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At eleven, she was way too young to watch horror movies.

I didn’t say a word to her until that evening. Didn’t invite her to join me at night when I put it on.

And yet, as the first scene played on the TV screen, she found me there. Her feet padded on the wood, announcing her arrival. Wearing her flower-patterned pajamas, she snuggled to my side. Patted my mask once, then sat still throughout the movie. I carried her sleeping form to the bed later that night.

Our connection felt foreign back then.

I get it now.

She was always supposed to come home. To me.

First, to claim her place as my little sister.

Later,much later, as my woman.

I block the memories of her as a kid out of my head. My dick’s gone soft thinking of her as a child, and fuck that.

We’re two grown-ups today. Hunter and prey.

Except the prey is equally as vicious as the hunter.

This is her third round of swiping the blade over her pussy, only this time she opens her legs wider. Moving it closer to the center.

So close that the razor brushes her clit.

She cries out, as if that was an accident. Her pretty lips round in the shape of an O.

She isn’t cutting herself. She’s flirting with the idea. With the pain.

The tempting little thing repeats the movement. My cock is instantly hard, begs for relief at the sound of another one of her pained cries. At the moan that follows.

Shiloh soaks her thighs, grinding her hips. Her bruised nipples harden.

The scene pushes a moan right out of my lungs.

Her blue eyes cut to the bedroom. Wide. Frantic.

“W-who’s there?” Her voice, goddamn it. She isn’t faking it. The longer she’s been pretending, the more real it’s become for her.

I wish I wouldn’t have forgotten my mask. The shield I wear.

The range of emotions that must be crossing my face is embarrassing.

Want. Need. Craving.

Love.

I’m open. Raw. Exposed.

It’s like having a foreign entity tearing me from the inside out. Clawing at my skin.

Loving Shiloh is agony.

Tucking my dick in has never been this frustrating. But I have to be patient. Fucking got to.

Her eyebrows rise when I don’t answer her, head tilting as she searches for the source of the sound from her place in the bathroom.

“Hello?”