Twenty-five years.
That's how long I've called him brother. Stood guard over his house. His life.
His daughter.
The girl who's haunted my thoughts like a fever dream, all defiant fire and hidden pleas.
I told myself it was nothing. Just shadows in the hallway, her laugh twisting something deep.
But he left town. Left her alone.
And in that midnight kitchen, dim light carving her curves from the dark, she signaled me.
Trembling fingers at the bedroom window. A dare I couldn't refuse.
One step across the threshold, and honor shatters.
Her mouth on mine, hungry, reckless. Pulling me down to the basement hideaway where no one hears.
Sweat-slicked skin sliding, breaths ragged in the close air. I take her against the wall, hard and deep, each thrust a knife to my loyalty.
She arches, whispers my name like sin. And I break, pouring into her, marking what's never been mine.
Guilt crashes after, but her eyes hold me. Vulnerable. Yearning. Mine.
It's betrayal distilled. Pure, throbbing ruin.
Her father's trust, the only family I've known, hangs fragile as glass.
One wrong move, one slip of dawn light on our skin, and it all burns.
Self-respect? Gone the moment I crossed that floor.
Yet she fits me. Defiant spark against my restraint. Her sarcasm masking the ache I alone see.
I want to own her. Shield her. Ruin us both.
Can I bury this hunger before it torches everything we've built?
Or does one more midnight surrender finally set the world ablaze?
