Forbidden Pt. 03

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As stated in part 1 she never did though. She’d just step out of his personal space, leaving him wanting, wondering what the fuck she was thinking.

~ ~ ~

“Why don’t you have a tv? Don’t you get bored?” Heather muttered from her end of the couch late one evening, looking up from her phone to stare at him.

Making a show of closing his book, setting it on the coffee table, Colton turned his body to face her, his arm slung over the back of the couch. “No. I’d rather read,” he told her honestly.

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Heather sighed. “You’re such a weirdo, what’s so entertaining about all those,” she whined, gesturing at his wall of books, “they’re not even stories, just a collection of knowledge.”

Colton shrugged, amused by her frustration, “I tried one of your stories once,” he teased.

“Oh? Which one?” she asked curiously, setting down her phone, curling her legs up beneath her, pleased by his willingness to engage with her over the week.

Grinning widely, he waited for her to relax so he could watch her tense back up, “I found it under your pillow,” he teased, pleased when her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “Very educational,” he joked, “I can definitely understand how those stories keep your attention.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, Heather desperately fought off her mortification. “Those stories are private,” she muttered.

Colton’s baritone laugh filled the room, “nah Sunshine, the one I read had sold over a million copies, I looked it up, nothing private about that.”

Heather grabbed the pillow behind her and threw it at him, “quit teasing me. I was young, I wanted to learn and it’s not like I could talk to you about that,” she tried to defend herself, still horrified he’d read one of her erotic highland romance novels.

Colton tossed the pillow back at her, “you’re right, I would have run if you’d ever broached that topic with me,” he told her honestly, taken aback when her face fell with disappointment. “What?” he asked, “what’s wrong?”

Sighing, Heather played with the frayed edges of the pillow between her fingers. “Nothing, I just- I really needed you back then. Highschool was hard and frustrating, and boys were so confusing and having you to lean on would have…” she sighed, “nevermind.”

“Having me to lean on would have what?” Colton prompted, leaning over to clasp her fingers in his, forcing her to meet his gaze, wanting to silently communicate that he was done shutting her out. Although it made him uncomfortable, if she needed to get something off her chest, he would listen.

Heather gnawed on her plump lower lip, drawing his gaze to her mouth, “I just fell for a lot of stupid lines and I just wonder sometimes if things would have been different if…” she trailed off, her implied meaning hanging heavy between them.

Blood running cold, Colton tightened his hold on her marginally, “what do you mean you fell for stupid lines,” he murmured, all of his joking gone, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Waving her other hand dismissively, Heather shook her head, “oh you know, the typical. Guys that told me they loved me just so that I’d let them touch me,” the sharp discomfort coming from her hand silenced her, Colton’s fingers tightening reflexively on her words, crushing hers.

“Touch you, or fuck you?” Colton clarified, his rage boiling just under his surface, his skin feeling too tight. Fury and possessiveness swirling in his gut as every protective warning bell he possessed fired off in his brain.

Shame shrouded her features as she recoiled at his harsh tone, pulling her hand from his grip. teasing him was one thing, getting him angry was another. She had no desire to have his fury directed at her, “thought you didn’t want to talk about sex with me,” she muttered defensively.

Colton glared at her, of course he didn’t want to talk about sex with his baby sister. Listening to her tell him about an innocent kiss years ago had been torture, listening to her talk about someone else pleasuring her was going to kill him. But he had to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of her being taken advantage of.

“You’re an adult now,” he supplied, as if it was the only explanation necessary, “did any of them…” he trailed off, unable to even voice the repulsive thought in his head.

“No, it was always consensual, I just-” Heather sighed in defeat, “I just feel like an ignoramus when it comes to sex,” she told him bluntly. If she’d had even a clue how to seduce, she would have thrown herself at him long ago, propriety be damned, and hoped for the best. muş escort bayan Instead, she’d spent the last seven years dating his look alikes in the hopes even one of them would make her feel as wonderful emotionally as her brother once had. She sighed, trying to push the memories and desires aside. They’d get her nowhere.

Hell, she’d straddled and kissed him already and he’d rejected her advances, blowing off the small peck as an ‘accident’. She’d tried to kiss him again, multiple times this week, but she’d always chicken out, worried she’d succeed in doing nothing more than further damage their strained relationship. She sighed, conceding he’d done exactly what he should have by pushing her away. Colton returning her taboo feelings was nothing but wishful, fanciful thinking on her part. It was about time she gave up.

Planting his hand on his knee, the other still extended over the couch, Colton stared at her, “why? I find it hard to believe you’re bad at it, sex is instinctual, pretty hard to fuck that up,” he told her seriously, his heart racing as he waited for her response.

She glanced away from him shyly, “define bad? Like, is it usually the girl’s fault if it’s disappointing? Maybe that’s my problem? I never go with my instinct.” If she did, she’d be in his lap right now, begging him to respond to her desire with his mouth on hers. “Maybe I just overthink it?” she murmured, not sure why she was so embarrassed.

