The Book of Lilith
Copyright© 2025 by Igor Blackfire
Chapter 5
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Lilith Ripinski is a 15-year-old loner, with an annoying 17-year-old brother named Samuel. One day, he pushes her just a little bit too far, and they enter into an intense, surreptitious sexual relationship. "The Book of Lilith" chronicles the development of their incestuous dynamic, their struggle to keep it secret, and the way Lilith's confidence grows as a result of feeling desired for the first time.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt ft Teenagers Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual True Story School Incest Brother Sister DomSub Rough First Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Spitting Public Sex Small Breasts Slow
“Well, that was gross,” Tasha announced, once Samuel and Faye had fully disappeared upstairs.
“Yup,” Lucas agreed easily. “So anyways ... You guys wanna keep playing?”
“Sure.”
The nonchalance made Lilith scowl. Clearly this was just a regular Tuesday for her brother and Faye, shamelessly heading off to fuck without even the decency to act sneaky about it. Then again, why would they? Sam was single, as far as anyone knew.
It wasn’t like Sam could take her upstairs ... or ever claim her publicly, in any form. If Lilith was honest with herself, he probably didn’t consider their relationship... that. She unclenched her fists from where they clutched her dress, and took a deep breath.
God! Why’d I even come here? I knew this would fuckin’ suck. She realized with a pang that she could have been in bed right now scrolling Tumblr and feeling comfortable in her own bubble. Instead, she was doing what, exactly? LARPing as a Teenager™ while secretly lusting over her brother. Like a normal person.
Lilith tried to pay attention to the rest of the stupid truth game, she really did, but all she could think about was Sam and Faye ... doing things. Things that she wished he’d do to her.
When the game finally ended, she snatched up the forfeit vodka bottle, still half full, and downed most of it. Then she coughed her lungs out from the ensuing burn. Lilith felt small. She felt like a waste of space, a jagged, ugly thing that didn’t fit anywhere. An idiot child wearing the costume of a cool teen. The self-loathing was a physical weight in her stomach.
Allie scooted closer, concern written all over her face. “You okay? Lills? You don’t look okay.”
“I’m peachy,” Lilith bit. “Just fine.”
“D’you wanna go—”
“No, I gotta...” She waved a hand vaguely. “Gotta find a bathroom.” She needed air. Silence. To be away from this normie shit. A dark corner where nobody could interact with her or perceive her at all. Allie seemed disappointed, but she was surely used by now to feeling that way about Lilith. Besides, everyone loved hanging around Allie; she’d find another buddy in five minutes tops.
She really was trying to find the bathroom, at first. Splash cold water on her face or something. But there were many doors in the upstairs hallway, and more than one with a bathroom-style lock, and then she’d reached another flight of stairs and then she heard it—a low murmur ... a giggle ... And then a male voice, low and immediately recognizable.
Sammy. And, oh god, Faye. Sam and Faye, together, doing god knows what. (Actually, Lilith knew exactly what.)
She weirdly felt a little offended by the fact that they chose an attic, of all places—as if fucking Sam in the attic was Lilith’s purview and hers alone, despite the small fact that she had never actually done it.
Thankfully the stairs did not creak much, unlike the ones at home. Once she reached the landing, Lilith leaned against the wall, eyes adjusting to the semi-dark as she continued eavesdropping. The door was closed, but there was such a big gap at the threshold that she could hear them almost as if she was in the same room.
“Fuck, I love these,” Sam told Faye, presumably talking about her tits. “They’re just so fucking perfect.”
Faye just laughed. “God, you’re such a dudebro.” Then it was quiet for a bit, until she heard a faint smacking.
Lilith got a little hot under the collar. She knew she was being a huge creep. But she was already there. Was there really harm in just a look? Slowly, she sank belly-first onto the carpet floor of the landing, crawling just close enough so she could peer through the crack.
Yup, they were making out all right. But it was nothing like the desperate, bruising encounters Lilith was used to, that much was instantly obvious. It was fascinating, at this point, Lilith wasn’t even just perving on them, but genuinely fascinated by the dynamic, by the different side of Sam on display. This genre of kiss was lazy and fun, it seemed, with smirks and giggles. Sam’s hands ran over Faye’s soft curves, before settling on a clear area of preference up top.
“Here, okay, I’ll make it easy for ya,” Faye purred, before she pulled off her top and unclasped her bra in one smooth, confident motion, the kind of motion that Lilith would never be able to perform, and tossed them to the side.
