In the Unlikely Event

Kath runs her fingers through my hair, kissing the top of my head. My ear. My cheek.

“Your sister. I love her,” I grunt into her rack.

Her cleavage is wide open for me. I dip my tongue in the crack between her tits, tasting her salty skin, how wrong it is in my mouth, and it reminds me why I haven’t bedded anyone since Rory left.

Kathleen doesn’t say a word. She pops one of her tits free of her bra and moves her pebbled nipple across my cheek.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” I say bluntly, pulling my head back.

It’s the truth, but I’m still hard. Because she’s here, and she is soft, and she is wanting—something Princess Aurora of New Jersey isn’t. Every part of Kathleen is hot, not cold like Rory is, but it’s easy to ignore that when you’re bollocksed. Especially as there’s a part of Kathleen that’s Rory, too—a chunk of DNA and genes that Rory could never take away from this village. From me. Kiki is right here, in Tolka, ready for me to screw her to death. And I’m hard, so fecking hard I’m straining against my Dickie’s.

Oh, how I wish I were more like Daniel or Sean or Jake or any of my mates who could just sleep with Kiki because she is here.

“Get off,” I huff, shaking my head. “Please, darlin’. You’re better than what you’re doing right now.”

But Kathleen’s hands are everywhere. They’re on my chest and shoulders and back and face. They cup my jaw, and she dips down and kisses me, deep and punishing and cruel. With tongue and hatred and frustration. She kisses me like I did something horrible to her, and now I need to pay.

My head spins like a broken roundabout. I mumble, “Stop. Stop. Stop.”

She presses her palm against my hard-on and squeezes. “If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t be hard.”

“Younedda stop,” I slur.

She unbuckles my belt, ignoring my command. My mind is a gray fog of floating thoughts, but I still manage to put things together. Her new fondness for short skirts and dresses makes for easy access. She planned this all along. And she always brings something to eat and alcohol when she is over. Coincidence? I think not.

I feel her warm, wet cunt descending over my throbbing cock.

“Kathleen, I don’t want to fuck you,” I repeat, as coherently as I possibly can.

The thought of this happening makes me sick. Because I know Rory would never take me if she knew I slept with her sister. Selfishly, that is the first reason, with the second being I don’t want to hurt or delude Kiki.

“You are fucking me,” she hisses, licking the length of my neck. “And you’re going to continue until you come.”

She slides up, then down, building friction, and my balls tighten.

“No.”

“Yes. Mal, I’m so wet for you,” she says.

And it is true. She is the wettest I’ve ever had, I think.

Fuck Rory.

Fuck Rory who fucked me over, thinking we were only just a fuck.

I’m shagging her sister now, and they say revenge tastes sweet, but the bitterness that explodes on my tongue is so tangible, I want to puke.

Kathleen’s cunt, however, is not at all bitter. She is straddling me fully now, moving slowly and deliciously up and down my shaft. I hear the slap of our thighs together. Feel the slick of her wetness, her juices dampening my pubic hair. She moans into my mouth, her lips sweet and sharp. She bites my lip and makes me bleed as she clenches around me.

I close my eyes and throw my head back to an angle where she can’t put her lips on mine. The kissing part is not my favorite. The fucking part, on the other hand…

“Go faster, Rory.”

If Kathleen notices my slip of the tongue, she lets it slide. She moves faster, my balls tighten, and I know I’m close.

I’ve always tried to be a good lover. To go down on the girl, to hit deep, to feel what she likes and doesn’t like. But right now, all I want is the personal gratification of being inside Rory’s sister, spiting her somehow, without her knowledge.

Still, I squeeze my eyes shut and imagine it’s her I’m fucking.

“Rory, Rory, Rory,” I chant shamelessly, too out of it to be good, to be fair, to be present. “I’m coming.”

“Come,” Kathleen drones.

And in that moment, I swear her voice is throaty and low, just like Rory’s. I shoot my load inside her, growling in frustration and pleasure.

I can feel the spurts of cum shooting straight into her, and that’s when I realize I didn’t wear a condom.

And that’s when I realize I don’t particularly care.

I’ve only ever gone bareback with Rory, only once, and it didn’t end well.

But Kath, Kath is nothing like Rory.

She is dedicated to me. She’s not the hunter, but a willing prey.