She wanted him to see her a sexual being didn’t she? The way she saw him? She blushed deeply; she’d never spoken to anyone about how disappointing her love life was. The girls she associated with would never discuss such a private topic, especially since they all outwardly pretended they were saving it for marriage. She always felt so frustrated. The women in her novels seemed to cum the instant their men touched them. So what the hell was her problem then?

Colton just stared at her, his nostrils flaring, his face unreadable.

“Disappointing how?” he forced the words past grit teeth, not wanting to think about the faceless men he pictured touching her in his mind.

“I just always feel…awkward. I never know what to do with my hands, like I don’t know what to do with…myself…during,” she shrugged, “I don’t really know what I’m trying to say. It just doesn’t really… feel good? They try, I think, but, I’ve never had an orgasm with a guy, and I’m starting to think it’s my fault. I mean they can’t all be bad,” she paused, sucking in her bottom lip, remembering the look of ecstasy the girl in the garden had worn years ago while Colton pleasured her, the jolt of jealousy all too familiar.

“I’m the common denominator, aren’t I?” she confessed awkwardly, still upset at how severely she’d been sheltered and pressured to be perfect growing up. Like if she didn’t have instructions, she just spent all her time wondering if she was doing something wrong.

Sure, she could bring herself to orgasm when she was alone, but she could never relax enough when someone else touched her. Too nervous and unsure if they truly cared for her or not, if they were going to ghost her the next day, if she were making a mistake, if she were pretty enough, if she were pleasing enough. If she’d feel like garbage the next day when her father confronted her for being out all night, tarnishing his good name by proxy.

“What?” Colton breathed, his chest constricting, unwilling to believe that whatever lucky bastard she’d permitted to touch her hadn’t worshiped her body the way he damn well should have. “Why? Why would you allow that?” he demanded, angry for her.

“Allow what?”

“Allow them to touch you if they’re shitty lovers,” he snapped.

Arching a brow at the passion in his voice, Heather shrugged, “just got used to faking it I guess, it’s easier that way. They’d get annoyed when I couldn’t cum after a few minutes.”

“A few min-” he repeated in shock. Fire in his eyes, Colton met her gaze, his next words burning her, “don’t you ever let another man touch you that’s not willing to lick your cunt until you scream and cum for him. Your pleasure before his. Always.”

Heather’s eyes flared wide, her panties so wet from his words she worried he’d smell it, “there aren’t many men who will do that,” she whispered.

“Then save yourself for someone who will,” he instructed as though it were the simplest concept in the world.

“Do you do that? For your girlfriends?” Heather whispered, intensely curious and deeply jealous.

Colton felt a shudder run down his spine, muş escort not sure how to feel about the curious look in her eyes. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he stated softly, side stepping her question. He reached for his book again, wanting desperately to be done with this conversation, his cock so hard it hurt.

He was not about to tell his little sister what he was like in bed. She didn’t need to know about his perverse nature or his dominant tendencies. He didn’t want her looking at him like he was some kind of monster. He scowled, the last thing he needed was Heather drawing parallels between he and his father. He might fantasize about pinning her, controlling her with a firm hand on her throat, forcing her to take her pleasure over and over, but he would never hurt her the way father did. Never.

Heather turned back to her phone disappointedly, assuming by how distinctly he’d blocked her out that the conversation was over now. Sighing regretfully, wondering if she’d crossed a line she shouldn’t have, she finished her plant order online, trying to ignore the dampness between her legs. She was going to surprise him tomorrow, to thank him for letting her stay with him.

~ ~ ~

Colton lay on his back, his hands laced behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. It was the middle of the goddamn night and he couldn’t sleep. His conversation with Heather earlier that evening just kept running through his head. A crease formed between his brows as he thought of her awkward confession.

She’d really never cum for a man? The thought both distressed and excited him. He liked the idea of her still having some kind of first, something he could fantasize about doing for her…taking from her. Closing his eyes, he thought for a moment about what he’d like to do to her if he had the opportunity. He licked his lips, biting down on the lower of the two for a moment, the slight pain beginning to excite him.

He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Colton wanted to tie her up, she’d said she worried about what to do with her hands, he’d eliminate the problem for her. He groaned quietly, picturing her breasts bound, her wrists attached to the binding, her hands clasped in a closed fisted prayer between the beautiful, creamy globes.

Smirking, he licked his lips again, wanting to feel the pebbles of her areolas on his lips. He wanted to nip at her nipples and make her scream for him, beg for him to fill her cunt…and he would, with his fingers, his tongue, his cock….a plethora of vibrating toys. He’d stuff her until she cried her pleasure, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to breath through the body tremors.

He chuckled at the thought.

He imagined her eyes filling with curiosity as he laid them out for her, letting her choose which toy she’d like him to pleasure her with first. Reaching under the covers at his waist, he gripped his cock with one hand, squeezing gently as he wondered what it be like to hear her beg for it, for him.

The thought made his hips jerk, driving his cock through his fist. “Mmm,” he groaned, wishing he had the balls to do what he was imagining.

Would she beg?

He wasn’t sure. Heather was a proud woman, but an insure one. He had no doubt if he’d ever been permitted to put his hands on her he’d bring her pleasure, but getting her to admit she liked it, let alone ask for it? That might be a challenge.

