When I get home Nathan is already there. He said he wouldn’t be home until six, but it’s not even five thirty. Maybe he got home early to spend time with me.

I go inside and find Nathan sitting at the kitchen table. It’s mostly dark except for the light on above the stove.

“Hi,” I say, dumping my shopping bags on the counter in the kitchen. “I got a few things that you were missing—like actual edible food.”

He still hasn’t spoken to me and he hasn’t moved. I know my brother. There’s something wrong.

“What is it? What happened?” I say.

My first thought goes to my parents. They are getting older and I dread the day that the phone rings and something has happened to one of them.

He stares at me as if he’s contemplating what to say next while he picks at his bottom lip.

“Nathan, I know something’s wrong. Just tell me what it is.”

“I saw you,” he says in a cold, unemotional voice. It’s completely empty. No anger, no sadness. Nothing. It’s almost frightening.

“What do you mean?” I say, my stomach sinking. What exactly did he see? All the horrible scenarios jump through my mind.

“A friend of mine saw you talking to Mac at the grocery store. I told him he was wrong, so I went to the store to see for myself. I saw you get into his car, then go to the pier, and then to his gym. How could you, Wanda? You know how much I hate him.”

Fuck. It’s happening exactly how I hoped it wouldn’t. Now he will see everything I’ve done as a betrayal.

“You’re wrong about Mac, Nathan. He’s not opening a competing gym. His is a rehabilitation center. It’s going to be a place for people to have physical therapy and to recover from traumatic injuries. It’s a completely different kind of business from yours.”

He looks shocked at first by the news, and then some of the tension seems to roll off his rigid shoulders, but the anger is still ever present. That part hasn’t changed.

“I don’t care if he’s a perfect angel, I still don’t want you around him. I don’t trust him.”

I shake my head, dumbfounded by the way he’s acting. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you hear how crazy that sounds? Mac has done nothing but be nice to me. He’s helping people at his business, people who otherwise wouldn’t be able to get the treatment they need because he has a plan to help with their co-pays and insurance issues. He’s asked me to work for him.”

“Work for him?” Nathan says, sounding appalled. “Doing what?”

“He wants me to design the apparel he plans to sell to help out with the patients’ financial assistance. He’s offering me the opportunity to do what I love for a living, make good money, as well as help people. Does he really sound like a terrible person?”

His jaw clinches and he has that familiar pissed off look in his eyes that I know all too well. It doesn’t matter what kind of logic I throw his way, he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s already made up his mind. He’s just as stubborn as my dad always was. How my mom ever put up with both of them in the same house, I’ll never know. Hell, I don’t know how I put up with the both of them all those years. Maybe coming home was a bad idea after all.

Without a word, Nathan storms out of the house, slamming the door on the way out. His truck roars to life seconds later and he peels out of the driveway with a screech of the tires.

There’s a tightness in my chest and heaviness behind my eyes that come just before the tears. I don’t want to cry, but I can’t help it. They start to flow whether I like it or not.

I sit at the kitchen table, crying into my hands. I’m so exhausted. It seems like every time something good comes along in my life, something happens to steal it away. I knew Nathan was stubborn, but I never thought he was the kind of person to argue against reason. He knows what I say about Mac is true, and that he was wrong about him, he’s just too full of pride to admit it.

There’s a knock on the front door. I wipe my eyes and look through the peephole, hoping it’s not someone trying to sell something.

It’s not. I open the door. Mac is standing there with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“I heard Nathan’s truck roar out of here. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“You can’t be here. If Nathan sees you he’ll lose his mind.”

“I’m not worried about Nathan. I’m concerned about you,” he says, wiping at a stray tear with his thumb.

“I’m okay. We used to fight like this from time to time growing up. It just feels a little more dramatic now that we’re both adults. He’ll calm down. Once you go back with your team, I’m sure he’ll forget about it all together. I think having you next door has just rattled his cage a bit,” I say.

He looks down at his shoes, and swats at a bug flying past his face in the porch light. “I’m not going back to my team.”

“What?” I say, surprised.

“Can we go somewhere and talk? These bugs are dive bombing me.”

I don’t want to invite him in and risk Nathan coming home. He’d really lose his mind then, and I’m not sure Mac would make it out of the house alive.

He motions over to the rope swing in the front year. “Climb up, I’ll give you a push,” he says.

