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She looks up, a smug expression on her beautiful face. “Yeah, what?”
“I need a word.” I need a whole fucking lot more than that.
“Okay, have a word.” She waves her fork around the table.
“Privately.” I move toward her, always drawn to wherever she is.
Bianca and Angelica exchange a look then rise.
“Hey, you can stay.” Carina’s voice contains a slight hint of worry, and when she looks up at me, the smugness is still there but also a sliver of concern. As if she’s happy that she’s pushed me but wondering if she perhaps went too far.
Yes, you fucking did, brat. I keep my gaze on her as Angelica and Bianca scurry from the kitchen, throwing hurried “See you laters” over their shoulders.
“What the fuck was that?” I lean over the table, pinning her with my stare.
She puts her fork on her plate and dabs her mouth with her napkin. “In civilized society, this is usually called ‘breakfast.’”
I broke my arm when I was a kid. Fell out of a tree that I had climbed in haste to escape a couple of bullies. Once the bullies gave up, I tried to make my way back down. That’s when I missed a foothold and fell. When I hit the ground, I felt my arm snap. It was a quick, sharp feeling. And it had a sound. That same snap–the feeling, the sound, the sharpness, all of it–echoes in my mind as I snap again.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I grab her upper arm, lift her from her chair, and drag her across the kitchen.
“Hey!” She struggles against me and swipes at the block of knives on the counter.
But I have the element of surprise. Who would’ve thought the reasonable, level-headed Gilly would manhandle his best friend’s little sister? No one. Not even Carina. She didn’t hear the snap. But I did. She fucking broke a part of me, and now I’m going to show her the jagged edge she caused.
I push her into the pantry and slam the door behind us, then shove her against the shelves, gripping her wrists and pinning them behind her.
“What the fuck!” She struggles, knocking over some jars.
I don’t care. I tighten my grip. “Suitors, brat? Is that what you want?”
“What business is it of yours?” she snaps, her breath coming out in pants.
I can almost smell her arousal. My little brat gets off on crossing me. “You don’t need suitors.” I growl. “I knowexactlywhat you need.”
“What’s that?” She stares up at me, challenge in her eyes.
I let go of her wrists and grip her shoulders, then swipe her ankles with my foot. She drops. I catch her and ease her to the floor.
“Hey!”
I get a fistful of her hair and pull, then reach for my fly with my other hand.
Her mouth opens in shock, and she finally stills, down on her knees, right where I want her.
“Keep it wide, brat.” I reach into my pants and pull out my hard cock, then run the tip along her lips.
“What are you–”
I press it into her hot, wet mouth, then groan at how good it feels. The reasonable part of me tries to stop me, to tell me this is wrong. But I’ve already snapped. I’m already gone. And when I push my cock deeper into her mouth, I shut down the reasonable part of me for good.
“Take it all, little brat. You want cock? I’ve got it right here for you.” I thrust in and out of her mouth.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide, and then she grips my thighs, a moan in her mouth as she sucks me.
I grunt, my hips moving faster as I pull her hair with both hands, fucking her hot mouth as her tongue licks along my shaft. More and more, I push against her throat. She gags a little, her eyes watering, and I feel my release coming. I grip her tightly.
“Take it all. I want you to swallow every last drop, Carina.” I come on a harsh groan, my cock spilling inside her mouth as she slurps and swallows, licking up my seed as I take in deep, shaking breaths.
