Chapter 27: The Promise of Punishment

I sit outside on the terrace, staring into nothing. The cool night air should help me clear my head, but it does the opposite. My body is burning, my heart still hammering in my chest, and my dick is just as hard—aching, straining against my pants. Nothing fades. Nothing eases. If anything, the more I try to think of something else, the more Emma forces her way into my mind.

A few weeks ago, I was ready to bury all of this. I told myself that no matter what I had felt behind that screen, no matter the fucked-up urges that hit me when I learned the truth, I had to be the responsible big brother. The one who protects her, who sets the boundaries.

I even had the nerve to lie to her—to tell her that everything she saw in me, every thought, every craving, was nothing but illusion.

But Emma isn’t stupid.

She never believed me.

How could she have believed me? It was too much, too obvious, too deeply ingrained in me to just erase with the snap of a finger.

And now, she’s not hiding anymore.

She’s not playing the shy little sister, the one who hesitates, who second-guesses. She knows. And worse—she owns it. At the table, when she grabbed that banana ... fuck, she looked me right in the eyes before sliding her tongue over it. That wasn’t just teasing.

It was a message. A statement. A fucking declaration.

She wants to play.

But how far?

I clench my teeth, sitting up slightly. My dick throbs violently against my pants, even harder than before. Just thinking about the way she mimicked that damn blowjob has me spiraling. Her eyes locked on mine, her mouth slowly taking in the fruit, pulling back just as deliberately—showing me exactly what she wants to do.

Fuck.

Emma wants to suck me off.

It’s insane. Unthinkable.

And yet, it’s the only thing in my head right now.

A tight, burning wave slams through me, so intense it’s almost painful. I want her. I want her so fucking bad. I want to touch her, grab her, make her drop to her knees in front of me, feel her lips wrapped around my cock—hot, wet, obedient.

Everything is moving too fast.

I drag my hands over my face, trying to calm the flood of thoughts racing through my head, but it’s useless. My body already made the decision before my mind could catch up.

Without thinking too much, I pull out my phone and open our chat.

My fingers move on their own. The words spill out effortlessly—like they were already carved into me, like I’ve been waiting weeks to say them.

Me (message): “I thought you were supposed to behave, Emma. You really think acting like that with your big brother is normal? You deserve a punishment.”

I reread the message, my breathing ragged, my dick pounding against my pants. Adrenaline spikes, tension coils tight in my gut.

And then, I hit send.

The air rushes out of my lungs, like I just dove headfirst underwater.

Fuck...

I glance down at the screen again, checking. Double-checking.

The message is there. Sent.

Heat surges even higher, a twisted mix of panic and raw excitement gripping my stomach. I tighten my hold on the phone, blood pounding in my temples.

I really just sent that to her...

The minutes tick by, and my phone stays silent. No message, no notification, nothing. The thrill of the moment starts to fade, replaced by something heavier.

I stare at the screen, breath short, heart hammering harder with every second that passes without a reply.

What if she doesn’t answer? What if she thinks it’s stupid? Too direct?

I stand up abruptly, like moving will somehow shake off this agonizing wait. I shut off my screen, shove my phone into my pocket, and head inside.

The house is quiet.

I walk through the living room, scanning for Emma—but she’s not there. Dad’s still glued to the TV, watching some show I couldn’t give less of a shit about.

I check the kitchen. Empty.

A weight settles in my chest. Where is she?

I head toward the stairs and start climbing. As I pass the living room, I throw out a quick “Good night” to my parents before disappearing down the hall to my room.

Inside, I drop onto my bed, mind spinning.

Did she read it? Is she ignoring me on purpose? Is she thinking about what to say?

I grab my phone, unlocking it to check if I somehow missed a notification.

Still nothing. No message. No sign of Emma.

And then, suddenly—

The sound of water starts running.

A sharp shiver shoots through me.

Emma’s in the shower.

My eyes flick toward my door. A single thought slams into my mind, dangerous, undeniable.

She has to walk past my room when she’s done.

Without thinking, I get up and crack my door open. Not too much—just enough to see the hallway, to hear what’s happening outside. Then I sit down at my desk, flipping open my laptop, pretending I have something to do.

But my eyes stay locked on the screen without actually seeing it.

My mind is somewhere else.

I’m completely focused on the sound of the water running.

On every fucking second bringing me closer to the moment she steps out ... and walks right past me.

The water shuts off.

I keep my eyes locked on my screen, but I’m not reading a damn thing. Every ounce of my focus is on what’s about to happen in the next few seconds.