My hips and ass are too big to climb through the hole of the tire like I used to, so I sit on top of it, wrapping my legs around and locking my ankles so I don’t fall off as he pushes me. The tree branch creaks, and I just hope I’m not too heavy for the old oak.

“What happened?” I ask. “Why aren’t you playing for the Whalers anymore?”

He lets out a long sigh. “When my mom died last year, I came home to take care of the house and her affairs, but after I went back to the team, things just weren’t the same. My head wasn’t in the game. I realized the only reason I was still playing for the Whalers was because it made my mom so happy to watch me play. Now I just don’t see the point. It doesn’t make me happy anymore. I’m sick and tired of not being happy. I want to do something that matters and that helps people. That’s why I’m opening my gym. I want to make a difference.”

“I didn’t know,” I say. “I followed your career closely, but I never heard anything about it on the news or in the papers.”

“The media doesn’t know yet. I’ve only told my coaches. They’re trying to get me retired instead of having me quit so I can keep my endorsements. They’ve been supportive and they understand.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” I tell him.

He stops the swing and stands in front of me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “So are you.” He brushes the hair out of my face. My eyes burn. I can feel them swelling up the way they do after I cry. “I want you to know this isn’t just a fling for me. Now that we’re both back in town to stay, I want to get to know you better,” he says.

I nod, trying not to cry again. Hearing him say that makes my heart burst with joy. Even though it might destroy my relationship with my brother, I want to be with Mac. At first, when I thought Nathan had a genuine reason to hate Mac, I was willing to back off. But now that I know his hatred for him is only based on Nathan’s own insecurities, I’m not going to let him keep me from something real, something I’ve always wanted. Mac is too important to me to just let go.

He kisses me and I don’t care who sees. A neighbor will probably tell Nathan, but I’m not worried about it any longer. I’m done hiding from my brother.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks.

I smile and nod at him.

“Good. I’m going to hold you to that.”

He kisses me one last time and I watch him walk back to his house. I stay on the swing a while longer, wondering if Nathan will come back or if he plans to stay mad at me all night.

I stay on the swing and think, and watch the lights in Mac’s house go off. It’s midnight by the time I go inside the house and Nathan still isn’t home. He must’ve been really pissed. I wonder who he could be staying with. Maybe he has a girlfriend he never told me about.

I go to my room. Mac’s bedroom light is on. I sit on my window seat and watch as he gets ready for bed. My light is off, so it’s easy to see him. He glances at my window, but I don’t think he can see me. He stands right in front of the window, facing my house as he takes off his shirt. I can’t help but giggle and wonder if he’s trying to give me a show to make me feel better. If so, it’s working. Maybe he can see me after all. Was he watching me on the swing? Did he see me go into the house and assume I would go back to my room and see him changing?

I pick up my phone and find the number he gave me.

Looking good, I text him.

He picks up his phone. Even from this distance I can see the smile on his face as he reads it. He puts the phone down on the desk next to him and takes off his jeans next. I sit up a little straighter.

Take it all off, I tell him.

He glances at his phone seconds after I hit send. Again he smiles, showing teeth this time. His boxers come off next. He’s hard, his dick pointing at the ceiling. The head rests right above his belly button. My breaths become shallow as I watch him stand there. He doesn’t do anything. Just stands like a statue, holding his phone and watching my window.

Touch yourself, I respond.

After a quick glance at his phone again, he starts to slowly stroke his already hard cock. Apparently I’m in control of this show. I like that.

Take a picture and send it to me, I say.

He holds his phone at a downward angle. The flash goes off and seconds later there’s a chirp on my phone notifying me I have a new text.

I get the photo and cover my mouth in surprise. He actually did it. And God, is it beautiful. That’s one photo that will be going in the private collection with the photos I took of him in high school when he wasn’t looking. This will definitely help when I’m alone and feeling frisky.

I suppose the polite thing to do would be to send one back to him. I’m not sure if the picture will show up in the dark, but I don’t want to turn on the light and ruin the effect. I take off my clothes, except for my bra and underwear and stand in front of the mirror and take a selfie.

With the flash on, it takes a fairly decent shot. I send it and go back to the window.

He doesn’t smile this time when he sees the text. He gets an intense look on his face and starts to stroke faster.

Slow down, I don’t want you to come yet. I tell him. This show is far too much fun to stop anytime soon.

He stops stroking all together and fondles his balls instead. It’s so sexy to see him touch himself.

