I unleash and my cock throbs, pulsing over and over. I spill out into her, coating her, claiming her. My body stiffens and there’s nothing but this wave of agonizing bliss washing over me. I think it’s over, but there’s more, pulse after pulse of ecstasy.
I slow down as the throbbing subsides. We’re both slick with sweat, breathing hard. Kylie stares at me, those beautiful blue-gray eyes taking me in, her inky dark hair spilling across the bed. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips pink and full. I lean down and brush her hair back from her face. I kiss her mouth, tasting her sweet lips. I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the base of her jaw just below her ear.
“Kylie,” I whisper. There’s nothing more. I just want to say her name.
“Braxton.”
I lean my forehead gently against hers and smile. My heart wants to burst right out of my chest. She’s the only thing I ever really wanted for myself, and the one thing I didn’t think I would ever have.
But now, finally, she is mine.
A couple weeks go by, and Kylie is my world. She goes home long enough to grab some clothes and brings them back to my condo. As far as I’m concerned, we should get rid of her apartment now, but I don’t say it. She’s still a little hesitant, although every night I easily convince her to stay over. I don’t want to be without her.
I go to my gym and train my clients, but rush home when I’m done, hoping she’ll be back from work. Just seeing her car parked on the street outside makes me smile.
I wake up every morning with her scent on my sheets, her hair draped across my pillow, and I can’t believe how fucking lucky I am.
On Friday, I take her out to dinner. I purposefully avoid bringing her to any of our usual places. I don’t want to risk running into Selene unexpectedly. Kylie and I haven’t talked about Selene again, but I don’t have to hear her say it to know she’s nervous about my sister. I want to assure her I’ll handle it, but the truth is, I’m not sure how.
Selene has always given me the death stare when I show interest in Kylie. Any time I let my guard down and looked at Ky with any sort of honesty—whether it was intentional or not—Selene would tense up and narrow her eyes at me. Sometimes I can almost feel what Selene is feeling—it’s a twin thing, I guess—and when I would flirt with Kylie, I could feel Selene’s anger. I know she’s going to be mad at me for being with Ky. I just need some time to think about what to say to make her understand, and reassure her this doesn’t mean she’s losing Kylie to me. It will be different, but that doesn’t have to be bad.
I have one client in the morning on Saturday, and when I finish, I have a text from Selene. A wave of nerves twists my gut. Shit. Her garbage disposal is broken and she wants me to come take a look at it. For a second, I think about telling her to get her dickhead boyfriend to come deal with it. But I always take care of Selene’s house when something breaks. I always take care of my sister. It’s what I do.
Kylie’s having lunch with her dad, and I don’t want to tell Selene anything without Ky being there. I figure Selene has no reason to suspect something, so I put the worry out of my mind. I’ll go to her house and fix her disposal. Kylie and I can talk tonight about what to say to her. I don’t know if Kylie is hesitant to tell her because she’s afraid of Selene’s reaction, or because she doesn’t know if we’re going to last. I hate the thought that she feels that way, but I can’t really blame her. My history doesn’t give her any reason to be confident in my ability to commit to a woman. The only thing I can do is show her.
And not just by fucking her crazy every night—I need to stay.
But I don’t even worry about it, because that’s the easy part. I have no intention of going anywhere. Ever.
I drive over to Selene’s house and let myself in. Although she’s redecorated over the years, it’s still a little strange to be here. It probably always will be. We were kids in this house. Every inch is full of memories. Some are fantastic, particularly the ones with the three of us together. Sliding down the stairs on sheets of cardboard, hiding in the extra bedroom and jumping out to scare the girls, snuggling up on the couch with a tub of popcorn and a movie. Others are harder to face, although the sting has faded to a dull ache as the years have gone by.
I go to the garage and grab the small red toolbox that belonged to my dad. The rim is rusted and there’s a dent in the side. I can still remember him opening it to find a screwdriver so he could put batteries in our toys on Christmas morning.
“Selene,” I call out as I walk back to the kitchen with the tools. “Where you at?”
Her voice is faint, coming from upstairs. “Be down in a minute.”
I turn on the water and flip the switch to see if the disposal turns on. Nothing. I check the drain, but I don’t find anything jammed in there.
“Hey,” Selene says.
“Hey sis,” I say. “What did you do to this thing? Did it just stop working?”