Owning Avery Ch. 02

Gritting his teeth, Mason woke with a raging hard-on that ached, and he opened his eyes, getting his bearings in the dim room lit only by the sunlight behind yellow curtains and black blinds. He was laying on his left side, his right hand on Avery's bare ribcage just below her breasts and he quietly groaned, as it only enhanced the throbbing in his groin.

She was dead asleep on her back with one arm curved above her head, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The comforter only covered her hips, and her striped tank had crept up high enough that it only covered her chest; the lines of her pelvic bone prominent ridges with how thin she was. Just beyond her, Carter was asleep on his back as well with his head turned away.

Everything came flooding back to Mason then; how they'd come to sleep in their parent's bed together last night. Avery's bare ass. His dream about her. No wonder he ached, he'd been in a state of arousal since last night.

Then there was his hand. All it would take is one tiny inch upward to touch her. While fantasizing, his thumb crept up, catching the under-curve of her breast until it came to a rest between them on her sternum. Her skin was so soft and he never would . . . but he took a few minutes completely still to imagine it. A small shiver crept through his shoulders; he needed a cold shower and a good masturbation session or he was destined for a world of pain this morning.

And so he rose, accidently placing pressure on her ribs while sitting up and she lightly moaned with an "Auuhn," as she shifted, arching her back and chin tucking against her shoulder. The clock read ten-thirty; they'd slept about six hours, which wasn't really enough but it would have to do. Mason pulled her tank down, then quickly walked over to the curtains, parting them halfway to let in a little more light.

"Ahhh, too bright," Avery moaned, covering her eyes with her arm.

"I'm going to take a shower," Mason said as he walked by the end of the bed toward the door.

"Gah, at least close the curtains," Avery called out, but received no response. Removing her arm, she looked toward the door to see Mason walking down the hallway to the master bath and groaned.

Carter rolled over to face Avery, still half asleep. Wrapping an arm around her, he slid the other beneath her neck as he pulled her against him. "I'll shield you," he said, rubbing his hand down her back, over her panties and hooking her leg over his hip.

"Too early," Avery mumbled against his chest, slamming her eyes shut to get more of a semblance of night. All she wanted was a few more hours of sleep. And an aspirin. Yes, an aspirin and orange juice. Carter's hand rubbed up her thigh, then gently squeezed her hip. "Mmm," she breathed, relaxing now that her eyes were shielded from the cruel sunlight. Hand moving to her waist, she felt fingers dig into her flesh and pull her closer. In a subconscious response, she hooked her right leg higher around Carter.

Waking further by the second, Carter slid his hand down over Avery's panties and faintly groaned as he squeezed, pressing his groin against her. Hearing her moan was nothing short of the world's greatest symphony, and while he wasn't hard, he had a feeling it wouldn't be long until he was. After gripping the other cheek, he sent his hand up her back, taking the tank up with it until his palm was between her shoulder blades against the softest skin he'd ever felt.

"Carter," Avery whined in half-hearted protest, waking just enough now to realize that it was actually Carter holding her, not some boyfriend or guy she liked from school or something.

It was Carter.

Still, she was too tired and comfortable to make any real effort to move as his hand scaled further up and clutched her shoulder, deeply massaging a few times as she heard him ask, "What?"

She couldn't deny that the ever-travelling hand felt amazing; that it was nice to be held and touched and massaged as she hovered in the twilight between wakefulness and sleep. But that twilight state was what ultimately made it a problem. The awake half was battling hard, arguing over how wrong it was. "I just want a little more sleep," she settled on, deciding it fit the 'in-between'.

Lowering his head to her crown, he placed a gentle kiss on her head. "Then go back to sleep," he said, sliding his hand to the back of her thigh, hiking her leg up higher and pulling her closer.

"I can't like this," Avery contended with a whine, though she was perfectly comfortable. With her left arm straight down, her right hand balled up against his chest, at least she was shielded from the light streaming through the window. If only he'd stop touching her . . .

"Not comfortable enough?" Carter softly teased, knowing full well that comfort had nothing to do with it as he once again cupped her amazing ass.

Avery groaned in exasperation. "No, Carter," she argued, shifting slightly. "Because your stupid hand is on my butt."

