Page 20 of Lust
Steve, my right-hand man, confirmed that Sara had driven straight home after the fundraiser. Even so, I felt restless and drove to our parents’ to spend the night here.
It was past midnight by the time I arrived. The lights to Sara’s room were already turned off. Unable to give her the brunt of my anger for her act of defiance from earlier, I also turned in for the night.
This day had already been a shitty one. First, I discovered that some girls at Sara’s school had been bullying her. Sara was generally consistent in her traits—forthright, talkative, proud. My chest had constricted at the thought that there had been lapses in her personality due to those bitches.
My day worsened upon finding some lowly cop escorting her out of the shelter, only for the same fucker to show up at the event tonight. I later found out that he was a family friend, and Mom herself had arranged the damn date.
Sara looked at him like… oh hell. There was a spark of interest in her eyes. And he… he looked at her like she was the divine beauty gracing his undeserving world.
Punching down on the bed, I rose to a sitting position. In the dark, I pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants over my boxers and walked to the sliding doors to step outside on the balcony.
This house was perpetually undergoing renovations, courtesy of our parents’ boredom with retired life. My Dad had invested in a collection of hotel casinos in Las Vegas, which now supplied me with a cash stream. I used the money to support Mary and Ragu’s lifestyle so they could quit their jobs and invest their time in my campaign instead. Now, they went from city to city to campaign for endorsements and donation checks. In their spare time, they redecorated.
This particular veranda on the second floor had been extended to wrap around the entirety of the second floor. Of all the architectural modifications, this one was my favorite.
I stepped onto the marble floor, hoping the air would do me good.
“What are you doing here?” Sara’s voice emerged from the shadows.
All of our bedrooms had two entrances. One door led to the inside of the house, while the other opened up to this massive balcony. Without meaning to do so, I had walked too far and stood next to Sara’s bedroom.
I took an involuntary sharp breath as she stepped into my line of sight. My vision blurred, heat reaching me right in the groin.
It had become impossible to dismiss that Sara’s body had matured to the point of agony over the last few years. My attempts to subdue the salacious images were in vain, so I stopped trying altogether.
It was easy to outline her figure under the thin white nightshirt. When Sara stretched to yawn, lifting her shirt high enough to display a set of toned thighs, nothing more was left to the imagination.
Holy fuck.
My cock jerked slightly, and I quickly averted my gaze.
She is your sister. She is your sister. She is your sister.
I swallowed, my previous anger all but forgotten. “It got late after the fundraiser, and DC was a closer drive than my house. I also need a break from the campaign, so I’ll stick around until tomorrow.”
I owned a property in Virginia as I was a congressman there. Meanwhile, the rest of my family lived less than an hour away in DC. My work consisted of enough time spent in the capital. It wasn’t abnormal for me to stay the night at my folks’, only difficult to get away from campaigning, even on weekends.
Sara’s face was shrouded with disbelief. “Won’t your massive empire crumble without their king?”
“The peasants will live to see another day.”
With a mocking gape, she pretended to be shocked. “How-the-fuck-ever would they survive without their beloved leader? Do they even have enough bread to eat?”
That managed to extract a smile out of me. “If they don’t,” I whispered, leaning in, “then let them eat cake.”
Throwing her head back, Sara laughed wholeheartedly. The sound punctured through my rib cage to nestle right into my heart. It was sweet and melodic, unlike everything else in this world.
Nothing with Sara should shock me anymore. Only a few hours ago, I wanted to wring her pretty little neck out. And now, here we were—laughing.
Before she came into my life, I had stopped smiling altogether and only spoke out of necessity. I had no substantial relationship with my mother or anyone else for that matter. Over the years, she had chipped away at my reservations. Now, someone resembling a human being stood before her.
“Why are you still up? I thought you went to sleep.”
I noted the layout in front of the sliding doors of Sara’s room. There was an easel with a canvas propped up on it. Art supplies were scattered in the vicinity, suggesting she was experiencing similar restlessness.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she confirmed. “I thought painting might help.”
Turning her back to me, Sara walked to the easel. She loved to paint whenever she was sad or restless.
