Page 5

FIVE

COLBY

Oh, I’ve fucked up.

Not only did I put my stepsister on a tour bus with three people who obviously want to fuck her in some capacity, but I put myself in a position to now watch not one, but two other people pine after her.

I shouldn’t be, God, I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m so jealous that I can’t even see straight.

And now I’m fucking embarrassed because I tried to assert dominance over Hale, and it backfired immediately.

Goddamnit. My dick is stiff in my pants just thinking about taking her, ruining her for another man, fuck, or woman. I’m having to actually fight myself from chasing her down the hall with a semi-erect dick.

My hand has barely moved from adjusting my groin when Jackson opens the bathroom door.

“Oh, hey, dude. All yours. I’d wait if you want a hot shower, though,” he says as he slides past me, his shaggy blonde hair dripping all over his gray t-shirt.

“A cold shower sounds nice, actually,” I tell him as coolly as possible, hoping a cold shower might tone down my burning thoughts.

“Yeah, man, get your head straight before we get there. You’ve been a bit of a dick today. You should really go easy on Hale. She’s softer than us.”

If only he knew. I’m sure she is soft. Every part of her, from her curvy hips to her full thighs. Her perky little breasts that I know my palm would devour.

I grunt in response to Jackson and rush into the bathroom before he can see the growing tent in my pants.

Locking the door behind me, I strip fast, wrenching the water handle on as quickly as possible.

My hand has a mind of its own, though. Before I actually make it into the shower, my palm is flexed around my cock, giving it a rough tug that sends pleasure shooting into my balls.

I can’t fucking stop. I tug myself over and over.

Picturing her tits bouncing as I fuck her into the shower wall right in front of me, tearing through her tight walls while she moans my name.

The most forbidden name she could possibly moan, but I don’t care.

I stroke myself hard, keeping my grip tight to stimulate what it would feel like to be buried deep inside of her. The friction too fucking good.

Opening my palm, I catch my spit and brace the other hand on the wall so I can fuck my own hand.

The pressure builds in my spine until I’m unsure if I can hold back, but I do.

And fuck, a pathetic whimper claws its way from my throat.

My pre-cum beads at the tip, and I swipe it down over my shaft and begin stroking again, everything slightly more sensitive now that I’ve denied my orgasm.

My hips thrust into my strangled grip repeatedly while my mind carries images of her from home, running around the house in her little pajama shorts with nipples poking through her tank top.

The memories of one too many summers and her juicy ass devouring her bikini bottoms while the pool water clung to the soft skin of her lower stomach.

I don’t get the chance to deny this orgasm.

It tears through my lower abdomen, and I grunt involuntarily, picturing myself painting the walls of her tight little frame with waves of my cum.

My breathing is ragged and labored, and the ice-cold shower is pointless now, anyway.

Still, I force my lax body under the spray.

The water slicking over my chest muscles and creating droplets over each tattoo on my arms, clinging to the hair there.

I didn’t need a shower, but I saturate my hair anyway, rinsing my whole body of the awful thoughts that I let take control.

She’s my stepsister, and I shouldn’t be thinking of her this way.

I shouldn’t, and yet, I can’t fucking stop.

I couldn’t stop when she was fourteen and I was sixteen, and our parents decided they were in love after all.

I couldn’t stop thinking of her when boys began to take note of her figure and their attempts to ask her out for a night.

No, I didn’t stop thinking of her as I washed the blood of underclassmen off my knuckles in the middle of the night.

And within all of those thoughts, I never stopped asking myself: If we weren’t bound together by the laws of someone else’s marriage, would she even want someone like me?

Someone capable of cracking noses and jaws alike.

Someone who would disfigure another for saying foul words with her name on their lips?

Fuck. I don’t think I could handle it if the answer was no.

And today, she makes eyes at Sydnee. Sydnee, out of all of us. Not that I should be in the running for her attention, but of course, it would be someone who isn’t tangled as deeply in her life as Jackson and I.

It should be him. He cares for her more deeply than he could admit to me or himself, but it’s in his stupid green eyes. The way he looks at her, the way he’s held her hand and been there for her, the way I couldn’t as a stepbrother. I owe him a lot.

If I had to pick anyone besides myself to own her heart, it would be him. And that pisses me off, no matter how much I wish it didn’t.

Looking in the mirror, I curse myself for going on this self-sabotaging spiral. There is, and has always been, a reason I try to keep her at an arm’s length.

The lead signer of Neon Cherry cannot be caught fucking his stepsister. But I’m just not sure how much I care anymore.