I take off my bra and snap another picture to send to him. He looks at his phone again and starts to reach for his cock, but stops himself. I can see the lust-filled look and the frustration on his face from not being able to stroke himself. If he can’t even touch himself, that means he’s probably so turned on right now that he will come soon.

He lets go of his balls and types back. You’re driving me crazy.

If you’re good and do as I say, I’ll send more, I reply.

His smile is back. Yes, Ma’am.

Take a picture of you holding yourself, I tell him.

He’s a good boy and does as he’s told. I get the picture seconds later.

I take off my panties and take a full nude shot this time and send it his way. I know I’m torturing him with these pictures, but I’m torturing myself as well. I’m so turned on that I will barely need to be touched to get off. Now that I’ve had sex with Mac, masturbating seems like a sad substitute.

I throw on a long t-shirt and nothing else, and slip out of my bedroom window the way I used to as a teen when I was grounded. Our house is ground-level and easy to get in and out of. I leave the window open a little so I can sneak back in. I locked the door just in case Nathan decided he wanted to talk when he gets home. This way he’ll think I just didn’t feel like talking to him. I’m not too worried about it, though. He’s not the type to want to talk right after a fight. He’s the type to let it fester and then blow up when it all gets out of control. I will never let that happen, though. I’m the type who confronts things and sticks with it until it’s all smoothed over.

I sneak over the fence into Mac’s yard. It feels like a really creepy thing to do, but I’m fairly certain he will appreciate the visit right about now. Why see things in a picture when he can see the real thing?

Open your window, I text.

I’m standing outside, just to the side of his window like a total stalker. He can’t see me from where I’m standing, and I have to admit, it’s thrilling to watch him.

He stares at his phone, a confused look on his face. I can’t help but laugh. Maybe he thinks I’m about to yell something to him. He looks up from his phone and toward my house, then opens his window.

He doesn’t startle when I appear right in front of him, but he looks surprised and starts to laugh.

“I’m way too horny to do this at a distance,” I tell him.

“This would be superhot if it didn’t remind me of every horror vampire movie I’ve ever seen,” he says with a chuckle.

“That might actually work in this scenario, because I’m about to suck you dry.”

His eyes widen. “By all means, come inside.”

He reaches toward me and helps me in through his window.

My shirt is damp from the drizzle outside. It clings to my skin and makes it obvious I have nothing underneath. “Naked looks good on you,” he says in a deep voice, and traces my curves with his hands until he reaches the hem of my shirt and slowly lifts it off of me.

“You too,” I tell him.

“I was going to get in the shower, care to join me?” he says.

“I’d love to.”

The bathroom attached to his room is similar to the one in my own room. Our homes—and all the rest of the houses on the block—are all very similar to each other in design. He turns on the water and we climb under the showerhead. Doesn’t take long for the room to steam up.

He runs his hands across my slippery wet body. Just being near him makes everything better. I’m far less stressed about my fight with Nathan now that I’m with Mac. I want to be with him like this forever. Every love song and sappy poem I’ve ever hated makes sense for the first time in my life. I know that if I can’t be with him, it will destroy me.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me. That’s when I realize he’s studying me the same way I’m studying him.

“It feels like a dream being here with you. Growing up, you were untouchable. You were so far out of my reach that you might as well have lived on the moon.”

He smiles at that. Each time he smiles, I feel him take a piece of my heart. It’s a piece I’ll never get back.

“You know when I mentioned you winning the design contest in high school?”

“Yeah …” I say, wondering where he’s going with this.

“I watched you too. It started the moment you became a freshman when I was a sophomore. I thought you were beautiful. That’s how I knew you were following me around. If it were anyone else, I might not have noticed. But I always noticed you. I wanted to ask you out so bad, but you were Nathan’s little sister and off limits. He was my teammate and I couldn’t do that to him—even if he was always a dick to me.”

My eyes widen. “Are you being serious right now?”

He nods and I can see in his expression that he’s telling the truth. This whole time I thought I was invisible to him and that my feelings were one-sided. It makes sense now how he knew my name.

“Since I’m confessing,” he says with a sheepish smile, “I might as well tell you something else.”

My heart hammers in my chest. The water is a little too hot on my back, but I hardly notice it. There could be an earthquake or tornado and I probably wouldn’t notice that either. Right now, all I can focus on are his lips and the words coming out of them.

“What is it?” I ask.