He frowned, releasing his cock, distressed by just how excited forcing her to describe how much she wanted him made him. Heather wasn’t a deviant. She wouldn’t want to be treated like the women he slept with. No. If hell somehow froze over and he was able to touch her, he’d be gentle. Worship her. Let her know she was the most precious thing he’d ever caressed.

Well…for the most part. When she got too close, it took conscious restraint not to fist his hand in her hair and hold her still so he could kiss her, punish her for the unconscious teasing…or conscious? No. He refused to go there. He’d drive himself insane with ‘what ifs’ if he did.

Instead, he turned his thoughts back to being gentle with her. That lasted all of thirty seconds before he conceded that he liked the idea of pinning her too much to realistically think he wouldn’t dominate her at least a little. Wanting control and power was just in his nature.

He scowled, the realization making him think of his father, an unfortunate reminder of just where he’d inherited that trait from. He growled in frustration as he aggressively fluffed the pillow under his escort muş head, rolling onto his side, his erection deflating the longer he focused on his father and not the fucking sun nymph sleeping on his couch.

~ ~ ~

In the other room, Heather bit down on her knuckle, her head craned back, the muscles in her neck straining as her other hand moved frantically beneath her blanket. Her eyes squeezed tight, she panted, remembering the fury swirling in Colton’s dark hazel eyes as he told her firmly to not settle for anything less than devotion in bed.

Her eyes had immediately fallen to his mouth, wondering what it’d be like to be kissed by him…all over. Would he be tender? Kind and gentle? Somehow, she couldn’t reconcile that with the man she knew. Colton would be passionate and aggressive, demanding, wild. Wouldn’t he? If there was anywhere he’d set aside the calm stoic mask, it’d be in bed wouldn’t it? She bit down harder, muffling her moan as she pictured the way he’d crushed her fingers between his, the slight pain exciting her.

She’d always enjoyed watching him unravel, the way his careful control would slip, and he’d attack. Watching him fight in tournaments had been thrilling for Heather, the way he’d glance at her in the audience and wink before turning his attention on his opponent, his gi flowing with his movements. It was always over in seconds, but it didn’t matter. Watching how easily he manipulated other bodies made her fantasize about what it’d be like to be in hands, at his mercy. To know he could hurt her if he wanted but chose to caress her instead.

I should just go crawl into his bed, ask him to hold me.

The wicked intrusive thought made her eyes widen in surprise. She didn’t dare. What excuse would she give? A nightmare? She had run to his bed many a time when she was younger, seeking the comfort of his strong arms around her when she was upset or scared. This was different though; she wasn’t any of those things. She was horny and lonely and feeling neglected.

Inserting a finger into her pussy, Heather lamented the fact she’d left her dildo behind when she’d fled. She’d give almost anything to have something thicker inside her right now. She was about to wiggle another finger in when the door to Colton’s bedroom creaked open.

Forcing herself still, her finger in her pussy, she flattened her hand over her mouth, desperately hoping the shadows of the room would keep him from being able to tell that she was awake, or more importantly, what she’d been doing. She listened as he padded his way quietly into the washroom. When the door shut, she yanked her hand from her panties, closing her eyes in relief as she listened to him relieve himself.

When he disappeared back into his bedroom, Heather sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs, staring into the dark ahead of her, his sudden appearance jarring her out of her fantasy and back into reality. The bleakness of her desire settled in her gut like a led stone. He’d never touch her.

I’m his sister. His SISTER.

She reminded herself over and over again, trying desperately to banish her feelings for him; to finally embrace the heartbreak that had hovered like a dark shadow since the day she’d realized what she wanted from him was forbidden.

~ ~ ~

Glancing up at the sunny afternoon sky with a small smile, Heather opened the trunk of her brother’s SUV, pulling out the annuals she’d picked up at the garden center that morning after dropping him off at work. Returning to the front seat, she grabbed Colton’s ball cap off the dash and tugged on a pair of gardening gloves, snagging the bag of tools she’d bought before carrying the plants into his backyard. Sinking down into the grass beside his empty flower bed that ran the length of his chain link fence, Heather reached for her trowel.

She began digging, making a space for the first Hosta she’d bought.

“Bonjour,” an elderly voice called, causing Heather to lift her head, an old woman in her mid sixties smiled down at her from the other side of the fence.

“Oh, hello, you must be Colt’s neighbour?” Heather asked, pulling off a glove as she stood so she could shake the woman’s hand.

“Biensur, yes, I’m Marisol and you are?” the woman inquired, her eyes twinkling from beneath her wide brimmed sunhat.

Heather grinned at the woman’s thick accent, “Heather, c’est ma plaisir de vous rencontrer,” she replied, pleased the summer she’d spent in France was finally paying off.

“Oh, tu parles Français?” Marisol inquired, beaming at the beautiful young woman across from her.

“Only a little,” Heather replied honestly.

Nodding, smile firmly in place, Marisol continued, “I’m so glad to meet you as well, it’s about time that boy found himself a girl, he’s lived here a year and not once have I seen him bring anyone around.”

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