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Preview from chapter one
Breeding My Sister In Front Of Her Cuck Boyfriend
Whole Family Breeding - Brother and Sister 6
Rayne Vice
The movie was two-thirds over and nobody was watching it.
That was the open secret of the couch. The screen threw blue light over three bodies. James on the left end, sitting the way he sat in every class and every waiting room, shoulders rounded, taking up less space than he was owed. Christine in the middle with her legs curled under her, wearing one of James's flannels over her tank top, a size too big for her. Wesley in the armchair, sprawled with a beer sweating in his hand, his eyes on the screen and also not on the screen.
James's hand had been migrating for twenty minutes.
It started on his own knee. Then the couch cushion between them. Then it lifted, slow as a caterpillar, and drifted toward the back of the couch behind Christine's shoulders. A yard of open air. His fingers crossed half of it. Hovered. A trip that had taken twenty minutes and would land in one more.
Then his hand pulled back.
It retreated to his own knee and stayed there, and James looked at the movie like nothing had happened, and his ears went red in the TV light.
Christine hadn't moved. Hadn't seen it. She was watching the screen with her chin propped on her hand.
Wesley had seen all of it.
He set his beer down on the side table. The click of the bottle on the wood was quiet, but it landed in the room like a gavel, and both of them turned toward it.
"James." Wesley's voice was easy. Conversational. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest, because I watched the whole thing."
James's throat moved. "What."
"Twenty minutes." Wesley held up his beer hand and ticked fingers. "Twenty minutes to move your hand one foot to the left. And then you brought it back." He leaned forward in the armchair, elbows on his knees. "She's sitting right there. You came over. Movie night. Your flannel. Curled up next to her on her couch. Anybody with eyes can see what that is. And you got within six inches and quit."
"Wes." Christine sat up straighter. "God. Leave it alone."
"It's fine." James's voice came out thin. "It's not a thing."
"It is a thing. It's the whole problem." Wesley wasn't looking at James anymore. He was looking at Christine, up and down, slow, unhurried, cataloging her in the flannel and the little shorts underneath it. "You almost touched her. That's the story of you two, isn't it. Almost."