And god, as those tits spilled out, Lilith understood her brother on a primal level, and agreed: they were perfect. At least three times as big as Lilith’s, even bigger than Allie’s, round and with perky nipples—one of which was pierced, a little barbell that glinted in the dim bedroom light.
Sam groaned and took the non-pierced one in his mouth, sucking it almost reverently, at least compared to the rough, possessive way he touched Lilith. And, she noted, there was no hair-pulling, no power trip, no struggle and/or submission. Sam and Faye ... there was humor in their intimacy, and an easy familiarity. They were just friends having special fun.
“Ooh! What’s this?” Faye cooed, when Sam took his t-shirt off and inadvertently revealed a bunch of lovebites Lilith had left on him these past weeks. “Daaamn, Sam. Got yourself a new lover, huh? Kinky.”
Lilith couldn’t look away. She lay there on the dusty carpet floor, creeping like a creep, stun-locked by a cocktail of arousal, envy, and horror ... and mesmerized by Faye’s body. Not to mention fascinated, by this new version of Sam she was seeing—not quite submissive, not by any stretch of the imagination, but nowhere near his usual domineering self. This was nothing like with Fat Red, either; Fat Red had been an interloper, a nobody, a rando. Faye was, presumably, Sammy’s first love. Or at least his first-ever regular lover, who’d taught him stuff, which was an appeal Lilith couldn’t match no matter how hard she tried.
On the bed, the two lovers shifted; Faye wriggled out off her pants, inadvertently giving Lilith an eyeful of her butt. No less perfect than the chest, which was to be expected, of course. It wasn’t news to Lilith that she was into women as well as men, but before tonight, she hadn’t really properly perved on any women in real life, probably because all of her attentions had been on Samuel for, like, forever.
Nor had she really looked at Faye that way before, because the ginger girl liked to wear things like harem pants that obscured much of her curves, and anyways, Lilith’s view of her was colored by toxic jealousy and comparative self-deprecation ... But faced with the reality of her big, pale, freckled ass, one could deny it no longer. Faye was very attractive.
What the hell is wrong with me. Lilith shook her head. She was supposed to be upset about this...! Because Sam was supposed to get all his satisfaction from Lilith now. That was the implicit deal, she thought. Why hook up at parties? Well, it was pretty obvious why. Faye was a stunner, a goddess. Nothing like Lilly, a stupid girl in an ill-fitting dress with her visible ribs and knobbly shoulders and pug-nosed face and stupid blue-purple-yellow colored eyebags and greasy hair.
Lilith chewed on her lip, but even thoughts of her own worthlessness did nothing to stop the growing arousal. If anything, they made it worse. I’m such a freak. She groaned mentally. Well, maybe ... maybe this was a good thing? It was better if she got over it, right? If she wanted Sam to stay interested in fooling around incestuously, she should make herself as not-annoying as possible. Jealousy and possessiveness really did nothing for anyone.
The scene in front of her continued unabated. “You can, uhhh, eat me,” Faye was murmuring, uncharacteristically bashful, “but only if you wanna, ‘kay?”
Lilith knew, firsthand, that Sammy really loved eating pussy. Oh, God, did she know that. Sure enough, she saw him give Faye an eager nod before diving in.
And, god, the sound Faye made then, a little laugh-whimper that was somehow encouraging and demure. Surely Lilith herself had never sounded like that. She was undulating slowly against her own palm, her eyes drawn back to Faye’s breasts, one pierced, one pristine, as they heaved with the girl’s shuddering breathing.
Yet the girl didn’t let Sam feast on her pussy for very long. That seemed wrong to Lilith, but when the redhead cocked her head and asked, “Wanna get to the main course?” Lilith understood. Oh yes, fuck, please, she thought, licking her lips.
Samuel agreed, apparently; he chuckled and stood, his beautiful hard cock jutting out in the half-light. Faye wrapped her hand around it. “This may be the only part of you I can stand, but it’s a really good one. Almost makes up for all your bullshit.” Then she turned, getting on all fours on the bed, and wiggling her ass at him. Then she looked back over her shoulder and pulled her cheeks apart for him.
“Fuck,” Sam groaned, and so did Lilith; softly enough that it was lost in her brother’s exclamation. Her eyes were wide as saucers at seeing the the older girl’s cunt spread open lewdly ... Then, she watched it slowly stretch to accommodate Sammy’s cock, the folds conforming to his girth...
