Page 10 of Little Stranger

He twitches again, and before he gets off me, he pushes down so his cock runs against my clit, and I bite my cheek to suppress a moan.

Sick, I’m so fucking sick. He isn’t meaning to do it, but here I am, horny and wanting my brother to press his cock between my legs again. And the way it felt? He’s well endowed, that’s for sure.

I sit up and go to tell him that I’ll sleep in my own room if he wants, but my words are lost when I see the tented, thick outline of his cock through his shorts. He isn’t even trying to hide it as his music still plays in the background, his tarantula crawling up his arm to his shoulder.

I lift my eyes to his face, and I think he caught me looking at his dick. He just caught his little sister salivating over his size. Can this night get any worse?

He tilts his head, his hands fisting at his side before he lifts them.Get into bed. I’ll be there in a minute.

He gestures to my side of the bed and turns away, placing his spider back in its tank and heading to the shower.

My skin tingles, and the butterflies are going insane, my thighs rubbing together as I lie under the covers and wait. They smell like him, and the way I’m feeling, the scent only makes me worse. I slip my hand between my legs, letting out a soft moan as I finger my wetness. With my eyes glued to the door of the bathroom, where he’s naked and wet, I picture him on me again as I sink two fingers inside myself.

The door handle jiggles, and I pull my fingers free, needing to keep going but stopping as he comes out of his bathroom with a new pair of shorts on, rubbing his black wavy hair with a towel before dropping it into his laundry basket.

He climbs into bed beside me, grabs his remote, and turns on the TV. His knee bumps mine, and he doesn’t pull it away as his thigh presses to my own, and I wonder if he knows my fingers are still wet, or that my pussy is clenching on nothing, needing something.

Him.

I want to slap myself.

“Promise me you won’t beat anyone else up.”

No, he signs.

Crossing my arms, I shuffle away from him, but I shriek as he grabs my knee and pulls me back.Stop being a brat.

“Every time you attack someone, Mom is probably going to try to arrange a date for me. She’s desperate for me to get married young because she did.”

His head snaps to me.How many dates has she arranged?

“I’ve been on four so far. Two to go. Yay me.”

He straightens.So far?You’ve been on dates already?

Rolling my eyes, I huff. “I’m eighteen.”

And? Did you fuck them?

I gasp. “I’m not talking about this stuff with you!”

He tries to sign, but I grab his hand, lacing our fingers. “Watch the movie, Malachi, or I’m going back to my room.”

I somehow fall asleep, waking a few hours later to find Malachi plastered to my back. His strong arms encase me as his soft, gentle breaths breeze against my neck, making those forbidden sensations return between my legs.

I can’t get back to sleep—especially since his cock is hard as granite and pressing against my ass, his arms tightening around me as I pretend to shift and rub my ass against him.

Then I stop, freezing in place with my eyes wide—did I just… grind my ass against my sleeping brother’s dick?

He shifts, and his hand drops to my inner thigh, gripping it, and I stifle a whimper as his fingers dig into my skin.

I want to slide his hand upwards, to press his thick fingers to my clit, to feel his touch—am I insane?

I glance over my shoulder and stiffen when I see that his eyes are open, glaring at me. “Did I wake you?” I ask, trying to ignore his hand; the prodding cock or the fact I just grinded my ass again it.

He shakes his head.

“Are you okay?”

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