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I need…
Bit by bit, her hand began to slip beneath her jeans…
“Oh- ffuck… Mina!”
Mina froze as her heart leapt into her throat at the familiar call. Reality returned in an icy wash that cascaded down her spine. Dragging her eyes from his shaft, she hauled her eyes up to where she expected to meet his startled gaze, only he wasn’t looking towards her. In fact, he hadn’t noticed her at all. His narrow face was leaner, almost gaunt, but also older, yet with the same soft features and floppy mop of hair that almost masked half his face. Hidden beneath the wispy strands of dark chestnut, his chocolate eyes never wavered from a small glossy rectangle of photo paper Mina hadn’t noticed before, cradled in his left hand, the quickening rise and fall of his stomach obscuring it from her view.
“Mina… ugh fuck… so tight…” he grunted, in a voice little more than a whisper. “So tight… I love it!”
It was at the wrong angle for her to make out clearly. However, possessed by a sudden insurmountable curiosity that had a mass of moths fluttering through her insides, she squinted and tilted her head from side to side, trying in vain to get a better view. As if he sensed her silent plea, the hand grasping the photo tilted ever so slightly towards her. Mina’s eyes widened. The photo was of her.
The little weasel was jerking off to a picture of her! The realisation sent a hot tremor down her spine that got her long legs quaking, the teasers of a mini-orgasm echoing out from her centre. Well, she’d have to put a stop to that.
Clambering to her feet, Mina quickly composed herself. Feeling the same nervous thrill she always experienced on the first day of filming, she took a calming breath and glanced back over her shoulder to check that the hall was still clear of spectators, before she slipped into character and gave the door a nudge. It swung inward to emit a satisfying crack against the wall. Stepping inside and flicking on the light switch, the actress proclaimed, “Well… well… well… what have we here?”
Bright, brilliant luminance flooded the room, banishing the shadows. Thrown into sharp contrast, Mark’s room appeared just as she’d remembered it from her last visit. Glossy skinned maxi-posters bedecked every wall. An Ikea corner desk, stashed away in the near corner, was strewn with rings of hard-backed textbooks arranged around her stepbrother’s prized Alienware laptop. The sofa he’d inherited from his grandmother sat opposite an entertainment centre about ready to collapse beneath the treasure trove of devices burdening its many tiered shelves.
Only his overnight bag, lying half-open on the floor, gave any indication Mark was only home for a few days. Clothes, damp with something that looked suspiciously like beer, were scattered around the holdall. A little accident indeed, she thought coldly, remembering Charlie’s snigger.
But just what sort of accident?
Bolting upright, torn so rudely from the arms of his fantasy, Mark immediately seized one of the pillows to cover himself. He looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. Upon seeing it was Mina who’d discovered him, however, he visibly relaxed, but couldn’t meet her gaze as his normally pale complexion turned a vivid shade of pink. “Mina… what are you… no… how did you… I… I swear… this… this isn’t what it looks like…”
How original.
“Oh? Is it not?” she asked coyly, cocking her head to the side and fixing him with a pondering stare. There was a soft thump as the door slid closed behind her under its own momentum. “You know, I’d expected something less cliché. Though I have to admit, I’d also thought you would know that, if you must sneak off in the middle of your own party to give yourself a treat, lock the bloody door!”
Never taking her eyes off him, Mina reached back and turned the locking mechanism, the bolt slamming into place with a reassuring click. Then, with all the predatory grace of a lioness stalking a mouse, she advanced towards the bed with deliberate slowness.
A bright splash of colour stained his cheeks as Mark looked down at his floor where his towel, still sodden from his shower, lay discarded and Mina had to resist the urge to giggle. He was so cute when he was embarrassed.
Coming to stand over him, she snatched the photo from his grasp. “What’s this?”
“It’s nothing!” His head flew up and he tried to grab it back but the motion proved too difficult while still pressing the pillow to his person and instead, almost toppled to the floor. Smirking, his stepsister sidestepped his desperate lunge and raised the snapshot into the light.
It was indeed a photo of her, taken two years before when she’d treated Mark to a week’s holiday in Cyprus. It showed her reclining back on a deserted stretch of sandy beach in nothing but a white, close-fitting swimsuit, her skin glowing gold in the late afternoon sun and head tilted away from the camera towards the horizon. He’d probably kept it hidden away in his underwear draw, and stumbled upon it.
“Well, at least this means you’re no longer stealing my panties,” she said matter-of-factly, causing Mark’s face to burn such a shade of red she wondered if he was about to cry with sheer embarrassment. Deciding to take pity on him, she casually threw the photo over her shoulder.
“Now, little brother.” She shrugged off her jacket and let it fall around her feet before carefully stepping out of her boots. “Do you remember what I said the last time I walked in on you?” Slowly, ever so slowly, Mark looked up from his feet to meet her gaze, his eyes wide and questioning, and there was something else. Hope. There was hope there, but also uncertainty, as though he didn’t dare believe what was happening for fear that it was all too good to be true. Mina understood his hesitancy. After all, they had both agreed never again, but damn it, she didn’t care. She wanted him. Wanted him as she had never wanted any man before.
Holding his gaze, Mina slowly sat beside him on the edge of the bed. As she reached out to place a delicate hand upon his knee, she could barely rein in her victorious grin. The touch was light, gentle, almost cautious, but even so, Mark’s back went as stiff as a board. Hard muscles rippled beneath warm skin, tensing at her touch. She pretended not to notice the way his eyes glanced downwards to watch her hand as though it were a venomous insect and she innocently tilted her head.
Keeping her movements soft and slow, so tortuously slow, she slid the offending hand higher. His flesh was hot against her fingers, the muscles beneath harder than she had expected. As she moved higher up his thigh, she could feel the tension amassing. A playful smile pulled at the corner of her lips.
“But what about…” His jaw was tight and what was left of his voice in that choked squeak gave out when her hand paused just below the pillow. Still endeavouring to resist her however, his hand began to shake, his knuckles turning bone-white as he pressed the pillow firmly to his groin. Her smile grew ever more coy and she raised her palm and swept her fingertips over his skin, drawing swirling feather-light patterns over the skin of his inner-thigh, just skirting the boundary of the pillow.
“If you want me to make you cum…”
She pivoted, swinging a long, perfectly toned leg across his waist, straddling him, barring escape and bringing them nose to nose. Leaning to the side, she ever so softly brushed her lips over his in the barest hint of a kiss, inwardly smirking as she felt him subtly shift to try and meet her, before mimicking the motions of the hand upon his thigh with the tip of her nose, sketching an intricate weaving web across his flushed cheek. She could feel his breath quicken, growing short and frayed, the warmth of each washing over her neck and sending tingling sensations shooting down her spine to the wet heat pulsing between her thighs. When her lips came within a hair’s breadth of his ear, she whispered in a voice threaded with promise.
“…just ask.”
The look in his eyes when she drew back made her feel like a cat toying with a mouse, glorying in the sweet ambrosia of holding such power over another living creature, just before it pounced.
“Mina…” Mark gulped, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “We shouldn...”
Welding her full lips to his and thrusting her tongue into the warm cavern beyond, Mina silenced him with a hungry open-mouthed kiss. She didn’t want to hear what they should or shouldn’t do. She only wanted him and abandoning her teasing ministrations upon his thigh, Mina snatched the pillow from his grasp and cast it aside before she fisted her hand in his hair, the strands of dark chocolate softer than sable. Her free hand rose to cradle his jaw, the roughness of his skin rasping her palm and arousing her all the more as she swept her tongue in long circuits around his mouth and over his teeth, coaxing his own to dance.
