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The stairs creak under my weight as I head upstairs. Each step is deliberate and slow as I savor the moment. At the top, the hallway is dark, and the doors are closed, but I know which one is hers. I’ve known since the day I moved in. I’ve always known where to find her.
As a kid, I’d sneak into her room sometimes to watch her sleep. After a while, watching got boring, and I would sneak peeks under her blankets. Lifting her little nighties up to catch a glimpse of what’s underneath. I’d stand there by the edge of her bed. Cock in my hand while I watched her chest rise and fall with slow, calming breaths. I’d shoot my load into her favorite coconut lotion bottle, so the next morning, she’d be rubbing me all over herself without ever knowing it.
She’s spent her entire fucking day marked by me, and no one fucking knew the wiser.
When I reach her door, I pause again, my hand hovering over the doorknob. I can hear her soft and steady breathing on the other side like she’s finally at peace. But that peace won’t last. Not when I’m about to shatter it.
I twist the doorknob slowly, savoring the way it turns under my hand. The door opens with a quiet creak, revealing her room, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. She’s curled up on the bed, her back to the door, blankets pulled tight around her as if they could protect her from the world—or from me.
I step inside, the carpet muffling my footsteps, making me feel like a predator stalking its prey. My heart pounds in my chest, the anticipation almost too much to bear. This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
She stirs in her sleep, a small, fragile movement that makes something dark and possessive tighten in my chest. I want to reach out, to touch her, to claim her right then and there. But I hold back, letting the moment stretch out, letting the tension build until it’s almost unbearable.
She’s is fucking mine. She’s always been. And now, with nothing left to hold me back, I will make sure she knows it.
I move closer, my breath catching in my throat as I reach the edge of the bed. I can see her more clearly now, the soft rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her hair spills across the silk pillow like a dark halo. She looks so peaceful, so innocent. But she’s not fooling me. I know what’s inside her, what she’s hiding, what she’s afraid to admit even to herself.
I crouch down beside the bed, my fingers itching to reach out and touch her, to feel her warmth and make her mine in every way that I’ve been waiting to. But I wait, letting the anticipation coil tighter and tighter inside me until I’m almost shaking with it.
“Tatum,” I whisper, my voice low and rough, filled with everything I’ve been holding back for so long.
She doesn’t stir at first, and for a moment, I think she might not wake up. But then she shifts, her body tensing, a soft, barely audible gasp escaping her lips. She’s awake. And she knows I’m here.
I reach out, my hand hovering over her shoulder, inches away from touching her. “Tatum,” I say again, a little louder this time, letting her hear the command in my voice.
She turns slowly, her eyes wide and scared, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. For a moment, she just stares at me as if she can’t believe I’m really here. As if she’s not sure if this is a nightmare or reality.
But it’s real. It’s so fucking real. And it’s happening.
“You,” she whispers, her voice trembling, filled with fear and something else—something darker, something I recognize because it’s the same thing that’s been burning inside me for so long.
“Me,” I say, a slow, wicked smile spreading across my face as I reach out and touch her, finally. Her skin is fucking soft and warm under my fingers. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, like a live wire.
She flinches at the touch, her breath hitching in her throat, but she doesn’t pull away. She just stares at me. Her wide-eyed and scared expression changes to something else…curiosity? Intrigued? The darkness is there, just beneath the surface. I can fucking see it, feel it like a shadow waiting to be unleashed.
“What are you doing in here?” she whispers.
“I told you,” I murmur, my fingers trailing down her arm, light as a feather, sending shivers down her spine. “You’re mine, Tatum. And now… now there’s nothing left to stop me from taking what’s mine.”
“But-but I’m your sister… I can’t. We can’t.” she stammers as she tries to give me every fucking excuse our parents used.
“Exactly, and now, I’m all you have left. Little sister. It’s just you and me. It’s why we have to be together,” She shakes her head with a small, weak movement, but I can see the doubt in her eyes and how she’s torn between running and giving in. It’s a battle she’s been fighting for so long, but it’s one she’s destined to lose. Because I won’t let her win, I won’t let her keep pretending she’s something she’s not.
“You know it’s true,” I say, my voice soft but insistent, filled with the dark, twisted certainty that’s been driving me for years. “There is no one else, and even if there were, I’d kill them just to make sure all you had was me. You think I don’t know you want this? Want me. Admit it, you’ve thought about me and all the depraved fucked up things I could do to you,”
“No,” she whispers, but the word is weak, barely audible, and I know she doesn’t believe it. Not really.
“Yes,” I counter, leaning in closer, my breath hot against her ear. “You’ve been acting. Putting on a show for them, but guess what? Now they’re dead. Now they’re gone, and there’s no one left to watch the second act. No one but me. I know you’ve been fighting it, but you can’t fight it anymore. Not now. Not with them gone. It’s just us now, Tatum. Just you and me. And you know what that means.”
She trembles under my touch, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t scream, doesn’t try to run. She just stares at me, her muddy eyes filled with fear, longing, and something dark. Something dangerous that makes my blood sing in my veins.
I lean in closer, my lips brushing against her ear as I whisper, “Let go, Tatum. Stop pretending. Stop fighting. You belong to me now. You always have.”
She shudders a small, involuntary movement that sends a thrill of satisfaction through me. She’s close. So close to breaking, to giving in. And when she does, when she finally lets go of that pathetic facade of innocence, I’ll be there to catch her. To claim her. To make her mine in every way that matters.
I pull back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes and see the war behind them. She’s so fucking close, teetering on the edge, and all I have to do is push her over.
“Give in,” I whisper, my voice low and commanding, filled with the dark, twisted need that’s been eating at me for so long. “You know you want to. You know you have no other choice. No one left for you besides me.”
