Primal Atavism

Dylan shoots me a sly smile. 'What's the hurry?'

'Nothing,' I lie, doing everything to keep the fact I want him off my face.

'You're a terrible liar, Rach. You started this, remember.'

I try to tease him. 'I'm sensing a little resentment in your tone.'

'No resentment...just thinking about how I'm going to fuck you.'

My stomach flips as a delicious shiver makes its way up my back. There was something so inevitable in the way he said it, as though it's more certain than night following day. I finish my last two profiteroles under his stare, almost disconcerting in its intensity, yet promising unforgettable things to come.

I take the bowls to the sink and beckon him over, pulling him towards me like I've got him on a string. He must think it's time, but he's going to be disappointed. The dishes need doing after all. I draw him in then place a hand on his chest when his lips are a hair's breadth from mine. 'Wash up while I get ready.'

Leaving him with those words, I glide past him on my way to the bathroom, unable to resist a teasing smile over my shoulder before disappearing down the corridor. The rush of water follows a moment later, and it's not hard to imagine his frustrated thoughts as he scrubs and rinses, rinses and scrubs.

I get to the bathroom and close the door, undressing to put the first phase of my plan into action. I step out of the shower exceedingly clean—certain not to last—then treat my skin to my favourite moisturiser. Back in our room it's time for my makeup, and for that I need my going out playlist. I wish I could see Dylan's face right now. I'm sure he remembers the tight clubbing dress I wore when Aleisha and I performed our little show, and tonight he's in for even more of a treat.

The theme is red, and the come-hither look I'm going for gradually comes together. A dusting of red eyeshadow paired with crimson lipstick makes for a combination he won't be able to resist, if I do say so myself. With my makeup done, I add a few curls to my hair. It's something he hasn't seen before, and I've been saving it for a special occasion since he commented they would suit me a couple of weeks ago. Seeing my reflection, I can't help but think he was right.

Now for the final—and most important—touch. I open the wardrobe, retrieve a Victoria's Secret bag I hid behind my luggage, and lay its contents one by one on the bed. Bra, thong, stockings, and suspenders. All in heart-stopping red. I take off my dressing gown and start with the thong, the lace caressing my skin as I glide it up my legs. I splashed out more than I ever have before on lingerie, and the fit and feel of every piece couldn't be more perfect.

After stepping into a pair of heels, also bought for the occasion, I let the mirror lay me bare. 'Oh my god...' It slipped out as barely a whisper, but then what is someone supposed to say when they barely recognise their reflection? Suddenly nervous I might have gone too far, I turn off the playlist and open the door with a slightly sweaty palm. All's quiet in the living room, so I know he'll be looking towards the corridor, waiting to see what I have in store for him. I take the last few steps, heels accentuating the sway of my hips, and wait for his reaction.

Dylan

'Holy shit...'

Her eyes widen for a moment, a nervous smile tugging at the edges of her lips. She looks down at herself then back to me. 'Is that a good "Holy shit" or a bad "Holy shit"?'

I don't reply for a few seconds. Not because I don't want to, rather my tongue seems to have lost its connection to my brain. I get up from the sofa, taking in every beyond perfect detail. Her hair. Her eyes. Her lips. Her body. Even her shoes. Everything a fiery contrast against her creamy skin. 'It's the best "Holy shit" ever spoken.'

She breaks into a huge smile, with more than a hint of relief. I suppose I understand; she's presenting a side of herself I've never seen before—and more's the pity.

I return her smile and gesture to my t-shirt and shorts. 'I feel so underdressed.'

'I prefer to interpret it as overdressed, meaning you should take them off.' She twirls then strikes a pose with her hand on her hip, confidence well and truly returned. 'I take it you like what you see.'

'I...' I shake my head, unable to think of words to express how much. 'You curled your hair.'

'I did indeed,' she says with a swish. 'Just for you.'

I bound forward, my intent to grab her, kiss her, take her, do all the myriad things her efforts are inspiring me to do. She stops me with five gentle fingertips to the chest, her touch transmitting electric jolts through my shirt.

'You're still going to make me wait,' I manage with more desperation than intended.

