Page 26 of Caged Bird

“Were you protecting me when you slashed my tires too?”

“Actually I was. Because I knew you’d be fool enough to try to leave. And then I’d have to have the guys slit Mom’s throat. All because you’re too selfish to just be my brother. Did you really want that on your conscience?”

Had he always been this much of a narcissist? Had I been too young or naïve to see it earlier? Or had he just gotten so bad since I’d last seen him that he could barely even disguise it anymore?

“How do I even know she’s still alive? Can’t check the cameras anymore.”

“You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

Eddie grinned at me. “Which isn’t far, is it?” He eyed my arms, noticeably smaller than his now because I wasn’t a meathead steroid user who spent half his life lifting weights.

Eddie had the bulk of a pro wrestler. I was fit and toned from my job, but my legs and arms weren’t thick as trees like his had become. My head didn’t look too small for my body, I noted a bit smugly.

“I’m going to bed.” There was no point arguing with him. It was like slamming your face against a brick wall, over and over, trying to budge it but only injuring yourself in the process.

He never changed. It was only ever me who got hurt.

There was nothing more I could do tonight. I hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. I had no car to go anywhere. No phone. I didn’t even know where we were without Eddie’s directions or the maps on my phone.

I needed sleep.

I trudged up the stairs, headed for the spare room I’d seen earlier when…I swallowed thickly, remembering exactly what I’d seen the last time I’d come up here.

Fawn left the bathroom with Otis in her arms, his skinny body freshly scrubbed and wrapped in a towel.

She froze when she noticed me standing there.

I fought to make my tongue move. To make it say something to her that would fix what I’d done. An apology. An explanation. Something. “Fawn—”

She hurried into Otis’s room and shut the door in my face.

Right then. That went about as well as one would have expected after standing there watching your sister-in-law masturbate in the shower.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and detoured from my original plan of sleep to my new plan of getting a shower, since the bathroom was no longer occupied. I grabbed a towel from the end of my bed and then shut myself in the bathroom.

I’d been under the spray for all of two minutes before my cock got hard and I slid my hand around it to relieve the pressure I’d been keeping at bay all afternoon. I leaned on the same wall she had, flinching at the cold tiles beneath my arm until it warmed enough for me not to notice.

When I closed my eyes, all I saw was her. Desperately in need of feeding up, but still my dream woman, no matter what size or shape she was.

She had always captivated me, with her smile and her kindness and the perfect tits I just wanted to grab a hold of.

She’d needed that earlier. Someone to tweak her nipples. Someone to draw them into a wet mouth and suck them, before sliding lower, across her ribs and her belly and over her mound. I rubbed my cock slowly, jerking the length up and down, fantasizing about pressing my face between her legs and wrapping my lips around her sweet clit. Tonguing her pussy deep, alternating thrusts with my fingers, plunging them into her wet heat and listening to her breathy moans that would quicken as I drove her toward an orgasm she’d clearly so desperately wanted earlier.

Had she gotten there by herself? I suspected not. I suspected she’d been too mortified at me catching her and had probably gotten straight out of the shower before she could finish.

I wanted to finish her. Drive her over the ledge of pleasure that would have her juices coating my tongue and running down my throat.

That’s how wet I wanted her.

And yet she wasn’t mine to have.

The rhythm on my cock turned punishing, and I jerked my dick, trying to push thoughts of her out of my head. But every time I did, my orgasm withdrew, my dick going limp in my grip and frustration roaring through my body in its place.

Thinking about her was the only way I ever got to finish. And so like the perverted creep I was, I let the thoughts back in.

With her brown eyes in my mind, I muffled a groan of pleasure and let myself go. Spurts of cum covered my fist but were quickly washed away by the water.

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