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Her head snaps to me, brown eyes twinkling. She ducks and touches her neck as if shy.
“Can’t do it with me sitting before you?” I tease.
“Yeah, I can.” Kayla pulls air through her teeth and straightens her shoulders. She is always trying to be tough.
Opening the new sketchbook, she begins outlining me on the first page. She doesn’t look up once, and it pleases me how embedded I am inside her head.
As I watch her hand move in delicate strokes across the paper, I discern more of her vulnerability. She only conveys that side when painting, and while I’m pleasuring her. I want to see more. It lightens the dark in me.
“Tell me about your sister,” I say without a second thought.
Kayla stops sketching, stays quiet for a moment, then frees a held breath. “Doreen was amazing. Kind. Smart. Resilient. A thoughtful daughter and sister.” She shrugs. “Just a great person. At fifteen, she was a force. People admired her confidence.”
“Including you,” I note.
“Of course. She was my big sister. I looked up to her.”
“Hm.” I lean my head, watching how the layers peel away. “So much so that you now emulate her.”
Kayla pinches her brows. “No...I...”
“You use Doreen as a shield against whatever you’re suppressing,” I say with certainty. “You act tough because it’s easier than allowing the tears to fall.”
Her features warp with defiance, frustrated I easily figured her out. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You barely know me.”
“I’ve seen a lot in the past weeks. You said it yourself that I do the same thing. We both present a tough exterior to hide behind.”
Kayla blinks away, staring at everything except me. “I’m not hiding from you, Brandon. You’re hiding from me.”
“No,” I mutter. “We only hide from the world. But it seems difficult to do that with each other. You don’t have to try so hard to appear fearless, little artist. I know you are. But I want to see more of the real you.” I carry my gaze over her for emphasis.
Kayla pushes to her feet, the sketchbook and pencils fall. “You have some nerve trying to use psychology on me when you’ve been nothing but a mystery.” There’s a bite in her tone. She hates that I’m keeping things from her.
I straighten from the rock. “True. But I’ve never denied that I’m fucked up. Regardless, I like how I hunger for you. You do, too. You’re afraid to admit it because you think Doreen would disapprove. I’m not the kind of guy your sister wanted for you.”
She wobbles her head. “No. That’s...”
“You’re not your sister. You’re Kayla. Resilient and wild in your own way. And you have a dark desire that’s drawn to danger—to me—where your sister would run from it.”
“Ugh.” Kayla attempts to walk away.
She yelps as I grip her waist and lower her to the grass. Her erratic panting matches mine.
Without hesitation, she flattens on her back and parts her thighs for me. There’s zero fear in her demeanor, only lust.
“Be honest with yourself and admit you want me,” I push her. “I fill something inside you. A fire that’s always been there, yearning.”
“Fuck you, Brandon,” she sputters, chest going up and down deeply.
“Hm.” I squeeze her neck and feel her racing pulse. “I want so badly to fuck that tight pussy of yours. To hear you scream my name, clench my dick as you come.”
“I’m not afraid to give it to you,” she proclaims bravely, surprising me.
“Is that so?” I rasp.
“Tell me everything first,” she demands. “Tell me who you are.” Tears fill her eyes and spill down the sides of her face. “Four years ago, I lost my sister, and my world shattered. What happened to you? Please…”
“Why are you crying?” I grunt, seeing her tears prompts a terrible ache in my chest. “Are you that frustrated with me?”
