2

The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Mia stayed by the pool in her tiny black bikini, laughing at Jake’s dumb jokes, sipping lemonade, and pretending not to notice how Ethan’s eyes kept finding her. Every time she stretched languidly on the lounge chair, letting the sun kiss her barely-covered skin, she felt his gaze—like a slow caress across her breasts, her stomach, the smooth curve of her ass when she rolled over.  

Sarah stayed glued to his side, touching his arm, kissing his shoulder. Mia smiled sweetly through it all, twirling a strand of damp hair around her finger, occasionally “accidentally” brushing her foot against Ethan’s calf under the water when they were all splashing around.  

“You’re awfully quiet today, squirt,” Ethan had murmured once when Sarah went inside for sunscreen. His voice was low, teasing, but his eyes had darkened as they traced the way her wet bikini top clung to her hardened nipples.  

Mia had only shrugged, biting her lower lip innocently. “Just enjoying the sun, Ethan. Why? Am I distracting you?”  

He had chuckled, but the sound was rough. “Why would you distract me?”  

Then Sarah had returned, and the moment shattered.  

By evening, the group had moved inside. Jake ordered pizza, they watched a movie, and the two couples cuddled on the big sectional while Mia sat curled in the oversized armchair, knees tucked up, pretending to scroll on her phone. 

She had changed into soft sleep shorts and a thin camisole—no bra, the fabric thin enough that the cool air kept her nipples tight and visible if anyone bothered to look. Ethan did. More than once.  

Around eleven, Jake and his date disappeared upstairs with barely a goodnight. Sarah yawned dramatically and tugged Ethan toward the guest room at the end of the hall—the room that had basically become his over the years because he was family. “Come on, babe. I’m tired.”  

Mia waited ten minutes, heart thudding, before she stood. She told herself she was just going downstairs for a glass of water. That was all.  

The house was quiet except for the low hum of the air-conditioning. Barefoot, she padded down the hallway toward the stairs. Ethan’s door was slightly ajar—probably from when Sarah had pulled him inside in a hurry. Soft light spilled out, along with sounds that stopped Mia cold.  

A low, feminine moan. The unmistakable rhythmic creak of a bed.  

Jealousy slammed into her so hard she had to brace a hand on the wall. Her feet moved before her brain caught up. She crept closer, breath shallow, until she could peek through the narrow gap.  

Ethan’s room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp. Sarah was on all fours in the center of the big bed, back arched, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. Ethan was behind her, completely naked, his powerful body gleaming with sweat. One large hand gripped her hip while the other fisted her hair, pulling just enough to make Sarah gasp.  

He was hammering into her—deep, steady thrusts that made the headboard tap softly against the wall. Mia could see everything: the way his thick cock disappeared between Sarah’s legs with every snap of his hips, the slick shine of her arousal coating him, the way his muscles flexed and bunched across his back and ass.  

“Fuck, you feel good,” Ethan growled, voice low and rough in a way Mia had never heard before. He leaned over Sarah, one hand sliding around to rub between her legs. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”  

Sarah moaned louder, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “Harder, Ethan—yes, just like that.”  

Mia’s face burned. Anger and raw jealousy twisted in her chest like a knife, but underneath it, heat pooled low in her belly. Her thighs pressed together instinctively. 

She was throbbing—her pussy already slick and aching, the thin fabric of her sleep shorts growing damp. She watched, unable to look away, as Ethan’s pace quickened. His hand left Sarah’s hair to grip both hips, pulling her back onto him harder. The wet slap of skin filled the room.  

Mia’s nipples tightened painfully against her camisole. One of her hands drifted down without thinking, pressing lightly over her shorts, right where she was pulsing. She bit her lip hard to stay silent.  

Inside the room, Sarah’s moans turned sharp and desperate. “I’m close—don’t stop—”  

Ethan groaned, deep and guttural. “That’s it. Come for me.” He slammed into her a few more times, hard and fast, then buried himself deep, hips grinding as Sarah cried out, her body shaking through her orgasm.  

Mia’s own core clenched in sympathy, a fresh gush of wetness soaking her panties. She was so turned on it hurt—jealousy and need warring inside her until she felt dizzy.  

Ethan pulled out, flipped Sarah onto her back, and stroked himself twice before coming with a low curse, thick ropes landing across her stomach and breasts. Sarah laughed breathlessly, reaching up to pull him down for a kiss.  

Mia stumbled back from the door, chest heaving. Her legs felt weak. Mia was angry—so fucking angry that it was Sarah in there getting what she had wanted for years. But more than anger, there was a fierce, possessive determination settling in her bones.  

She would make him see her. She would be the one who made his breath catch, who made him lose control, who gave him that pleasure next. Not Sarah. Not anyone else. Her.  

Quietly, Mia retreated to her own room, closing the door with a soft click. She leaned against it, breathing hard, one hand slipping inside her shorts before she could stop herself. Her fingers found her swollen, dripping folds and circled her clit. 

The image of Ethan—sweaty, powerful, thrusting—played behind her closed eyes. She came fast and hard, biting her pillow to muffle the whimper, but it wasn’t enough. It only left her hungrier.  

When the aftershocks faded, Mia lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, skin still flushed, heart racing with fresh resolve.  

Tomorrow she would turn up the heat. A little more skin. A little more “accidental” closeness. Innocent touches that lingered just a second too long. She would smile sweetly and call him by name in that soft voice she knew affected him. She would remind him, without ever saying it outright, that she wasn’t his “little sister” anymore.  

And when the moment was right, when Sarah was distracted or gone, Mia would make sure Ethan couldn’t look away. Couldn’t pretend. Couldn’t stop thinking about her.  

She smiled into the darkness, fingers still lightly teasing between her thighs.  

Two weeks. Plenty of time to seduce her brother’s best friend completely.  

Game on.