Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
My brother.
The football hero.
The man I love.
The man I can never have.
CHAPTER 3
Jackson
Breathe, Jackson. Fucking breathe.
She takes my breath away even after all these years.
I knew I loved her from the moment she stepped into my life, with her backpack full of Barbies and those haunting mint-green eyes that told me right then she needed me. Would always need me.
A smile curls the corners of my lips as I remember the first time I met her, green foil wrappers from the bowl of Andes Mints in our kitchen all over the floor around her little feet, chocolate decorating her pink lips. She was so nervous about meeting her mother’s new boyfriend and his son, until she got that first mint in her mouth.
My feelings were different back then. More innocent. Just a certainty that I had to protect her no matter what. But now?
There’s not one innocent thing about me wanting to stuff every thick inch of my virgin cock into her tight unpopped cherry cunt.
That’s not the end of it either. It would be bad enough, but my thoughts where she is concerned are depraved. I want her on her knees, my thick, warm release decorating her plump cheeks and lips as she gazes up into my eyes and calls me Daddy.
That fantasy took root just this last six months since she became an adult. It was like a switch got flipped and there’s no going back. imagining caring for her like I always have but now with this deviant twist and it’s become my obsession. Well, one of my obsessions.
The other is, I’ll knock her the fuck up, yeah, pregnant, bred with my seed in short order until she’s waddling around, ready to give birth to the first of what would be an army of our children.
But, she will always be my baby. Daddy’s girl.
I want it with a desire so deep, my bones ache with it. As though they are cracking under the pressure of the wanting.
I could have it all, too, and nobody would think anything of it, if only she wasn’t my sister. Stepsister. Whatever.
Breathe.
“You having your first party and didn’t even invite me?” I grin, letting her know my question isn’t serious, but my feelings fucking are.
Whenever I see Mina, the world comes into narrow focus. Even more than when I threw the winning spiral in the most important bowl game of my career last year. That pales in comparison to this goddamn perfect specimen of womanhood sitting right here with a fucking bottle of Tequila against her lips.
I hate that fucking bottle. I should be the only one touching those lips. My mouth. My fingers. My cock.
But, it’s so much more. I want those lips to tell me all her secrets. All her dreams and worries and silly stories. I want to feed them strawberry ice cream and roll her cherry vanilla lip gloss on a hundred times a day like she does for herself now.
Those lips.
They contain multitudes as they say, and I want to be there for it all.
And what the fuck anyway with the tequila? She’s the original, OG good-girl. She would never drink, and now I find her sitting alone in the backyard of a house full of who-the-fuck-knows, ready to straight shot the worst tasting fucking liquor known to man.
Something is fucked up and rage is bubbling in my gut. I’ll handle whatever it is in her life that needs handled, but right now, she needs me.
Jackson, her brother.
Her protector.
Her…fuck. Yes, her fucking Daddy, but I can never tell her that part.
She’s paler than when I saw her a few weeks ago at her graduation and that’s pissing me off as well.
When I rage fucked my hand in the shower two hours ago, I remembered the little apple of pink on her cheeks, imagined turning it into a full-blown flush as my dick slid deep, spraying against the opening to her womb as she bucks and begs her Daddy for more.
But that sweet pink I love is gone. I want to kill whoever took that glow away and then fuck it right back into her.
The depraved visions of my stepsister are out of fucking control. The fantasies are immoral at best and illegal at worst.
We’re not stepsiblings that met as adults. No, we’ve grown up together.
Watched movies in our pajamas while eating popcorn together.
Opened presents on Christmas mornings together.
I held her when her pet hamster, Fernando, died. I took the blame when she threw away all the vegetables in the refrigerator lest we go through yet another dinner with her defiantly refusing to eat anything green. I did all the things a good, upstanding, loving brother would do for a sister.
Except for masturbating to my fantasies of her. That’s not something a good, upstanding, loving brother would do.
I should give up the beating off. I should.