"I thought I'd never get you alone."
Dom stepped behind me and pressed himself against my body, pinning me where I stood at the kitchen sink. His hands were already sliding up my thighs, pulling my skirt up between us.
"Stop it!" I hissed. "Mike's just in the other room, he'll hear us."
"He started drinking before dinner, Juliet. He's dead drunk and out for the night. Can't you hear him snoring?"
He nuzzled his face against the back of my neck and I had to carefully set down the glass I was rinsing as his hot breath made me instantly trembly. I listened and heard, mixed in with the drone of the TV news, the rattling snore of my drunk husband. I knew he'd be out for at least a few hours, but...
"Dom. We can't...not here."
"I missed you, Juliet," he whispered. "I thought about you every day." He bent his head over my shoulder and licked my ear. "And every night."
He pressed his pelvis against me and I realized he'd successfully drawn my skirt up over my ass and was now slipping his hands down under my panties. I made one more attempt to stop him, but it was half-hearted.
"Stop, Dom. We can't do this."
He brought a hand up to cover my breast and despite myself, I sighed and arched my back. I wanted it, I wanted him. There was something wrong with me, but God help me I wanted my brother more than any other man I'd ever met.
"I wish I was stationed closer, so I could see you. I hate the thought of you here with that asshole, and I'm too far away to protect you."
"I'm not ten years old, Dom. You don't have to protect me anymore," I insisted.
It came out breathy and unconvincing because at that moment his hand moved down from my breast, over my belly and directly between my thighs.
"I wish you'd leave him."
"You know I can't."
He kissed my neck and I heard the muffled growl of his zipper being undone. I tried once more to gain control of the situation.
"Stop, Dom. Please. We can't keep doing this."
"Why not? You deserve to feel good for once. There's no way that drunken fuck in the other room satisfies you." I felt the heat of his skin on mine as he pressed his cock against my ass, nudging it between my ass cheeks. "When was the last time he made you come? Or even cared if you did? When was the last time he told you he loves you?"
I sighed and unconsciously moved my hips as the hand between my thighs began to move in circles against my pussy.
"He's not worthy of you, Juliet. And you deserve better than a waste of space like him."
"Dominic..." My voice trailed off in a sigh as his fingers spread over the fabric of my panties until one slid beneath the elastic edge.
"If you don't want me, why is your pussy so wet?" he whispered. He ran his fingers over my pussy lips and I had to bite my lip to keep from making a sound.
-
Dom was my older brother by four years. We'd been close since as far back as I could remember. Our dad ran off with some other woman when I was just four, leaving my mom to raise us on her own.
She did her best, but it was hard. She worked two jobs and told us again and again how important it was that we take care of each other because she couldn't always be there for us. Dominic took that to heart. From an early age, he saw it as his duty to protect his little sister from playground bullies and, once I started dating, boys with less than honorable intentions.
He'd been a tough kid—always gearing for a fight, always getting in trouble. He was a good kid, but he had more energy than he knew what to do with and school wasn't the right fit for him—he had too much trouble sitting still—but after high school he joined the army, found an outlet for his energy and something he could believe in. He came back from basic training bulked up, with a composure he'd never had before—he had matured and calmed dramatically.
He was still protective of me, though. No guy I dated was good enough in his eyes and he let me know that. He let them know too, sometimes without even a word. He was tall and broad, muscled and tattooed, with a steely stare. More than a few evenings ended with my date running off in a panic just because Dom looked at him. It pissed me off when he interfered, but it wasn't until I met my husband that I actually defied my brother.
Back then Mike was an OK guy. A little dense, sometimes rough around the edges, but he wasn't a bad person. I wasn't in love with him, but I wanted to be. My brother hated him openly and by then I'd had it with his overprotectiveness and decided I'd see Mike no matter what my brother said or did.
We were able to sneak around for a few months while my brother was busy getting ready for his first military duty assignment, but a few nights before he was to leave, he came home before he'd said he would, and caught us.
