The Ghost & The Incest Clause by Kate M. Rivenhall

Author:Kate M. Rivenhall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: taboo erotica, brother sister incest, sibling incest, incest erotica, brother sister romance, incest romance, age gap taboo, incest, taboo romance, age gap
Publisher: Kate M. Rivenhall
Published: 2023-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

I had spent the afternoon wandering the grounds, examining all the roses, trailing my hand in the jewel-like crystalline ponds, and smelling the delicious scents of the year-round herb garden. But a ball of nerves was growing in my belly. The bell hadn’t rung. There was only one thing left to do.

I went inside to get a cup of coffee, making it with shaking hands. My brother was at the table, looking at his phone with his own cup of coffee and I saw him flicking rapidly through stock prices and business news. Christ, how could he think about stock prices at a time like this? I was sick of the build-up. I was sick of the waiting.

“Come on, Graydon,” I said. “What is it going to take for you to fuck me?”

My brother shot an angry glance at me. At least it was more scorching than his usual cold looks.

I cradled my cup of coffee in my hand, trying to draw comfort from its warmth.

“Look outside,” I said. “It’s almost twilight. We only have a few more hours now.”

I watched him as he stood and leaned against the kitchen island, his big arms up on the counter behind him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.

“I’ve had sex before, Graydon,” I said angrily. “Many times. How could I get hurt? Just be quick.”

I saw his hands close over the counter briefly, the muscles in them standing out for a second.

“How could I get hurt, Graydon?” I asked again, but he said nothing.

“Besides,” I went on, “Since when do you even care? We barely even know each other. Put a bag over my head if my face bothers you so much.”

I saw a muscle move, this time in Graydon’s jawline. “It is a product of your imagination that I don’t care, brat,” he said. “You assume unless you have someone wrapped around your little finger that they don’t care.”

“Quit the psychoanalysis,” I said. “You’re stalling. I know you don’t want this place sold at some auction to strangers.”

I saw my brother turn and put his hand on the top of the open French windows, looking out at the rows of rose bushes, at the vines creeping over the summerhouse, the shine of the pool in the twilight.

Then he turned around, and his eyes looked cold and expressionless. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll fuck you, little sister.”

It was what I wanted but I still felt his cold words like a shock all down my spine.

He walked over to me.

“Do you need a bag for my head?” I asked, trying to lighten the tension I felt growing in the room and creeping along my skin.

“Don’t be stupid, Harmony,” he said roughly, and he grabbed my arm, flipping me around, turning me away from him and pushing me against the back of the couch.

I guessed there wasn’t going to be any foreplay, and I felt a slight stab of disappointment. But that was ridiculous. The main thing was get it over with.

I hadn’t put my panties back on and he flipped my skirt back up.

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