fiercely and forcefully, taking over my mouth with his tongue. His hard erection is trapped between our bodies, and I desperately want to relieve him of his need. Apparently, he’s thinking the same thing as he whispers in my ear, “Let me fuck your beautiful mouth.”

He hardly waits for an answer before pulling me to the doorway of the bathroom and backing me up against the inside of the door frame. I barely have time to wonder about his odd choice of location before he continues his assault on my mouth. I reach down to touch his engorged penis, and my lightest touch causes him to pull back and concentrate on my hand. As my hand starts to stroke up and down on his shaft, his breathing begins to hitch, and the muscles in his stomach start to quiver and contract. He finally grabs both of my wrists and pulls them swiftly up above my head and holds them to the frame of the door.

He orders me down to my knees, keeping my hands pinned to the door frame above my head. “Put your rear up against the door jamb.”

I scoot back into position, my calves straddling either side of the doorway. As I look up at him in anticipation, he runs the fingers of his free hand through my hair before gently pinning my head back against the door frame as well. I suddenly understand the odd location. He’s got me on my knees, against the door frame with my calves straddling the door and my head braced against the frame as well—perfect height for his cock in my mouth and nowhere for my mouth to move except open to accept however much of him he chooses to give me.

I’m suddenly nervous as my head and upper body are locked in place. He senses my fear and his face softens. “Don’t worry. I won’t go too far. If you start to feel like it’s too much, just pinch my hand with your fingers.” He gives me his reassuring, gentle smile. “Now, open your mouth.” I obey slowly while looking up at him. His eyes bore holes into my brain as he begins pushing his hips forward, entering my mouth and stretching my lips taught. Just as he assured me, he only pushes his length partially into my mouth, and I start to relax. He pulls out and plunges back in, again taking care not to push too far—still, he is filling my mouth and stretching my lips to their limit. My mouth starts to fill with saliva as he continues his thrusting.

Watching him from my vantage point is erotic and intimidating at the same time. I feel owned by him in the very best sense of the word—cherished. He continues his thrusting, never once taking his eyes from mine. This must be how he moves his body when he makes love, and I relish the idea of this invasion being directed toward other entries to my body. His pace quickens, and my ability to withstand the force and building saliva in my mouth starts to waiver. While his thrusting remains controlled, the power behind it is insistent and unforgiving. As his breathing becomes more ragged and desperate, I watch him and expectantly wait and hope for the taste of his release. My fear starts to build as my mouth becomes over-full with my gagging saliva. And when I think I’ve finally hit my limit, he comes—finally filling my mouth, his cum mixing with the saliva. I gulp him deeply and desperately, inhaling through my nose and relieving the claustrophobic fullness of my mouth. He releases my hands and my head, bracing himself against the door jamb as he finishes emptying himself, as I taste his uniqueness on my tongue. I grasp the backs of his thighs and pull him further to me as his shudders subside. I peer up at him as I continue to gently suck and lick around the head of penis. His eyes are closed and his breathing heavy as he leans in to the door frame. His face looks exhausted. He slowly opens his eyes and smiles warmly down at me as I finally release his cock from my mouth. He gives a slight chuckle at my mild smirk up at him. And there’s his warm smile again.

Reaching a hand down to me, he pulls me up to my feet and into a tight embrace, burying his face in my neck. He holds me there for what seems a most enjoyable eternity before finally lifting me into his arms and carrying me back to his waiting bed. He climbs in after me and pulls my body up against his, leaving not an ounce of space between us. He falls quickly asleep, and soon after, I drift off, too—satisfied and complete.

Chapter 19

The next evening, I leave work early so I can pack for the lake house and be on the road by five o’clock. It’s a lie… Truth: I leave work early so I can get home in just enough time to play with Rowan’s body in the shower before she has to go to work. Packing, on the other hand, ends up being a last-minute side note that takes about thirty seconds. I end up forgetting underwear but bringing five pairs of socks. Once at the lake house, I’m more productive than I’ve ever been. It’s the very best way to deal with missing Rowan.