From there, it barely took them one minute to get a proper rhythm going, a muted slapping of Sam’s pelvis vs. Faye’s butt, which jiggled a little with each stroke.
It was breathtaking, and suddenly the ugly, jealous rage returned in full force. This was real sex, which she had begged him for, but he didn’t want to share it with her, only with stupid beautiful redheads.
“Hey Sam?” Faye asked breathily, after a bit.
“Yeah?”
“So, who is it?”
Three more thrusts before he answered. “Who’s what?”
“C’mon, you know what I mean. Who were you fucking the past month? You don’t usually turn me down. Let alone, mhh, twice in one week. Not to mention those psycho bite marks all over your shoulder. She must be crazy.”
Sam absently rubbed at the marks. “ ... Just some girl.”
Lilith froze. Her hand, which had been fingering herself, stilled as well, as a horror took hold of her. Just some girl. Lilith felt like she was going insane. After ... after everything, that’s how it is? Just some girl?
That’s all she could ever be, she realized with a pang of regret; because they had to keep it a secret, he would never be able to proudly announce her as “his girl”, his partner, his lover. Never. No matter how perfectly she molded herself to him, in the world of normal hookups, what they did was a shameful secret. Not to mention illegal in the state of Pennsylvania carrying a penalty of prison up to 10 years. (Don’t ask why she knew that.)
“ ... Don’t tell me you went back to Olivia, after what she sent you that time.” Faye sounded annoyed, but she didn’t stop throwing it back.
Sam huffed a laugh. “No way. Olivia’s insane. I told you, I’m done with her. No. Just a ... family friend. Not from school.”
“Hm. How old?”
“Fifteen,” he admitted.
“Hah. I see. All inexperienced?”
Another pause. “I guess so. But she’s ... a quick learner. She’s really into it.”
In the midst of despair and humiliation, Lilith still had to clench her thighs at that description. Fuck, I’m going insane over here!
“That was me with Shaun, before you met me. Too bad you didn’t get to see me like that.”
“Yeah, you were already a complete slut when I met you.”
They lapsed into a silence again that was punctuated only by grunts, moans and groans, and the schlapping sounds of their union.
Lilith remained morbidly fascinated by the casual atmosphere between these two. It was so ... different from what she expected. Then again, her expectations had been based mostly on porn and fantasy.
“So. Huh. Is she hot? What’s she like?”
“She’s ... she’s, like, a bit screwed up, y’know? ... But in a hot way—I dunno, total sub, totally into like, rough stuff.”
“Ooh. Sounds like a good match for you, then. Mr. I Wish You Were Less Dominant.”
“Yeah, I’ll never live that one down.”
“So is she like, a Mormon cousin?”
Sam burst out laughing. “My family’s Jewish, not Mormon, you fucking retard.”
“Whatever. All religion’s the same to me.” Faye stuck out her tongue. “I’m better though, right? You always come back to mama.”
And just like that, the scene in front of Lilith was no longer enthralling. Now it was just repulsive.
Sam didn’t answer right away. Instead he pounded a little harder, as if punishing her for the question. But Faye just moaned into it, taking it. “ ... Mmm. Hah. Good boy. But am I better though?”
“God, Fayfay, you’re petty and evil.” He reached forward and grasped a full, perfect fat tit. His voice dropped. “Yeah, you’re better in some specific departments, I’d say.”
“Hmm, good answer.” Faye redoubled her efforts.
Clearly, they were only getting started.
Lilith abruptly scrambled off the floor and half-stumbled over her own feet like a moron as she fled the upstairs landing, as if the universe wanted to leave her with a final contrast to the graceful intercourse happening in there.
She thought she could still hear their faint, muffled giggles and murmurs in the hallway and all the way down the stairs, which was ridiculous, just her brain taunting her.
Just some girl. The words looped in her head. You’re better in some specific departments, I’d say. Shame. Jealousy. Frustration. Lilith looked down at her own chest, barely visible bumps hidden beneath the straps of the dress and the button-up shirt. Six outta ten. Good enough to be his dirty little secret, but nothing to be proud of. Nothing like Faye, or Tasha, or Allie, or really any other girl in existence. Fuck.
