I closed my eyes and tried to hold it back. It was like a flood of water trying to burst through, and I was the wall holding it back.
“Oh God, I need to come,” I begged, needing that release. Every muscle in my body was tensed up trying to prevent my body from getting the release it so desperately needed as Kiegan continued to thrust in and out of me.
“Beg for it,” he told me, thrusting harder and faster.
“Please, please Kiegan, let me come!”
“Come for me, now,” he ordered, and I let my body release. It was like a torrent, a tidal wave of pleasure that ravaged my body. Kiegan came with me, our bodies becoming one. My cries filled the room as the most powerful orgasm I’d ever experienced ripped through me. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. Holding the orgasm back for a while led to so much intensity when I finally let go, it actually felt like it might rip my body apart.
I didn’t want it to end. I wanted the pleasure to last forever, but I knew it couldn’t be that way.
Kiegan and I collapsed on the bed together, the only sound that of our breathing and the light hum of the fan above us waving a cool breeze onto our naked bodies.
When we finally got out of bed two hours later, I was completely spent. Both mentally and physically. It still seemed so strange to me that this was ok, that we could do this. I mean, I knew we weren’t really blood relatives, but it still felt wrong.
This was just a trial. I knew that, Kiegan knew that. We were going to see if we could stand each other as a couple. For days we just strolled along the beach, swam in the pool and in the ocean, had coloured drinks – Kiegan had gotten me a fake ID, and I felt like a badass using it, even if it was just at upscale restaurants – and spent a lot of time in bed.
Every fantasy I’d ever had of Kiegan and I as a teenager came true that Christmas. When I woke up on Christmas morning, Kiegan was in the kitchen in his boxers, making pancakes.
“Mmmmm, that smells… lovely,” I told him as I looked at the stovetop.
“Wow, I must be really good in bed if you’re willing to lie that much. I tried making pancakes but that’s failed. Luckily I managed to pay our way into getting a reservation at Duke’s to make up for it, if you’re up for that.”
“That sounds better than burnt pancakes, anyway,” I replied, laughing.
“Would it surprise you to know that I never learned how to cook? I found a recipe online and it seemed easy enough, but apparently it wasn’t.”
I leaned up and kissed his lips softly. God, I would never get tired of that feeling on my own lips, or of the tingles that ran through me every time our bodies touched.
“That’s alright, it’s the thought that matters.”
“Duke’s do way better breakfast than this was going to be anyway,” Kiegan replied with a grin.
Twenty minutes later we were sitting on the patio overlooking the beach, with the best table in the whole restaurant. The waitress brought over a couple of plates and we went to the buffet.
“Oh man, I could eat here every day for the rest of my life,” I told Kiegan as I passed him loading up his plate with coconut bread pudding.
“Me too, Tina. Me too.” Kiegan had stopped calling me ‘sis’, at least he’d stopped doing it as much, which I appreciated.
My plate loaded up with fresh tropical fruit, a custom omelette and the pancakes I’d been promised earlier, I made my way back to our table.
“So what do you want to spend Christmas morning doing?” Kiegan asked before being interrupted by a family wanting autographs and a photo.
Politely obliging before turning back to me, I smiled.
“I honestly have no idea. I’ve spent the last two Christmas days sitting alone in my apartment with a book and streaming TV shows.”
“Ok, well, how about we spend some time in the pool then decide?”
“Sounds good. If you can ever convince me to leave this place.”
We had finished our breakfast and were about to get ready to leave when suddenly a couple of photographers popped out of nowhere and started snapping our picture.
“What the fuck!” I exclaimed as the flash suddenly blinded me.
“Hey, buddy, fuck off,” Kiegan exclaimed, grabbing the guy’s camera and ripping it off his head.
“Hey, that’s my stuff!” the guy exclaimed. Kiegan took the memory card out of the camera and threw it back at the guy, but there was another photographer, and this one had the good sense to get out Kiegan’s way before he could take his photos, too.
“Yeah, and it’s Christmas. Leave me the fuck alone,” Kiegan replied, the fury in his face evident. I had never seen him like this before. He was definitely angry.
“Give me back my memory card,” the guy ordered. Kiegan responded by dropping it into the rest of his glass of orange juice as the guy moaned about how much those pictures were worth.