Page 35 of Little Stranger

I’m fed up with everyone running my life, so I glare and blank him and grin at my mom. “Can you drop me off? I don’t want to have any drunken urges to drive home under the influence later.”

Malachi straightens. He doesn’t like it when I go out drinking. We’re not goingoutout, since we’re not twenty-one and don’t currently have fake IDs, but it’s so easy to get booze for house parties.

“Of course, sweetie. Have you decided where you want to go for your nineteenth? We could go camping again, or maybe Florida? Oh, wait, did you not say you wanted to visit Europe?”

“Maybe Paris,” I say, tilting my head from side to side. “I’ll ask Abbi to come with us.”

Once I finish eating, I head up to the second floor to go through my mom’s walk-in closet, hunting for the shoes she stole from me. I click on the light and jump when I see someone standing behind me in the reflection of the mirror.

“Dammit, you idiot! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Malachi leans his shoulder against the door frame.We should do more lessons. We’ve been stuck on the same one for months.

Popping my hip out, I cross my arms. “Because you said you wanted to stay on oral for a little while longer forextra practice. Honestly, you don’t need any more lessons. I’m sure you can navigate the rest on your own.” I smirk at the rage taking over his eyes. “It’s more of an instinct thing from here on out. Your wooing sexual skills are… fine.”

He narrows his eyes and takes a step into the walk-in closet, making my nerves tingle.Fine, he signs, raising a brow. Just fine?

To be an asshole, I smile. “Yep. Now fuck off. I’m busy, and you’re the last person I want to converse with after telling me not to go to Abbi’s tonight. What’s with that anyway? You think you can get me on my knees then tell me what to do in my life?”

Malachi rapidly eats up the distance between us, and my stance falters as my back hits the wall, trying to keep him as far away as possible. Mom and Dad are home—they could easily walk up the stairs and see us. It might not have stopped us before, loving the thrill of being caught, but I’m trying to be mad at him, and I want to stay mad.

Does that stop him though? No, of course not—he leans in, bringing his nose just above my ear to inhale the scent of my hair while his cologne distracts me. Always smelling my hair, always rubbing it between his fingers. The tip of his nose grazes the shell of my ear, and I tense all over as he nips my lobe between his teeth. My pussy throbs, and I know my mood is about to vanish, and the next lesson might commence at any moment.

He bites lightly, and I tilt my head to the side to give him more access, elongating my throat so he can kiss down the expanse of it and suck my skin in that way that has me shaking, hot waves of pleasure throbbing between my legs.

His tongue licks against my pulse, and I feel it pump erratically as his hand takes my hip, pinning me in place while his other hand slips under my cheer uniform, gentle touches against the soaked material. I can see the words in his eyes.So wet, little sister.

My lips part on a moan as he applies pressure to my clit, but it’s gone as soon as he does it—he pulls his hand away, caressing his palm against my chest, between my breasts, over my heart, probably feeling it nearly bounding from my ribs. It’s beating like a drum for him. Hard thumps, matching my pulse, and he holds it there as he captures my mouth with a searing kiss.

He breaks away, and I’m breathless as he presses his forehead to mine, holding my hip, his other hand still over my thrashing heart. The heart—I fear—that may already belong to my brother.

The realization breaks me, and my eyes start to water as I look at him. His brows furrow, and he tilts his head questioningly as a tear slips down my cheek.

“I can’t marry you,” I whisper. “Mom is going to make me marry some asshole, and I won’t ever be able to have you.”

Is that the wrong thing to say to him? He most likely isn’t feeling the same way. He’s not capable of those emotions—but I need to be honest with myself, even once, that this could be, or is, more than just me teaching him how to be sexual with someone.

He admitted he felt different, something he couldn’t control. So there’s a chance he cares about me past being his teacher-sister.

Stupid feelings. Why can’t I have feelings for Adam? Why Malachi? Why my brother?

Wordlessly, he slides his hand from my heart, up my chest, and wraps his fingers around my throat before slamming his mouth down on mine.

The kiss is brutal and hard and firm, his hand finding its way back under my skirt so he can skim his fingers over the wet spot of my panties.

“I’ll ask Olivia if she wants to come,” Dad says, but I’m too drawn into the moment to care what they’re talking about as Malachi slides the fabric aside and drives two fingers home, making me huff a violent breath into his mouth. “Where is she?”

“I think she’s in the main closet getting a pair of her shoes.”

Just as the heat starts to build, the heavy footfalls of my father reach my ears, and I gasp and push my brother away from me, fixing my panties back into place as I hurry out of the closet, closing it with Malachi still inside. “Hey!” I say, far too excitedly, considering his son just had me pinned to the wall and was kissing me with his fingers in my pussy. My thighs are still trembling, soaked, with my need for release. I think my eyes are crossing, and they’re definitely red.

We’ve been doing these lessons for months, but Malachi was a natural at kissing and using his fingers from the start.

Typical for Malachi Vize to be an overachiever, even when it comes to fucking around with his little sister and making her whimper his name and praise him while eating her out.

Dad’s fixing his tie while saying, “There’s an open day at the firm next week. I was going to ask if you wanted to come with your brother.”

Oh, those words.

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