“You know how your senior year, the day after prom, how you got all those flowers? They were from me.”

My mouth falls open and I’m rendered speechless. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. Prom night I was supposed to go out to dinner and to the dance with a guy who asked me at the last minute. I had no intension of going because the only person I ever wanted to go with was Mac. I was perfectly content to stay home with Nathan and watch horror movies all night. My friends all wanted to go as a group, but they had dates and I didn’t want to be a third wheel.

But then Roy Cruz asked me to go with him and I felt bad saying no because he seemed to really want to go, but didn’t want to go solo. So I said yes. That same night, my mom took me to get a dress. She wanted the night to be perfect so she bought me a five-hundred-dollar dress with equally expensive shoes and jewelry. I looked like a wedding cake topper, and I hated everything about it, but I got really excited to spend all night out with my friends.

When the time arrived for Roy to pick me up, he didn’t show. I waited for an hour, thinking he was just late, but as the night wore on, it never happened. Eventually I got a bunch of texts from my friends saying that Roy had showed up, but with a different date. I was his backup plan if the girl he really wanted to go with said no. Apparently she said yes. And he didn’t have the balls to call me and tell me he wouldn’t be able to make it.

I was so pissed because I never wanted to go in the first place, and then he stood me up. I was humiliated. To make matters worse, my mom wasn’t able to get her money back on any of the items she bought. It was all a waste of time and money. We ended up donating all of it to a charity that helped under privileged teens who couldn’t afford to go to prom. At least something good came out of that horrible night.

The day after, ten dozen roses showed up at my house. It took two delivery vans to get them there. The note on the flowers read: You are too good for him. You are too good for everyone.

I broke down and cried when I saw that note. I still have it in one of my boxes as well as one of the roses that I’d pressed and dried. I even had it laminated and made into a bookmark so it would never be destroyed. I thought my parents has sent them to make me feel better, but they never fessed up to it.

I can’t believe it had been Mac all along.

“How did you know I was stood up for prom?” I ask him. He had been playing for the Whalers a year by then. I figured he’d left our little town and everyone in it behind. He was on the verge of superstardom and had thousands of fans by then.

“That dickhead, Roy Cruz, was my friend’s younger brother. My friend knew I’d had a crush on you and told me what happened. He’d texted me that night. If I hadn’t been in Europe at an away game, I would’ve taken you to your prom myself.”

I touch his chest, trace his freckles with the tips of my fingers. “I don’t want to scare you away, but I think I’m falling for you,” I tell him, continuing to stare at his chest, afraid to make eye contact until I know his feelings as well.

“You can’t scare me away. I fell for you a long time ago.”

He lifts my chin so that I’m looking into his eyes. He lowers his lips onto mine. His kiss is velvet soft and sweet as candy. This kiss feels different after our confessions. It feels more real. More true. As if with his lips he’s making a promise.

He closes the gap between us, pressing his body against mine. We fit together perfectly. My face rests in the space between his chin and shoulder blades. I kiss his Adam’s apple, feel it bob when he swallows. His chin is prickly with stubble, grating against my forehead. I kiss it too. Eventually I’ll kiss every part of him until I’m familiar with every inch of his beautiful, perfect body. I’m already getting used to the feel of his skin, his touch, his scent. If I were blind-folded, I’d know him immediately. He feels like home.

His hands caress my back. His fingers turn my long hair into a twist. He rubs my shoulders. I like this, the way we touch each other. Explore each other’s bodies in a way that we haven’t before. In a way that’s more sensual than sexual. I close my eyes and run my hand along the dip of his lower back and across the smooth muscle of his backside, and up again. His hardness rests against my stomach, but he has yet to do anything with it. He seems content with touching for now.

He reaches over and grabs a bottle of shampoo, pours a glob of it in his hands and starts washing my hair.

“What’s your favorite food,” he asks.

That’s not a question I was expecting, but I roll with it. “Sushi, why?”

“I want to know everything about you. Down to the smallest detail.”

I close my eyes while he massages my scalp and smile. “What’s yours?”

“Street tacos.”

“Yum,” I say.

“Where is your favorite place to visit?” he asks.

“Ireland. I’ve only been once, but it was beautiful.”

“That’s where your family is from, right?” he asks.

“How did you know that?”

“I heard Nathan mention it a lot. It seemed to be a source of pride, and the few times your dad spoke to me, I noticed he still has a little bit of an accent.”

