Page 58 of Little Stranger

She explodes around my cock, her inner walls clenching my thickness, and I pinch her clit harder, thrusting deeper and making her scream through her orgasm.

My balls tighten more than they ever have, and I still inside her, my cock pulsing strings of cum with each twitch of my own release.

My vision blurs, and I nearly collapse against her as I catch my breath.

She goes limp again, and I sigh and pull out, pressing my forehead to her back as I spread the sticky substance leaking from her over her cheeks, slapping one hard enough to leave a mark.

The tickling at my nape where my balaclava isn’t covering has me carefully reaching back for my tarantula.

I hold him in my palm and chuckle as I grab a chain above me for support, since I’m a little dizzy. “Climbed up… the spout again.”

He crawls up my arm while I circle my sister.

I go to smell her hair and frown. It doesn’t smell like strawberries like it did when we got here. The burns look like they could use more cream too. And her wrists are all red and raw from the chains.

Have I had her chained up for too long?

I’ve been more than happy to clean her up when she wet herself, feed her when she needed food, but I think my girl needs a good scrub. She’s covered in dried blood, webs, cum, cigarette burns, and bite marks.

Fine.

Maybe she’s had enough.

I know I have. I kind of want to just lie with her—cuddle her, even if she hits me in the process.

I free her wrists and catch her in my arms. My spider sits on my shoulder as I carry her out of the basement. I let him come with us to the bedroom while she snores against my chest, lifting her higher so I can flop her over my shoulder then settling my pet into his tank.

I take Olivia into the bathroom and fill the tub while I sit her on the ground, her back to my front, and run a comb through her hair. She’s whimpering in her sleep, rubbing her thighs together, so I lower my hand and cup her pussy, and instantly, the greedy little stranger pushes against my palm.

“Nope,” I say, taking it away. “Not yet.”

I lift her into the tub, not climbing in behind her like I would whenever I drugged her at her apartment. I wash all the blood from her body with a sponge, then grab her usual shampoo brand and lather her hair with it. She keeps slipping under the water, and it’s fucking annoying me.

Holding her in place, I strip my clothes with one hand—even the balaclava—and climb in behind her to keep her still while I wash her hair. I sigh in contentment at how perfectly she fits against me, palming her tits and tweaking her nipples, making her cry out softly.

She’s still unconscious as I dry her off, brush her teeth, and kiss her, then place her in bed. I don fresh clothes—a hoodie and sweats to hide my tattoos—and pull on the balaclava again, sitting on the dresser with a cigarette while she sleeps.

Naked. Exposed. Branded with my mouth and my initials burned into her, and little cuts from my knife. She looks perfect. She looks like mine.

I stub out the smoke and climb into bed beside her, feeling tired myself, but I can’t sleep—she’ll wake before me and try to run away.

She can’t leave me. Not again.

I pull my sister against me—the perfect little spoon, my puzzle piece—wrap my arms around her, and kiss the spot behind her ear. Soft, chaste kisses. She sighs into me, rolls her hips, and I lean back to watch her ass rub against my hardening cock.

I’m reminded of that first time, in my bed, when she thought I was asleep and rubbed her ass against my cock. I was so fucking close to pushing the limit at that point, but I was a virgin, and whether I was a cocky wanker or not, Olivia made me nervous.

She still does.

I push Olivia onto her back and settle between her legs, pulling my boxers down over my ass so my dick springs free. I fist the base, stroke it once, then tap it against her clit, making her tense and part her legs wider for me.

I glide my pierced head against her slick folds and ease it through her opening; she rolls into me, her pussy wrapping around my head and making me twitch.

I fist the pillow beside her head with one hand and grab her throat with the other, and her eyes ping open as I squeeze—just as I pummel one hard thrust into her.

Good girl, Olivia. Be fucking awake while I take you like this.

I haven’t had her missionary with her awake, and I want her to look into my eyes while I fuck her.

---