She needed a drink. No, she needed several, she needed to get obliterated to burn away the memory of the last half hour, truth be told.
The kitchen was even more of a warzone than it had been when she first set foot there hours ago. Red solo cups littered every surface like fallen soldiers. Lilith snatched a half-empty bottle of something clear from the counter and took a long, searing swallow, welcoming the punishment of the shudder and gag; she took another swig for good measure.
She considered, for a moment, just leaving the party and going home. But Sam and Allie and everybody else would see that as a capitulation to her nature, a ‘giving up early’. She still had something to prove.
A cold fury crystallized in her gut. Fine; if she was just some screwed-up, kinky little secret, just some stupid girl he couldn’t care less about, if none of it meant shit to him ... then Lilith could also do whatever she wanted, right? She could play, too, couldn’t she? Be a real slut, not the fake monogamous slut she was for him, but the kind that slept around at parties drunk off her face.
The kind that was easy and worthless. The thought was ugly, but so was she, and so were her feelings. She wanted to hurt Sam, to make him acknowledge her, to see she had agency, to feel that same sickening lurch of jealousy she’d been wrestling with all night. (All month? Possibly all her life.)
The decision was made, though she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She pushed off the counter and headed towards the living room, the pulsing, sweaty mass of the crowd parting for her who didn’t want to be there. Hours ago she’d been honest-to-god dancing here, but now she could hardly imagine moving her awkward form in that kinda loose exhilaration.
Lilith closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She just had to aim low, then it was possible, surely, even for her? Her eyes scanned the room, hunting for any obviously unclaimed boy she could throw herself at. She spotted a senior she knew Sam hated. Kevin or something. She bit her lip. That would be perfect, but for the fact that the guy was holding court for an audience of his friends, and Lilith was in no shape to perform in front of an audience of anyone but Sam.
Her eyes flicked from face to face. She discarded more options—too popular, too ugly, too potentially entangled with Emmie’s circle...
Finally, she saw one, by the big glass door to the backyard: tall, floppy brown hair, glasses, generic unthreatening vibes, huddled with two other geeky friends. Freddie? Was that his name? She thought it was. No, Eddie. Eddie Henson or Benson or something. He was the kid from her AP English Language who was always drawing weird Nazi military stuff in his notebooks and making edgy n-word jokes. In other words, a loser, just like herself. Perfect.
Her arrival immediately interrupted the geeksquad’s conversation as they all turned to her. The panic that usually made her freeze was suddenly pushing her forward, a hot hand on her back shoving her toward self-destruction. “Hi,” she said. Her voice came out raspy. She refused to blush and tried again: “Um. Hey.”
“Uh, hi...?” one of them went. “Can we help you?”
Before the anxiety could overwhelm her, Lilith pointed at Eddie with a finger. “ ... Can I borrow him for a minute?”
The other two exchanged a confused, amused look. One shrugged. “He’s all yours, man.”
Eddie’s mouth hung open, but he quickly closed it when she turned back to him and cocked her head toward a less crowded corner. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Okay.” He followed her like a puppy.
This is so bizarre, Lilith thought, I’m not even hot. She took another defiant swallow from the vodka bottle, then offered it to him. He took it, looking impressed, and had a sip of his own, wincing. Well, at least they had that in common.
They ended up pressed against a wall near the staircase. The music was still loud, but they could almost hear each other.
“So, uh, what’s up?” Eddie asked.
The fact that he hadn’t gotten the memo yet was concerning. Lilith took a deep breath, heart hammering, and leaned closer. “ ... I wanna make out.”
“Oh!” His eyes widened comically and his cheeks flushed. “With me? Uhh, why?”
Lilith froze. “What do you mean ‘why’?” she asked. “Don’t you want to?” God, if even this asshole thinks he’s too good for me, I may genuinely just kill myself.
“No, yeah, I mean, I just, I’ve never—I don’t even know your name.”
I’ve never. A flicker of guilt. She shoved it down. If using him as a weapon to hurt Samuel got Eddie his first kiss, wasn’t that a win-win transaction?
She reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt. “It’s Lilly,” she murmured, then she pressed her lips to his.
Her first thought was that he didn’t taste like cigarettes. She’d gotten so used to that flavor from Sam that it threw her off. It was a fine kiss, mechanically speaking; Eddie was a bit clumsy at first, but Lilith had enough experience making out with her brother that she, at least, knew when to open her lips and bring tongue into the equation.