“You’ve been there too, haven’t you?” I ask. I remember him playing a soccer game there once, but it wasn’t televised, so I wasn’t able to watch it.

“Once. It reminded me of you,” he says.

I laugh. “Why, because of all the pasty-skinned red heads running around?”

He chuckles. “There’s that, and also it’s beautiful, and a little untamed. We should go some day.”

I’m afraid to open my eyes in case there’s soap in them, so I keep them closed and try to absorb his words. He wants to travel with me, and he cares what my favorite food is. He wants to get to know me in a way that’s not superficial. And, of course, there’s that little part where he admitted that he’s had a crush on me since high school. All of this information cascades around me like a comforting blanket.

“I would like that,” I say.

He rinses my hair, and the soap from my eyes, then does the same process with the conditioner. Then he washes my entire body with soap. He has seen and touched every inch of me. Everything about me that makes me insecure is on display for him, and yet I feel flawless when I’m with him. He looks at me the way someone would marvel at a perfect diamond. I’ve never had someone make me feel so whole before.

Once I’m all rinsed off, I open my eyes and I see is the W and the four leaf clover tattooed on his neck. I trace a finger across it.

“Is it weird, that I have that?” he says.

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Your initial.”

I gasp and take a step back. It makes sense now, the four leaf clover. I can’t believe he got that because of me, and on such a prominent part of his body.

“You got that because of me?” I say, still not quite able to believe it.

“I wanted something to remember you by. I wasn’t sure if I would ever see you again after high school.”

“It’s not weird at all. I’m flattered.”

And to show him just how flattered I am, I kiss his chest, run my tongue across his small nipples, watch them harden. My hand slips between his legs to feel the other hard thing. It jerks under my touch and Mac sucks in a breath, and lets it out on a low moan.

He lifts me into his arms. Despite us both being wet, he holds me firm, and presses me against the tiled wall. My legs wrap around his powerful waist. With him being wet, his muscles are more evident. His entire body ripples with them. The juxtaposition of his hard and my soft is so interesting to see. My body, so full of curves, and his, so angular and structured. As if we were drawings and the artist started off with a ruler when making Mac, and got drunker, his wrist looser, when making me.

Mac envelops my mouth with his. Our tongues slide together, exploring the way our hands had. His mouth is wet, warm, eager. Sometimes when you kiss someone new, it can be awkward. They close their mouth while you open yours. Or you move too fast and your teeth clink together like a toast at a wedding. Cheers.

But that’s not how it is with me and Mac. Our mouths and tongues move in sync. Like he’s inside my head and knows my every move. It’s a delicate dance that we picked up so well even though we haven’t been together long. Some people just have chemistry, and ours is explosive.

He strokes the side of my face when we kiss. It’s just a simple gesture, but I love the way he does it. I love the way it makes me feel. Reaching down, he holds my ass in his hands and adjusts his stance. The head of his cock is right at my opening. I’m beyond ready for him.

He enters me in one swift, delicious thrust. I gasp and he takes my bottom lip between his teeth. He’s so strong. Able to hold me up and fuck me at the same time. I hang onto his shoulders, kissing his neck, licking, biting, begging him not to stop.

His body is too slick for me to keep clinging to him, so I let my legs down. He turns me around and enters me from behind. I lift my leg up onto the soap cradle to open myself up, giving him easier access.

“God, you feel so good,” he says.

My moans echo in the tiled room. I feel increasingly, blissfully dizzy as he jackhammers into me.

“I want you all to myself,” he says. He wraps his arms tight around my waist as if to punctuate this fact. “No one else can have you.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” I breathe.

“The things I want to do to you …” His voice trails off as he pushes harder into my depths. He pins me to the wall, using his hips to hold me there. He grabs my arms, holding them behind my back, pushing into me with short, hard bursts.

He slows, then stops. At first I think it’s over, that he’s finished, but then he says, “I can’t do all the things I want to do to you in here.”

We get out of the shower without drying off. The bed is too far, and to we land on the floor right outside the doorway of the bathroom, half in, half out. I’m on my back on the carpet while he hovers over me, still mostly in the bathroom. I lift my legs and prop them up on the door jam of the bathroom entrance, blocking him from getting out. He stares down at my spread open pussy and wipes drool from his lips. The bright bathroom light rains down, exposing everything. I’m no longer embarrassed of my body. He’s seen it all, and he’s appreciated it all. Now I’m able to give it all without hesitation.

