Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
For the entire first month, I stood it. She needed comfort, I told myself. It was innocent on her part—she would doubtless be horrified to know I was noticing her in a way no big brother ought to notice his little sister. And I tried not to notice—honestly, I did! But every morning I found myself slipping off to the bathroom and jerking off while trying—unsuccessfully—not to think of her.
If you’re thinking what a pervert I am, jerking off to my own little sister when she just wanted comfort, well believe me, I thought the same thing about myself. I should have just forbidden her to sleep with me, but I didn’t feel like I could say no to her. She was grieving—we both were—and it wasn’t like being with her every single minute was a temptation.
We lay together in my bed for hours at a time, just talking every night. I would tell her stories she didn’t know about my parents—little things that happened before she got adopted into our family. And she would fill me in on little details that had happened after I moved out of the house. We relived the years we’d spent under the same roof and it was comforting…healing. I didn’t want to give it up—even though I was having a harder and harder time ignoring my own depraved desires.
During this time, Delilah became extremely domestic. My mom had been teaching her to cook, apparently, and she had dinner waiting for me on the table every night when I came in. Please understand I’m not saying women are good for nothing but domestic duties, but I had been a bachelor a long time. Having someone cooking a hot meal for me every night was nice.
Delilah would listen to me bitch about the Provisional Council that had been set up to help “guide” me as an inexperienced Packmaster. Most Alphas don’t even think of trying for such a high position until they’re well into their thirties, so the elders of our Pack had decided I needed guidance, since I was only twenty-eight. This meant I had to deal with all the Pack business while trying to keep a bunch of older males—all of whom probably thought they could do a better job leading the Pack—happy. It was fucking emotionally exhausting, but Delilah listened to me bitch and moan and gave me sympathy.
“They need to leave you alone and let you run the Pack your way,” she’d tell me, while massaging my shoulders which were all knotted up from the tension of the day. “Dad knew what he was doing when he made you his heir—he raised you to be the Packmaster. You know what you’re doing, Cole.”
It felt good to hear those words from my little sister—validating. I won’t lie, I kind of loved the little domestic situation that had grown between us ever since I’d brought her to live with me.
But every night, she tapped on my door and asked to sleep with me. And every night, I couldn’t bring myself to say “no.”
After the first month or so, things began to change. No, not things—Delilah. My little sister started to change.
It started with the things she wore when she came to my bed at night.
To begin with, she’d always slept in a long cotton t-shirt. She looked sexy in it—because, let’s face it, she’d look sexy in fucking anything. But it wasn’t tight or revealing.
Then things changed. One night, a little after a month since my little sister had moved in with me, she wore a different kind of nightshirt—one made of some kind of thin, silky material which clung to her curves enticingly. The white fabric was almost see-through—I could clearly see the tight points of her nipples and the rings of her areolas pressing against it. It was short too—it didn’t even cover the little white lace panties she had on which were basically just a tiny triangle that barely covered her mound.
“Cole, can I sleep with you?” she asked, already coming into the room as she spoke.
“I…uh…” I just stared at her, not able to articulate my thoughts for a moment.
Her long, curly hair was flowing down her back and her full tits jiggled with every step she took. I’ve always been a breast man—I can’t seem to fucking help myself. And Delilah’s tits were big and full and natural. I don’t like implants—I never have. It was clear from the way her breasts swayed that they were all natural. I mean, not like I would have expected my innocent little sister to have breast augmentation—I’m just saying what I noticed…and how much I liked it.
“Delilah, I don’t know…” I finally got out, but she completely ignored me.
“Thanks, big brother,” she said and slid under the covers with me, pressing those full, gorgeous breasts against my side as she pillowed her head on my chest.