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What You Need

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“I’m not what you need.”

He tells her that first day. Miles Matheson isn’t what anyone needs, certainly not this half-girl half woman with Rachel’s loose limbed defiance and piercing eyes.

That’s why he left, why he gave up Rachel that first time. Charlie didn’t exist yet but they both deserved more than the screw up Matheson brother. He’s the only Matheson brother now, though.

“I’m not what you need.”

She crawls in beside him and he tells himself that she’s family, that she’s just a kid looking for the closest thing she has left. Maybe scraps are better than nothing, right? She probably would have been better of with the Neville kid though, dumb as bricks but predictable as any good dog.

She takes his hand in hers, pulls it against her body, her ripe young body. He’s suddenly all too aware that she shucked her jeans onto the floor. She could be your daughter, Miles. He almost says that out loud but he doesn’t for some reason. She pulls his hand downward, taut young skin and firm muscle and those little cotton underwear do nothing to disguise the burning heat between her legs.

“I’m not what you need.”

He does say it out loud this time, once more. Her breasts strain against the thin material of her tank top as she grabs his other hand to press it against her chest. What could possibly be possessing her?

“Maybe not, but you are what I want.”

She looks him straight in the eye as she guides his hand, inside her underwear to witness firsthand her conviction. She moans, pressing her hips up into his hand, and he knows he’s beyond lost. It is a good thing he doesn’t believe in hell. He’s done a lot of fucked up things in his life but this sure as hell takes the cake.

She pushes his hand down a little further, guiding his fingers just where she wants them. He gives up fighting and takes the hint, curling them slowly inside of her. She squeezes encouragement, hissing for him to go faster. He can’t deny her, hips circling wildly as her pulse races.

Her hands leave his and instead reach inside his boxers to find him hard and draw him out. She pulls away momentarily, tossing aside the rest of her clothes, before pushing him onto his back and straddling him, rubbing herself, wet and warm, against him.

“This shouldn’t…”

He protests but his hands are gripping her hips and not to push her away.

“I don’t care.”

As she says it she shifts and sinks down onto him, hot and tight, and whatever shreds of moral compass he’s been struggling with loses the battle as he arches up into her, groaning her name. Her eyes stay locked onto his, as works herself against him.

He can’t help himself as he sits up against her, bodies pressing together, as he kisses her neck and she breathes his name. She pushes him back down onto the bed, hands anchored on on his chest as she rides him harder, with each movement her breath gets more ragged, until she cries out sharply and clenches around him, collapsing against his chest, still pumping her hips against his, her mouth finding his and eagerly devouring it.

She twists her hips into his again, moaning into his mouth, and Miles has to grab her by the wrists and flip her over, thrusting into her a few more times before he pulls out and shoots all over her stomach and breasts.

He half expects her to suddenly realize what they’ve done and go white in horror, but she pulls his head down instead, to clean up the mess he’s made. As he swipes his tongue across one of her breasts, she lets out a low moan that is almost a purr.

In for a penny, in for a pound. He works his way downward, and she confirms his suspicions as he reaches her hips and she pushes his head down lower, hips bucking against his face as he runs his tongue down between her legs.


He obliges, sucking fervently at her clit, giving in to the enjoyment of her sweet young body. It’s not as if licking his teenage niece’s cunt is going to damn him more than fucking her already has.

He’s not what she needs. He knows that. As long as she’s here though, taking from him what she wants, he might as well enjoy the ride. Apparently he’s fucked up enough to want to, maybe even to need to.