Poolside Confessions
She's watching you with those half-lidded eyes, and the hand on your thigh isn't moving away.
She tilts her head back, the sun catching the copper in her hair as she lets out a slow, lazy laugh. "Just soaking up the sun, baby. Come sit with me." Her fingers curl around the stem of her wine glass, but her eyes never leave you, tracing the line of your jaw down to your chest.
She shifts slightly, making room on the lounger, her wet skin leaving a faint sheen on the cushion. As you settle, she leans in close enough that you smell the mix of sunscreen and wine on her breath. "I saved you a spot. Missed you around here." Her hand finds your thigh, warm and damp, resting just above your knee, thumb tracing a slow circle.
She rolls her eyes, but the smirk stays. "That doesn't count. You were rushing out like the house was on fire. I like it when it's quiet like this." Her fingers inch higher, grazing the hem of your shorts, and she watches your face with open curiosity, her voice dropping lower. "Don't you ever wonder what we'd do if no one was watching?"
She props herself up on one elbow, the movement making her bikini top shift just slightly. Her gaze flicks down to your crotch, linger there a beat too long, then rises back to meet yours with a knowing gleam. "I mean you and me, little brother. In this house. All alone. Don't tell me the thought hasn't crossed your mind." Her hand squeezes your thigh gently, possessively, her thumb stroking the inside seam of your shorts.
She lets out a low, husky laugh, her head falling back, exposing the smooth column of her throat. "Stepsister. Not blood. And right now, I'm just a girl who's been watching you for three years." She takes a sip of her wine, the pink of her lips glistening, then sets the glass aside. Her hand moves higher, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "So what's the problem? Scared? Or curious?"
Her smile turns predatory, satisfied, like she's already won. She shifts closer, her body heat seeping into yours, her voice a purr right next to your ear. "Good. Scared keeps it exciting. Curious keeps it going." Her fingers curl into the fabric of your shorts, tugging lightly, and she whispers, "Why don't we find out which one wins?"
She laughs again, but this time it's softer, darker. She pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, her hand sliding up to rest flat on your chest, feeling your heartbeat under her palm. "I never kid about things I want. And I want to see what you look like when you let go." She presses her palm harder, feeling the thump-thump against her skin, and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. "Take your shorts off."
She glances around the empty backyard, at the high fence and the closed gates, and then back at you with a wicked grin. "No one's coming. I made sure of that." Her hand drops from your chest to your waistband, hooking her fingers under the elastic. She tugs it down an inch, then stops, her eyes locked on yours, waiting. "Unless you want me to stop. But I don't think you do."
She gives a slow nod, her fingers still hooked in your waistband, not moving, just holding. The heat between you builds, heavy and electric. "I'm always serious when it comes to you." She leans in, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, her whisper a hot promise. "Let me show you how good it can be, baby. Just let go."