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And he grabbed the side of the table and the counter behind us and sunk his cock into me.
I moaned at the pleasure, the contact, the sharp sore pleasure of my brother’s cock in my cunt, long liquid strokes inside me.
There was something fucking wrong with me. But I barely cared this time. I just wanted to come.
I reached out for Torin, my hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the thick bands of muscle there, and I could feel my orgasm coiling, twisting hard in my core, my thighs beginning to shake and tremble.
I opened my mouth to groan my release in his ear, and he turned his head, his beard scratchy on my cheek.
“Not yet, Lele,” he said.
“What?” I choked out. “I’m going to come! I can’t stop myself!”
“You better stop yourself,” my brother warned. “I want to fuck you some more. Don’t come until I tell you to.”
Of all the fucking controlling assholes!
I pressed my lips together, trying desperately to hold off my orgasm as Torin gripped the side of the table and the counter behind us and pounded into me, his dick splitting me open, pushing on my sore muscles and pussy.
The soreness was such a pleasurable pain, and I moaned wantonly, my chest flushing as the pressured twisted and turned inside me.
And I was rushing over the edge, about to break on my brother’s cock, and he reached his big hand down and smacked my already-sore ass.
“I said not yet, sister.”
I yowled in pain, my ass cheek stinging painfully. My hips raised from the table as he slammed into me, searing my whole body with each thrust as he sunk his cock deep inside me.
And still my orgasm coiled and hovered. I squeezed my eyes tightly together, trying to stop myself from coming, and I felt him pause in me, his breathing heavy and ragged in my ear.
“What did I tell you, Laoise?” he growled, and his hand slapped my other ass cheek.
“Oh, you’re such an asshole,” I mewled angrily.
“Not yet,” was all he said, and I moaned in pain as my orgasm clawed at me, demanding release, the pressure tearing at my skin.
“Please, Torin,” I begged in his ear, as he began again, his strokes slower and sure, his hands moving to my hips, yanking them up to meet his thrusts.
The feeling of my brother’s big hands on me sent my pleasure spiraling further, and my head fell back on the table.
“Please, Torin,” I begged again, feeling my thick dark hair wet and sticky on my neck. “Please make me come, brother.”
And I felt his hands tighten on my hips, his grip so tight I knew I would have bruises.
He turned his head so that his mouth was on my neck, his teeth on the sensitive skin of my throat.
“I love to hear you beg,” he growled. “Come sister,” and I cried out in relief, but my asshole brother meant at that exact second, his thrusts suddenly wild and feral in me, his teeth sinking into my neck, and he raised a hand and gave my cunt a short, sharp slap this time.
“Come for me,” he growled again, and I did, my clit rubbed against my brother’s savage skin, the pressure finally bursting in hot, hard relief, my whole body flooded with the intense, searing pleasure of my brother’s cock and I dug my nails into his skin to ride it.
His mouth was relentlessly claiming me, and he came inside me, my body jolted and mastered under his hard, unrelenting strokes, my own cries only louder as I felt him release.
“You’re coming home with me,” he said.
“Yes,” I breathed and, even though I knew perfectly goddamn well who he was and what he had done, I felt relief in knowing that he was going to take me away with him whether I said yes or not.
And I got up and served coffee and pastries to costumers on the last day of my bakery.
I thought I would be sadder, more melancholy, but I just felt relieved.