It was awful—shouting, threats, and more shouting—and after Mike finally stormed out of the house, Dom and I fought some more.
Everybody knows incest is wrong. It's totally fucked up and weird to want to have sex with someone you're closely related to. But in the middle of our screaming fight, when he seized me to keep me from walking away from him, I saw to the heart of his anger where his fear sat, dark and cold, and I saw him differently all of the sudden—not as my interfering brother, but as the person who loved me and who I loved most in the whole world. It seemed the most natural thing to want to touch him, to kiss him, to be held in his arms.
My argument had died in my throat at that moment, and as I stared at him I saw he'd already made the same discovery, that he'd long since thought of me as the woman he was in love with, not just his sister.
I'd made the first move and he'd been so shocked at first he just stood there, unmoving as I threw my arms around his neck to kiss him. When he came to his senses we were both all hands and hungry mouths. We fucked right there on my bed, and it was the most intensely pleasurable and exciting sex I ever had or have had since.
But afterward, it freaked me out so much that as soon as Dom was back at his base, Mike and I eloped. I think I'd hoped two things: that getting married would make me fall in love with Mike; and that getting married would make me forget about what Dom and I had done.
Neither happened.
Mike was fine the first year, but when he lost his job he got depressed, and during his six months of unemployment he started drinking. By the time he got another job, he'd developed a habit and carried a whole lot of resentment and irritation, which he heaped on me in one way or another. He wasn't abusive, just neglectful and clearly not in love with me.
The memory of sex with my brother wouldn't leave my head or my body. I'd remember his hands on my skin and his tongue in my mouth and his cock thrusting deep inside me, and shiver with excitement.
After Dom's initial anger that I'd gone behind his back and married Mike faded, it became apparent he hadn't stopped thinking about what had happened between us either. When we saw each other at family gatherings or holidays, his eyes undressed me and he lingered close by, finding excuses to touch me, all the while fixing me with a look that made my knees weak.
If things hadn't been so shitty with Mike, I might have resisted the urges I was feeling, but I was unhappy and lonely, stuck at home with an infant to care for and a grouchy, drunken husband to go to bed with.
Dom visited one afternoon while Mike was at work and my son was napping. I'd been holding it in for so long—the desire to be with him, the desire to feel good again—that my passion erupted when he made a slight advance. As soon as we touched we were linked again, undressing and caressing with a manic lust.
For the duration of his leave from the Army we had sex as many times as we could. It was intense, needy fucking, but somehow sweet at the same time. Despite all his muscle and macho posturing, he had the softest heart I'd ever known, and he held me close within it; I felt loved and safe with him, like I always had.
-
"I can't tell you how much I missed you. I thought about you all the time." My brother slid his tongue along my ear lobe from behind and I bit my lip, stifling a groan. "I missed your sweet little pussy," he said softly, curving his fingers so they dipped between my swollen labia.
I squirmed, gripping the edge of the counter as his fingers explored.
"And all the sexy sounds you make when you're turned on."
He dragged a finger over my clit and I half squealed with delight, but silenced it quickly.
"And the way your face looks when you're about to come..."
He growled and I felt him take his cock in his hand and stroke it. Meanwhile his fingers slid up and down between my labia slowly and carefully, lightly at first, then pressing more firmly, swirling over my clit before dipping low to press against the opening to my vagina. It wasn't long before I had my hand over my mouth trying to keep my gasps and sighs from escaping.
I felt him draw the fabric of my panties farther down and then his cock pressed against me from behind and I realized I was arching my back and tilting my hips to invite him to enter me. He pushed forward and I groaned loudly as he slid inside. In the living room, my husband's snores abruptly stopped. My heart jumped and I made a frantic motion to push my brother away, but he wrapped a strong arm around me.
"He's just shifting," he said assuringly, but we both held still, ears focused to catch any sound from the other room. A moment later the snoring could be heard again, softer now, but steady and deep.
