Incest Little sis Anjali

[prasannas2001]

 
The moment of physical distance brought clarity crashing back.
 
She stood in her room, staring at her reflection in her dresser mirror.
 
The girl looking back was flushed, lips swollen from kissing, hair drying in messy waves.
 
She looked thoroughly ravished, and happy.
 
That was the terrifying part.
 
She should feel guilty, disgusted, ashamed.
 
Instead, she felt alive, wanted, cherished in a way she'd never experienced.
 
"This is so messed up," she whispered to her reflection.
 
But her body still tingled with remembered pleasure, and her heart raced thinking about Rohan in the next room.
 
One more day, she reminded herself.
 
They had one more day to explore this impossible thing between them.
 
Then it would be over.
 
Buried.
 
Forgotten.
 
(Even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie.
 
This wasn't something she'd ever forget.)
 
Anjali pulled on simple clothes, cotton shorts and a tank top.
 
No bra.
 
The thought sent a thrill through her.
 
She was still making choices, still deciding to continue this.
 
When she emerged, she found Rohan in the kitchen, also dressed casually, basketball shorts and a t-shirt.
 
He'd started making coffee, and the domestic normalcy of it was jarring.
 
"Coffee?" he offered, and for a moment it was like any other morning.
 
"Please." She slid onto a barstool at the kitchen island, watching him move around the familiar space.
 
But everything felt different now.
 
The way his shirt stretched across his shoulders.
 
The flex of his arms as he reached for mugs.
 
The memory of those same hands on her body just minutes ago.
 
Rohan set her coffee down, and their fingers brushed.
 
That simple contact sent sparks up her arm.
 
Their eyes met, and she saw her own desire reflected back.
 
"So," he said, voice rougher than casual.
 
"Breakfast."
 
"Breakfast," she echoed.
 
But neither moved to actually make food.
 
The space between them felt charged, magnetic.
 
Rohan walked around the island, stopping directly in front of her stool.
 
His hands came to rest on her knees.
 
"We should eat," he said.
 
"We should," she agreed.
 
His hands slid up her thighs, thumbs tracing small circles on her skin.