Page 135 of Wanting What's Wrong

On a shaking breath, I tell her a different truth. “I knew my lil’ mint was going to be here alone. Or I thought so…” I narrow my eyes toward the house, the sounds of high-school summer privilege spinning out of control coming from the other side of the patio door, but that’s not my concern at the moment.

“Yeah, I—” She tugs a shoulder to her ear, the crickets serenading us from the darkness. The dark lake on the other side of the back lawn lapping at the shore. “I invited a few friends over.”

“Friends,” I repeat, knowing that’s a fucking lie.

I recognize some of the assholes dancing around inside. My father bought this place a few weeks ago, telling everyone the summer home that’s been in our family since I was five was too big. Too much work. That it was a good investment, but as a good business man, he got an offer he couldn’t turn down.

Another string of bullshit trying to keep up the successful Sander’s image.

There’s a lot my father isn’t telling the family, but he’s lessmy concern. I’ve never known Mina to lie. Ever. Which means if she is, it’s because she’s scared. Something is wrong and I’m here to fix it.

The green in her eyes is a thin rim around dark pupils as she gives me that little sister look. “You don’t think I have friends?”, she snaps drawing her lips into a tight pout. I like her defiance. I love it. I want her to be herself, with me. Forever. Sweet. Bratty. Pissed off. Sleepy. Sad. Happy. Whatever.

I want it all.

She stands on her cute bare feet as I close the distance between us. There’s something different about her tonight. The green of her eyes is more piercing, the curve of her hips more womanly and the scent of her cherry blossom hand lotion is making methrob.

She’s wearing mascara too. That’s new. She’s sure somehow she will have a vision destroying allergic reaction to any sort of eye make-up. She worries about fucking everything and no matter how much I’ve tried to protect her over the years, I haven’t convinced her that no matter how big or small the problem, I’ll put myself between it and her.

My fingertips twitch, wanting to reach out and manhandle her lush tits so ripe and heavy under that white blouse. I want to slide my hand inside her pants and finger bang that slick little pussy, then take her to get a tattoo with an arrow pointing down…

This belongs to Daddy.

She pushed into a triple D cup size this year and she’s in a size twelve or fourteen depending on the brand of clothes and I love every morsel of her. I know all her sizes because I ransack her room whenever I’m home. I steal her panties, sure. That’s standard, baseline stalker stuff. But, I keep track of her clothes, her sizes, the brand of pads she uses when she’s on her period. No fucking tampons for my little girl either. Nothing goes inthat hole. If I can’t have her, some pink plastic feminine product can’t either.

“Yes, I’m sure you have friends.” I lie right back. She hasonefriend, Rosaria, from the stuffy, out east prep school my father and stepmother sent her to four years ago. I keep track of her friend as well. She’s good to Mina, so that was some comfort as the years and distance separated us. I paid off some of the staff at Chats-buryto send me daily reports and pictures. To look out for her and report any bullshit going on. They did good, but I’m done hovering in the background. “But, these fucks inside the house? They’re not your friends.”

I sneer as her shoulders droop. Her sadness twists like a serpent inside me. I have to keep myself from dragging her out of here and behind the closest bush to make her forget about whatever this bullshit inside the house is.

I bite into my cheek, watching her eyes trail up and down the front of my suit, catching for a second on the front of my slacks as a little surprised chirp slips from her pink, plump lips.

If she knew what I was thinking right now…

I don’t miss the round points of her nipples doing battle with the lace-trimmed white blouse tucked into her baggy jeans. I know it’s one of her creations as well. It’s got her signature style and I want to tear it from her pale flesh, but instead, I press myself into her, sweeping my arms around her back, pulling her as close as I dare.

“You give the best hugs,” she mutters against my chest as I lock her softness against me in the only contact I’ve allowed myself withanywoman. I’ve never wanted anyone else. No one would believe me. I’ve had so much ass thrown at me over the years, but never have I been tempted. Never have I considered touching anyone else.

How could I? The thought of my fingers against another pussy then, someday, I guess I always knew there would be a someday, having those same fingers touch my Mina?

Fuck no. I’d rather die.

Same goes for my lips, tongue and of course, my dick.

But, with her against me, my cock is forged steel. My balls ten pound lead weights, painful and tight ready to deliver everything I’ve got.

I close my eyes. Hugging my stepsister is enough to make me cum in my pants.

So, I do.

I knew I would. I gave up trying to fight it. I justcomeprepared now. Two sets of boxers do the trick as I battle back my roar and think of how many sperm have been wasted outside of her body over the years because of her.

Trillions.Zillions.

With my composure ready to snap, I ease a step back, missing the softness of her tits against my chest, the resting of my pulsing cock against her hip.

Are you wet?I choke back the question, her scent answering for me.

“You’re breaking some laws in there,” I state, watching the furrow of her brow as I allow myself a lingering glance at the crease of her cleavage, my balls still fucking on fire from my silent climax. “You okay?”

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