Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I want to march out right away and give him a piece of my mind. I don't know what exactly I want to tell him, but I do know I don’t have the guts to do it, anyway. Instead, I just stare at them.
She’s on the hood of his car, and his hands are all over her. She’s moaning, giggling, saying his name repeatedly. I don't know whether she's fighting him off or pulling him closer, and the thought, the dichotomy of those two acts, excites me.
The girl is wearing a scandalously short skirt, but he slides it over her legs until it lands in a heap at their feet. My heartbeat quickens.
He reaches for her hair, pulling out the elastic that is holding her brown locks in place, and her silky waves tumble down her back as he undoes her ponytail. Her shirt is next, and he unbuttons it so slowly I moan right along with the girl, eager to see more, feel more, pretend she’s me and those moans are ripping themselves from my lips.
My hand finds its way between my legs, and I push away the fabric of my summer dress, pushing my fingers against the panties I’m wearing as I keep watching. I’ve never done this before, never pleasured myself. I always thought it was wrong somehow… But now... I can’t seem to resist.
He’s finally done with her shirt, and it ends up with the skirt on the floor. He unclasps her bra, and her breasts spring free, full, and so unlike my underdeveloped pair.
“Kade,” she whispers just loud enough for me to hear, and I push my panties aside, gasping as I enter my own body. This is so wrong, but it’s so fucking hot.
She puts her legs around his torso, and I can see him fumbling with his zipper, but try as I might, I don’t see anything other than his hands guiding himself into the girl. She curses out loud and I lick my lips expectantly, all the while imagining that’s me on the hood of the car. My stepbrother is moving inside her now, clutching her with both hands as she writhes and moans, and my fingers are strumming my clit even harder. I’m just about to come, but I can’t, not without seeing his face when he does.
Kade fucks the girl, and I fuck myself, and I can see from his expression he’ll be there soon.
“Fuck,” he moans against her chest. “Fuck, Junebug.”
The world comes to a standstill. Did I just hear that right? My finger comes out of my pussy, my first orgasm forgotten before it even happened. Instead, I just stare and stare at them. The girl just came, I’m pretty sure, but something seems wrong. Between her moans, she’s glaring at Kade.
“Junebug?” she asks furiously. “As in, your little stepsister, June?”
Kade is quiet. The girl pushes him off, and I’m sure he could have stopped her, but he just lets her. She picks up her clothes, humiliated, and throws him a disgusted look.
“You could have at least called me by another name, you sick fuck,” she spits out at him, and then she storms out of the garage, while I stare with my mouth open. What just happened? Before I have time to think, Kade raises his gaze and his eyes meet mine.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I turn around and try to run off, but he reaches me in two seconds, grabbing my hair and pulling me back. It hurts, and I yelp with pain.
“Let go of me,” I say angrily.
He doesn’t. Instead, he uses his free hand to turn me around so I’m facing him, his other hand still tangled in my dark mass of hair.
“How long have you been standing there?” he demands, and I blush deeply.
“Long enough,” I reply, not sure why I’m being such a brat. He just stares at me, hard. I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to look away.
“Junebug…” he starts softly, and I’ve never heard him use this voice on me. He’s always rough, never paying me any mind, like I’m some painting on the wall he’s not particularly fond of.
“Leave me alone,” I whimper, and then I do something I regret in a split second. “You’re sick to the bone. Let go of me.”
Just like that, his hands, his beautiful, strong hands, are off me. And we keep staring at each other, contemplating what just happened. I just accused him of being a pervert when all I want is those hands back on me. But it’s so wrong. Forbidden. It can never happen. My mom told us as much.
And as he turns around and leaves abruptly, I know I’ve ended this between us before it even started. Even though it breaks me in half to know that, I know it needed to be done.