As stated in part 1, this is my first story and I would very much appreciate knowing your thoughts. Thanks!
----------
Heather dozed silently as Colton moved around her as quietly as he could the next morning. He'd barely slept last night, his brain feeding him taunting, tantalizing images of his sister running on his treadmill and then washing her naked body in his shower as he listened to her moving around his home. Then he'd warred with himself all night, forcing himself to stay put in his bed when all he'd wanted to do was go into his weight room and work himself into a physical oblivion so he could pass out.
When he glanced at her on his way out, he'd been unbelievably grateful he'd stayed in bed. During the night she'd kicked off the blanket, it lay on the floor beside her as she slept on her side facing away from him. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, begging himself for patience as his fingers curled into fists at his sides to prevent himself from reaching out to caress her.
Her tank top had ridden up and twisted around her, exposing the curve of her waist and more side boob then she'd probably feel comfortable with him seeing. She'd slept in her underwear, the cheeky cut exposing the bottom half of her ass as the material tucked snuggly between her round cheeks, her shapely bare legs completely naked for him. Reaching for the blanket, he draped it back over her, allowing himself to press a gentle kiss to the side of her head before forcing himself to step away from her.
Shoving his feet in his boots, Colton adjusted his stiff member before disappearing out the side door off his kitchen, locking the door firmly behind him.
~ ~ ~
That afternoon, Heather ran her fingertips over the spines of her brother's books as she read the titles, amused that he hadn't changed all that much in the five years he'd been gone. A gentle smile curved her lips as she searched for a story among all the nonfiction. Colton had always been a voracious learner.
She giggled to herself as she recalled what a difficult time he'd had narrowing his focus of study in high school to prepare for university applications. She pictured the way she'd hung off his shoulder as he'd sat crunched up at his desk, a pencil tapping against the mahogany surface as he weighed his options, finally settling on chemistry. His career pathway decided. Big Pharma. Dad was so proud. She snorted and rolled her eyes, of course he had been, there was money to be made there.
Even as a child, she'd known he'd made a colossal mistake. She couldn't picture her brother calculating formulas all day. Colton had always been good with his hands and there was nothing in the world he loved more than puzzles, the more complicated and convoluted the better.
Rubik's cubes were his favourite and she wondered absently if he still had the one she'd gifted him for his fifteenth birthday, it being the first thing she'd ever bought with her own money. Despite her initial surprise the night he'd announced his change of plan, upon reflection, becoming a mechanic suited Colton perfectly, he solved puzzles with his hands all day long now. She wondered sadly if his decision had finally made him happy.
Her interest in finding a book now lost, Heather contented herself instead by moving around his home, touching all his objects, reacquainting herself with the brother she felt she'd lost years ago. Once she'd explored the entirety of his small house, she let herself out the side door, examining his neglected backyard and empty flowerbeds.
She frowned, that was pretty typical of her brother as well, he obviously mowed the lawn but he'd never both with something as frivolous as flowers. Wandering over to his garage she tried the door but frowned when she found it locked. Inside the side door of the house, on the wall, she found a set of keys, the smell of oil greeted her as she finally entered his personal workshop.
Flicking on the lights, her brow arched as she stared at the bright yellow muscle car in front of her, a thick black racing stripe down the center. She grinned widely, the colour similar to that of her old bedroom, then frowned, wondering why he'd picked the sunny hue when his favourite colour was red.
Circling it, she opened the driver's door and sat inside, giggling to herself when she had to adjust the seat to see over the dash and have her feet reach the pedals. She felt powerful behind the wheel, she understood why the car appealed to him. Colton had always been attracted to power.
She frowned as her hands slipped off the wheel and into her lap, suddenly feeling cold. She understood his deep desire for power, why he'd worked so hard for autonomy and physical strength...because she had none of it. While her father had molded Colton into a martial arts prodigy, a football star, and a scholar, she'd been forced into swimming lessons, ballet, violin, and etiquette classes.
Despite her efforts, she'd failed to excel in anything other than music, her body wasn't built for swimming, her frame much too curvy to be streamline, her legs too short to be as graceful as the other ballerinas and her opinions much too loud to be a debutante. She could hear her father in her head, cursing her mediocrity even now.
Her face fell further as she remembered her embarrassment of having to have Colton tutor her in math as a teen. His frustration obvious given her lack of understanding as their father forced him to sit at the dining table with her, going over algebraic equations for the hundredth time. Things just didn't come as easy to her as they did to Colt. She didn't see pieces of knowledge in her head that she could click together to form a picture the way he did.
