Page 21 of Little Liar
She never knew I was awake, but I was wide awake and desperate for more.
Dad glances over his shoulder. “Are you okay, angel?”
“Yes,” she replies, far too eagerly. “Perfectly fine.”
My phone vibrates again.
Olivia: You were awake?
Why does the fact she thought I was unaware make me hard?
Me: I’m always awake. Give me your fucking hand.
Always awake. When you drag your nails across my chest, lower your lips to my cheek for a fraction too long, pushing your leg between mine while pretending to still be asleep, even though my cock was stuck between your thighs.
I know how much you stare at me without me being aware.
So many moments I’ve been awake, ever since that night she touched herself while I showered then grinded her ass over my dick when, again, she thought I was asleep.
I think my sweet, twisted little sister has a kink. Or multiple kinks, considering her slim fingers were wrapped around her brother’s dick, and she’s not even trying to defend herself.
Olivia: Not when they can see.
We only really hold hands now if we’re calming the other down, or if we’re asleep and it unconsciously happens. Not like we used to. I like it though. I can protect her and feel at ease if I have her in my hold. It’s like being able to breathe that little bit easier.
I pull off my flannel and put it between us, and I fight a smirk as she lets me pull her hand underneath the garment. When I squeeze it, she squeezes back.
Rubbing my thumb over her skin, I draw my attention back to my phone, to the group chat that’s still just full of memes and ridiculousness from a bunch of high assholes. I can tell she’s trying to look, can sense it, and a part of me gets excited that she’s curious, maybe even jealous that I could be texting someone who isn’t her?
Technically, she has no right. She’s gone on dates for a while now, been out fucking kissing them too, and I’ve been doing fuck all and watching her from afar. The only orgasms I have are when I cause them, and the only time I think about sex is when my sister is lying beside me in bed, half naked most of the time, and rubbing against me like a horny sleepwalker.
For the next few hours, Dad and Mom talk over the music, argue over fuck knows what, and then Olivia nearly pulls her hand away when Dad mentions a girl he’s tried to set me up with, but she was too scared of me.
Good. The glaring worked, I see. Maybe she didn’t like all the tattoos and piercings I’ve been getting, or the joint hanging from my lips? Cutting lines in my eyebrows definitely sealed the deal of making her run in the opposite direction, and my dad never arranging that shit for me again. Olivia gets jealous, I fucking know it, even if she denies it.
When we reach the destination, we set up the tents, which are far too small for two teenagers or two adults to share. I’m not complaining. I get to be closer to her.
Plus, something is different. Everything is different, and I feel unsettled—unsatisfied with how we’re progressing so slowly, she might not even realize that we’re gravitating towards one another with a mighty pull that’ll clash and keep us together forever.
She’s laughing at something Dad says while I help her shove a marshmallow on the stick for her to toast over the fire we’re sitting around.
Olivia’s thigh hits mine.
My fingers curl in, making fists at my sides as my knees bounce.
I’m agitated.
I need something.
You need more, Malachi. Take more.
Take.
I blink a few times and glance around the darkness, then at the parents who raised me. They don’t want me here, not really, and Olivia… I’ll lose her soon.
She’ll forget about me.
I’ll be alone again.
