Mafia Desire (Erotica)

As much as I loved concerts, I was more than ready for this one to be over. We had been standing for hours on end in the heat and it was draining. That wasn’t even taking into account my twisted behavior, which made me want to hide somewhere that I’d never have to face her.

It was long after dark when the last band left the stage and we began the slow march back toward the car. As we finally moved away from the stage and the music blasting through the speakers began to fade, I became aware that my ears were ringing. No surprise there.

I noticed that Skye was limping a bit and asked if she was okay.

“My knee hurts like hell. I think I pushed it a bit with standing for so long today.”

“Oh shit. I never even thought of that,” I replied, feeling stupid for not having remembered.

“It’s fine,” she replied. “Just sore and tightening up. It’ll be okay in a day or two.”

I asked a few more questions about it, trying to make sure she wasn’t hurting worse than she was letting on. She acted dismissive of the whole thing and limped to the car without further complaint.

On the drive home, I kept waiting for Skye to bring up what happened. I watched her from the corner of my eye for a good portion of the trip but she looked perfectly normal. She kept looking out the window as I drove with a small, contented smile on her face. We didn’t talk much. Our ears were ringing and we were exhausted. She fell asleep after the first hour or so of the drive. I spent the rest of the trip angry with myself for how I felt about her and what I had allowed to happen.

When we arrived back home, I woke her up as gently as I could and we went inside. Mom was still on night shifts at the hospital and wasn’t home. We both trudged up the stairs toward our respective bedrooms. I could barely keep my eyes open. As I passed by her room, she hooked my arm and pulled me to her.

“Thank you so much for bringing me. I had the best time with you today.” She wrapped me up in as big a hug as she could. It was probably just exhaustion, but there was no doubt that the hug lingered.

“Me too,” I replied when she released me.

“Night,” she called as I entered my bedroom at the end of the hall.

* * * * *

When I woke up, it was almost eleven. Groggy and stiff from the long drive, I half staggered down the hallway to the shower. My feet were sore from standing for so many hours the previous day. It wasn’t until I was rinsing shampoo through my hair that I recalled the events at the show. A fresh wave of guilt slammed me in the gut.

I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off, trying to make sense of things. I felt like shit for taking advantage of her like that. I didn’t know what to do with the feelings I had for her, either. I cleared the condensation from the mirror with my towel and stared at my reflection for a moment.

“Asshole,” I mumbled as I got dressed.

I was heading back to my bedroom when she called me.

“Hey, Ryan?”

“Yeah?” Please don’t bring it up, I thought. Please don’t.

“Can you give me a hand for a second?” She called, still from her room.

Pausing at her closed door, I knocked, feeling kind of foolish, since she had called for me, but the thought of just walking in felt even more awkward. Now I was overthinking things and making it worse. Goddamn it.

“It’s open.”

I opened the door and stepped in to see her sitting on the edge of her unmade bed. Skye was wearing a pale yellow shirt with a gray skirt and had already done her hair and makeup. She was leaning back on the bed a little, propped up on her arms and gave me an annoyed glare. Oh shit, I thought.

“My knee’s really giving me hell this morning. Can you help me put the stupid brace on?” She sighed, her expression shifting from annoyed to looking a bit defeated.

“That sucks,” I replied, feeling my chest relax a little and let some air in. This wasn’t about me. Still, she hadn’t worn her brace in a year or so. Her knee must hurt like hell.

I couldn’t help glancing down at the surgery scars on her knee that she was always so self-conscious about. They weren’t very noticeable but bothered her immensely. She had a black and gray banded thigh sock on the other leg, while this one remained bare.

“Thanks. It’s a bitch to bend right now.” She held the other sock out to me.

“No problem.” I took the sock and knelt down in front of her. “I thought these days were behind us.”

“So did I.” She replied, tucking her hair behind one ear and staring down at her knee.

I gathered the sock up in my hands and slid her foot into it. I slid it onto her outstretched foot and pulled it up the length of her leg, watching her skin disappear behind it and trying to touch her as little as possible. Which was in direct opposition of what my hands wanted to be doing, of course. When I had the sock pulled high enough that she could reach it without having to bend her knee, I hesitated. I expected her to grab the sock and continue pulling it on as she had done when she was younger. I glanced up at her and she was smiling prettily at me, remaining leaned back on her elbows. It wasn’t possible to put her knee brace in place without putting the sock on, so I took that as an excuse and pulled her sock into place.