She laces her fingers through mine and leads me to the sofa, the undulation of her bum, snugly embracing a lacy red thong, stealing all the blinks from my eyelids. She pushes me down and leans over me, soft hands on my thighs, treating me to a view down her bra, breasts tantalizingly close and ripe for the picking.

'I meant what I said this morning,' she says. 'We're going to be apart for a while, so I need you to fuck me enough for every day and night until I see you again. Is that understood?'

I can only nod as I hold her gaze, made more intense by the frame of smouldering makeup. She comes within a whisper of kissing me then straightens up, the final tease that pushes me over the edge. I bolt up and grab her hair, eliciting a shocked gasp before I plant my lips on hers. My other hand clasps her arse and squeezes the flesh, nails digging deep, making her yelp. She offers no resistance, and nothing about her body language tells me to stop.

This is what she wanted, and this is what she's going to get.

Rachel

My scalp protests despite his hand being gone, and my buttcheek stings with five delicious punctures from his nails. And he's not done yet. My arms ache under his vice-like grip as he manhandles me around the sofa like he's disciplining a child. If it means more of this, I'll admit to being guilty of anything.

He bends me over the kitchen counter, far from gently, and I hear the soft thud of a shirt hitting the floor behind me. His shorts follow, then the fainter sounds of his underwear and socks. Drawing near, he grabs my hair again, pressing his growing erection into my bum as he takes a ravenous bite of my neck. My gasp does nothing to dissuade him, and he sinks his teeth deeper the second time before trailing more down my back. I know what's coming even before he gets to his knees, and the scent of my arousal rises to meet us.

'You're so fucking sexy,' he rumbles, his voice earthy, primal, and completely disarming. 'Are you nice and wet for me, big sis?'

He runs a finger along the front of my thong to check, and he won't be disappointed. Drawing it back, he slaps me hard on the arse, jerking me against the counter top.

'Again, baby.'

His hand slams down harder on the opposite cheek.

'Oh fuck! Again.'

An ear-splitting slap, followed by another, brings a giddy smile to my face. It stings but in a luxuriant way, and my bum must be approaching the colour of my lingerie.

He drops to his knees and buries his face between my cheeks, pushing me further against the counter. I sigh like a deflating balloon after the day of incipient need gets released, his tongue attacking my pussy over the thong. I return his enthusiastic moans, spread my legs to give him more access, and silently beg him to cast the fabric away.

He does so with a dismissive yank, leaving it crumpled around my stilettos as he gorges on my sex like it's a feast in his honour. He laps at and kisses my folds and clit, sucks them into his mouth, tongues my insides—eating my pussy however his whims dictate. I cover my mouth to contain a high-pitched squeal, but sound escapes around my fingers nevertheless. He chuckles his satisfaction, then pulls away to spank me again before diving back in, rinsing and repeating until the stinging reaches a crest of delectable pain.

I'm breathless when he finally stands, cheeks hot and raw, pussy impossibly wet. He gives me no respite, grabbing my hair again and pulling my head back to force his tounge deep into my mouth. It's an effort to stay balanced, especially when his fingers find my clit, pouring petrol on the already infernal fire. No sooner than my legs start to shake he bites down hard on my lip. Before my gasp is over, a well of pleasure obliterates any pain as he buries his cock inside me.

My stinging lip no longer matters, displaced in my mind by the decadent strokes of his cock laying claim to my insides. I buck into him, my groans in time with his thrusts, almost lost beneath the claps of his thighs against my punished arse.

'Oh my god, oh my god...'

The second one crept out as barely a squeal, and a sequence of unintelligible noises follow. I can feel his effort behind me, the tautness of his muscles, the impetus in his grunts. He roots himself inside and yanks me upright, keeping my head still with a firm grip around my neck. Just hard enough to impart a trace of danger, but not too hard that I doubt he's going to keep me safe.

He stays deep inside me, kissing my neck and nibbling my ear, his breath hot and raspy against my skin.

'God, I'm going to miss this,' he growls, resuming his hips to set a slow, sensuous pace.

'Um-hmm...'

'All the girls I could have picked at uni, yet I can't stop fucking my sister.'

I answer with a faint sigh, luscious pleasure radiating through my loins.

'Are you going to be a dirty slut for your little brother?'

