Claiming my sweet sister as mine
of
Hazel Grace
genre
incest
Having my sister pinned underneath me was giving me all sorts of inappropriate ideas, like how nice it would be if she was wearing less, or nothing at all, and how nice it would be to be able to taste her creamy skin again, or how soft and pristine her body was, just a perfect canvas for me to paint with my teeth, marking her as mine, and lastly, how tight her pussy would be when I finally pushed my cock inside her and fucked her until we both passed out from the exertion.
Because if the night of my last birthday, when I pretended to be too drunk to realize I was kissing her and not my ex, the night she had finally gathered enough courage to jerk me off had made her go this cold on me afterwards, fucking her on our kitchen floor was the worst idea possible. My sweet, soft, malleable sister might let me have my way with her body now, if I pressed her, but I was sure she was going to bolt right after.
Maybe she wanted what I wanted, given what she’d done to me that night, but would she be able to commit to it, or would I have to chase after her? I wanted her to give into me out of her own accord and to prove to me that she could handle my love for her, as a man.
“You are, though, you’re my everything,” she said, pulling me in closer, bringing my hips flush with hers.
Her slender hands slid around my neck, over my collar, and my breath caught in my throat.
Was she…
“I like your hair like this,” she said, looping her fingers through the locks at the base of my head.
No, she was still circling the elephant in the room.
I had to give her time.
I promised myself that I would be patient and gentle with her.
She deserved gentle, after the childhood we had. Yes, my sister was strong, but she was also still so young and vulnerable, unlike me.
Her head tilted to the side, her blue eyes flicking from mine to my lips and back.
I couldn’t help but do the same.
Her lips were bowed and full and glistening from where she’d just wet them.
And her eyes.
Shit.
She had probably heard it a dozen times from sleazy guys trying to get into her panties that she had pretty eyes, but the triteness of the observation didn’t make it any less true - lapis blue, matching the jewel on the necklace I’d bought her last Christmas.
I’d been subtly marking my territory, letting other guys know my sister wasn’t on the market - a necklace here, a ring there, I’d let her borrow my shirts, I’d come pick her up from work, I’d even pretend to be her lover, just to get the more persistent ones off her ass.
As far as I still knew, it had worked, my sister only having had one boyfriend in her life. The bastard had broken her heart when she found out he had slept with her best friend, but that was what dating stupid boys got one.
I wasn’t like that, not anymore. I was 25 now, and I had my head screwed on right. Teenage posturing and dicking around was behind me. I was ready to really provide for her now. It was why I had gone back to that hell hole our parents had called home and I brought her to my apartment, where she could finally be safe and loved.
“I didn’t think there were guys like you. I mean, I convinced myself there weren’t.”
I knew I shouldn’t ask.
I knew I was going to regret asking.
“So what am I like?”
“Like home,” she said, and I instantly knew what she meant.
Not the home we had, no, she didn’t meant that. Instead, what she meant, was the same feeling of being in the right place, with the right person by my side, that helped me go through the daily grind at work, because I wanted to be a better man for her.
Knowing that this was in her heart broke my resolve.
“Don’t move,” I breathed and I captured her bottom lip only long enough to stop the beginnings of a protest.
The kiss was short, tentative, and her eyes were still wide open.
I had meant it as no more than a hint of something.
I let her pull back an inch, hands clutching my shoulders and her breath puffing against my mouth.
She smelled and tasted like strawberry. She must have put on some lip balm earlier.
“Daniel,” she panted. “We can’t, we’re…”
“I love you, sis. Don’t fight this.”
***
So that was a taste of my first attempt at writing something sweet and wholesome for once. If you liked it and want the whole story, click here:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1113345
Because if the night of my last birthday, when I pretended to be too drunk to realize I was kissing her and not my ex, the night she had finally gathered enough courage to jerk me off had made her go this cold on me afterwards, fucking her on our kitchen floor was the worst idea possible. My sweet, soft, malleable sister might let me have my way with her body now, if I pressed her, but I was sure she was going to bolt right after.
Maybe she wanted what I wanted, given what she’d done to me that night, but would she be able to commit to it, or would I have to chase after her? I wanted her to give into me out of her own accord and to prove to me that she could handle my love for her, as a man.
“You are, though, you’re my everything,” she said, pulling me in closer, bringing my hips flush with hers.
Her slender hands slid around my neck, over my collar, and my breath caught in my throat.
Was she…
“I like your hair like this,” she said, looping her fingers through the locks at the base of my head.
No, she was still circling the elephant in the room.
I had to give her time.
I promised myself that I would be patient and gentle with her.
She deserved gentle, after the childhood we had. Yes, my sister was strong, but she was also still so young and vulnerable, unlike me.
Her head tilted to the side, her blue eyes flicking from mine to my lips and back.
I couldn’t help but do the same.
Her lips were bowed and full and glistening from where she’d just wet them.
And her eyes.
Shit.
She had probably heard it a dozen times from sleazy guys trying to get into her panties that she had pretty eyes, but the triteness of the observation didn’t make it any less true - lapis blue, matching the jewel on the necklace I’d bought her last Christmas.
I’d been subtly marking my territory, letting other guys know my sister wasn’t on the market - a necklace here, a ring there, I’d let her borrow my shirts, I’d come pick her up from work, I’d even pretend to be her lover, just to get the more persistent ones off her ass.
As far as I still knew, it had worked, my sister only having had one boyfriend in her life. The bastard had broken her heart when she found out he had slept with her best friend, but that was what dating stupid boys got one.
I wasn’t like that, not anymore. I was 25 now, and I had my head screwed on right. Teenage posturing and dicking around was behind me. I was ready to really provide for her now. It was why I had gone back to that hell hole our parents had called home and I brought her to my apartment, where she could finally be safe and loved.
“I didn’t think there were guys like you. I mean, I convinced myself there weren’t.”
I knew I shouldn’t ask.
I knew I was going to regret asking.
“So what am I like?”
“Like home,” she said, and I instantly knew what she meant.
Not the home we had, no, she didn’t meant that. Instead, what she meant, was the same feeling of being in the right place, with the right person by my side, that helped me go through the daily grind at work, because I wanted to be a better man for her.
Knowing that this was in her heart broke my resolve.
“Don’t move,” I breathed and I captured her bottom lip only long enough to stop the beginnings of a protest.
The kiss was short, tentative, and her eyes were still wide open.
I had meant it as no more than a hint of something.
I let her pull back an inch, hands clutching my shoulders and her breath puffing against my mouth.
She smelled and tasted like strawberry. She must have put on some lip balm earlier.
“Daniel,” she panted. “We can’t, we’re…”
“I love you, sis. Don’t fight this.”
***
So that was a taste of my first attempt at writing something sweet and wholesome for once. If you liked it and want the whole story, click here:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1113345
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