7: He's fingering me
1259 Words
~ Evie ~
Jack’s c*m from last night. That deep injection, all that hot load pumping into me. It’s like medicine, straight up. His d**k healed me.
I wake up and it’s like a miracle hit me overnight. My head isn’t pounding anymore, my stomach’s settled, and I actually feel hungry for the first time in days. I sit up in bed, stretch my arms, and yeah, no dizziness. No chills. Just… normal. Better than normal. Energized.
I can’t stop grinning as I throw on some shorts and a top, heading downstairs.
Dad’s in the kitchen, like usual. Claire’s sipping coffee at the table, scrolling her phone. Jack’s already there, pouring orange juice, acting all casual. But when he sees me walk in, his eyes light up. He knows. We both do.
"Morning," I say, grabbing a plate. My voice sounds strong, not that weak croak from yesterday.
Dad turns around, and his jaw drops. "Evie? You’re… up? And you look… good?"
Claire sets her mug down hard. "Honey, sit down. How are you feeling? You were so sick last night."
I shrug, piling eggs and toast on my plate. "I feel great, actually. Like, really great. Hungry as hell." I dig in, taking a big bite. Chewing feels amazing. No nausea.
Dad comes over, feels my forehead. "No fever. None. What the… Claire, look at her. She’s eating. Like, actually eating."
Claire’s staring at me like I just won the lottery while sleepwalking. "This is incredible. Yesterday you could barely sip water. What happened?"
I glance at Jack quick. He’s smirking into his juice glass, looking way too proud of himself. "I don’t know," I say, all innocent. "Maybe the rest finally kicked in. Or those meds the doctor gave. But yeah, I’m back."
Jack chimes in, voice smooth. "Told you she’d bounce back. Evie’s tough." Then he adds, quieter, mostly to himself but loud enough for me to hear, "Real tough… swallowed that recovery like a champ."
I almost choke on my eggs. He did not just say that out loud. I kick his shin under the table. He winces but keeps smiling like an i***t.
Dad pulls me into a hug, almost knocking my fork out of my hand. "This is a miracle. I was so worried. We all were." He steps back, eyes misty. "Eat up. Whatever you want. Claire, make more bacon."
We all sit there, eating together, and it’s weird how normal it feels. Jack’s like a walking cure. Healing c**k. I want more already.
The day goes on like that. Everyone keeps checking on me, marveling. "You look so strong now," Claire says later, when I’m helping clear the table without getting tired. "It’s like night and day."
"Yeah," I say. "Feels good." And it does. Thanks to my stepbrother’s load. Dirty secret, but f**k, it works.
Jack catches me alone in the hallway later. "So, my c*m therapy worked, huh?" he whispers, hand grazing my ass quick.
I turn, push him against the wall lightly. "Hell yes. You saved me. That d**k of yours… magic." I kiss him fast, hard. "Need another dose soon."
He groans low. "Tonight?"
"Deal."
But for now, family’s happy. I’m recovered. Life’s good.
Fast forward to the end of the month. It’s been weeks of sneaking around, quick f***s whenever we can steal a moment. My body’s addicted to him now. Craving that c**k every day. We’ve been careful, though. Aunt Linda’s out of the picture, thanks to that little ban Dad put on her visits. No more snooping. But the horniness? Nonstop.
Now we’re on this family road trip. Dad’s idea. "Quality time," he says. We’re crammed in the SUV, heading to some cabin upstate for the weekend. Dad’s driving, Claire’s shotgun, chatting about random s**t - work, the weather, what we’ll cook for dinner. Me and Jack in the back, side by side. It’s a long drive, hours already, and the AC’s blasting, making it chilly.
I grab a blanket from the floor, spread it over our laps. "Cold back here," I say to no one in particular.
Claire glances back quick. "Yeah? We can turn it down."
"Nah, blanket’s fine." I settle in, leaning against Jack a bit. Our thighs touch under the fabric. Innocent, right? Wrong.
Jack’s hand slides under the blanket first. Casual, like he’s just resting it on my knee. But his fingers start tracing up my thigh, slow. I’m in shorts, easy access. I spread my legs a little, inviting. He gets the hint. Fingers brush higher, teasing the edge of my shorts.
Up front, Dad’s telling some story about a fishing trip from years ago. "And then the fish jumps right out of the boat! I swear it looked at me like ‘not today, buddy’."
Claire giggles. "You tell that one every time. The fish probably just wanted to escape your terrible casting."
Jack’s fingers slip under the hem, finding my panties. I’m wet already. He rubs over the fabric, light pressure on my c**t. I stare out the window like nothing’s happening. But inside, I’m on fire. "Keep going," I whisper, so quiet only he hears.
He does. Pushes the panties aside, one finger sliding along my slit. Slick. Wet. He circles my entrance, then pushes in slow. I clench around him, trying not to move. f**k, it feels good. He adds another finger, stretching me a bit. Pumps them in and out, thumb finding my c**t, rubbing circles.
My breathing’s getting heavier. I fake a yawn to cover it. Blanket’s hiding everything, but if they look back… s**t. His fingers curl inside, hitting that spot. I grip the seat, knuckles white.
Dad changes lanes, still talking. "And then the fish jumps right out of the boat!"
Claire laughs again. "Honey, you already said that part."
Jack mutters under his breath, just for me, "This fish story is lasting longer than my patience."
I almost laugh out loud. He’s fingering me and roasting Dad’s storytelling at the same time. Multitasking king.
His pace picks up. Fingers f*****g me deeper, thumb pressing harder. I’m building fast. I reach under the blanket, grab his wrist. To guide. Faster.
It hits. Bite my tongue to not moan. Waves of it. I come down.
He pulls his hand out slow, sucks his fingers clean.
But then - Claire turns around. Right at that moment. Her eyes land on us, suspicious. "You two okay back there? Evie, you look flushed."
Shit. My face is probably red from coming. I force a smile. "Yeah, just… warm under the blanket. And a little carsick, maybe."
She frowns, eyes flicking to Jack, then the blanket. "Want some water? Or we can stop."
"Nah, I’m good." I shift, pulling the blanket higher, like I’m adjusting. Heart’s pounding. Did she see anything? Hear?
Dad glances in the rearview. "Almost there. Hang on."
Claire turns back slow, but I catch her side-eye. She’s onto something. Or thinks she is.
Jack squeezes my thigh quick, reassuring. But then he leans in and breathes against my ear, "If she asks why the blanket smells like s*x, just say you spilled yogurt."
I snort so loud Claire whips around again. "What’s so funny?"
"Nothing!" I say too fast. "Jack just… told a dumb joke."
Jack nods seriously. "Yeah. About yogurt. Very funny yogurt joke."
Claire narrows her eyes but turns forward again.
I lean my head on Jack’s shoulder, playing innocent. But under the blanket, my hand finds his crotch. He’s hard. Bulging.
My turn to tease.
"Payback," I whisper.
- Writer
