Page 41 of The Painter and His Poet

“Goddamn it, Harlow,why?” he groans, briefly breaking our kiss as we both try to gather ourselves, but it’s no use, I don’t want to stop anymore than he does, and he smashes his lips against mine once more.

I know what he’s asking, why have our parents fallen in love? Why can something that feels so good be an impossibility?

We’re family now.

This shouldn’t be happening.

“This is wrong,” I repeat helplessly.

Yet that doesn’t stop us. It doesn’t stop Sterling from reaching for the hem of my dress, from dragging his fingers up my thigh, from coasting his fingers over my panties as I part my legs and allow him access.

It doesn’t stop him from saying, “You’re drenched, Harlow. How can this be wrong when your body knows it’s right?”

His words penetrate the fog of lust, only making me want him more, and despite my weak attempt of putting a stop to this, it doesn’t prevent me from rocking against his hand, already soclose to coming, so tightly bound and needy that I gasp and whimper into his mouth as he slips his finger past the material of my panties and pushes deep inside of me, into my soaked core.

Oh God.

We shouldn’t be doing this.

But no matter how much my conscience tries to convince me to push him away, to stop this, I can’t. I don’t. Instead I ride his fingers as he kisses me roughly, meeting his passion with my own. He pumps his finger inside of me, adding another, stretching me as my body welcomes him.

“Please,” I whimper, desperate for the pinnacle, a moment of utter bliss as I grind against his hand unashamedly.

In response Sterling bites my bottom lip, the sharp sting making me gasp as he drops to his knees and shoves up the material of my skirt, bunching it in one fist while he reaches for the thin strap of my g-string.

“Y-youbitme,” I reply in shock, but unexpectedly turned on.

My chest heaves at the feral look in his eyes as I raise a shaky hand to my mouth. I didn’t know he could be so possessive, and even though I shouldn’t, I like it. I like that he wants me, that he was so hurt by what I did that he shows me that.

“That was for walking out on me, to make you feel just a fraction of the pain I’ve felt ever since you left,” he says, before ripping at the elastic of my panties, the sting from the action making me gasp. “But this is for walking back into my life,” he adds, then buries his head between my parted thighs and sucks my clit into his mouth, roughly, possessively, still pumping his fingers inside of me.

I can’t stop falling into this moment, as I arch my back giving him more access.

I can’t stop rocking against his face, or gripping his hair as he laves his tongue against my clit.

I can’t stop the intense heat building deep inside of me as my mind falls blissfully blank.

And I certainly can’t stop as a powerful orgasm rips outwards from my core, forcing a startled scream to erupt from my lips.

It fires through me, making me jerk and shake as I fall forward, my body curling over Sterling, my palms slapping against his broad shoulders. I’m so caught up in the moment that I don’t immediately notice the door handle rattling.

“Sterling, are you in there?” a muffled voice asks, the handle rattling in earnest now as the person behind it tries to open the door.

Startled, I push upright as Sterling stands, stumbling a little as his face flushes and he swipes a hand across his mouth, erasing my cum glistening on his face.

“Fuck, it’s Dalton.”

“Do you think he heard us?” I ask, pushing away from the door on shaky legs as my skirt drifts back over my knees, and my torn panties slip down my leg and puddle over my foot.

Sterling ducks, snatching my panties up as I step out of them. He pockets them, but not before he presses them against his nose and breathes in deep.

“Did you just–?”

“Fuck, yes I did,” he responds, his voice gravelly, potent with lust, only serving to remind me of the time when he ran his nose through my pussy all those months ago.

“What about Dalton?” I ask shakily.

I’m terrified now, of how I feel, at what we’ve just done, but more than that, how much I wish we could continue. I shake my head, trying to force myself to think straight.

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