2: That handjob... unfinished
1265 Words
~ Evie ~
No creak.
No footsteps.
No Dad.
Just my sick brain hallucinating again while Jack’s fat c**k stays buried inside my greedy cunt with thick, sloppy c*m.
Filthy little liar of a mind, always edging me harder.
The morning after.
I’m sitting at the dining table, pretending everything’s normal, like I didn’t just get f****d senseless on the living room couch last night by my stepbrother.
My body's still buzzing from it, honestly.
I grab my fork and stab at my eggs, but my eyes keep sliding over to him. He catches me looking. Then his foot brushes mine. Not an accident. He hooks his ankle around my calf, slow and deliberate. I freeze. Parents are right here, laughing about something Dad said, and Jack's just staring at me like he wants to bend me over this table.
"Pass the syrup, Evie?" Claire asks, all sweet.
I nod, reach for it, but my hand's shaky. Jack's foot slides higher, teasing the inside of my knee. I shoot him a glare, but he just raises an eyebrow, like, what? Innocent as hell. Asshole. I pass the syrup, and as soon as Claire looks away, I feel his toes nudge my thigh. Higher. I'm wearing these little sleep shorts, no panties because why bother after last night? His foot's right there, pressing against my p***y.
This is insane. We could get caught. But that's making it hotter, isn't it? His eyes flick down, and he licks his bottom lip real slow. f**k me. I can't sit here anymore. "I gotta go to the bathroom," I mumble, pushing my chair back too fast. It scrapes loud on the floor. Dad glances up. "Something wrong, Evie?"
"Yeah, just... need a minute." I bolt out of there, heart racing. Hallway feels too long. I slip into the downstairs bathroom, lock the door, and lean against the sink. What the hell am I doing? Last night was... everything. But now? In broad daylight with everyone around?
Door handle jiggles. I whip around. "Occupied!"
"It's me," Jack whispers through the wood.
My stomach flips. I shouldn't, but I unlock it anyway. He slips in quick, locks it behind him. Crowds me against the sink, pulling me close. "Couldn't wait," he mutters.
"Jack, they're right out there." My voice is breathy, not convincing at all. His d**k's hard.
"Just quick," he says, pushing my hand inside his waistband. Skin hot, c**k throbbing in my grip. I start stroking, slow, then faster.
"f**k, Evie... yeah, like that."
He kisses me hard, and I'm jerking him off faster now, twisting my wrist at the top the way I think he'll like.
He’s so hard it almost hurts my hand. I love that anyway. I love how heavy he feels, how every twitch tells me exactly what he needs.
“f**k… keep twisting it,” he growls. “s**t, harder… please, harder...”
The please hits me like a spark. He’s begging, just a little, and it makes me dizzy. I tighten my grip, twist harder, pump faster, slick and steady.
I want to watch his face when he breaks. I want to feel every c*m when he spills over my knuckles. I want him to say my name again - Evie - like it’s the only word he remembers.
But then - knock. "Hey, you two! Family photos in five!" Claire's voice. s**t. We freeze. Jack pulls back, eyes wide. I yank my hand out, wipe it on a towel quick. He tucks himself away, wincing. "Coming!" he calls back, voice strained.
We wait a beat, listening. Footsteps fade. He grins at me, all cocky. "To be continued."
I shove him lightly. "Get out first."
He does, and I splash water on my face, try to calm down. Family photos. Of all things. Why now?
I head to the living room. Everyone's there. Dad's got the camera set up on a tripod. Claire's fussing with her hair. Jack's lounging on the couch, looking too relaxed. I avoid his eyes.
"Alright, let's do this," Dad says. "Group shot first. Everyone on the couch."
We pile in. I'm next to Jack, of course. Our thighs touch. I shift away a little, but he shifts closer. Subtle. Dad sets the timer, hurries over. Sits on the end. Click. Flash.
"Good one," Claire says. "Now, just the kids."
Dad nods. "Evie and Jack, stand up. Side by side."
My pulse jumps. I stand. Jack does too, right next to me. His arm brushes mine. That's it - just an arm. But it feels like more. Like his hands are already all over me. Grabbing my breasts, pinching my n*****s. Sliding down my body, between my legs. I swallow hard.
"Smile!" Dad says. Click.
"Closer together," Claire adds. "Put your arm around her, Jack."
He does. Hand on my waist. Fingers splay wide, pressing into my side. I can feel the heat through my shirt. My mind's racing back. Ten years ago. Dad and Claire's wedding. That's when I first met him. Claire's son from her first marriage. Stubborn Jack. I was fifteen, awkward as hell. He was sixteen, tall, already filling out. Smiled at me during the ceremony, and boom - I was done. Fell hard. Instant crush. But then they moved in, and he became my stepbrother. Off-limits. I pushed it down deep.
"Switch sides," Dad says. We do. Now his hand's on my other waist. Thumb rubs a tiny circle. No one sees. But I feel it everywhere. Like he's touching my whole body. Breasts heavy, aching. Pussy...
Another click.
"Okay, one with parents," Claire says.
We reshuffle. I'm between Dad and Jack. His hip bumps mine. On purpose? Probably.
"Evie, smile bigger!" Dad calls.
I force it. Click.
"Now, just Claire and me," Dad says.
Jack and I step aside. He leans close, whispers, "You okay? Look a little tense."
"f**k off," I mutter back, but there's no heat in it. He chuckles low.
We watch them pose. Claire laughs at something Dad says. They're cute. Been married ten years now. Happy. Blended family and all that. But me and Jack? We've been dancing around this for a decade. Stolen looks across the dinner table. Brushing past each other in the hallway, bodies too close. That one time I walked in on him in the shower - door not locked. Saw everything. His c**k, thick even soft. I froze, stared. He just grinned, didn't cover up. "Like what you see?" he'd said. I ran out, face burning.
Click. Done.
Everyone scatters. Dad packs up the camera. Claire heads to the kitchen for more coffee. Jack catches my eye, nods toward the stairs. Subtle invitation.
I hesitate. We almost got caught in the bathroom. But that handjob... unfinished. His c**k in my hand, hot and hard. I want to finish it. Want him to finish inside me.
"Evie, help me with dishes?" Claire calls.
Shit. "Yeah, coming."
Jack smirks, heads upstairs alone. I watch him go. Later, I think. We'll find a way.
But as I turn toward the kitchen to help Claire, my phone buzzes.
A text from him. Just one photo - sent from right now, in his room.
It’s him, shirtless, hand wrapped around his still-hard c**k. The same one I was stroking in the bathroom.
Caption:
Door’s unlocked.
Come finish what you started, little sis.
Or I come find you.
My thumb hovers over the screen. Claire’s voice drifts from the kitchen: "Evie? Dishes?"
I stare at the stairs.
One step toward safety.
One toward him.
Which way do I go?
- Writer
