"I won't..." he murmured against my hair. "I won't..." He was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry...I only brought it up because you said it wasn't about you. And it was about you, it was only about you. If I just wanted a girl to fu-" he stopped and blushed. "If I just wanted a girl for sex..."
"Derek, I'm begging you, please don't say another word!"
He nodded ruefully, and as I looked at him I realized how I might get myself out of this mess. And I was horrified and excited all at the same time.
Jayme caught me around back later that night and kissed me so sweetly that I thought I would melt. The time away from him had been torture, and even though I was scared to death of Derek discovering us, I couldn't bring myself to stop Jayme when he started nibbling down my neck, across my collarbone, his hand sliding underneath my tank top as he pressed me up against the side of the house and kissed me with more urgency. He pressed his body against mine, his cock already rock hard as he slid his thigh between mine, lifting one of my legs for greater access, grinding into me. I grabbed his ass and pulled him into me as close as he could go, forgetting about Derek, my parents, the horror at the island, everything but the feeling of Jayme.
"Let's just tell them," he begged. "We'll do it together, and everything will be fine."
But I just couldn't. I wasn't ready for them to know. He was kissing me stupid, and he thought I'd agree to anything at that moment, but I held firm. There was no way I was shattering the image my parents had of me. And if they had been that upset about Josh, imagine what they would say if they knew about Jayme. No, I needed to keep it to myself. I needed for everyone to just keep our secrets and let the web of lies stand just a bit longer.
And I was about to add to that web of lies.
*****
There was a time - not that far back, actually -- when Derek was no mystery to me, when he and I were inseparable and knew everything about each other. My twin brother had been my best friend and confidante for most of my life. There were a few things he didn't know about, sure. He didn't know that my first kiss had been his best friend, Pete Sullivan. He didn't know that I had convinced Cate to date him for that brief time during senior year because I was hoping to get him laid (it hadn't worked). And he hadn't known, for all the years we were growing up and all the times my pulse fluttered faster when I looked at him, that I was in love with Jayme. But Derek knew what made me laugh and what made me cry, what made me tick and what ticked me off. He had been with me for my first day of school and my first bike and my first period and my first real heartbreak. He knew when I was lying to my parents and to him and although he rarely lied, he'd lied for me many times. And here he was again, being dishonest because of me.
I thought back to the night he'd mentioned, the night of Jimmy Danforth's party. It was a party during spring break, a week or two after our 18th birthday, when Derek had gotten uncharacteristically drunk. I had been drinking, too, but I was buzzed at most - Derek had been wasted. And since Derek wasn't much of a partier, it had been all the more obvious when he started acting foolish.
By the second time I heard him from all the way in the other room, I knew it was bad. Derek was normally fairly quiet, and this night he was loud and laughing at full volume and saying God knows what. So I excused myself from the group I was talking with and went and got him. At first he resisted me and then he went along with me, his arm wrapped around my shoulder and mine around his waist, crashing into walls and knocking into people until I could wrangle him to Jimmy's family room in the basement. We had all played together when we were smaller, and I knew -- or rather, hoped, since I hadn't been in Jimmy's basement in a good nine years -- that there was a guest bedroom there. All I wanted was to get Derek into it and distract him until he fell asleep, which from the looks of things wouldn't be too long. And then I could keep an eye on him until I could get him back home without Mom or Dad realizing how drunk he'd been.
I managed to get Derek down the stairs (all six feet, two inches of him) by myself without injury to either one of us. And sure enough, the guest room was still there, dusty and dated, the double bed decorated with the same calico bedspread and dust ruffle I remembered from my childhood. I led him to the bed, where he collapsed, laughing, and I pulled his shoes off and stuffed a pillow under his head so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit.
"You're the best sister in the whole world, Dana," he said in a loud, sing-song voice. "The best sister I ever had."
"Derek, you dumbass, I'm the only sister you ever had," I retorted.
"Yeahhh, but..." he trailed off. "You're the best, though. That's why I love you so much."
"Thanks, Brother." I looked around for a wastebasket and a hand towel or something that I could wipe his mouth with if he puked.
