Chapter 2(2): Brotherly Stares

The next morning dawned grey and drizzly, typical Surrey shite, but the manor felt charged, like the air before a thunderstorm. I'd slept like a cat in heat, tossing with dreams of Jake's cum-splattered abs and Richard's rough hands. Woke with my pussy lips puffy, sheets twisted between my thighs from unconscious grinding. No time for a proper wank—had to keep the tease simmering. Slipped into yoga pants that hugged every curve like a second skin, cameltoe blatant if you looked close, and a thin sports bra that did fuck-all to hide my stiff nipples. Hair in a messy ponytail, no makeup beyond lip gloss that made my mouth look perpetually cock-sucking ready. Innocent athlete vibe, perfect.

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty save for the hum of the fridge and the patter of rain on mullioned windows. I poured coffee, black and scalding, inhaling the bitter steam as it curled up. Bent to check the dishwasher—arse thrust out, fabric stretching taut over my cheeks, the seam digging into my slit. That's when the door swung open, heavy footsteps thudding like a predator's prowl.

Jake.

He filled the frame, fresh from a run maybe—tank top damp with sweat, clinging to his pecs and those ridges of abs I'd jerked to last night. Joggers low, the bulge of his cock swinging heavy with each step. His eyes locked on my arse first, then up to my face in the reflection of the window. Darkened instantly, jaw clenching. "Morning, sis," he rumbled, voice thicker than the coffee.

I straightened slow, turning with a bright smile, cup to my lips. Sipped, letting a drop escape to trail down my chin, wiping it with my thumb suggestively. "Hey, brother. Early bird?"

He didn't answer, just prowled closer, crowding my space at the island. The scent hit me—sweat-salted skin, that underlying musk of unwashed cock from morning wood. My clit twitched, a fresh trickle of wetness seeping into my pants. He loomed, six-three to my five-six, forcing my head back to meet his gaze. "Saw your phone light up last night. Some uni prick texting. 'Miss that tight pussy' or whatever bollocks."

My pulse spiked, but I played coy, eyes wide. "Jealous? It's just mates, Jake." Liar. It was that philosophy tutor I'd ridden reverse cowgirl on before break, his mediocre dick nowhere near Jake's monster.

His hand shot out, fingers gripping my chin—not hard enough to bruise, but firm, tilting my face up. Thumb pressed my lower lip, parting it slightly. "No bloke from that shithole uni deserves you, Delilah. Bunch of limp-dicked wankers who couldn't make you cum if their lives depended." Breath hot on my face, minty from toothpaste mixed with his natural heat. His other arm braced the counter behind me, caging me in. Chest heaving inches from my tits, nipples scraping the bra with each inhale.

I swallowed, throat clicking audibly, pussy clenching at the dominance rolling off him. "Jake... what are you—"

"Listen," he growled, leaning in till his lips brushed my ear, stubble rasping my lobe. "You're home now. With family. No more spreading those legs for strangers." His hips shifted, and fuck—his cock was hardening, the thick length pressing insistent against my thigh through the thin layers. Hot, rigid, at least eight inches already swelling to full mast, the veiny underside grinding slow circles. I felt every pulse, the heat seeping through fabric, my own juices flooding to match.

Play coy. I squirmed, "accidentally" rubbing my thigh firmer against him, the friction sending sparks to my core. "You're being silly. Daddy would say you're overprotective." Voice breathy, innocent lilt, but my hands fisted the counter edge to stop from grabbing his bulge.

He chuckled dark, low in his chest—vibration rumbling through where we touched. "Daddy ain't here. And yeah, I'm protective. 'Cause this—" His free hand dropped, palming my tit roughly, thumb flicking the nipple till it throbbed like a heartbeat. "—this body's for family eyes only." Squeezed, rolling the peak between fingers, a jolt straight to my clit. I gasped, thighs pressing together, the wet patch blooming dark on my yoga pants.

"Jake!" Half-protest, half-moan. His cock ground harder, humping my thigh now, precum probably smearing his joggers. The kitchen filled with the slick sound of fabric shifting, rain drumming louder outside like applause. His breath panted hot on my neck, lips grazing skin. "Feel that? That's what you do to me, sis. Hard as fuck since you bent over yesterday, flashing that bare cunt."

My knickers—no, fuck, I wasn't even wearing any—my bare pussy lips swelled, slick coating my inner thighs, dripping down. The seam of the pants wedged deeper, sawing my clit with each tiny shift. Heart hammered; one word from Richard and this exploded, but that's the thrill. "We... we can't," I whispered, but arched my tit into his hand, hips canting to drag my mound against his leg.

"We fucking can," he snarled, pinching my nipple hard enough to sting sweet. His bulge throbbed, dry-humping faster, balls probably churning. But then—footsteps upstairs. Richard stirring.

Jake froze, eyes feral, then shoved back with a curse. Adjusted his raging hard-on—outline obscene, wet spot at the tip. "This ain't over, Delilah. Keep those legs closed." Stalked out, door slamming.

I sagged against the counter, legs jelly. Nipple ached deliciously, pussy a sopping ruin—yoga pants soaked front to back, clinging translucent to my lips. Tasted salt on my lip where I'd bitten it. Fuck him. Or rather, fuck me thinking of him.

Lunch came and went—Richard home late from the estate office, clueless chats over sandwiches. Jake avoided my eyes, but his foot hooked my ankle under the table, dragging slow. Tease returned.

Afternoon blurred: pool laps in that bikini again, Jake watching from the patio, towel tented. Every stroke through water rubbed my clit swollen. Evening, family film—me sandwiched between them on the sofa, Jake's hand on my thigh inching higher, Richard's arm over my shoulders, fingers toying my hair.

Bedtime couldn't come fast enough. Door locked, lights dim. Stripped naked, the air cool on fevered skin. Tits heavy, nipples raw from his pinch. Crawled onto the bed, knees wide, arse high—mirror angled to watch. Pussy on full display: lips engorged, pink and glossy, clit peeking like a pearl, hole winking emptily.

Two fingers first—plunged deep, knuckles squelching into drenched heat. Walls gripped greedy, suction pulling them in. "Fuck, Jake," I moaned aloud, voice echoing off walls. Thumb mashed my clit, circles frantic, imagining his cock—thick head breaching, veins dragging my ridges. Added a third finger, stretching like his girth would, wrist twisting to hit that spot. Juices gushed, puddling the sheets, tangy scent filling the room.

His dirty talk replayed: "No one deserves you... body's for family." Hips bucked, tits swinging, slapping undersides. Free hand yanked a nipple, twisting vicious. Pressure coiled, belly tight. "Split me, brother... fuck your sis raw." Visions: him pinning me like this, cock ramming balls-deep, stretching till I screamed, cum flooding my womb.

Snapped—orgasm brutal, pussy convulsing, clamping fingers like a vice. Squirted hard, arc hitting the mirror, thighs quaking uncontrollable. Waves crashed, one after another, clit pulsing under thumb. Collapsed panting, fingers trapped deep, milking aftershocks. Licked them clean—musky, addictive—whispering his name like a prayer.

But as sleep tugged, phone buzzed. Uni boy: "Back soon? Need that ride again." Smirked. Jake thought he owned me. They'd both learn—I'm the one who rides.