Page 6 of Falling

PETER

I know Geneva is scared about this move. Even though she won’t share her feelings with me, I can see it.

I know more about her than she thinks I do. Like how she fidgets when she’s nervous. Or how she becomes unnaturally still when she’s angry. How her eyes dilate when I get too close. I’m still working on what that means.

When she’s scared, she becomes even more acidic acting than normal. I’m surprised she didn’t refer to me by several lady-bit names when I mentioned my concerns about our new business venture.

I pull tomorrow’s clothes out of my bag and set them on the dresser. My hiking boots, I set on the floor. I figured Geneva would want to spend the entire day hiking, so I booked this cabin for two nights.

It’s been a while since I’ve been hiking. I’m in good shape, but I have no doubt I’ll be sore. I just don’t want to disappoint her. I brush my teeth and climb into bed.

I can hear her moving around upstairs. We hang out all the time. I’ve even stayed at their family home when Rand and I were roommates in school. This is the first time, however, I’ve ever stayed alone with her.

The shower upstairs turns on and my mind is filled with water rolling down Geneva’s naked body. I admit that I’ve been jacking off to visions of her for years. It’s not right. She’s my best friend’s sister. I’ve tried pushing her out of my mind to no avail. Even when I’ve had the occasional girlfriend, they couldn’t replace her. And no one-night stand can do her justice.

I slide my hand under the covers and into my boxer briefs. It’s the same every time. I start slow as I mentally undress her in my mind. Then I pick up the pace as the action continues from there.

Tonight, however, I don’t have to start slow. She’s already naked in the shower. My hand begins stroking my hard cock as my mind presses her back against the shower wall.

I imagine Geneva likes it rough, so I waste no time lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around me. My fist squeezes as I push inside her in one thrust. She gasps, but I don’t give her any quarter. I drive my hips forward in punishing strokes. She tries to close her eyes, but I demand they stay on me. I want to see them when she comes.

It never takes long. She’s too perfect for me to last. My spine tingles as she undulates on top of me. She uses her thighs to work me exactly how I like it. My hands squeeze her ass, encouraging her to speed up. I’m so close.

She moans, and I can’t hold on any longer. Hot cum squirts over my hand. I sigh. Once again, I’m left wishing for more.

I climb out of bed to clean up. The water upstairs is off. I stare up at the ceiling, wondering what she’s wearing. Doesn’t matter; she’s still my best friend’s sister. She’s still so far out of my reach, she’s untouchable. I lay back down and continue staring at the ceiling.

If she wasn’t Rand’s sister, would I make a play for her? I doubt it. She’s too far out of my league. She’s beautiful, but terrifying. It takes a long time to get to know the real her. She rarely lets down her walls.

I know she’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. But I only see it because of the years I’ve been friends with Rand. It’s why she never has a boyfriend. And why she cared so little about her virginity that she gave it away so young.

I roll over on my side. I’ve got to get my mind off of her for tonight. I’m exhausted from everything that’s been happening. I’ve got to get some sleep.

I want to be my best tomorrow. I get to spend the entire day with her and I want it to be perfect. And like every night since I was a boy, I drift off with visions of Geneva sifting through my mind.

three

PETER

“Good morning,”I greet Geneva when she arrives downstairs bright and early the next morning. She’s wearing a pair of athletic leggings, a tank top, and wool socks. She sets her shoes by mine at the back door.

“Something smells good,” she says, sliding onto one of the barstools.

“I thought we could use something good to eat before heading out.” It’s still dark outside, so we have time.

I set a large bowl of oatmeal in front of her. She loads it up with cream, brown sugar, raisins, walnuts, and cinnamon. I scoop out some fruit from a container. When the English muffins are toasted, I add butter.

“Did you think to buy food for the trail?” she asks between bites.

“On the table, waiting to be packed.”

She spins around to look at the food I organized on the coffee table before turning back around. “Nailing it, Peter.”

It takes everything in my power not to turn that statement into something obscene.

“What? Nothing?”

“Behave, Geneva,” I growl. She rolls her eyes.

---