She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest while cocking her hip out. I smirk at the bratty display, then get on the motorcycle. Dahlia straddles the seat behind me. Her arms wind around my back to rest her hands on my stomach.
The engine purrs after I turn the ignition. I knock back the kickstand and balance the bike with my feet on the ground. When the music starts and our favorite song comes on, I check the street to ensure it’s clear before I put the motorcycle into first gear and we take off. Dahlia’s hold tightens as the speed increases. Her breasts press against my back, and my cock twitches as a shudder rolls through me.
I might be a terrible brother for liking this, but I stopped caring years ago when she kissed me. I’m a sick son of a bitch, and my sister is the wrong medicine that I desperately want. She’s the very poison that will kill me.
The ride back to our parents’ home is quick. I show off to my sister by going faster than the speed limit, leaning the bike around corners and grinning as she squeals with laughter. She may be afraid of the motorcycle, but she trusts me and knows I won’t ever let anything happen to her.
I slow down as I drive up the long driveway. Trees loom over us, lining the way until we get to the rustic mansion that’s tucked at the back. Lights shine from inside, as well as the bulbs outside that point at the house in a display I never understood. It may be rich-asshole behavior on my dad’s part. Our parents don’t know what privacy is and never got shades to cover the windows, so everyone can see everything that happens inside.
I drive around the fountain in the center of the mini cul-de-sac. Dad replaced it two years ago, and the new Medusa statue holds the decapitated head of a man who looks at her with terror in his wide eyes. Snake hair frames her heart-shaped face, puffy lips parted like she’s just as surprised that she’s killed a man. Her sultry eyes stare into the void, unseeing, but they hold so much grief, anger, and pain. Instead of being portrayed as an ugly creature, she’s beautiful, with soft, feminine features.
Her body is shaped much like Dahlia’s, with large breasts, wide hips, and an apron stomach, which makes me appreciate the fountain more than I should. Evelyn planted rose bushes and other types of flowers around it and in the front yard. During the spring, summer, and early fall, it smells like nothing but roses when in this portion of the yard.
I cut the engine and drop my booted feet to the ground to hold us steady while Dahlia slips off the seat and takes off her helmet.
“I can talk to our parents and tell Mom what happened.” Dahlia hands me her borrowed helmet.
I pull mine off and set it and the safety gear on the seat. I shake my head to set my hair back in place, then glare at my stubborn sister.
“No,” I say. “Leave it to me.”
Her mother won’t give a fuck, anyway. If she does, she’ll blow it up into a bigger deal just so she can be dramatic and make it about her. I hate Evelyn for many reasons, but the major one boils down to how she treats Dahlia.
The second reason being that she was my father’s mistress while he was married to my mother.
They tried to keep their affair a secret, but I saw more than people realized. All the nights he had to work late and phone calls when he thought he was alone. My dad is with Evelyn because my shitty mom left him when she found out aboutthe affair.
When I told Dahlia about it, she wasn’t surprised. The anger she tries so hard to hide kindled and burned brighter. It’s a matter of time before she snaps and lays into her mom for all the shit she’s done to my little sister.
Dahlia sighs and hikes her small bat-shaped backpack’s straps higher on her shoulders. She opens her mouth, most likely to argue. I raise an eyebrow and fold my arms over my chest. After seeing that I’m ready to argue with her, she closes her mouth, huffs, and walks away.
My lips quirk, and I follow close behind her like the protective and scary guard dog I am. I look around as we go inside. The lights are dim, and I don’t hear Evelyn’s loud voice or my father’s deep, soft one.
We may be alone for a while, and that excites me more than it should. I don’t plan on trying anything with my sister just yet. I need to ease her into the idea of being with me. Which means keeping my dick in my pants.
Dahlia veers straight to the staircase, and I follow. I can’t stop looking at her ass, which is practically in my face. She’s wearing my favorite outfit: a black crop top paired with black shorts and ripped fishnets. It’s such a drastic change from when she was a kid who wore frilly dresses, buckle shoes, and bows in her brown hair.
My mouth waters as I imagine licking the skin on the inside of her thick thigh, parting her ass cheeks, and tasting her pussy and ass from behind. I drag in a deep breath, hoping to smell her, but all I can smell is Evelyn’s vanilla-and-sugar air fragrance she plugged into the walls at every turn in the home.
I cock my head as Dahlia heads toward her room, and I gently grab her by the crook of her elbow. She gasps as I bring her to my bedroom instead.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks.
I drag her to my bathroom.
“Tending to your wounds,” I murmur.
“Ican do it myself,” I say. I acheeverywhere. My mouth, my face, my throat. The thought of doing it myself exhausts me already, but I don’t want Jaxon to do something he doesn’t want to do.
Jaxon gives me a warning look before he grabs my waist and lifts me like I weigh nothing. He sets me on the edge of the black marble counter, my legs dangling, then fishes around the cabinets for the first-aid kit and sets the navy-blue bag beside me.
My thighs squeeze together as I eye his hands. Under the tattoos, I spot the bulging veins. Jaxon’s always had a nice body—not that I’ve seen him naked. I’ve only seen him in his swim trunks during the summer or when he wore shorts and no shirt. But the veins on his hands and along his arms make things flutter where they shouldn’t.
Realizing I haven’t checked to see if I have any missing teeth, I twist around and look in the mirror with my finger hooked into the corner of my mouth.
“What are you doing?” Jaxon turns to me with a scowl.
“Seeing if I have any missing teeth,” I say after I drop my hand.
