I’m Hunter. It’s the name I was born with, and the name my SEAL buddies let me keep, due to my uncanny instinct for finding enemy combatants. I’m not an easy guy to know. Most women might give me a look, but there’s something in my eyes I’ve been told, that makes them wary about coming closer. A hint of violence that only freaks find sexy. Freaks—and Sara, my little sister. Stepsister, that is. Sara never seems to notice I’m a badass.

From day one, when our parents introduced us, she treated me as though I didn’t have a single hard edge and like my silences were invitations for her to speak. She was so chatty and flirty that first day, my dad had laughed his ass off, because he knew I had a certain reputation already, and she was oblivious to the danger. Blissfully so, because she couldn’t help hugging my arm and leaning into me, so happy to have a brother, she’d said, and “I can’t wait to do things with you, Hunt.”

“Hunter,” I’d ground out, not knowing how to shake off the pretty, blonde princess who wore pink from head to toe and had sparkles on her eyelids.

My dad had cleared his throat and given me a warning glare to play nice, but Sara hadn’t noticed how uncomfortable I was. Or, so I’d thought. I just hadn’t figured out how smart she really was, and how much my frowning resistance challenged her.

No, even during that first meet I’d felt a sense of doom weighing on my shoulders as she’d blinked her pink-sparkled lids and given me her wide-eyed stare. Her blue eyes had captured me, and I’d felt like I was falling. Right then, I’d felt my first stirring of arousal for the one girl who should have been completely off-limits.

However, Sara didn’t “do” boundaries. More than once, she’d flounced into my room in her undies to ask to borrow something—a pencil or a hairbrush—then root around my room, turning and bending, making sure I noticed her cute ass or how nicely her tits filled her bra.

Once, she’d even picked the bathroom lock to walk in on me while I’d jacked off. She’d paused in the doorway, then hurried inside, closing the door behind her, while I’d reached for a towel to hide my erection. She’d plopped onto the closed toilet seat and proceeded to tell me I had to let her watch, or she’d tell my dad I’d “borrowed” his porn.

Sure she’d lose her nerve, I’d given her a steady glare and continued, all the way until I’d pumped come into the towel. I’d been angry, but also entranced, because while her cheeks had reddened, her nipples had poked against her T-shirt and her breaths had come faster. After that day, I stopped being shocked when she barged in to catch me nude in the shower or in my bed.

Fucking her had been inevitable. And sweeter than anything I’d ever experienced. And although I’d paraded other women in front of her, trying to do the right thing by ending her attraction—even after I’d joined the Navy and become a SEAL, with my own apartment, my separate life—I’d continued to allow her to invade my space. She’d show up at my place, smile at my girlfriends, then wait around for them to leave before doing her best to show me that she was the only girl for me.

When she couldn’t afford her apartment, I’d told her she could stay with me—until she got back on her feet. But she’s never left, and I’ve never asked her to.

Fact is, I need her. She’s my sunshine. When I come back from a mission feeling ready to shred something with my fists, she banishes the darkness. Only she can provide me sweet release from the ghosts that haunt me. She taunts me with lust and bad behavior. Teases me by flirting and fucking my friends.

She knows I like to watch her fuck. What she doesn’t know is that I don’t see them at all. Her face, her ever-changing expressions, fascinate me. Her body, to me, is perfection—supple, light gold skin stretched over tits that make me salivate and an ass that makes me hard when it twitches. Every undulating motion, every quiver and bounce, draws me deeper and deeper into lust for her. That my friends love her, too, is something I’m getting used to.

The way I see it—Sara will never be alone. If, someday, I catch a bullet or stomp on a mine, I know she’ll be devastated, but there will be three men ready to console her, look after her, and love her.

In the meantime, she’s ours to share. An arrangement that naturally progressed from me giving Sara a thrill by allowing my friends to catch glimpses of her naked, to letting them watch her being fucked by me. When I’d invited them to her bed, I’d had reservations, worried that my bond with Sara would be strained, until I’d noted the way she looked at me when she was with them, like this was our foreplay. I love my brothers, but I made it clear from the start that whatever happened was strictly for her pleasure. They were free to play, to enjoy her company, but she’d never be theirs.

Marco, Payton, and now Harley, are all respectful of my claim. They engineer “alone time” for the two of us. Like this morning. At dawn, the three tapped on my door to tell me they were headed to the gym, and then told me which bed Sara occupied.

Marco gave a waggle of eyebrows. “She’s sleeping.”

Which meant she wasn’t, and the game was on.

As I entered Harley’s bedroom, Sara was playing ’possum, pretending she still slept, although she knew that I knew she was faking it.

Now, I wore the smile I knew made her shiver—if she were able to turn and see it. But “little sis” wasn’t in any position to turn, or move in any direction for that matter. I found her nude on Harley’s mattress. Not even a sheet covering her body. She lay on her belly, her legs spread, her arms at her sides, and her face turned from the door.

Harley had left the door open, likely at her request. A tease for me. She liked setting up little seductive scenarios. Loved being caught doing something nasty. When Marco, Payton, and I were around, she went to great lengths to give us peeks of her body sure to incite us into acting.

This morning, she and I were alone in the house. So, this little scene was meant for me. I took full advantage, hustling back to my bedroom to dig through my closet for the small duffel filled with items I’d collected for her pleasure.

While she “slept”, I fastened Velcro bonds around her ankles and attached them to rugged canvas bands I hooked to the bedrails, and then slowly tightened them to ease her legs farther apart. I did the same with her wrists, trying not to laugh as she’d muttered and snored, keeping up the act, although I could tell by her shortening breaths and the glaze on her pussy that she was getting very excited.

I’d had a week to hunt for just the right hardware to play out this fantasy while she’d been on a trip I’d paid for her—accompanying Harley on a special cruise for disabled vets. Although I’d urged her to go, every day she’d been gone had been an agony.

I doubted Sara knew how much I’d missed her. How I’d ached for her. No matter how many times I’d “cleaned my rifle”, I was left wanting. When they’d both returned, looking tanned and wearing lazy smiles, I’d ground my teeth, knowing Marco and Payton wanted a turn with her, too. I’d let them have her—even though it about killed me—because I’d seen the catlike curve of her mouth as she’d mounted Payton while he sat on the couch. I’d tensed the moment Marco came behind her, pushing away her hair to nibble on her shoulder while he’d slowly fed his cock into her ass.

When both men had begun to stroke her, Sara’s gaze had locked with mine, challenge gleaming in her baby-blue gaze. She’d driven me out of my mind—breasts bouncing, her bottom lip swelling as she bit it over and over, her back bowing as she’d come.

Yeah, I liked to watch her having sex with my best friends, but there always came a time where I had to have her to myself, to remind her who she belonged to—heart and sweet, hot pussy.

This was my turn.