Page 11 of The Untamed

All I need to do is keep rubbing.

Unable to keep going at their pace, I massage the throbbing spot faster and faster. Touching myself over my clothes doesn’t seem good enough. I want to feel the bare skin. With a silent gasp of air, I push past the material, sliding my finger along the slit. My vagina is slick—from sweat or something I don’t know. Though I’m curious to see why or discover the source, I ignore it for the time being, seeking out the good place again. My fingertip is wet now, so when I touch it, it’s the most exquisite sensation I’ve ever known.

I rub in frantic circles, no longer interested in what my parents are doing, but instead finding what happens when I plummet over the edge that’s near.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

God, so close.

I try to think of Ronan’s mouth on me, but my distracted mind keeps flitting back to Ryder on top of me, his cock hard.

What if his cock was naked and wet, rubbing against me here?

The image is not the one I want to think about, but it’s there, and it makes my body sing. I’m about to leap off the edge when the baby starts to cry. Dawson, who still sleeps in their room, in a crib in the corner, fusses.

Seriously?

Dad makes a sound like he’s found his own pleasure and then chuckles. Mom joins in, softly giggling. Why are they laughing? I’m on the verge of something great and the baby messed it all up.

Flustered, I give up and abandon the throbbing between my thighs. Anger swells up inside me, chasing away all the lingering pleasure.

Dad’s footsteps thud over to Dawson and he can be heard whispering sweet things to the baby. Irritated, I creep back to my bedroom and fall back into bed, unsatisfied.

Why wouldn’t Mom tell me about all that stuff? Maybe, if she did, I’d actually want to find a husband and get married. I’d probably try to make babies all day every day if I knew it felt that good.

If she hasn’t told me of all the pleasure involved, what else hasn’t she told me?

I guess if I want to know something, I’m just going to have to figure it out myself.

Stop looking at her ass, dipshit.

I can’t.

Raegan’s dark jeans really fit her lately. It’s as though she painted them on her body. The swell of her ass is magical, slightly jiggling with each step she takes. I want to sink my teeth into one of her fleshy cheeks, leaving my mark.

Man, just look away and focus.

Dad holds up a fist, drawing my attention to him, and indicates for us to stop. I pause, listening for sounds in the forest, using every power within me to keep my eyes on the trees and not my sister’s ass.

I hear it.

Rustling.

Raegan’s ponytail swooshes from side to side as she tracks the sound. Her head is turned, giving me a view of her profile. I’m nearly as mesmerized by her lips as I am by her ass. God, I’m so fucked in the head.

My feelings for my sister are getting out of control. I’m not sure when she transformed from annoying little sister to…this. But it happened. One day she was driving me crazy and quite literally the next, my dick was getting hard every time I saw her.

Yesterday was awful.

My shameful secret was exposed. She felt my erection. How could I have been so careless? And then, at dinner, she caught me staring.

She’s like the sun when she smiles.

Dazzling. Bright. Bad for the eyes.

These feelings for Rae aren’t right. I know this. I’m to leave our home one day and meet a woman who doesn’t share my last name.

“There,” Dad whispers, pointing toward a thick part of the woods.

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