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“I know it’s still there,” he said. “As surely as I know you’re mine.”
I felt the heat of a cold sweat break out over my body.
I knew what he was looking for.
“It’s not there,” I said, trying to twist in his grip, wiggle my body away. I felt trickles of fear down my spine.
“Are you lying to me, sister?” he asked, his voice on my neck, his lips so close that the hairs on the back of my neck all stood up.
“No!” I said hotly.
His fingers slipped past the band of my leggings and then down my hips. I tried desperately to pull away, but I felt his sharp intake of harsh pleasure all through my spine as his fingers traced what he had tattooed and carved into my hip only a few weeks before he had murdered our father.
T.
I remembered when he did it, looking down as he drew the T, the pain a sharp sting on my hip, but with my brother’s firm hands holding me in place I didn’t say anything. Back then I didn’t understand the triumphant look he had given me after it was done.
But I understood it now.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I said.
“It means everything,” Torin said, his voice low and gravelly in my ear. “It means I claimed you a long time ago and I have no intention of ever letting you go.”
“No!” I cried out. “I’m engaged to Andrew. We’re very happy.”
I felt Torin’s hand stretch across my belly, my flesh burning and prickling every place his hands touched. He placed his other hand on my chin and tipped it up as my breath caught in my throat.
“Bullshit, Lele,” he growled.
I hesitated for a second, then rushed in to try to laugh casually. “To tell you the truth, I had forgotten it was there.”
“That’s not the truth, baby girl,” he said, and his lips were so close to my skin again that I had to swallow repeatedly. “The truth is you felt it every day, every time you slid panties over that ass. And that’s what I fucking intended.”
I gasped in outrage, but just then I heard the sound of the garage door opening.
“Let me go,” I cried, “if he sees you like this, he’ll call the parole officer!”
“I’m not letting you go,” Torin said warningly.
I barely managed to at least wiggle around in his arms so that his arm was around my neck and not my waist. He leaned against the counter, his shitkicker boots casually stretched in front of him.
I felt like I was vibrating with the tension and anticipation, and I tried to surreptitiously touch my lips as they stung with the feeling of taking my brother’s cock.
Russ and Drew arrived back, and Russ already seemed half-drunk. He was a car salesman with a firm grip and a big personality. He was introduced to Torin and was immediately jovial and friendly, clapping him on the shoulder and asking him how the big house was.
I cringed but Torin just nodded and ignored him.
I tried to pretend like the atmosphere wasn’t awkward. They didn’t know I had just been sucking my brother’s cock.
I was able to slip out of his arm to go grab my cup of tea from the table and Drew handed Torin a beer.
“Where’s Fiona?” I asked, not seeing Russ’ wife.
“Oh, she’s off somewhere,” Russ said dismissively. “Probably spending all my money, the silly bitch.”
No one said anything. My brother took a drink of his beer, and I saw the strong muscles of his throat move as he swallowed the cool liquid. I forced myself to look away.
“I know you’ve been in jail,” Russ continued laughingly, turning to the two other men. “But even the nice ones are bitches sometimes,” he said, indicating me with his bottle and nudging Torin.