God, he's making me wet, and all it takes is a few simple words. We haven't incorporated our siblinghood into lovemaking this much before, but now he's gone there I only want more. I make a noise of assent, the best I can do with his hand around my neck.

'Then show me,' he demands.

I twist free of his grip and drop to my knees, taking his cock between my lips. I sigh as my own flavour washes over my tastebuds, potent from how wet Dylan made me. He's achingly hard—no more room for an iota of growth—and I coil my tongue around every inch, delighting in the moans resonating above.

Dylan

I've never had head like this, and even based on my limited experience, I know this is as good as it gets. I never thought I could be so mesmerised by hair, but I could watch those blonde curls that suit her so well sway back and forth for the rest of my life.

I exhale a dreamy breath as her lips caress the base of my cock, the tightness of her throat around my tip threatening to bring the evening to a premature end. She senses it and eases off, lessening the friction to give the sensation a chance to settle. The moment it does she's back on the gas, taking me deep until I'm ready to explode again.

A question Aleisha once asked me springs to mind. 'How are you so good at this?'

She releases my cock with an exaggerated slurp, spider silk strands of saliva linking it with her lips, then looks up at me with those sultry, dangerous eyes. 'I know what my little brother likes.'

As I'm revelling in just how good those taboo words sound, she spits on the end of my cock. My heart stops for a moment, not quite believing despite seeing it happen. It must be written on my face, because she smiles while treating me to teasing strokes, gliding her tongue over those fiery red lips. She spits again and massages it into my skin, this time expanding her attention to my swollen balls.

My knees suddenly feel weak, forcing me to place a hand on the counter. She rolls my balls in her fingers and palm, trailing kisses and licks up and down my shaft.

'Ooh, I think you like that,' she coos, her breath warm against my sensitive skin. She deepthroats me again, combining the sensation of her mouth and fingers until I feel the damn begin to crack. She helps me by firming her grip around my base, before letting me go with a parting kiss. 'Was that slutty enough for you, little brother?'

My skin prickles at the tease as I pull her to her feet, closing the space between us to press my cock flat against her stomach.

'It's a good start, but I know you can do better.'

Rachel

He's right.

I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom, disturbing the flow of the duvet when I push him onto his back. I take a moment to admire his body, all lean muscle over long limbs, then unfasten my bra and let it fall, leaving me naked but for the red stockings and heels.

'It's about time,' he says. 'Tits like that shouldn't be covered up.'

'Only for you.'

He smiles. 'I'd hate to be everyone else.'

I feel myself blush in spite of the evening so far. Comments like that, made so sincerely, are one of the many reasons I love him—and why I'm willing to be as slutty as he desires.

I massage my breasts in slow circles, shaking my hips in what I hope is a sexy dance. Dylan seems entranced, stroking himself while he drills his gaze into my curves. After my little show, I crawl onto the bed and over his body, making sure to accentuate my bum the way he likes. I lean in to his lips and give them the faintest of licks, pushing him down when he inclines his head for more.

'Denying me again, huh?' he says.

I smile. 'Not for long.'

I straddle his waist and glide my pussylips over the underside of his cock, no less hard since leaving the kitchen. He gazes up at me with a helpless expression, desperation to be inside me leaking from every pore.

'Do you want to fuck your sister?' I tease.

He nods, a yearning sigh escaping his throat.

I shake my head, adding a little pressure to the grind. 'I didn't quite hear that...'

'Yes.'

'Yes what?'

'Yes, I want to fuck my sister.'

My smile is more mischievous this time; he's not going to get off that easily. 'How much?'

'So much...more than anything in the world.'

'Even though it's so wrong?'

'Especially because it's so wrong.'

I lift myself up and hover above him, stroking his cock beneath me, as close to my pussy as it can be. 'So, what do you want most in the world?'

'To fuck my sister.'

'To what, baby?'

'Fuck my sister.'

'Fuck who?'

'My sister!'

He almost shouts it, definitely loud enough for the neighbours to hear. Fortunately the context was closer to a whisper, and I reward his patience by lowering myself down.

Dylan

I bottom out inside her like a hot knife through butter. My nerves were already stirring from our little Q and A, and now I'm inside an infernal fire burns through my loins. He hair and makeup still look freshly done, the latter matching the red of her stockings, which caress my skin as she rides.

