Page 23 of The Wildflower


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“This is wrong, Drew. And not just because I hate you… but because…”

Bile climbs up my throat. I’ve tried not to think about Drew being my brother because the thought is…disgusting.

Leaning forward, he nuzzles against my cheek with the tip of his nose and traces a trail down the side of my face, burying his face into the crook of my neck. There's an audible inhale as he breathes me into his lungs like he’s missed my scent. It’s such a possessive act, one that he has no right doing.

“Because why? Because I might be your brother?”

“Yes,” I hiss, my heart rate picking up.

He lifts his head, his eyes glittering with a desire I know all too well. “It’s not any different from before. I’ve already fucked your cunt and filled you with my cum. The truth can’t change what’s already happened. Why let it stop us now?” He punctuates his question with a thrust of his hips and a quick jerk and lift of mine.

Knocked off balance, I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist to steady myself. Damn him. Once I realize my position, I wiggle, and that causes friction, allowing him to get closer, his length pressing harder against my core.

He licks his lips as he studies mine and grinds into me. Goddammit. The friction is delicious, and pleasure zings up my spine.

“Does it really change anything, Bel? Does that knowledge make you want me any less? Because I’ll be honest with you…” He flexes his hips, the tip of his dick pressing against my clit. A whimper escapes my parted lips, and he smirks. "It doesn’t change a goddamn thing for me. I still want you. No, I still need you. Nothing has changed for me. How fucked up does that make me? How fucked up does it make me to know you might be my sister, yet I can’t stop thinking about pinning you to the wall and fucking you until you beg me to stop? About watching my cum drip out of your tight pussy. Fuck, it’s wrong, but I don’t want to be right, not if it means I have to give you up, give us up.”

I gulp, my hips lifting toward him despite his words. He starts to move, grinding against mine harder and faster like he can’t get enough. I clutch onto him, my breaths becoming pants under his brutal touch.

“Drew…” I’m assaulted with so many feelings and thoughts.

Pleasure. Fear. Disgust.

This is wrong, but at the same time, nothing has ever felt more right in my life.

“Tell me to stop, Bel. Tell me you don’t feel the same way, the same burning desire in your bones, the same animalistic urge to claim, and I’ll walk away. ”

There are no words to speak, and I’m embarrassed that I can’t even manage to say no. Instead, I moan while clutching him tighter, needing him to hold all the fucked-up pieces of my soul together because I know once he’s done with me, I’ll be nothing more than a vase shattered against the wall.

The pleasure in my core builds, carrying me higher and higher with every swivel of his hips. I grit my teeth and try to stave off the orgasm threatening to barrel through me with every inch he shifts.

“Drew… we… we have to stop…”

“Shhh,” he soothes, his body moving faster. “I know it feels wrong, but it’s not. You were made for me, and I know you feel it too. And that’s okay, Flower, because I have no problem being the bad man. I have no problem with you blaming me for your moral incompetence. If it makes you feel better, you can tell them I forced myself on you. No one has to know how much you want your potential blood brother's cock.”

It’s so fucking wrong, so terribly bad and fucked up, but I can’t stop it, nor would I want to. I shake my head and stifle a moan, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth.

"Come for me, Bel." He bites out the words, his mouth millimeters from mine. "I’m desperate for you, so fucking desperate. Not even the potential knowledge of you being my sister could stop me from wanting you. I don't care if that makes me the most twisted, fucked-up asshole you know. I need you. I want you.”

He shifts his mouth to the side of my neck and nips at my tender flesh. My entire body jolts at the eclectic current that ripples over my skin, and my pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled.

Why the hell does he always do this to me? Reduce me to nothing more than my most basic animal instinct?

"Tell me you missed me too," he whispers, nipping my earlobe, then sucking it hard. "Tell me."

I shake my head. Shuddering. Inching closer to the finish line. I’m so close to coming, that's all I can think about.

How can I still feel all this for him, with him, when he broke my heart the way he did? With his father’s confession looming over us?

A sob claws its way out of my throat, warring with the pleasure spiraling in my core.

"No," I whisper. "I don't want this."

The words mean nothing, not when I continue grinding against him, chasing the high I've missed, something only he can give me, even if I won't admit it.

"I’d believe you. Maybe I’d even take mercy on you and stop if I actually believed you. But I can’t, not when you’re clawing at me like a cat in heat, grinding your pussy against my cock, your juices seeping into my jeans. The proof is right there, Flower, right on my fucking jeans.”

I gulp and shake my head, gripping his shoulders tight, digging in my nails. Fighting the inevitable. I hate him. I hate him so much… but at the same time, I want him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

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