She sighed again, her spirits low. She knew Burke wasn't going to come by again. Maybe he would never come again. Maybe Chester and her grandfather had fixed it so that he was now living in Miami with his mother, clear over on the other coast.
She could go there and find out. She could climb over the wall one day, or maybe take off from school as soon as Chester had left her there, and get a ride over to the East Coast. And if he were there, she could get a room and Monica shook her head. She'd have to have money for all that. Her grandfather saw to it that they never had more than a few dollars loose money at hand. Maybe he feared what they would do with all the money they were entitled to.
She and Whit had plenty coming to them from their mother's estate. The trouble was, they couldn't get at it until they were twenty-one, even though Whit would be eighteen and a legal adult in another two months.
She knew that infuriated Whit. He wanted his money now. He was impatient. He thought it was incredible to be the grandson of one of the richest men in the country and yet be stone broke all the lime. He wanted to burst free from the tight confinement and the constant guard and start living his own life, any damn way he felt like living it.
Right then, Monica was having exactly the same feelings, and they grew stronger each day she didn't get to see Burke. Maybe rebellion was the answer. Whit had gotten a few concessions from it, anyway.
She lifted her head again, listening. A car was coming down the street. After a moment, though, she recognized the sound of it. It was Whit.
She stepped out from behind the arbor and watched the gate swing slowly open, the motors purring. Whit drove through and came around the planter, stopping when he saw her. The gate whirred closed.
"Hey, come here," he said, leaning out the window, a grin on his face.
He watched her walk across the yard, his eyes taking in every jiggle and sway of her bikinied tits and ass. He made her self-conscious, as if he could see right through the white material. In fact, he looked as if he were wondering how it would be to fuck her.
"Whit, stop," she wailed.
"Stop what, Sis?"
"Looking at me like that."
He grinned again. She could see that his lips were broad, just like their father's. In fact, in that pose, he looked quite like her memory of her father, and she wondered if that was a hidden source of antagonism between Whit and his grandfather.
She came up beside the car and was aware of a furtive tingling in her belly and a subtle swelling of her pussy lips. She felt ashamed of herself. It was terrible to react that way over a lustful stare from your own brother.
But then it was just as terrible to watch him fuck his girl.
"What way?" he asked, ogling her twat openly. Monica pressed her thighs together with embarrassment and only then realized the motion made her pussy lips stand out puffily under the taut crotchband.
"Whit, you brat!" she cried.
"Hey, watch your language, or I won't take you with me."
"Take me where?" she asked quickly.
"You want to see your honey, don't you?" he grinned, reaching through the window. He passed his hand over the side of her hip and lifted his brows appreciatively.
Monica twisted aside. "Whit!"
He looked at her. "What the hell's the matter? Did I say anything the other night? Did I get all huffy and whine Monica at you?"
She flushed scarlet and felt her breath stick in her throat. "What – what are you talking about, Whit?"
He laughed softly. "You know damn well what I'm talking about, baby sister, don't try to shit me. I saw you out there on the balcony, whipping away at that little pussy of yours."
"Oh!" she gasped.
"Yeah, oh. Man, I had half a notion to come out there and grab you and let you join the party."
"Oh, God, Whit…" she choked.
"Only I had my hands full with Carla-baby – as you clearly saw. Enjoy the show, Sis?" He laughed again. "Yeah, you enjoyed it. I heard you having a ball. How'd you like to have a prick now?"
"Oh! God, I'm not going to stand here and listen to this! Whit, you're terrible!"
"Shit." He sniffed exaggeratedly. "Mmmm, smells like fish out there. Your pussy leaking again?"
She hit him. He ducked and laughed, and she leaned half in the window to hit at him again. To her total shock, he cupped her tit with his hand and squeezed.
"Damn! When did you grow this tit? Man, it's been here right under my nose all this time, and I haven't even noticed. Hey, Sis, come on in the car, and let's get familiar."
Monica cried and whooped, and he laughed, fending off her blows. "God, you're a brat!" she wailed.
"All right, all right, enough. Listen, you didn't answer me. Want to come along tonight?"