But come Saturday evening, when our work is done for the day, I’m distracted and impatient. I want to call her when she gets off work, but it’s nearly an hour away, and I’m more anxious than I care to admit waiting for the time to pass. I’ve been leery of my mom’s suspicion ever since Sara’s birthday, and I have no doubt she notices my odd behavior. But at ten-thirty, I dismiss myself by saying I’m going for a walk—odd behavior or not.

As soon as I’m out of earshot of the cabin, I dial Rowan, waiting in anticipation to hear her voice. And when I do, my stress and anxiety release immediately. I wonder if I have such a strong effect on her, too. I walk for a long time along the shore, ambling along the well-worn paths of shoreline. We talk about nothing at all important, just needing to hear the sound of each other’s voice. She tells me she set off the fire alarm in my apartment when she tried to burn my kitchen down again with a frozen pizza, and I’m in ecstasy just listening to her talk and laughing at the images of her standing on the dining room table with a broom trying to fan the fire alarm. I have tears in my eyes from laughing so hard by the time she finishes her story. I keep strolling on, more content than I’ve been since my shower with her the night before. As we talk on, I confess I’m now on day two of my underwear and will be going commando by the next morning. It’s now her turn to laugh

By the time I can see the cabin again, all of my stress and anxiety are gone, and though I’ll miss her until I see her again, I’m finally happy. I can’t wait until the next night. I make her promise not to cook anything else until I get home. I also promise her I’ll cook her dinner the next night if she can manage not to burn down the kitchen before then. And as I hike across the lawn of the cabin while wrapping up my call with her, a broad smile is set on my face. But when I hit the porch, I see my mom waiting for me on the porch swing and weariness sinks in.

She’s smiling when my eyes meet hers, and I move to join her on the swing, suddenly quite curious of her good mood. Not that my mother is prone to bad moods. She’s an elementary art teacher, after all, and known for being fun and energetic. As I sit, she puts a hand on mine. Then she speaks, leaving no room for comment. “It’s nice to see you smile, dear. I don’t have any idea what is going on with you right now, but if it makes you smile this much, you won’t hear any objection from me.”

At that, she stands and starts to stroll back toward the front door. Once there, she pauses and looks at me once more. “You know your happiness is more important than anything else to your father and me, don’t you?” She then disappears inside, leaving me a bit dumbfounded and confused by her comment.

I stay on the swing for a while longer, thinking about her words. I’m perplexed at her intent. Of course I know my parents want me to be happy. Why did she feel the need to tell me that? Does she think I’ve been unhappy? Or does she think I will be? Is she wrong? Of course not. I
will
be unhappy. When I leave Rowan for Denver, I will, without doubt, be unhappy. For how long, I have no idea—a week, a month, forever? Does she know I’m dreading my move to Colorado? Does she know why? She’s perceptive, I’ll give her that, but just how perceptive? I know she must be suspicious given my behavior recently and how I’ve acted around Rowan, but what can she really know?

For a fleeting moment, I consider confiding in her, but regardless of her words I find it hard to believe she would be happy to hear about the secret I’ve been keeping for the better part of the school year. I find it hard to believe she wouldn’t find objection with the liberties I’ve been taking with Rowan. Her words are kind, and I get it. She wants me to be happy, but she has no idea what makes me happy. If she did, she wouldn’t be nearly so generous with her well wishes. Of that, I’m certain.

I eventually retreat to bed and fall fast asleep, waking the next morning to Sara’s music playing way too loud and her dancing around the kitchen with Rufus in tow. The dog is barking in excitement, and Sara is doing her best to follow the dance moves to some random hip hop romance movie on the TV… You know,
West Side Story
for the twenty-first century. She is failing miserably and looks ridiculous, but holding true to Sara form, she could care less.

“Look … look … look! I almost did that move. Did you see that?” She’s practically yelling in her excited flurry. “I should have been a dancer. I could … yeah … I could totally be a rock star at this!” She’s short on breath for her exertions, and I can’t help but laugh. As her older brother, I know I should be irritated with her, but I’m not quite able to get the image out of my mind of her pathetic attempt at, what’s it called—Crunk—with Rufus trying to join in the fun. Her face is scrunched up in her focus as she tries to follow moves she has no hope of ever copying, but she just … doesn’t … care! She pulls off ridiculous better than anyone I know.