He couldn't help but chuckle, she was so adorable using her whiny voice. "I'm just trying to make you more comfortable," Carter contended with an ease of tone, as though everything he was doing was completely natural. "You're telling me this doesn't feel good?" he posed, firmly massaging her to emphasize his point as she moaned once more, answering his question.

"Uhhhhn, it's not . . . I'm saying . . ." Avery took a deep breath; it was too hard to think. That was exactly the problem. It did feel good. She was aroused. Wanting. Needy. It had to stop. "It's you, Carter," she finally stated. "You can't do this."

"And why is that, exactly?" Carter asked, his tone unyielding. "We used to play all the time when we were younger."

Avery scoffed. "Yeah, wrestling and fighting."

"Exactly," Carter continued, hand still at work. "So what? We can only touch when we're fighting? We can't allow touching that feels good because my mom married your dad?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Avery proclaimed, and she felt immediate relief as his hand moved to the small of her back and he leaned away, looking into her eyes.

Carter shook his head adamantly. "Well, I think that's bullshit," he stated. "We've known each other for six years and we love each other."

"As family!" Avery cried.

"As friends," Carter emphasized. "We're not related." Her leg started to slide down and away, so he swiftly caught it, then rolled on top of her, pinning her right hand above her head. When he'd massaged her shoulder under her tank top, it had ridden up, the front gathered just below her breasts, and her wriggling wasn't doing her any favors. "Stop, Avery," he insisted, applying more pressure on her wrist. Steadying himself with the same elbow that kept it pinned, he placed his other hand flat on her stomach, just below her tank-top, adding some pressure there as well to keep her still. "Look at me and tell me there isn't a part of you that wants this."

Biting her lip, Avery struggled one last time before realizing there was no chance of breaking free. He was pressed between her legs and her one free hand had been pinned behind her back when he'd flipped her. So she gave up the fight and met his gaze. "I don't want this," she said, then swallowed, hoping it had sounded truthful enough despite the part that was wholly aroused.

Carter's lips curved into a grin as he slowly shook his head. "I don't believe you," he determined, confident that his assessment was correct, or he'd never, ever push the issue. Her hesitations were based only on their parents, which frankly, he felt was fair. He held the same reservations; the constant voice in the back of his head that this was unacceptable. But in a strange way, it only made him want it more. "And I'm going to prove it to you," he added.

With that, he pushed her shirt up. "Carter!" Avery cried, it exiting stilted like a sob as she turned her head to the side. It was enough to make him hesitate for a brief second; if he was wrong, she'd hate him forever. But no, he was absolutely sure. Besides, if he stopped now without proving it, there was no coming back. He had to follow through, beg forgiveness later.

He'd never seen her topless before. He did know she was a 32C from having to do the family's laundry as a punishment for a week, but he'd never been curious enough to imagine her naked; she'd always been too young. But her tits were perky and round even though she was on her back, with the cutest little nipples direct center.

Covering one with his hand, he brought his lips down to the other and ran them against her nipple, heard her sharp inhale as it hardened. "Carter," he heard her once again protest, but it wasn't nearly as adamant as it had been before, and he was closer to vindication.

"Shhh, Ave," he cooed, then pursed his lips and blew on her nipple, felt her writhe. "Relax. All I'm asking for is five minutes." He began to toy with the nipple he held, delicately pinching it. "And if I'm wrong, I'll spend the rest of my life as your slave trying to make it up to you."

"You are wrong," Avery mumbled, but the brief moan that followed betrayed her, even though it held an air of protest.

"I'm not," he said simply, looking up at her face. She wasn't looking at him, but she didn't appear angry, not in the slightest. "No, I'm definitely not," he repeated, more to himself, then brought his lips back down to her nipple and began to suck.

It wasn't just that he was sure about Avery. Carter knew he was good. His great skill was that he knew how to please a woman, how to read signs and sounds. He could be soft and gentle, but was at his best when he was firm and demanding, taking full control of a situation and pushing limits. Just now he was mixing the two, keeping her wrist pinned while tenderly teasing her nipples, every so often glancing up to see her reactions.