He slides a finger inside of me, stroking the silky pink folds. The tip of his finger hooks, dragging across my g-spot and stunting my mind of all thought. The only thing left rattling around in my empty brain is sensation. All I can think about is what I have to do to bring him and myself more pleasure. I don’t care what it takes or what I have to do as long as we’re both consumed by it.

He leans over and sucks my clit while fingering me. Crazy noises burst from my mouth, and I sound deranged. But I can’t help it. I’m stupid with love.

He sits up, his mouth slick with my juices, and licks it off. Not leaving a drop behind.

“I want your cock in my mouth,” I tell him.

I start to sit up so I can move toward him, but he holds me down. He leans over the top of me, moves until his hips hover above my head. That beautiful dick dangles there in front of my face, lovely and delicious. Using his hand as a guide, he points the head at my lips. I open my mouth and he feeds it to me.

The salty slipperiness dribbling from the head of his cock coats my mouth and throat so that he glides in and out with ease. I choke and gag and moan as he thoroughly fucks my face. When he pulls out, I swallow the saliva that had settled in my throat. I’ve never really liked the taste of a man before, but with Mac, I can’t get enough.

“More,” I beg.

He gives it to me again. Sliding all the way in until my nose is buried in the dark thatch of pubic hair. He smells like my pussy and tastes like it too. Which only turns me on more.

He pulls out of my mouth and I gasp for breath.

“Can we try something a little different?” he asks.

“Anything,” I say automatically.

I feel so dirty and cock-hungry right now. I’m willing to do anything with him, no matter what it is.

He gets up off the ground and steps over me, heading toward the night stand by the bed. Inside he grabs a bottle of something. When he comes back I can see it’s a bottle of lube. At first I assume he’s going to masturbate with it in front of me, which is definitely hot, but nothing I haven’t seen from him before considering that’s exactly what drove me out my window and over here in the first place.

But that’s not what he does with it.

He goes back to his position between my legs, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. I’m still laying on the carpet, my feet on the wall of either side of the door. Still completely exposed to him.

I start to get nervous. He doesn’t need lube to fuck me. I’m plenty wet for that. He must have something else in mind.

He puts the bottle of lube in his lap and spreads my ass cheeks apart. I feel my back entrance flex as it’s exposed to the air. Not going to lie, it’s a bit weird to have someone looking at me there. That’s just one of those places that doesn’t get much attention. I trust him, though, so I don’t try to hide myself.

Bending over, he sticks out his tongue and starts to lick the delicate opening. I whimper at this strange sensation, my thoughts foggy with a mixture of pleasure and something a bit uncomfortable. His tongue moves in slow circles, and suddenly any discomfort I’d felt melts away. It feels so good. He tries to push his tongue into me, but it’s too tight. He has to settle with exploring the surface.

“Have you ever tried anal before,” he says in a seductive voice.

Shyly, I shake my head. “No.”

“Do you want to?”

“Will it hurt?”

I know a lot of girls who don’t like anal, or even the idea of it. I’m not one of them. In fact, I’ve always been curious about it. I like to watch porn sometimes when I’m feeling frisky, and the anal scenes are my favorite. It’s so dirty and taboo. Both the men and women in those videos seem to like it. But then again—though bad—they are still actors. They’re paid to make it look fun even if it isn’t. That’s the only thing holding me back. My only real concern is the pain.

“It won’t hurt if we do it right,” he assures me. “As long as you’re turned on and relaxed, and we use a lot of lube, it should feel good. I’ll make sure you’re nice and loosened up before anything goes in there.”

I glance at his huge cock with its big mushroom head. I really hope so

“I want to try it,” I tell him.

His comforting smile clears up any apprehension I might’ve had. He slathers his finger with lube, but doesn’t push it in right away. Instead he rubs it on the opening, pressing a little, testing.

“Relax,” he says.

I realize I’m holding my breath and clenching my cheeks. Taking in a long, deep breath, I slowly let it out. The tip of his finger slides in and stops at the first knuckle. I let out a startled sound, but try not to tense up.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m good. Keep going.”

It feels so strange, but not painful at all. He wiggles his finger around and that feels really weird, but kind of good in an alien sort of way. He pushes and stretches my opening until it feels more good than weird. Until I’m actually really loving the sensation of it.

“Do you think you can take more?” he asks.

“I think so.”

“That’s my girl,” he says.

