Chapter Eleven – His Best Friend´s Little Sister

You drag your hand out of his. He looks at you.

– I don’t think that’s a good idea, Brock…

It’s not that you don’t want to. But you have been drinking, just like last time. And you don’t want anything to happen. Well, you do, but you don’t. He fooled you once. That’s on him. Since you know now. This will be on you. You’ll be stupid if you let him in once more.

– What do you want me to say, YN?

Does he look sad? You don’t know. And it could all be an act. And you really want to be totally sober when you talk about this.

– Can we like wait until tomorrow, Brock? I really don’t want to do this when I’m drunk.

He clears his throat. Keeps looking at you.

– Of course! I’m not trying to push you, YN! I just.. I didn’t know.

– Well, you still didn’t talk to me after. I mean.. If you wanted…

He puts a finger over your lips.

– We can talk tomorrow. Don’t start anything now that we can’t finish. I didn’t know, YN.. OK? I didn’t know..

Then he turns around, and walks back into his room. You stand there for a while, looking at his closed door. Before that burning sensation behind your eyes gets too hard to hold back. You quickly get into your room. Bury your face in the pillows, and cry out your frustrations and your feelings.

Brocks pov:

She was a virgin? A virgin? He’d never.. Fuck! He remembered that night like it was yesterday. Ever since Jack introduced you, he thought you were beautiful. But he held back. You were younger than him, barley legal. And you were Jacks little sister. That last part made you off limit in itself. His best friend’s little sister. Wasn’t there a “rule” about that or something? But fuck how he wanted you. To touch you, feel your skin, taste it. Taste your lips. Taste every part of you.

He wasn’t that experienced back then. He’d had one girlfriend before the military, and well the military wasn’t exactly packed with girls. And the few that were there… Well, let’s just say they weren’t his type. He usually used magazines, and well.. His imagination. And that was good enough, but when he stayed in the same house as you, looked at you every day. It didn’t take long before the imagination always went to you. Making him hard as a rock every time his mind wandered to you. Did you sleep naked? Did you… No.. You were 18 years old.

That’s what he thought. He decided not to make a move. But then, you sat there in the couch that night. Everyone else was sleeping. And you didn’t move, when he got closer. You didn’t stop him when he kissed you. Infact, you kissed back. It was YOU who removed his shirt. You who let your hands touch his abs, your lips who kissed his neck. How the fuck could he have known that you were a virgin? Your behaviour was that of a more experienced one.

He might have placed you down on the floor. He might have removed your underwear. Yes, he might have done that. But you never stopped him. Not once. And you removed his underwear. You did. He remembers that.

Your breasts so soft in his palms. Your nipples peaking, and your eyes on him. He tries to think back. Did you try to tell him to stop with your eyes? Those beautiful green eyes of yours, shining like Dresden Green. No! Not once did they tell him no.

He remembers how you grabbed his hair, when he took your nipples between his lips. One at a time, slowly tasting every part of you. You didn’t push him away. You held him in place.

Should he have known by the gasp you made when he pushed your legs apart? Should he have known by the small moans you made when his tongue touched your clit? How the fuck could he have known? Should he have asked?

Should he have felt it when he entered you? Did he hurt you? Oh fuck! He thought he was careful. But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe you were scared, and didn’t dare to tell him how much it hurt. Maybe you just lied there wishing for him to finish? Did you feel like he raped you? Oh, fuck.

That’s why you buried yourself in a book for the reminder of his stay. That’s why you didn’t say good morning during breakfast the next day. Sitting the whole day reading that book, as if your life depended on it. Not once looking up. He almost didn’t see your face after that. Always a book in front of it. If he thought back, he could even remember the title of it “The Last Juror” a John Grisham novel.

He wanted to talk to you, but that book was always in the way. And he saw how you responded to Jack, when he tried to talk to you. So he decided not to. And then… Then it was time to leave. And.. Well. He never saw you after that. Not until now. When he promised Jack to drive you to New York. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all. He thought this trip would mend your relationship. That you could get to know each other again. But then you were hostile from the very first second, and he and his smart mouth only made it worse.

He only wanted to make you laugh. That’s why he cracked jokes and made fun of you… toy.. Fuck how he wanted to use that on you, or maybe watch you use it yourself. The images he conjures in his head makes him grow rock hard. Fuck.. Take a cold shower Brock.. Shake her off.

The semi cold water doesn’t help. If anything it makes it worse. Brock curses at himself for having this little control over his emotions. He’s usually a calm and collected guy. But this girl.. Fuck!

He grabs himself, hard. Angry at himself, so the strokes are rough and hard. Closing his eyes, so he can pretend it’s you, who’s holding him between your fingers. Stroking back and forth. He works faster. Trying to conjure the sensation of your tongue on his tip, as his pre cum starts to form around it. Faster! He’s wildly bucking into his hand. Fuck, yes! He’s coming hard. No surprise. It’s been a while. He can’t even remember the last time he had sex. Besides, after seeing you again. He knows that you are the only one he truly wants. But he can’t push. No more jokes, Brock. Just… Just.. Oh, fuck!

Your pov

Finally you’re done crying. No more tears left. Empty. Why did you start to cry anyway. It’s not like he cheated on you. You were never together like that. Just a one night stand, right? He should have told you though. That a one night fling was all it was. He should have told you before hand, right? Shouldn’t he have done that? Eh, how do you know? He was your first. You had no idea how things was even done. He did though.

How could he not have known that you were a virgin? Isn’t he supposed to feel that or something? Isn’t it supposed to be like tight or closed or… And you didn’t know how to do anything. Sure, you kissed him, his lips, his shoulders, his chest. But you still had no idea what you were doing. How the hell didn’t he notice that? Is he lying to you? Maybe he just want’s another go, so he tells you what he thinks you want to hear?

Keep him at arms length, YN. Just keep him at arms length….