My Stepsister Moved Into the Guest Room at Thirty novel · Chapter 14 of 24

Chapter 14: The Mirror

My old bedroom still had the narrow desk, the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, and a wardrobe with a full-length mirror on the door.

The double bed was new.

My mother had put a quilt on it, and a folded towel at the foot, which I decided not to think about.

Flora shut the door and turned the key.

She leaned against the wood in her green dress and looked me up and down.

"Take everything off," she said. "Slowly."

"The walls are thin."

"Then you'll have to listen to me carefully."

I unzipped my dress and let it fall.

I unhooked my bra and stepped out of my underwear, which was still damp from the porch.

I stood naked on the rag rug where I had once done my homework.

"Come here."

She took me by the shoulders and turned me to face the wardrobe.

She stood behind me, still fully dressed, and her breath was warm on my ear.

"Look at her," Flora said.

In the mirror I saw a tall pale woman with black hair cut at the jaw, flushed to the collarbones.

Her nipples were hard from the cold porch, and her hands hung uselessly at her sides.

"Don't look away. Not once."

"I won't."

"Say it again."

"I won't look away."

"Good girl."

Her hands came around my waist.

They slid up my ribs, slowly, and cupped my breasts from behind.

She rolled my nipples between her thumbs and fingers, and I watched my own mouth fall open.

"Look how you take it," she murmured. "You're so sensitive here."

She pinched, gently, then harder, and a jolt ran straight down between my legs.

I watched my knees shake in the glass.

"Flora."

"Quiet."

One hand left my breast and drifted down my belly.

It stopped, flat and warm, just above where I needed it.

"Spread your legs. Wider. I want to see you."

I put my feet apart on the rug.

In the mirror my thighs trembled, and a bright wet shine showed on the inside of one.

Flora's fingers slid down and parted me.

She did not rush.

She drew two fingertips up through the slickness, all the way to my clit, and circled it once.

I made a noise and bit my lip.

"Eyes open."

I opened them.

I watched her fingers work me, a small neat circle, over and over, while her green eyes watched my face in the glass.

"You've been wet since the porch," she said. "Since the pie. Since you walked in the door this afternoon in that dress."

"Yes."

"Tell me what you want."

"Your fingers inside me."

"Beg me."

My face burned, but the person in the mirror lifted her chin and said it.

"Please, Flora. Please put them inside me. I need it."

"Good, sweet sister."

She slid two fingers into me from the front, deep, in one smooth push.

I almost buckled.

She wrapped her other arm tight around my waist and held me up against her dress.

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