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She hisses a bit as I slide out of her, and the sound is like a dull dagger to my chest. The blinding desire dwindles into dread when I glance down to where our bodies were just joined, seeing my cum pooled between her legs, tinged red with her blood.
Horror sinks me.
I’m also coated in red, as if I’m spotlighted in sin.
Branded with crimson shame.
Pulling up all the way, I tug at my pants that are bunched around my calves, fastening them back into place. My face twists with guilt and apology as I gaze down at her, her knees still spread, thighs smeared with blood, body heaving with arduous breaths. “Hold on…I’ll–I’ll be right back,” I force out, forgoing my shirt as I sprint toward the single bathroom.
I return moments later with a warm damp cloth.
June is sitting up, her knees now pressed together, lips trembling. “I’m okay, Brant,” she tells me as I approach. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not okay. God, I wrecked you…” Falling to my knees in front of her, I use one hand to gently part her legs. I swallow. “I’m sorry.”
“Please…don’t be sorry. I wanted it as much as you did.”
As her thighs spread before me, revealing the evidence of my crime, my ribs ache with the weight of my grief. “I wasn’t gentle. I wasn’t kind.” I dab the damp cloth to her juncture, wincing when she hisses again. “I did this to you.”
She asked me to make love to her, and instead I fucked her raw and dirty on my couch. I made her bleed. I came inside of her with no protection, and I growled filthy things into her ear.
I’m a monster.
“Brant…” June leans forward, her eyes glistening, hair a matted mess. Mascara is streaked above her cheekbones. She clasps my jaws in her trembling palms as she pleads, “Don’t regret this. Don’t regret me.”
“I regret how it happened,” I confess, still blotting the cloth to her tender core. Trying to erase my infraction. “I should have made it special for you.”
“It was special.” Her fingertips graze along my stubbled jawline, whispering over my lips. “It was with you.”
With me.
Her adopted brother.
This is beyond fucked.
A lump sticks in my throat as I pull to a stand, taking her with me. June rises on wobbly legs, her eyes glazed with worry as she steps forward and presses herself against my bare chest. Skin on skin. My heart gallops as I cup the back of her head, her floral scent mingling with sex and sweat.
She whispers softly, “It was everything.”
Emotion races through me. Every emotion—regret, bliss, self-hatred, fear, and untouchable love. A love that has gone frighteningly off course, one that I’m not sure how to get back on track before we suffer an inevitable crash and go up in flames.
Kip’s words of warning follow me like a dark cloud as I guide June to my bedroom and slip into the bed beside her, pulling her close, spooning her tight, and falling into a tumultuous sleep.
“Those flames are going to spread… You have to be okay with letting the things around you burn, too.”
30
FIRST TASTE
JUNE, AGE 19
I’m awoken by an ache between my legs and empty sheets.
Both left by him.
By Brant.
Sunlight filters in through the crack in his pale-blue curtains, the only color pop in an otherwise sterile, barren room. A chill whispers down my spine as I sit up straight.
