Page 50 of Twist Me

“I…am going to…”

Dropping my head down to latch onto her clit, I swirled my tongue on the sensitive, fun button once, twice, three times… “One more baby girl. You took me so well I know you can handle this.”

Without waiting for a response and feeling her practically vibrate, I thrust a third finger inside her. Her wanton scream was inescapable, my name echoing off the walls as she poured her delicious come all down my chin and soaked my shirt.

“Good girl,” I praised, sitting her down.

Quickly, I adjusted her clothes and stood, facing the doorway. She turned to me with a question in her wild eyes, but at that second, my sister smashed open the door adjoining the hallway and looked at us suspiciously.

“What the fuck was that? I heard a scream,” she accused.

Zee paled next to me, and I simply grinned with a shrug.

“Dunno, Sis. Big spider. Ezello here is a screamer.”

My sister eyed my soaked shirt and Ezello’s ruffled appearance, tousled hair, and red marks lining her tan body in the shape of my mouth and hands.

Narrowing her eyes at me, she said, “Lith…don’t mess with me, or I’ll ship you off out of my house back to your partner.”

That got a growl from me, but talking about Quinn usually did. Leave it to my lovely sister to ruin my good mood.

“Sorry, Taliah…we uh…Goliath found it…won’t happen again.”

I snorted at the same time as Tal did.

“Nope, won’t happen again,” I agreed, my lie coming off my tongue as smooth as butter.

“We are going out anyway.”

My Little Lamb looked at me. “We are?”

“Yes, after I have a quick chat with my wonderful, amazing big sister.”

Taliah was already looking at me, full of suspicion, as Ezello walked into the other room.

“What’s up, semi-knowledgeable, less annoying little bro?”

I ignored that and continued my mission at hand.

“How is Ezello doing?”

“She is healing well, lover boy. Don’t worry.”

I hesitated, not knowing how exactly to say this.

“How’s her…”

Taliah waited as patiently as she could until I finally settled with a gesture to my head.

“Her mental status?” she offered. I nodded sheepishly.

“She is definitely experiencing signs of PTSD. The other day in the kitchen, I saw her having issues with some milk.”

Milk? How does someone have issues with milk?

My face must have asked the question my dumbass mouth couldn’t because Taliah said, “She dropped the milk when she saw me coming into the room, and she was sobbing on the floor trying to put the glass pieces back together.”

I stared stupidly at her, trying to understand what problems fucking milk could cause for her.