Incest Little sis Anjali

[prasannas2001]

 
The repetition of the word "trust" was the final thread pulling at her resolve. She was trapped between them, a beautiful, hesitant fly caught in a meticulously woven web of affection and desire.
 
She could feel Rohan’s chest against her back, the steady thrum of his heart, and Anjali’s hands on her shoulders, a grounding presence.
 
She closed her eyes, her mind a whirlwind of panic and a terrifying, thrilling spark of curiosity. "Okay," she breathed, the word so soft it was almost inaudible. "But... just for a minute."
 
Anjali smiled, a triumphant curve of her lips that Neetu couldn't see. She moved around to face Neetu, her expression one of gentle encouragement. Rohan’s hands slid away, giving Anjali space.
 
Anjali's fingers found the hem of Neetu's camisole, her touch feather-light against the skin of Neetu's stomach. Neetu flinched, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "Easy," Anjali whispered, her eyes holding Neetu's. "Just breathe."
 
Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, Anjali lifted the hem. The fabric whispered against Neetu's skin as it rose, exposing the soft curve of her belly, the delicate dip of her navel. Neetu's breath came in short, shallow bursts.
 
She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath her feet. Anjali lifted the camisole over her head, her fingers gently brushing against Neetu's hair as she pulled it free.
 
For a moment, Neetu sat frozen, her arms crossed instinctively over her chest, clad only in her simple, practical dark color bra. The cool air of the fort kissed her skin, raising goosebumps across her arms and torso. She felt exposed, vulnerable, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs.
 
"See?" Anjali's voice was soft, full of awe. She didn't touch Neetu again, giving her a moment to adjust. "Absolutely beautiful."
 
Rohan's gaze was a physical caress, hotter than a fire. He drank in the sight of her—the swell of her breasts spilling over the cups of her bra, the smooth expanse of her fair skin, the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.
 
He felt a surge of primal satisfaction so intense it was almost painful. He had orchestrated this moment. He had made her fall.