Page 19 of Little Stranger

I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing, and then: “Really?”

Yes.

“You’re not trying to mess with me?” I ask. “If you’re fucking with me right now, Malachi, I will hit you.”

He smirks.If I’m not allowed to touch you, then you need to do it yourself.

“What if I say no?”He digs his fingers into my inner thighs, and I let out a shameless whimper. “Okay, okay, okay. But you need to promise not to touch me.”

He lifts his pinkie, and I grin as I curl mine around it. “And don’t tell anyone. This isn’t what siblings do. We’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

I won’t. Our secret, little sister.

I screw my nose up and bat his hands from my legs. “Please don’t call me your little sister right now.”

He smirks, the dimple indenting deep.But you are my sister. My dirty little sister who’s going to touch herself in front of me. Show your big brother what you sound like when you cum.

All the oxygen in the tent vanishes, and my breath freezes in my chest. My inner walls clench, and I think I’m already soaking from his taboo words alone.

Swallowing my nerves, I slide my hand down my front, parting my legs a little more—Malachi’s eyes follow my hand, the way my fingertips attentively part my pussy lips, my back arching as my middle finger dips into my wetness, bringing it up to my clit and circling. The freshly painted red acrylic nail scratches at my tenderness, and I bite my lip.

I’ve touched myself thousands of times, but having him watching me is making it more intense. I’ve never been so eager to feel a dick inside me.

I go faster, the coiling sensation at the base of my spine curling around each vertebra, my eyes closing as I lose myself in my own touch and imagine it’s someone else.

Someone who shouldn’t be watching me.

Someone who should be mortified by me doing this.

My eyelids slide open a little, and Malachi is leaning in, watching me as I pleasure myself.Can I touch you?

“No,” I pant. “Please don’t.”

Why?

I sink two fingers inside, ignoring him, dropping my other hand to circle my clit while finger-fucking myself in front of him.

When my eyelids fall open again, my breath hitches as I see his gaze is still glued to my pussy and the way I’m pleasuring myself—grinding my hips upwards as I search for more, but his hand is over his cock through his boxers. I almost want to moan his name, but I stop myself midway and make it sound like a muffled cry.

My inner walls clutch at my fingers repeatedly, and I’m breathing rapidly, a light layer of sweat on my skin. If I tell him to fuck me, will he?

Do I want that?

Would he hurt me?

If I told him that I wanted him to chase me, pin me down, and take whatever he wanted, against my wishes or not, would he?

Lunacy runs in my veins at this point, because I want my brother to fuck me, and I want him to fuck me hard enough to make it hurt.

The thought alone drives me into an orgasm, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I moan, my back arching off the sleeping bag as I orgasm all over my fingers, throbbing and convulsing beneath him.

I see stars around Malachi, his lips parted, breathing forcefully while he palms himself.

With my fingers still inside me, I pant as I ask, “Do you still want to taste me?”

He nods, and his pupils blow as I lift my glistening fingers to his lips, swiping them across them. He captures my wrist and sucks them into his mouth, my fingers sliding against the warmth of his tongue as he takes them to the knuckles, sucking hard, and I tremble as he bites lightly. If he used his voice, I know I’d hear him hum right now with the way his eyes roll closed, his other hand gripping himself.

My fingers fall from his mouth, and he lunges for me. Before he can catch my lips with his, his body molding over mine, I cover his mouth with my palm. “No,” I gasp. “We didn’t agree to that!”

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