My fingertips stroke the folds of her wet cunt.
I have a death grip on my cock as I bring myself closer and closer to the edge, one long, lingering stroke at a time.
Harper’s mouth falls open, her body jerking as I finger her. She says my name, licks her lips, and her breasts quiver as she tries to get away from my touch.
Because it’s wrong.
We can’t do this.
But here I am, lining my cock up with her dripping pussy as she begs me not to fuck her.
Fuck. I’m close.
I bite down on my lip, thrusting into my own grip as I imagine sinking the first inch of my dick into Harper’s dripping cunt.
She lets out a desperate mewl. Tries to twist away again. Begs me to stop.
Jesus. My body stiffens.
A gasp as I ram myself balls deep inside Harper.
Fuck, she’s so tight. So wet. Hot.
There’s a sound behind me. Somehow, despite the euphoria drowning me, I realize it’s not in my imagination. I look over my shoulder, my bottom lip still caught in a ruthless bite. Harper stands a few feet away, face pale and eyes as wide as in my fantasy. Her eyes drop to my cock, and the horror in her blue eyes shifts into some kind of lewd fascination.
Cum hits my bared stomach, trickles down my fingers. I shudder, almost drawing blood from my lip as my climax engulfs me. But somehow I keep my eyes on her, somehow I manage to stroke my cock and urge another load of cum from it.
Harper bolts rabbit-quick from my room, leaving the door wide open behind her.
It takes everything—
Every
Fucking
Thing
—I have not to go after her.
Instead, I stroke myself one last time.
Copper in my mouth. Cum all over my hands. Porn playing out on my thirty-inch screen. I should be ashamed. Instead, a final shudder tears through me as my eyes drift closed.
Our hips slam into each other and Harper lets out a desperate, breathless, “Jude!”
Chapter 10
Harper
I’m in a daze as I race down the stairs, through the living room, and out the patio doors. Rain hits my face, but I’m barely aware of it. I’m forcing myself to only think about one thing—wine.
The bottle is cool in my hand, the wine glass smooth. I’m in such a hurry to fill my glass that I spill wine all over the mahogany bar. I grab a dishcloth and soak it up while I take some big gulps from the glass and will it to blank out my mind.
It’s what alcohol is best at. Erasing things you wish you hadn’t heard or seen. It’s probably the reason I never stopped drinking, even when I knew it would make me feel shitty the next day or knowing my mom might find out. I was willing to go through all of that...just for that blissful ignorance.
But I guess if it really worked, then I wouldn’t even remember needing alcohol in the first place.
I’m in no need to psychoanalyze this moment. I need to forget that I just saw Jude jerking off in his bedroom.
A shudder courses through me, and I swivel in my chair so that I’m facing the French doors. From here, I can see all the way to the doors leading into the house. I’d know if he came out looking for me.
Would he?
I’m horrified but intrigued at the same time. I’ve never seen him that angry before. That...intense. I’m starting to understand why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He’s obviously a psychopath.
And I was flirting with him? What the hell is wrong with me?
I drain the rest of my wine glass and quickly pour myself another. Our parents will be home soon. When I’m done here, I’m going to text Mom and tell her I’m going to bed early. Then I’m locking myself in my room for the rest of the night.
It’ll work—I’ve done it before. She knows when I “go to bed early” that I want to be alone. To not disturb me. It’s our unspoken arrangement, always has been. It’s how I’ve stayed sane all these years, and it’s how she kept a roof over our heads. Of course, neither of us made it out unscathed...but it could have been worse.
I cradle my glass, swaying to a wordless tune as I try to put Jude out of my mind. But sure enough, the memory of him gripping his thick cock, arm muscles cording, and his lip caught in his teeth, flashes back into my mind.
I groan and slump onto the bar. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I stagger when I slide off the stool, pause, and shove the cork back on the bottle of wine before emptying the second glass. Then I shove it up my floppy sweater and head back to the house.
Rain patters on my head, but the true storm hasn’t arrived yet.
I have a feeling it’s going to be epic.
Chapter 11
Jude
I’m warming up for practice when I notice some of the guys bunching up by the sideline, staring at the bleachers. Coach Davis is off to one side, texting on his phone, blissfully unaware. Working my shoulders, I jog over to join them, hanging back at first.
“—split that pussy open on my dick,” Daniel, one of the team’s fullbacks, says. “And if she puts up a fight, I’ll just strap her down.”
“Oh, she’ll put up a fight, alright,” Eric cuts in with a snort-laugh.
“With you, yeah. Give me her number and my dick will be down her throat by nine tonight,” Sean says.
Everyone laughs, and some of the guys lean over to fist bump Sean. Money’s going to exchange hands in the locker room later, and it will all revolve around whoever the team has decided to add to their Hot Enough to Fuck list.
I turn to find the focus of their latest obsession. Some students have gathered to watch us practice, but it’s not exactly a crowd.
When Eric spots me, he drops his gaze and turns his back on me. “Guys quit it,” he mutters.
Instantly, my gaze snaps back to the bleachers. Now that I know who I’m looking for, she’s impossible to miss. On one side of the bleachers, far removed from the scattered groups of students, Harper sits with her head in her hands, elbows on her knees, staring out over the field as if she’s about to die from boredom.
I didn’t see her again last night. Her mother said she’d gone to bed early, and I didn’t trust myself to go and see if she was okay. I knew if her bedroom door wasn’t locked and she let me in…shit would go down. And the fact that I couldn’t trust myself around her when both our parents were home speaks volumes. A part of me hoped that she was sick, that she wouldn’t have to drive with me to school…but I was in the back of the line when they were handing out luck. We spent an awkward-as-fuck twenty-minute drive to school, neither of us saying a word, and Harper scrambled out of my truck so fast, I’m surprised she didn’t sprain an ankle.
She avoided me like the plague for the rest of the day, and to say I’m in a shit mood is a wild understatement. So when I face Cinderhart High’s football team, they take one look at my furious expression and scatter like fucking grapeshot. Eric doesn’t even make eye contact with me as he races past.
Alex comes up to me and gives me a sympathetic look. “They’re just fucking around. No one will dare touch your sister.”
He’s the only guy I’d consider a friend at this school. No one else likes hanging out with someone as somber and sober as me.