Hate You Not

“You should go to sleep,” I tell her. “Did one of them wake up?” I open my laptop again and log in so I’ve got somewhere to put my eyes.

“Just me. I nodded off and came to check on you.”

“I’m okay.”

Silence spreads itself between us. It feels thick and heavy.

“Hope you get some sleep now,” I say, tapping lightly at the keys.

“You too.” Her voice is silken.

I let her turn around and head through the living room. I let her get almost all the way down the hall before I go after her.

I stop in the open space between the hall and living room, my heart pounding.

I can hear her breathing, although I can’t see her for the hall wall.

“You better lock that door,” I murmur.

I hear something that could be a laugh. Then her soft voice says, “Try it.”

Don’t do that. You can’t do that. There are reasons why you can’t.

When I move into her room, it’s pitch black dark. I feel like a felon as I come to stand beside the bed.

That’s when the heating system clicks on. The subtle current moving from a nearby vent tosses her curtains, casting moonlight over the bed. I can see her face—cool, tinted pearly blue. Her smug, small smile that says: You wanted it. You wanted it so much you followed me into my room in the middle of the night.

“June.” My voice trembles on her name.

She blinks, her thick eyelashes casting pointy shadows over her smooth, creamy cheeks. “Yes, Burke?”

I feel my pulse drum just below my throat. I grit my teeth until it hurts and put my hand over my hard cock. And I whisper, “You win.”

“We were playing a game?” Silky smooth. If I could wrap her voice around my cock, it would explode, and cum would drip between my fingers like one of her ice pops on a summer day.

You win, I say again. In my mind, the words are loud and firm. And then I drop my mental voice down to a whisper. I would have you if you weren’t her sister. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t care how much I damage you.

Logical and restrained. I’m still on the shore.

With my real voice, I say, “Pull the covers down.”

She does that.

I climb on the bed. I wade into the water.

“If you want my tongue inside you, pull your panties down.”

She pushes them down to her thighs. Soft thighs. In the cool moonlight, they look thick and round and feel like satin. I trail my tongue over her warm skin, and she spreads her legs a little wider for me.

I lean down, hovering my mouth over her curls and breathing warmly on her. Then I spread her gently with my fingers. “Oh, June.” I slip the tip of my tongue into her heat. Slick and tangy, fat and swollen, and her little bud is rising slightly from between her folds. I tongue it—just one lick—and swallow back a groan as she comes off the bed and yanks at my hair.

“Oh God.” That’s all she says, and I find I’m surprised. No wanton words or screams or grunted curses. Just this soft chant as her fingers tighten in my hair and I lap at her. Then I lift my mouth away and work my tongue into her. She yelps, and I clamp a palm over her mouth.

“Cover your face,” I tell her.

She puts a pillow over her face, and I push my tongue back into her cunt. June thrusts herself against my face.

“Damn. Oh shit.”

I know you wanna come. Her knees are pressed around my shoulders now. She’s swinging her hips up toward me and moaning. I can feel her panting. I lift my head again and push two fingers inside where she’s tight and slick.

“That’s right. Soon you’re gonna come on my hand.”

For a while, I fuck her like that. I know she’ll come apart the second that I touch her with my tongue again, and that will be the end of this. So I thrust my fingers in and drag them out, using my mouth to tease all around where she wants me till she’s moaning and her good leg is thrown over my shoulders.

“What do you want, honey?” It’s a whisper.

“Your dick in my mouth.”

I’m so surprised by her throaty, dirty answer that my arms give way. I close my mouth over her heat and taste her sweet cream. I can feel her jerk, and then she gives a mighty groan, and she’s lost.

I come in my pants like I’m in ninth grade, and my body trembles so hard afterward that I worry there’s something wrong with me. When I do manage to make my body move, I bring her a hot cloth and tell her, “Thank you” in a voice that’s way too rough. And then I leave her there.