"You're so pretty. Maybe that's why I love you so much. Because you're so beautiful, the most beautiful girl in the whole world. My twin sister, the most beautiful girl..." He was mumbling and sleepy, his eyes closing.
Good, I thought. He'd be out like a light. But I couldn't just leave him. I was afraid he'd roll off the bed and hurt himself or get sick or something, so I kept my eye on him for a long time, entertaining myself by reading a battered paperback Danielle Steel novel that was on the nightstand, another relic from the era in which the bedroom had been decorated.
A couple hours went by and I cursed my brother inwardly for all the fun I was missing at the party before the big dummy went and got all trashed. Instead I was here in the basement babysitting him, reading a stupid trashy mom book, tired and grumpy and not even drunk enough for any of it to be fun.
Eventually I crawled into bed with my brother, turning my back to his and falling asleep almost instantly, since by that time I was relatively sure he wasn't going to be sick. It was probably two or three am, the party was still going on upstairs, though subdued, and the last thing I remembered was my brother's slow, even breath beside me.
I don't know what woke me, but it was still dark and I was disoriented. Not drunk, just disoriented in the way that you can be when you're sleeping in a strange place and you're out of your normal routine. And there were arms wrapped around me, and a face nestled into my hair and neck.
For a moment all I registered was a slight quiver of excitement at the nearness and the maleness. A large male body wrapped around mine, one hand across my hip, fingers on my stomach, the other resting comfortably, familiarly, on my breast. Even, deep male breathing. A male scent mixed with the smell of beer.
And a very male hardness pressing against my ass.
I froze and held my breath, suddenly intensely awake. It was Derek, and he must've been confused and pulled me to him in his sleep when he felt me sleeping there. I was to blame for his confusion, and so I should just wake him up. Just wake him up or pull out of his grasp and roll him over. But I didn't. I lay there. I lay there and simply enjoyed the nearness, the hands on me, the desire building in my body.
I will never know why I did it, but I moved against him just a bit. I shifted just a tad so that my bottom nestled into his crotch. And when I did, he burrowed into me closer and his fingers, as if automatically, started brushing back and forth, ever so lightly, over my very erect nipple. I could feel his hot breath through my hair and he moved it aside with his nose and kissed the side of my neck delicately, just butterfly kisses, barely there. It was all the lightest of touches, almost not touching, and it felt so good that I almost forgot it was my brother behind me. I was instantly wet, intensely aroused, beyond rational thought. His hand slid across my stomach, fingertips trailing across my belly, tracing little patterns into my skin, sliding into the top of my jeans, almost to my panties. And that cock pressing insistently against me, telling my body what I could be enjoying if I just...if I just...
I had to pretend I was sleeping, though. I figured he would stop if I let on for even a second that I was awake. He was breathing heavier now, really tugging at my nipple, his mouth on my ear, his erection pressing into my ass. Moaning just a bit, softly and almost under his breath, just enough that it aroused me even more because I'd never heard my brother moan like that...it wasn't a Derek sound. I could pretend...
He struggled to unhook my shorts, and I had to pretend I was shifting in my sleep to allow him to tug them down. When they were over my hips, he paid extra attention to my ass, pulling back from me to rub and caress it before pulling me against him again, pressing firmly against me while his fingers traveled over my hip to my panty-clad mound, just teasing against the top of it, not yet sliding down between my thighs to explore my slick folds or now-swollen nub. But when his fingers made their way to the wet satin I couldn't control myself, and I moaned involuntarily against him, feeling his cock twitch through his khakis.
And then he rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him, face to face. He kissed me then, and it was not gentle, his mouth on mine ravenous and greedy, his tongue sliding across my lips, probing them open, his hand holding my head in place. I found myself kissing him back, just as hungrily, only paying attention to the pleasure coursing through my body, setting every inch of me on fire. His arms were around me, pulling me against him, his hands cupping my ass and pressing me to his hardness. My shorts were still around my knees and I writhed against him, feeling the length of him through my panties.
