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He didn’t get it.
I went to the bathroom, frowning at how crappy the little theater was. The lights were flickering on and off and I washed my hands, reflecting angrily that if my brother was going to push the rules of his halfway house, he should have the basic human decency to get a cellphone so he could tell me if he was in jail or not.
When I walked out of the bathroom, suddenly I felt a hard hand clamp down over my mouth and someone was dragging me down one of the dark hallways.
I struggled but I knew those hands. I’d know them anywhere.
I shook my head wildly, and I heard my brother’s voice, low and gravelly in my ear. “Don’t scream, Laoise.”
And his mouth was on my neck, his lips on my throat as he carried me down the hallway into the shadows.
“What are you doing here, Torin?” I hissed irritably.
“Looking for you,” he said, pressing me on my belly against the wall, his mouth opening to suck on the sensitive skin of my throat.
I gritted my teeth together, hating what the feel of him behind me did to me.
“Are you stalking me?” I asked, a split-second before I remembered that my brother had no shame when it came to me. He was never self-conscious about looking for me, hunting me, chasing me, demanding that I stay next to him all the time.
He only chuckled a bit against my neck. “I was looking for my sister,” he said. I shivered as his big hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against him so I could feel the hard length of his cock on my back.
He flipped me around to face him, his big body caging me so I couldn’t go anywhere.
“Did you make it back in time last night?” I asked, feeling my breath come so fast that I was almost light-headed.
“What do you mean?” Torin asked, his rough fingers slipping under the bottom of my T-shirt, running teasingly along the edge of my skirt band.
“You said you might not make it back,” I hissed in agony. I couldn’t even see around Torin’s broad shoulders.
“Oh, that,” he shrugged, as I felt heat rush to my belly. “I made it back just in time.”
And my nerves were screaming at his casual attitude when I had been so worried.
I shoved at him. “Don’t scare me like that again,” I said.
“Oh, were you worried about your brother?” he asked, and he grabbed the soft length of my skirt up, twisting it in his hands.
“No, Torin! I don’t want to fuck in the hallway,” I protested, and I squeaked in distress as I heard his zipper.
He stopped and his fingers crept up my thigh, moving higher and higher, and I wriggled wildly as I realized what he was after.
When his fingers brushed the letter he had carved into my skin, I shivered, the erotic flush of his assured possession.
“Whose letter is this?” he asked, and his legs were on both side of me, trapping me, pinning me in, but the worst thing was that I was afraid I didn’t need those legs there, that I’d be underneath him, my body curving into his, whether he forced me or not.
“That doesn’t mean you can just touch me whenever you want,” I retorted, my breath coming in short pants.
Torin cocked his head arrogantly at me.
“Yes, it does.”
His hand was at the band of my panties now, and I felt them ripped down my legs.
“Besides, Lele,” he said, his mouth on my throat, my jawline, the hollow behind my ear, my lips. “You want it.”
“I don’t,” I protested.
My brother’s fingers moved slowly down to my cunt, and I gulped as I felt the calloused tips brush against my sensitive pussy lips.
