After the talk on the hood of the red Corolla, Elijah went in to order himself a Big Mac and another Coke for the road. Essi remained outside, sitting on the car, purposely turning toward the heat of the sun like a sunflower and hoping for the wet stain to dry off quickly. By the end, the ice had hurt--and had also aroused her to no end.
When she spoke up, shouting after him to please order her a McChicken, he continued his spiel without missing a beat.
'Ask again,' he said, turning back a few steps, 'but this time, ask properly. And don't forget to address me adequately, as well.'
'Are you serious?' she said, looking derisively.
He didn't say anything, and his expression didn't change either. She'd never been too close with her brother--the golden child--and didn't know how far she could go. Didn't know how far was too far. Instead of testing the waters now, she decided to oblige.
'I--May I please have a McChicken? Sir? M--Master?' To her ear, it sounded incredibly silly. 'Is that...adequate?'
After a brief silence, he ran a hand through his short, dark brown hair and said, 'I'll have to think on it. I thought it'd sound better, but maybe it's your pathetic way of saying it.'
'Pathetic?' she yelped.
'Yes. And I hope this goes without saying, but never talk to me like that in front of Mum or Dad.'
'You really think I'm that stupid?'
'Sometimes,' he said nonchalantly, turning back toward the restaurant and walking off. The sound of pebbles crunching underneath his Vans receded, and then he vanished behind the door. Esther glared at his afterimage, in utter disbelief that she'd been turned on by something _he_ did.
'I don't even feel like a McChicken anymore,' she muttered, drawing up her legs, crossing her arms above her knees, and setting down her chin. Her still-wet nipple pressed against her thigh.
When he came back, he placed a brown bag next to her, loaded with two burgers and complimentary fries, told her to take her time drying off, and sat down inside the car, playing music and cranking up the volume, windows lowered. Essi noticed several songs she loved.
That night, she lay in bed tossing and turning. She couldn't remain still, nor could she shut off her rambling mind. Thoughts were running amok. She couldn't help but peek at the alarm clock displaying the time in big red letters at irregular intervals, even though she knew it wasn't helping, either.
At 2:16 AM, she considered staying awake, abandoning sleep the way it was abandoning her right now. And then she threw that idea to the wind--she'd cave, eyes heavy and head drooping in the early morning, falling dead asleep at the dinner table during breakfast. Those early morning hours always tend to drag on forever. Instead, she decided to grab her phone off the nightstand and open the browser.
Her fingers moved faster than her mind, and she'd navigated to one of her go-to porn sites before she'd even fully decided on whether this was the best course of action--though it did help more often than not. And even when it didn't, she still got her fair share of fun.
She threw off the blanket. All the accumulated heat dissipated, dousing her body in the cool outside air which had seeped in through the tilted window on the lefthand wall. It was refreshing. Subconsciously. She was focused on the phone, scrolling, ogling nude breasts and hard cocks. Perfect bodies twisted into impossible poses.
The heat built up again, more localised. Subconsciously--nothing felt purposeful during the wee hours--her hand crept down her shirt-clad stomach and slipped into her panties. She was somewhat sweaty, making the skin of her outer lips feel like rubber and adding friction as she began stroking, massaging herself slowly and sensually. Meanwhile, she'd decided on a video, her phone now in landscape mode.
All the rubbing, skin on skin, hand against pussy, thigh against thigh, back against the mattress, generated more and more heat. Her concentration slowly slipped from the petite blonde getting railed by some big, bald dude on the video to thoughts and images her mind conjured up--thoughts and images of her brother, Elijah, telling her he owned her and proving it by touching her intimately, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other pressing cold, wet ice against her sensitive nipple, without concern for her feelings or opinions. Her eyes were unfocused, glazed over.
She discarded the phone, putting it back on the nightstand--but keeping the video running, just in case. Her second hand now freed, she grabbed her bosom, massaging her right breast through the thin, white fabric of her undershirt. Her nipple was hard, tingling between her fingers as she tugged and twisted and squeezed.
Soft moans escaped her throat. It made her conscious, more awake and alert--her brother's bedroom was one room over, right behind her bed's headboard. He must've been sleeping, but his sleeping, snoring head was--all in all--maybe three or four feet from hers. She stifled the moans as best she could, not slowing the pace with which she ran her fingers through her wet slit, digging deep and caressing her clit with her thumb.
Gradually, the tempo increased, and the thoughts of her brother did, too.
On the other side of the wall, Elijah raised his head and pricked his ears. 'Is that...?' he whispered, raising himself further and putting his ear right up against the wall. He heard a soft, squelching noise, along with moans flaring up, cutting out, and flaring up again.
She can barely control herself, he thought. And the thought put him in the same state of mind as his sister.