Gosh, kissing is kinda gross if it’s not with Sammy, Lilith noted clinically. She was pretty sure she was doing it correctly, yet it didn’t do anything for her. Eddie’s hands were sweaty and insecure, such a contrast with Sammy’s sure, possessive grip ... She felt like she was floating outside of her body, like the kiss was happening to a separate vessel she had only partial control over.
With her eyes open, she scanned the room behind Eddie’s head. No Samuel in sight just yet. But a lot of other people. She caught Eddie’s friends looking.
Lilith was the kind of person who felt a cold terror whenever teachers announced group projects, or when she was called down for family dinner. She wished she could be invisible, most of the time. It was strange, then, that a new kind of thrill ran through her when she realized she was making a show of PDA. Even if it was just to spite Sammy, even if she felt nothing for this guy ... something about the act itself was hot to her.
She closed her eyes, then, and focused on that feeling, to make the whole thing more convincing ... she made a small, encouraging sound in her throat, the kind of whimper that would drive her brother nuts.
Eddie, taking this as a sign of genuine passion, grew bolder, pulled her closer, his warm hands settling on her butt.
Outwardly, she managed not to show her discomfort. She pressed herself up against him, even, with all the motivation of someone trying to quickly shovel down a meal simply for the nutrients.
Eddie, for his part, seemed to be having a great time. He’d recovered from the initial surprise, his hands confident on her body—and, when he finally worked up the courage to brush her titties and cup them softly, it felt wrong again, on a fundamental level. The sheer fact of letting anyone but Sammy touch these parts of her ... It felt like a betrayal of their incestuous pact. Or something.
I’m deranged, Lilith reflected sullenly, before shoving Eddie off of her.
“What?” he went, a little hurt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ... I, uh. Did I do something wrong?”
She regretted the whole operation. Almost as if an out-of-body experience, she suddenly realized what she was doing and how ridiculous it was. She hadn’t thought of the consequences—suddenly she realized that she was trapped in... something, at least for the moment. What if, what if this guy thought this kiss implied a promise of more kisses in the future? No, scratch that, interactions of any kind? Even a chaste friendship, Lilith wasn’t exactly in the market for.
“Sorry,” Lilith went. “No, I’m ... Sorry. I don’t know why the fuck I did that. I have a...” She trailed off. A boyfriend? Lilith let out a mirthless laugh. Who the fuck am I kidding? No she didn’t. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
They stood there staring at each other stupidly for a moment. Her eyes fixated on a spot of acne on Eddie’s cheek, then a stain on his sleeve.
Then, she saw him. Samuel. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, talking to his friends.
Oh fuck. Sam, look at me! Lilith felt a surge of adrenaline, a manic energy—she turned back to Eddie, grabbed his face with both hands, and crashed her mouth against his. “ ... One more minute’s fine I guess,” she murmured against his lips.
Utterly bewildered but not about to question his good fortune, Eddie Henderson kissed her back, again, and with more gusto than before. This time when his grabby hands went to her ass, Lilith endured it, forced her body to stay pliant, her mind a million miles away. He’s looking now. Hold still, ake it look real...
She tilted her head, a practiced, submissive gesture, and made sure Sam had a clear line of sight. One second. Two. He turned. His eyes found her. Their gazes locked across the pulse of the room. Sam’s casual expression didn’t change, but his eyes went cold and flat.
He took a slow, deliberate sip of his beer, not breaking eye contact, then put his bottle down, and began stalking towards them ... Though he stumbled a bit; he’d clearly been drinking as well.
A thrill of terror and victory shot through her. This was it. He was coming. Eddie, oblivious, was trying to deepen the kiss. She pulled him a fraction closer. I’m so sorry.
Sam didn’t say a word when he reached them. He bypassed her completely, grabbing Eddie by the shoulder and yanking him off of Lilith.
“Huh? The fuck’s your problem?” Eddie sputtered, stumbling.
“You’re my problem,” Sam said, his voice dangerously calm. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her.”
“Dude, she kissed me! What the hell are you, her boyfriend?”
That was the wrong thing to say. Lilith could see it in Sam’s eyes. “Worse. I’m her brother,” he snarled, and the word ‘brother’ was spat venomously like it was a bad thing. He shoved Eddie hard against the wall.
“ ... Sam, stop!” Lilith tried, but her voice was a mouse squeak drowned out by the pulsing EDM coming from the speakers.
