My Psycho Brother Is Mine

Isabella. 

The ache between my legs has been fucking constant, throbbing all goddamn day. My room was dark, and the only light cutting across my bed was the light of the silver moon. My hand was already in between my thighs, my palm grinding against my clit through my panties, the thin cotton doing all to relieve the pressure. But, Fuck, I needed more. 

I shoved my lace aside, my fingers finding my wet pussy without any delay. I was already so soaked, the slickness coating my inner thighs. A low moan ripped out of me as I dipped two middle fingers inside, my back arching off the bed. 

Yes. Fuck Yes. 

It was too good, my own touch knowing exactly how to curl inside me. Knowing how to hit that perfect spot that made my vision blur. But it wasn’t enough still. It had never been enough without him. 

“Luca,” I mumbled into the thick hot air of my room. My hips began to move against my hand, my fingers fucking into the wet hole with a filthy rhythm. 

“God, Luca, your fucking mouth. I can almost feel it.”

I let my head fall back, my eyes squeezing shut with pleasure. The usual fantasy took over, sharp and vivid. So fucking real that I could smell his cologne. 

In my head, he was there. His big hands are pinning my hips to the bed. He’s not gentle, never gentle, and I fucking loved that about him. He rips my blouse open, buttons flying across the room. His brown eyes glaze with fire as they land on my tits. 

“These are mine,” his voice growls in my head, a rough sound that goes straight to my throbbing clit. “All mine to use, Bella.”

Luca doesn’t ask, he just takes. His mouth crashes down on my left nipple, his wet tongue lashing the stiff peak before his lips close around it. And he sucks it hard. A sharp, electric jolt of pleasure shoots from my nipple to my clit, and a broken cry tears from my throat. My cunt clenching around my moving fingers. 

“Yes! Luca! Suck them. Suck my fucking boobs!” I begged the empty room, my words slurred with lust. My free hand grabbed the other boob, pinching the nipple, mimicking the brutal attention he was giving me in my head. 

In the fantasy, Luca switches, his mouth devouring my other boob with the same intense hunger. He’s biting, sucking, licking like he is fucking starving. His hand slips between my legs, his long fingers replacing mine, and he shoves three inside my desperate, greedy cunt. 

“You are so fucking wet for me,” he mumbled against my breasts. “Your tight little pussy is dripping. You wanna come on my fingers? Do it. Bella, come for me now.”

The command in his voice, even though imagined, was all it took. The climax detonated deep inside of me, a violent, unstoppable wave. My entire body seized up, my thighs clamping around my wrist. A raw, guttural scream was ripped from my lungs as pleasure fucked through every single nerve. 

Oh god, Fuck, LUCA! 

I shuddered through the aftershocks, my body covered with sweat as it went limp. My breathing was ragged, my heart beating fast against my ribs. The fantasy began to fade, leaving me empty and aching. It just made me want something more real. 

The guilt and shame creeped into me like always. 

I pressed my hand on my chest, my heart was pounding so loud. I couldn’t stop the guilt clawing at me. God….what was wrong with me? 

I shouldn’t miss him. 

I shouldn’t even think about him. 

Luca was gone. He would never come back. 

Just thinking about him made my breath hitch. It felt so wrong. I didn’t deserve him even in my head. I didn’t deserve the memories. I didn’t deserve the way my body reacted to him. 

But God help me, I missed my brother. I pulled my knees against my chest, trying to steady my breathing. Trying to scrape away the feeling of him from my skin, trying to bury the thought of how his voice sounded when he said my name. 

A sharp knock sounded on my door. I jerked upright so fast that I almost snapped my neck. 

“Isabella,” my father called, his voice stern. “What are you doing?”

I swallowed hard, wiping my hands on my thighs. My throat felt tight and guilty. 

“I—I was praying!” I responded, maybe a little too quickly. 

“Well,” he said, voice clipped. “You can pray after dinner. Come downstairs now, your stepmother cooked.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see it. 

“Okay, Dad.”

I pushed myself off the bed, forced my legs to move while I changed into a long cotton gown. The opposite of what I used to wear. 

I forced my legs to be steady as I walked down the stairs, the faint clatter of plates and the scent of tomato and basil floating through the air. Vivian stood by the counter, scooping out steaming pasta into our bowls. Her shoulders were stiff and her lips were paused as usual. 

My father was seated with alcohol even though he preached against it every Sunday. Hypocrisy, thy name is Pastor Daniel. 

“Good evening, Vivian,” I greeted softly. 

She didn’t turn as she responded, almost bored. “Sit.”

At least, she hadn’t poisoned me yet. 

I took my seat and whispered, “Thank you for the food.”

My father clasped his hands and blessed the food dramatically and then finally let us begin eating. I twirled my pasta with a fork, trying to ignore how my anxiety was spiking. 

Not from the dinner, but from what I was about to say. 

I cleared my throat and summoned the courage. “Uhm, I wanted to say something.”

My father lifted his head slowly, “What is it, Isabella?”

I swallowed, “I would be twenty-three in a month. And…I would love to resume at my university.”

Vivian snorted loudly. 

My father set down his cutlery with a sharp clink, staring at me with narrowed eyes. 

“Want me to remind you about the last night you went to school? Fine.” He responded, “You embarrassed yourself and your family. You almost tarnished my image, Isabella!”

“Father, that was then,” I blurted out. “There was a reason. You sent me away to a university after my brother was arrested. I needed comfort, not studies.”

He glared at me like I had dared to speak of an unforgivable sin. 

“You knew you didn’t deserve comfort after the atrocities you committed with him.”

My heart squeezed painfully, heat rose behind my eyes. 

Vivian spoke up with a disgusted scoff, “Be thankful he is your father. You should have been in prison as well.”

I inhaled slowly, trying not to shake. 

“I don’t want to argue,” I whispered. “I’m trying to talk to you both. I’m stable now…I’m not the same girl I was. And Luca isn’t here anymore.”

My hands trembled violently under the table. 

“I’ve forgotten about him,” I lied. “I’m ready to start afresh and go to a university.” 

Vivian’s phone buzzed, interrupting the tense moment. 

She glanced at the screen and her eyes widened. Then she gasped loudly. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered. Her hand shook as she held the phone. 

“Daniel….you need to see this.”

My father snatched the phone from her hand. His face changed instantly, sending a wave of panic to me. 

“What?” I asked, my chest tightening. “What happened?”

He lifted his gaze to me. 

“He escaped,” my father said, his voice trembling with fury.