Chapter 33: Back Together

I’m slouched on the couch, legs spread, neck resting against the back, eyes drifting somewhere up on the ceiling.

I threw on some random movie—didn’t even check the title. Just hit the first channel that popped up...

There’s dialogue in the background, maybe action, maybe some dumb romance—I honestly couldn’t care less. I’m not even looking at the screen.

One arm’s draped over my forehead, eyes half-shut.

And in my head? It’s a fucking mess.

Fuck...

I still can’t process it.

All those goddamn weeks of staring at her in secret, fantasizing, jerking off to the idea of that body I shouldn’t even want— That girl I thought I’d never touch...

And now?

I fucked her.

Emma. My little sister.

I can still hear her moans, the way her voice broke when she whispered my name. The way she opened herself to me—literally, physically, emotionally.

And just thinking about it...

I’m hard again.

I run a hand over my face, a sharp little laugh escaping me. Dry. Disbelieving.

Me: “This is fucking insane...”

But fuck ... I’ve never felt this good.

A few minutes go by. Then I hear her steps in the hallway.

She walks into the living room, calm, quiet—not a word. Sits down next to me like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t just cum all over my cock twenty minutes ago.

Her leg brushes against mine, skin still warm, and fuck ... it feels natural. Effortless. Like it’s meant to be.

I feel a little shiver run through her, so I toss my arm over the back of the couch—almost without thinking.

She nestles against me, head resting on my shoulder. The movie plays on, but we say nothing.

And the silence ... it feels good. Soothing.

Emma shifts slightly, molding herself into me like she’s trying to melt into my skin.

And I can feel her smile, tucked right into the bend of my arm.

Emma: “You realize what we just did...?”

I exhale a quiet laugh, nearly voiceless.

Me: “Not really...”

She laughs too—soft, almost like she can’t believe it either.

And without meaning to, we start slipping back into the past.

Not the normal memories.

The anonymous ones. The chats. The old game.

I crack a joke about one of the stupid stories we told each other back then—a dumb fantasy we ran with for days. Can’t even remember how it started. Just that it was absurd—and hot as hell.

Me: “Remember when you said you had a thing for electric toothbrushes? But like ... not for teeth.”

She loses it.

Emma: “Oh my god! I forgot about that! We were such idiots...”

She’s laughing hard now, eyes watering, hand covering her face.

Her laugh fades out. Her eyes drop a bit.

Then she looks straight at me.

Emma: “We said some ... pretty filthy shit too.”

I look at her for a second.

Her tone’s different now.

The game’s changed.

I smirk slightly.

Me: “Yeah.”

Silence again—heavier this time. Thicker.

But we don’t need to speak.

We both know.

I glance toward the TV. Whatever movie’s playing, I couldn’t care less.