Eddie, to his credit, shoved back and stood up for himself. “Fuck you, man! It’s a party!”
But, Eddie was skinny, and clearly not a pugilist of any kind. Sam’s first punch landed on his shoulder with a nauseating thump, and he staggered backward into a coffee table. A girl screamed. Others were cheering Sam on. Or just cheering at the general concept of a fight.
The whole atmosphere of the house party suddenly felt absurd and distant. This wasn’t going to plan at all. She thought Sam would confront her, call her out, acknowledge her finally, but nope, even in this situation, he barely spared her a glance.
Sam missed the second time, but Eddie tripped over the table trying to avoid the hit, then headed straight for the floor all by himself. When Sam stepped forward to deliver a kick, suddenly Eddie’s two friends rushed into the fray ... though Lilith noted that they didn’t look like they would fare much better against her brother. It wasn’t that Sam was much bigger than any of them, but he was ... he looked...
He looks insane. There was a fury in his eyes she hadn’t seen in years, ever since he adopted his aloof irony persona. As if the world was in slow-mo, Lilith watched one of the two geeky kids actually punch Sammy right in the face. He paid for it right away, of course, by taking a retaliatory kick to the thigh that sent him careening into the glass door that led to the yard.
Lilith cringed, but the door, thankfully, was strong enough. Suddenly she felt hollow. She’d caused this. Innocent people were getting beaten up all because Lilith wanted attention. Well, she got it in spades: a circle of gawkers had formed. She spotted classmates, Sam’s friends, even Allie, taking in the spectacle.
With a sharp suddenness, Lilith realized that in the year of our lord 2018, this was not normal brotherly behavior. Alcohol could no doubt explain away a great deal, but... Oh gosh. She’d imagined something romantic straight out of a fanfiction, but this ... this was not cute. It was vicious, and wayyy too much, too public, too... possessive.
She smiled, despite the horror of it. Because it meant he did care. Lots, in fact. So much it made him lose control. It was a relief to see it confirmed, even if was also horrible. For the first time, she realized that if she’d actually wanted to date normal boys who weren’t Sam, Sam would’ve never, ever let her. Well, good thing then.
“Dude! Sam! Fucking chill!!” The whole thing had lasted maybe twenty seconds before Lucas and Damon grabbed Sam by the shoulders from behind, pulling him back.
Sam thrashed against their hold. “He fuckin’ touched Lilith!” he snarled.
Lucas’s hold loosened as he looked over at Lilith sharply. “What? Are you good?”
Lilith just shook her head numbly, then nodded sharply. “No, yes. Nothing. I’m—I’ve got to go. Sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck.” She ran a hand over her face as she pushed through the crowd, through the hall. She snatched up Sam’s jacket along the way in a feeble act of protest, and with a white-knuckled grip on his car keys, she was up and out the front door.
The cool night air hit sharply on her face wet with tears. She ran and kept running.
Lilith had always been an ugly crier, but the makeup also wasn’t helping; when she tried wiping away the tears, she was left with streaks of war paint on her cheeks. She rocked in the passenger seat of Sammy’s Ranger. A confined yet familiar space to retreat to.
Faintly, she could still hear the thrum of the party from across the cul-de-sac. The clock on the dash said 2:21 when Lilith began wallowing in her misery. She thought about the worst-case scenario, where Sammy’s outburst kicked off a chain of events leading to the discovery of their big secret. Or the second worst option, where tales of his possessive violence percolated down the rumor mill to reach Emmie’s squad.
In the end, she had to admit with a deep sigh that she was too antisocial to have a clue about how house party Incidents turned into anecdotes. Everyone was drunk, too, and stuff...
It was 2:52 when Sam found her there, pulled the car door closed behind him with a thwack. Lilith noted, bitterly, his first instinct after the fight clearly hadn’t been to look for her.
Silence stretched between them.
Lilith’s fingers worried at the hem of her dress. “Y’know, fuck you, Sam.”
“Huh? For what?”
“For always being such a jerk.”
“You are so mentally ill,” Samuel sighed, as he dug around his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. “I just beat up two guys for you.”
“You beat up guys for yourself,” she spat. “Don’t drag me into it.”
“Well ... fair enough.” He fumbled with the lighter, the flint sparking uselessly twice before he got a flame. His hand was trembling. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered.