Fort Brothers

0014 — Edmund

My hand moved lower, palming her ass cheek before giving the soft flesh a gentle squeeze. Only then did I move farther, sliding my fingers between her warm thighs.

Two fingers — index and middle — hooked under the crotch of her soft cotton panties. She was soaked already— warm, silky wetness coating my fingertips instantly.

I pressed both digits against her entrance, teasing but not entering yet.

She let out a broken, trembling sigh. Her forehead dropped heavily against my chest as if the fight had finally drained out of her.

Perhaps I was moving too fast — corrupting the one person in this house who was still trying to do something decent.

The thought barely registered before it burned away.

My fingers kept sliding through her slippery folds, carefully exploring until they brushed against that sensitive, swollen little bud.

“You’re wet,” I whispered against her ear. "Just like I imagined. So f*****g wet and ready."

She trembled against me, her breath catching sharply. She didn’t deny it. She couldn’t.

I smiled against her ear. “Good girl. Now tell me… what should I reward this needy, dripping p***y with first?”

She stayed quiet, face still buried in my chest, going quiet. Defeated. Needy. Her hips gave the smallest, involuntary roll against my hand.

That little shift burned straight through me.

I slid my hand from the warm silk of her thighs, fingers tracing upward until they tangled into the loose strands of her bun. I squeezed gently at first, then tighter, holding Isa there against me.

The scent of her flooded my senses — the sweet, musky aroma of her dripping cunt still glistening on my fingers, tangled with the delicate rose fragrance in her hair and that warmer, feminine undertone that was purely her.

My Bunny wanted this. My sweet little Bunny actually wanted this. The thought slammed into me like a drug, sending a rush straight to my c**k.

I wanted to lay her down on the sofa right now.

But she was here to take care of my brother.

Hired to watch over him, not to get f****d between shifts by the man paying her salary. The thought should have made me stop.

Instead, my c**k throbbed painfully against her belly. I pressed my hips forward so she could feel it — hard, heavy, undeniable. So she’d know exactly what she was doing to me.

I kissed her forehead, lingering there, breathing her in.

"Don't get shy now. I’m going to sit on the sofa right there. And you’re going to take off those ruined, sticky panties… kick off your shoes… and straddle me."

"Your brother—" She exhaled against my chest.

I cut her off, my hand tightening in her bun. “He’s probably dead asleep by now — you’ve got nothing to worry about. Or if—”

What the hell was I thinking? Hiring a new nurse for Bryan?

No.

I want Isa in that uniform, looking all professional and composed on the outside, while I corrupt and ruin every f*****g inch of her in private.

I crave both versions: the responsible caretaker by day, and my dripping, obedient little pet who spreads for me the second we’re alone.

I pulled back from her slowly and settled onto the leather sofa, legs spread wide. My gaze dragged over her: thighs pressed tightly together, rising all the way up to the full swell of her t**s that I hadn’t yet explored.

But the little sin was pushing my patience to the breaking point, standing there frozen instead of stripping like she was told.

She stared back at me, gaze flicking down to my hands.

Part of her wanted me to do it. Wanted me to cross that final line myself.

I reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her gently between my spread thighs. “I don’t mind doing it myself. Truth be told, I’ve been dying to peel them off you since the moment I felt how wet you are.”

My fingers caught the hem of her dress and began lifting it slowly, careful not to rush even though my c**k throbbed with need.

I paused, my gaze dropping to those pristine white trainers still neatly laced on her feet. "Take off your shoes, bunny.”

She obeyed this time, though not gracefully. She balanced on one foot, wobbling slightly as she used the toes of the other to push off her left trainer. With a small, shy movement she did the same to the right.

Now she stood completely barefoot between my spread thighs — vulnerable as f**k, toes curling nervously into the red carpet.

Her nails were bare, no polish, nothing artificial — just clean, unadorned.

“Beautiful,” I said, my voice low as I looked up at her, letting a slow smile tug at my lips.

I hooked my thumbs on either side of her panties and drew them down. Slowly. Deliberately. Keeping my eyes locked on every inch of skin I revealed. I wanted it all — the smooth curve of her hips, the soft tremble in her thighs, the way her body responded whether she meant to or not.

I slid the fabric down to her knees. She was soaked. Her white panties were visibly damp, the evidence of her arousal dark against the cotton.

And her scent — warm, feminine, unmistakably needy — hit me like a live wire.

“If we were siblings,” she whispered.

I paused and looked up at her, zeroing in on the way she nervously chewed her lower lip.

I didn’t answer right away. I just held her stare, letting the silence stretch and tighten until the air between us felt charged — heavy with lust, fear, and the undeniable truth that I was going to ruin her.

“We’re not siblings, Isa,” I said finally. “But if you keep talking like that… I might just start acting like the black sheep of the family anyway.”