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“Mine,” he said. “Oh god, mine.”
And I knew he meant me.
His tongue in my mouth was making my cunt wet.
I felt him reach down to his pants and unzip, and he pulled down my panties, not even bothering to get them all the way off in his haste.
His breath was heavy, whirling the curls on either side of my face, tickling the strands on my neck.
Then his big cock was at the entrance to my cunt. He spread my thighs apart with his knee, forcing his body between my legs, and for a moment my cunt seemed to tremble with expectation, and I felt my back curving off the bed, my body opening for him. Then he plunged as deep as he could inside me and I gasped with the force of his thrust.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he said.
I felt the sweat running down my breasts and he bent over and licked each bead of sweat up, his deep guttural sounds making me throw my head back in the pillow with the exquisite pressure growing in me.
“I could never let anyone else have you,” Torin said. “You’ve always been mine, baby sister.”
I made a raw inarticulate noise in my throat, but he wanted to hear me.
“Who owns you?” he demanded, his tongue running over my breasts, dipping between them, greedy for my sweat, my heat, my skin. “Who do you belong to?”
I felt his territorial hands on me, and I knew it was wrong and he was wrong. Torin was permanently twisted. Our childhood had warped him, twisted him inside. He would never be like other people. He could sit in therapy every day for the rest of his life and he would still be a dark, violent, ruthless killer. And he would probably kill again, kill without remorse or pity anyone he thought was a danger to me. If I was a good person, I would let them lock him up again, keep the rest of the world safe from him. But I looked down at his dark hair, sharply visible in the moonlight against the swells of my naked breasts and I felt my belly and core clench with need.
He was warped because of me. I was only light because he was dark. I could sit here surrounded by cupcakes because of him. Torin had protected me for our entire childhood, and borne everything meant to break me. And he had killed the person who could have twisted me more.
I wasn’t totally healthy. I was a little twisted, too. But the reason there was still a lightness and a brightness inside me was because he had absorbed all the darkness.
I knew then that as long as I lived I would be his.
“I’m yours, brother,” I breathed, letting go of the remnants of my propriety and my morality.
And they didn’t even hurt when they left me. I felt only lightness and an urgent need for him to fill me.
And he put one hand on my bedpost and fucked me, fucked me as deep and hard and roughly as he could. Then he fucked me again, pinning my arms above my head, his rough voice growling in my ear.
I love you
I love you
Sister, you’re mine
I love you
Give it to me, Lele
Give me everything
And I opened my legs and wrapped them around him, even though he was a psycho, and even though it was wrong.
Chapter Sixteen
The day of Torin’s release was long and anxious. I was most worried about avoiding a confrontation between Torin and Drew. My brother was so unhinged that if Drew even looked at me sideways I was afraid he’d kill him, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I had parked my truck a few streets over and had told my brother to meet me there after supper when he had finished the paperwork.
Drew was supposed to be playing tennis with his friends, but of course this was the one day he chose to come home early, and I was in such deep concentration making sure I had all my makeup and lotion that I didn’t even hear him come up behind me.
“What are you doing?” Drew snapped.
I froze, the toiletries clattering on the sink.