They were evolving. The muscles in her face were no longer taught, though she was more or less silent, still in protest. He was half hard and pressed himself against her between her legs as his right hand squeezed her with more pressure, and he finally—finally!—heard a real, honest to god moan of pleasure.

Avery felt stunned. Yes, her body must have entered a state of shock. She'd been trying to count the seconds up to five minutes, as he'd said, and had been planning on what she'd do next. Beat the shit out of him, probably. Then call her parents. Maybe. Because she'd said no. And yet, she hadn't meant it, she'd only said it because she felt she had to. When she'd been cuddled up against him, it had felt amazing how he touched her. It was just that it was Carter! Her Carter, whom she'd lived with as a teenager until he'd left for university when she was fifteen after he'd graduated from community.

But now she'd lost count. She'd made it to ninety-three, and she had no idea how long ago that was. He'd since alternated between her breasts, and she could feel his erection between her legs. What was particularly stunning was that her back arched as another moan escaped when she'd felt his teeth carefully bite down on her nipple. It allowed her left arm to escape from behind her back, but instead of pushing him away or battling, she laced her fingers into his hair and gripped, pulling him closer.

Carter reached between them and slid his hand into her panties, but before he made it far, Avery gripped his wrist and pulled. "Wait, Carter," she pleaded, and he looked up into her eyes to figure out what was going on, as she'd definitely been into everything else now.

Shaking her head, Avery wet her lips, clutching his wrist for dear life. "I, uhm . . ." She didn't know where to begin. But he waited for her, eyes filled with concern, which made her feel more comfortable admitting her fears. "No one really goes there," she said quietly.

Carter gaped. "Are you . . ." He cleared his throat. "Are you a virgin?"

"No," Avery said, her voice shaking. "I had sex three times with the same guy when I was sixteen."

"Okay . . ."

"But since then, I mean, I've had boyfriends but they never lasted long because I didn't want to move too fast," she continued. "I always wanted to wait."

"So you've only had sex with one guy, three times," Carter repeated, just to summate and wrap his head around the fact that Avery, who was drop dead gorgeous and could probably have her pick of the litter, was this inexperienced. She nodded, biting her lip. "But you've gone down on more, right?"

"Three," Avery responded, feeling self-conscious and embarrassed. Again, that constant reminder that this was Carter, so it wasn't just admitting this to a new boyfriend or something. It was her family member.

"And how many have gone down on you?" Carter asked, cocking his head to the side, keeping his hand perfectly still, just cupping her with zero motion.

"None," Avery replied.

Carter's jaw dropped slightly, such a crime that none had returned the favor to her. Keeping his hand like a statue, he asked, "How many men have touched you here?"

"Just the one I slept with," Avery replied. "So . . . now two . . .?" she added hesitantly, then mashed her lips together.

A smile slowly graced Carter's lips. Avery deserved so much more than she'd been given, and he made mental note of the fact that he wanted to ask why it had been this way, only later. Right now, he was number two.

"I'll be gentle," he told her softly, thinking to himself that there would come a time when she wouldn't necessarily want him to be. But for now . . . "Let me try?"

Avery did not answer. But her grip loosened as her head dropped down upon the pillow. Bringing his head down, he gently kissed her sternum, then sent the tip of his middle finger inside of her. Avery's breath hitched with a sharp inhale, back arching once more. He ventured further; she was so wet and ready, he really had been right from the very beginning, though her muscles did protest. It was only half his finger, yet she squeezed it so tightly, and Carter sighed with a chuckle.

"Avery, just close your eyes," he suggested, finally releasing his hold on her wrist. Petting her hair back from her face, he kissed her cheek. "This is about you right now, and you're not going to feel good until you relax."

Avery nodded, took a deep breath as her eyes closed. But when his finger began to move again, she couldn't help but try to squeeze her legs together. Unfortunately, his knees were in the way. "Uhnnn, Carter," she began to protest, then rallied, shaking her head back and forth. Another deep breath. "No, I'm good. I'm good."

"You are good," Carter agreed, then sent his finger fully inside as she wailed. Brushing at her hair, he planted gentle kisses along her jaw. "You are so good," he cooed. "You feel amazing." Absolutely beyond the truth; he couldn't begin to imagine what she'd feel like when he was truly the second to enter her. So warm and tight, he began to circle his finger against her silky depths. Her body writhed beneath him, but her moans were long, however shaky. "How does that feel?"