He puts both of my ankles on either side of his shoulders, then goes back to fingering my back hole. Just the tip for a while, but then he slides the whole thing in.

“Holy shit,” I say. “Oh, fuck.”

A smile twists Mac’s lips. “Everything all right?”

I wiggle my ass to coerce his finger in deeper. “I’m better than all right,” I insist.

He fingers my asshole in long, smooth motions, and it’s diabolically amazing. My head starts to swim. He hasn’t touched my clit at all, and yet I can feel the sizzle of orgasm lurking somewhere nearby. How is that possible?

“Do you want more?” he asks.

“Hell yes. I want it all,” I say, gyrating my hips.

He chuckles and adds a second finger. A sound like something between a moan and growl escapes my throat.

My eyes roll in the back of my head as I’m introduced to a pleasure I had never known before, that I didn’t even think was possible. He adds more lube and starts to move faster, really finger fucking me now. My body is completely relaxed and pliable. Two fingers are fine, but I think I want more.

“I want you inside of me,” I tell him.

His eyebrows raise high on my forehead. “Which part?”

“Fuck my ass,” I say, looking him in the eyes with feral lust.

The smile slips off his face and he licks his lips. “Are you sure you’re ready for the full thing?”

He strokes his big dick with his free hand. It’s intimidating. Far bigger than his two fingers, but I feel stretched out and relaxed. I want to at least try.

“I’m ready,” I insist.

He slathers lube on his dick, and more on my asshole. Then he lines it up, holding the base down by his balls. The head pushes up against the entrance. He pushes but it doesn’t want to give at first. I push back and the head slips in so suddenly that I let out a yelp. I’m not entirely without pain. It definitely hurts more than two fingers.

“Want me to stop?” he says, not moving.

“No.” The longer he stays inside me the more the pain starts to subside until it’s completely gone.

When I finally adjust to his size, I grab his hips and urge him forward. He rocks into me. He sinks all the way into me, and it’s magic. It’s fucking glorious. So alien, yet so incredible.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says in a strained voice. I can tell he’s loving it as much as I am.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

“Jesus, your ass is so tight. You make it hard not to come instantly.”

“I’m having a hard time holding back myself,” I tell him.

He rubs my clit at the same time he pushes into me and my body becomes as stiff as a stone.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer,” I say in a desperate voice.

“Don’t hold on, baby. Let it happen.” He spears me again and again, then spreads me apart. “I want to watch you come. I want to see it spill out of you.”

At the first tinge of orgasm, my muscles clamp down on him and he moans.

When he speaks again, he’s breathless. “I can see the muscles in your pussy moving.”

He thrusts harder, sending me rocketing over the edge. There’s no more stopping it. It’s too late now.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

I can feel the evidence of my orgasm spilling out of me, rolling down the space between my front and back entrance. Things get a lot slippery after that as he continues to plunge inside of me.

“Your pussy is so fucking perfect.” He shoves two fingers in, double penetrating me. I cry out as the last of my orgasm bears down on me.

“I’m going to come in your ass,” Mac says, and with one more hard push his cock begins to jerk and spasm.

We both stay in the same position, frozen and mute. We’ve exhausted all our energy. I find it funny and absolutely adorable that I wore the seasoned athlete out.

He waits until every drop has been emptied into me before pulling out. He looks ready to pass out so I scoot over and he lies down beside me, still heaving and out of breath. “Holy shit, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

I laugh, which causes some of his load to leak out of me.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say.

“Stay the night with me. Please. I want to wake up beside you in the morning.”

I turn over on my side to look at him. His hair is still wet—from sweat or the shower, it’s hard to tell. What I do know is we’ll both need another shower after this.

“You know I can’t.”

He sighs. “Are you always going to let your brother control your life?”

“No, I promise. I just need to get through to him. I will happen.”

“I hope it doesn’t take too long. I want to finally take you out on a proper date where we don’t have to hide from anyone.”

A proper date with Mac sounds like a dream. I would love to show him off around town, making my old friends jealous while I’m at it.

“I would like that.”

He pulls me close to him again and we kiss for another half hour before we’re both too tired to keep going.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him before escaping out the window and back to my house.

As I climb the fence into Nathan’s yard, I notice that he’s still not home. I haven’t seen him this pissed in a long time. When I finally crawl into bed, I feel both elated and sad. I’m mad at my brother for making this night any less than perfect.