She flicks her hair back, smiles, and licks and pouts her lips, moaning and massaging her breasts when the mood takes her. She's a sight for the sorest of eyes, but after her tease a minute ago my ears want more too. Something unspoken passes between us, and I know she knows exactly what I desire.

She leans forward, undulating slowly, bringing her lips close enough to mine so I can taste her words. 'How does your sister's pussy feel?'

'Incredible.'

She giggles, probably at the crack in my voice. 'Imagine if Mills and Worthington could see us now.'

'You'd have to stop.'

'I don't think I could.'

'But they'd arrest us.'

'Not if they knew how good your cock feels.' She slips her tongue in my mouth as she bounces faster, slapping her thick thighs against mine. 'Is this slutty enough for you?'

I break into an instant grin—partly due to her words, partly due to the magnificent feeling of her pussy devouring my cock. She gives me one last peck on the lips and leans back, treating me to an unobstructed view of me entering her cunt. She arches her back, turning those already sumptuous curves into something that shouldn't be possible.

How did I not always want this? Three months ago, if I'd seen a future in which I'd be looking up at Rachel riding my cock, I'd have wretched. Yet life afterPrimal Atavism seems so normal that it's impossible to imagine that state of mind. She bounces faster, harder, and her tits move to match. It's amazing how they're the perfect size for my hands, how her legs fit like a dovetail around my body, how we joke and laugh and get along so well. All that,and we have mind-blowing sex neither of us thought was possible.

'God, I love fucking my brother,' she says, sending another thrill through my bones. 'It's like your cock was made for me.'

'Maybe it was. I was born second, after all.'

She giggles, clearly titillated by the thought. 'A fuck toy just for me.' She shifts her weight slightly, leaning forward, opening up her insides all the way.

'Fuck, Rachel...' I close my eyes, sinking my head deeper into the pillow as I feel her cervix with each glorious descent.

'Ooh you feel so good, little brother. Do you think the others who tookPrimal Atavism had this much fun?'

'Not as much as us...'

'I couldn't agree more.' She leans down, squashing her tits into my chest, then jiggles her arse. Not only is the sight utterly mesmeric, her pussywalls massage the tip of my cock in just the right way. 'I think families are meant to fuck.'

I smile at quite possibly the strangest seven words I've ever heard. On one hand so wrong to normal ears, yet in the context of me, Rachel, and the summer we've been through, the truest thing in the world. 'I think so, too.'

'Then prove it,' she whispers, the words landing hot on my lips. 'Fuck your sister till she cums like a good little slut.'

Something snaps inside me, compelling me to accept her challenge. I raise my knees, wrap my arms around the back of her neck, and thrust. Immediately she squeals, a sound like a mixture of surprise and delight, followed by a giggle denoting exclusively the latter.

'Yes! Fuck me baby. Fuck me like only you can.'

She pitches her voice a little higher and more girly than normal, crimson to a bull and she knows it. I burn through the energy I have left, slamming my thighs into her arse through gritted teeth.

'Oh god, don't stop! Fuck me, baby. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!'

Her pussy grips me like a vice, irresistibly demanding my load. I strain against the fatigue in my muscles, clinging to her increasingly slick skin. We're both sweating with exertion and pleasure, our words and groans coalescing into a din of animalistic passion. I increase my speed to the limit—intense but not enough.

She told me to make her mine, and I'm going to give her what she wants.

Rachel

He flips me onto my back, cock still buried inside me. I've never been fucked like the last few minutes, made to surrender to a lover so completely. It vindicates my decision to impart today's rule. My instinct had been right: when deprived of each oeth, we reunite with a greed I defy anyone to be able to match.

He lifts my legs, pushing my knees into my chest, and pins me under his weight. I know what's coming: he kisses me, invading my mouth with his tongue like he'll never get the chance again, then thrusts. Hard and fast. Like he owns me.

'Ohh my gosh...' My voice wavers, far from being provocative or assured like it was before. Noises that don't resemble anything follow, and all I can do is stare into his unblinking eyes as every ounce of his concentration is being used to fuck. The angle is almost vertical, gravity combining with effort to drive his cock as deep as it can go. It's the most vulnerable I've ever felt during sex, and to share that with Dylan couldn't feel more right, every nerve inside me submitting to his assault.