It felt like too much. This had always been her problem. It had always felt too intense to stand. When she'd first had sex, it had hurt horribly, and in the two attempts that had followed, while the pain had eased, it just felt like too much. Too much sensation that she couldn't mind over matter. Of course the last time was actually wonderful, but because Benjamin had broken up with her two days later, she'd just assumed she was damaged or something; someone guys wanted, as plenty had tried to date her in the years that followed, but was ultimately horrible in bed.

But . . . with each second, it felt less like 'too much' and morphed into 'just right'; or as close to 'just right' as she felt she'd ever get. "It feels good," Avery finally said through her teeth, as she still couldn't totally relax.

Noticing how her legs had eased, Carter began to stroke his finger in and out of her, enjoying the faces she'd make as she moaned. How had he never noticed just how sexy she was? Until last night, he'd been fully aware of how beautiful his stepsister was, but sexy? Never crossed his mind, not even when she'd be out by the pool in her bikini.

The water from the shower was still running, though for how much longer, Carter didn't know. Mason had been in there awhile now and Carter had a decision to make: stop this now and act as though nothing had happened, or let Mason walk in on them and find out what was next.

An odd selfishness came over him as he realized how badly he wanted to possess her. Keep her to himself, fuck her through Sunday and then fuck her some more. Parting her lips with his thumb, he began to stroke her as her cries grew louder and louder. "Let it go, Ave," he encouraged. "You're on the edge. Let go of it."

Avery felt her entire body spasm and, for a moment, she felt as though she were looking down at herself, only she could still feel every nerve firing in a discordant pattern. Then she was suddenly sucked back in, and while her muscles that had become so rigid collapsed into jelly, her body was still tingling from head to toe. She only noticed that Carter was speaking a moment later, catching it somewhere in the middle of whatever he was saying and even then it still didn't make sense.

"I'm sorry, what?" Avery asked, bringing her hand to her forehead and swiping her hair back, pulling at the roots. She felt so hot, and Carter was peering down at her with a smile.

"You yelled my name," Carter told her again with amusement, removing his hand from her panties. He'd made women come before, usually with a bit more work than that, but seeing Avery orgasm had probably been the single most erotic thing he'd beheld. Her chest was flushed and she still looked confused, blinking erratically.

But then the water for Mason's shower shut off, just in time, and a desperation washed through Carter. Sliding both of his hands up her arms, he laced his fingers with hers above her head. "Mason may have said it," he began fiercely, staring into her large hazel-green eyes. "That you're ours until Sunday." Leaning down, he nipped at the side of her jaw. "But I mean it. You're mine." Taking her earlobe between his teeth, he heard her gasp, and he pulled at her hands, raising them higher. The way her chest felt against his was intoxicating. "Mine to punish for last night," he continued, pressing his erection against her as he kissed her neck.

Avery's heart was still throbbing, her skin alight, and it astounded her how badly she wanted more. Carter's strength now—how he held her hands and kissed her, how he pressed the length of his body against hers—was consuming her thoughts. She felt small against him and his lean muscles and, for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why everything he had just said felt so enticing.

"Why does it have to be punishment?" she exhaled meekly.

Kissing his way down her neck, he said, "Because I want it to be," then took her nipple between his teeth, heard her gasp as her back arched. "Consequences for your actions," he continued, then sucked on the other, relishing in the high pitched 'ahhh.' Rising once again, he looked down at her. "And because you'll love it," he finally stated, then took her lower lip between his and lightly kissed her.

Avery followed his head up as he pulled away from the brief kiss, unable to raise her head any further with how he held her hands. She'd never felt this way before, and as he released his grip, her fingers ached; she hadn't even noticed how tightly they'd been held. He was deliberate with pulling her tank down before crawling back to the side of the bed he'd slept on, and all Avery could do was lay there feeling profoundly stunned.

How had she gone from fighting this to craving more? In almost no time at all she'd flipped from wanting to beat the shit out of him to wanting to please him, beg him for everything he had to offer, and that was saying nothing for how she'd felt last night. "Humiliated" would be a good start, followed by confusion and anger.