She was intelligent though and had managed to secure a scholarship to study law, but she wasn't Colton, and her father had always resented her short coming. Sighing, she thought of the last recital her brother had attended, his grin broad as he congratulated her on a perfect performance. Her father had sneered at his words, letting her know her vibrato hadn't been strong enough in her third piece before dismissing them both so he could speak to her teacher about his perceived error. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye in mourning of her violin. She dabbed at it with her fingertip, trying her best not to smear her eyeliner.
Climbing out of the car, Heather found her smile once more as she was met with Colton's grinning face. A photo of them she hadn't realized existed was pinned to his whiteboard with a small magnet above his workbench. A younger version of herself returned her smile from the glossy image of the picture, Colton's arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as she squeezed his waist with both arms. She bit her lip. He looked so happy. It was rare to see him smile like that.
Her eyes dipping away from his face, she traced the contours of his powerful shoulders with her gaze, her eyes lingering on his half sleeve, exposed by his muscle shirt. Heather sighed dreamily as she admired his tattoo, the dark clouds that decorated his shoulder faded into a light grey at his bicep, the light of the sun piercing through them to illuminate the ship that decorated his upper arm as it attempted to stay afloat on rough waters.
The piece was wild and untamed, like Colton had been in his younger years. She hummed, remembering how many fights he'd gotten into as a child, unable to control his temper. The memory a stark contrast from the deeply controlled and organized man she knew now.
She frowned, glad he wasn't still out of control, but a little sad to think about how deeply he'd repressed himself to appease their father. Heather preferred to think about him somewhere between the two ends of the spectrum, a little ruffled. She was tempted to mess up his tool bench on him, dishevel his things just a little bit so she felt a little less awkward and estranged in the impeccably organized space.
She'd had quite enough of perfection.
An unbidden image of him wet, dripping in only his towel, her hand on his tattoo, assaulted her mind. Heather groaned, picturing her idea of perfection, her nefarious thoughts towards his tools immediately forgotten. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, remembering how warm and solid he'd felt under her hand. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the car as her mind filled in the rest of his torso for her, water running over the tight bands of muscle.
Groaning, Heather shivered, dampness gathering between her legs the longer she pictured him. Biting her lip, she cupped her cunt through her jeans, feeling conflicted. It'd been years since she'd touched herself to thoughts of him. She'd thought she'd gotten passed her taboo feelings for him.
She moaned as another memory flashed behind her eyes, of Colton in the garden with a girl, his hand between her legs, her thigh hooked over his hip, her skirt riding high as she moaned against his mouth and tugged on his hair. At the time, Heather had been horrified to catch her brother in such a compromising position. She'd stood rooted to the spot, blushing terribly, watching as the seconds ticked by before she'd finally been able to force her feet to move, to carry her away from her brother and the girl who had obviously been, thoroughly, enjoying his attentions.
Curiosity driving her, she'd locked herself in her room that night and slid her hand into her panties for the first time, wondering what he'd been doing that could have caused the look of pure ecstasy on the girl's face. At the first caress of her clit, she'd been irrationally jealous of that nameless girl. "Mmm," Heather grunted, forcing the memory away, glaring at the photo of her and her brother.
Self-loathing overwhelmed her even as she unbuttoned her jeans, slipping her hand into her panties. Regret warred with lust as she dipped her fingers between her slick folds, her fingertips gently circling her clit as she stared longingly at the photo of her and her brother, vividly recalling what it felt like to have that wall of muscle pressed up against her soft curves.
Adjusting her wrist, she pushed deeper into her pants, two fingers sinking into her wet heat as she lay back on the hood of his car, closing her eyes, her hair pillowing her head as she stroked herself. "Mmmm," she moaned, reaching up with the other hand to palm her breast.
Licking her lips, she used the heel of her palm to massage her clit as her fingers caressed the upper wall of her vaginal canal, her feet planted on the edge of the car, her knees bent. Caressing herself, she pictured her brother, towering over her, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched her fuck herself on his car. She bit her lip, imagining him moving her hand off her pussy, replacing it with his own as he leaned over her, one big hand splayed next to her head as he finger fucked her.
"Oh, Colt-" She whispered breathlessly, dangerously close to orgasm already. Yanking on her neckline, she snagged the cup of her bra, tugging both aside so she could roughly twist her nipple between the calloused fingertips of her left hand, pretending it was his. "Oh god," she groaned as relief washed through her, her body tensing for a handful of seconds before releasing, her muscles limp as she lay listlessly on the car hood, deeply ashamed of herself.
