Sislovesme 24 01 — 19 Jill Taylor My Stepsis The Top

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tentative. It was a takeover—her fingers threading into my hair, her body shifting to straddle my lap, the weight of her pressing me into the couch cushions. She tasted like mint and rain and something else, something that was just Jill: the chlorine-salt of the pool, the starch of competition, the quiet roar of someone who had never come in second.