Page 28 of Little Liar
Can I taste you?
“You said you wouldn’t touch me,” she says again, trembling even more as I kiss her other knee, trying to hold it together—my heart might blow out of my chest, and I need a smoke to calm me.
Or something else—her.
Then touch yourself.
“Really?”
Yes.
“You’re not trying to mess with me? If you’re fucking with me right now, Malachi, I will hit you.”
I want her to hit me. I want it to hurt too.If I’m not allowed to touch you, then you need to do it yourself.
“What if I say no?”
I love this girl, but she sure knows how to push my buttons. She won’t say no. She wants it as much as I do.
“Okay, okay, okay. But you need to promise not to touch me.”
I raise my pinkie, hooking it with hers like we used to do as kids. Is that fucked up? I used to do this when we’d keep petty secrets from Mom, or when we’d promise to always be best friends—now I’m doing it to prove I won’t touch her while I watch her fuck herself with her fingers.
I never usually break a pinkie promise, but there’s always room for more firsts between us.
“And don’t tell anyone. This isn’t what siblings do. We’ll be in a lot of trouble.”
I won’t. Our secret, little sister.
She slaps my hands from her in disgust despite blushing more as her pupils expand. “Please don’t call me your little sister right now.”
But you are my sister,I sign, smirking, my own words driving me fucking insane.My dirty little sister who’s going to touch herself in front of me. Show your big brother what you sound like when you come.
My heavy gaze follows her movements—movements I never thought I’d get to witness in the flesh. Her fingers slide down, parting herself, and I struggle to breathe as she gives her clit the attention it deserves.
Mason’s pills have fucked me up because there isn’t a chance in hell this is happening right now. My sister isn’t pleasuring herself while I’m between her legs. She can’t be. If I blink, she might vanish, so I keep my eyes focused between her legs as shespeeds up. Her back arches a little, her eyes closing, and my skin grows far too fucking hot despite having no clothes on.
Olivia has no idea of the danger she’s in. I could pounce, shove deep, make her come all over my cock, and she’d have no choice.
I eventually blink because I’d never do that to her. I want her permission. I want her to want me back.
Am I forcing her right now?
Does she want to do this?
My body absently draws closer, magnetizing to hers like it belongs. I need her to tell me what she wants me to do to her. I need… something.
Can I touch you?
“No,” she pants, still circling her clit. “Please don’t.”
Why?
I don’t get a response—Olivia is far too deep into a trance. Her other hand slides down, one working her clit while she sinks two fingers into her pussy. My dick pulses, and I can’t take it any longer. I wrap my hands around it, over the material of my boxers, and squeeze. My balls ache, my brain is short-circuiting again and again, and I feel like if Olivia even as much as put her lips anywhere near my body, I’d come.
She’s whimpering, and I imagine she’s saying my name, fucking moaning it while I stroke, listening to how wet she is as her fingers plunge in and out of her depths until she hits her climax.
Fuck me. I want to be the cause of that heavenly sound.