Her legs parted a little further allowing me access as I slid the fabric up her smooth creamy thigh, my hand only a few short inches from her lacy underwear. Her eyes were closed when I glanced up at her again and I was unable to resist stealing a glimpse of her panties. The purple fabric was sheer and lacy, allowing me to almost make out the details of her sex underneath. Holy shit, my mind screamed, as I forced myself to look away, the image burned into the back of my retinas. My chest felt constricted again, along with my pants. I withdrew my hands quickly before temptation got the better of me.

Picking up the brace from the bed beside her, I gingerly wrapped it around her knee. As I made sure I positioned it properly and fastened down the straps, I allowed my fingers to slid across her skin just above the brace one last time. The feeling of her skin lingered on my fingertips as I leaned back from her.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

“How’s that feel?” I glanced up at her and her brown eyes locked on mine for a moment.

She leaned forward and felt the top and sides of the brace for a moment.

“It’s good,” Skye smiled at me.

I climbed to my feet in what I hoped was a casual manner, feeling like my heart was hammering hard enough to be visible through my shirt. I needed to get out of here before she noticed my boner.

“Thanks, again. Sorry, I’m being a pain in the ass.”

“No problem,” I replied, making a show of dusting off my pants in hopes of distracting from the tent in front of them. “I should have thought about how long we’d be standing with your knee yesterday.”

“It was worth it.” She stood and straightened the top of the sock before taking a few steps. “That feels much better.”

“Cool, I gotta get to work,” I lied, using the first excuse that came to mind to get out of the room.

* * * * *

I pulled into work more than two hours before my shift. It was stupid to leave the house so early, I knew, but I just needed some time to think. I sat in the parking lot staring at the steering wheel for a while without really seeing it. I felt lost. What does someone do when he has fallen in love with his own sister, I wondered. Besides go to work way too early because you are afraid she’ll see the look in your eyes and figure out that you’re a perverted freak, that is.

The workday was pretty much spent on autopilot. I didn’t remember anything about it except that I thought about Skye the entire time. How long could I keep my feelings hidden from her? Could I keep it together long enough to transfer to Austin? For a brief moment, I considered whether or not I could just tell her how I felt. I chuckled bitterly at myself for even letting that creep into my mind. She would surely freak out, yell at me for the pervert that I was for even thinking of my sister that way and tell mom to kick me out. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t tell mom. She loved me enough as her brother to probably spare me that. But I was positive it would do irreparable harm to our relationship.

Part of me wanted to drive straight back home after work and see if she was there. A dumb fantasy passed through my mind of busting into her bedroom where she lay reading a book, scooping her in my arms, staring directly into her warm brown eyes a moment before locking our lips together in a kiss that would change everything for us. The other part wanted to go to my favorite bar and drink myself stupid. Neither of these ideas seemed like a smart move the longer I thought about them.

I ended up at a coffee shop a few blocks from work, staring at a mostly untouched cup of coffee for a couple of hours. It was well after midnight before I finally went home. Thankfully, my sister was asleep by then.

Sleep didn’t come easy at all. I spent most of the night laying in bed with her Instagram pulled up on my phone staring at pictures of her. There weren’t any photos of her trying to look sexy and seductive and I wasn’t surprised. That just wasn’t who Skye was. There were photos of her hanging out with Heather and Vicky, some modest selfies, and the obligatory photos of food. She had posted a series of photos from the concert that were pretty great, considering how close we were to the stage. The further back I scrolled through the images, I found a few photos she had posted of her gymnastics competition days. The determination in her face in those images made her look older than she was at the time. I remembered how much I had admired her.

I found I kept going back to look at one selfie in particular. She was sitting on a recliner in the living room with a tired smile on her face. Her hair was slightly disheveled and falling across half of her face in what was clearly not as random a fashion as she would like you to think. She had leaned forward resting her chin on her hand and the sleeve of her shirt was so long that it covered half of her palm. Her smile in that photo was particularly beautiful. I traced the outline of her face with a fingertip and felt like I had butterflies in my stomach as I looked at her.

She’s your sister, you stupid son of a bitch, I told myself. I closed the app and plugged my phone into the charger. Acting like a love-struck teenager was not going to fix anything. I needed to do something, anything, to get my shit together. I rolled over and punched the pillow in frustration. This had to stop.