by Logan Chance
“Oh, God,” she moans.
I slow down, although my heart beats like a loud metal song with thrashing and fast tempos. “Let’s get you out of this dress. I’m tempted to rip it off your body.” And I fucking am.
“You can’t tear it.”
“I’ll buy you a million more,” I husk out, ripping the slit to show off a bit of her luscious leg.
She gasps as I keep ripping the material up her body. “Xavier, I can’t believe you just did that.”
“I need your body more than the cost of this dress.”
Her dress comes off, well, what’s left of it anyways, and her black-lace bra and panties mesmerize me with their beauty for a moment. I’m not sure I’ll recover from this.
“Rhi, is your pussy aching for me?”
“Yes, it is.”
That performance at the opera was just a prelude for what I have planned. I roam my hands down and hook my thumbs into the lace material, trailing it down her long, silky legs.
“Take your bra off,” I tell her.
When she's naked, my eyes can’t get their fill of her. I memorize the dips and curves, the soft glow of her skin, and the way her pert nipples beg to be sucked.
And then I lower and suck her tit into my mouth, biting down on the stiff nipple.
God, my heart and cock are telling me to take it faster, but everyone knows slow and steady wins the race. And this is one race I want to qualify for. To win all the medals and badges. And first place isn’t an option—it’s a necessity.
So, I tell my dick to shut the fuck up, and calm the raging hormones, and suck and keep sucking until Rhiannon pulls me up to kiss her again.
And I oblige, because when a sweet girl like her wants you to kiss her, well, you fucking kiss her. I’m not a fool here. I know what my baby needs. And right now, she needs me.
“Xavier, I can’t take much more of this. I’m so close already.”
I reach a hand down and run a finger through her wet heat. She’s soaked. Drenched.
“All this for me?” I have to close my eyes to regain my composure. It feels too good, and I dip a finger in, up to the knuckle, and then I keep pushing and curling my finger as far as I can go. I listen as she moans her approval. “Your pussy loves my touch, doesn’t it?”
“I’m so close.”
I sit up, removing my finger. No way am I going to finger fuck her again, not when my tongue is so eager to finish the job. “Not yet. I promised to lick your pussy until it’s dry.”
“You make me so wet.” She bucks her hips.
I move down her sultry body, my tongue tasting her skin as I go. “That’s good to know.”
“Yeah, a piece of vital information you don’t need.”
I stop my movements, my head lifting to catch her gaze. “Oh, I need to know. Believe me, I’m willing to do the leg work to know everything your tight little body has to give.”
She smiles, and I drop my head to her heated skin, continuing with my tongue as I dip into her belly button, spreading her legs, allowing her pussy to come into full view.
“God damn, I’ve never seen anything so hot.”
Her fingers sift through my hair, causing little bursts of heat to ignite deep within.
With reverence, I lick from her pussy to her clit, then suck hard on her lips. I thrust my tongue inside, pushing in as far as I can, and then I go in a little deeper.
“Oh, yes. Please don’t stop.”
And I don’t. I fuck her with my tongue, applying pressure with my hand at the top of her mound, while my thumb toys with her clit. Her hips have a mind of their own as they grind into me, and I like the dirty things they think.
I keep sucking and fucking her. My shoulder pushes up her thigh, and she takes the hint and throws her leg over it.
And then she’s screaming my name, and I love the way it hangs in the air. I push harder into her. Her nails grapple at my shoulders, breaking skin, urging me on. I don’t let up, I keep going and going as she keeps coming and coming. I keep fucking doing it until she breathes a sigh of satisfaction.
Her beast is calmed, but mine is quickly coming to life.
And he wants to fuck. And fuck hard.
My shirt comes off first, then I undo my belt and stand to remove my pants and shoes.
“That’s a menu item I’d like to order every night,” I say, removing my boxers.
“Oh yeah? What else is on the menu?”
I pump my cock with my fist. “Me.”
“I need it so bad.”
I crack a smile. “Well, I'm here to deliver for you, baby.” I lift her from the couch, carrying her through the house and into the master suite.
“Wait,” she says as soon as I’m ready to toss her on the bed and have my way with her.
“What?” I growl out, my body losing the fight to stay in control.
“I want to feel all of you tonight.”
“You will.”
“No, all of you. I’m on the pill.” She moves toward the bed, and slides onto it.
No condom. Fuck me.
I’m so clean, I’m snow. On a groan I tell her that.
As I stalk closer to the bed, I stall. My Rhiannon, my Rhi, eyes a deep color like the Earth that's uprooted me, and a smile that fucking engulfs me, sprawled out, willing and ready for me.
This is the moment I should panic and freak out. I should fight with myself and tell myself I’m not good enough for her.
I should run. But, I might die, if I don't have her.
“Rhiannon,” I murmur, climbing onto the bed, “I’ve thought about you way more than I should have over the years. Late at night, taking matters into my own hands.” I pump my cock for emphasis.
“Me too.”
Her admission blind sides me.
“You used to touch yourself and think about me?”
“So many nights, Xavier.”
And there’s no going slow now. There’s no taking my time.
I poise myself at her entrance, and she winds her long legs around my back. And I slide in, like sliding into home plate for the victory game. And it feels so good. Too good. Skin on skin.
As soon as she pulls my lips to hers, all thoughts of revenge vanish. And my mind’s at peace. Now, it’s all feeling. The tugs and pulls of our bodies. The way her fingernails dig into my ass cheeks. The contact, the need and want, the desire filling up the room.
The way I can’t stop gazing down on her as I pump and pump. Push and push. Fuck and fuck.
I’m ready to throw in the towel, wave the white flag in surrender if she keeps hitting me with that look in her eyes. Desperation. Longing. As if I hung the moon for her. As if I would give my life for her.
I can’t breathe, because my chest constricts with words like forever and soul mate. I can’t breathe, because for one tiny fraction of a second, I think about all the possibilities of what if.
What if I set her free?
What if I say fuck my plan?
What if I marry her? And then thoughts of Rhiannon as my wife flit through my brain as I keep thrusting with all I have. Rhiannon raising a family I give her. Rhiannon every night in my bed.
She runs her fingers through my hair, and I groan into her mouth, fucking her into the bed.
My one track mind is out of whack, and I zero in on the sight of her fabulous, glorious, too-perfect-for-me tits. The way the nipples point right at me. The fullness. Their light bounce as I slam into her with all my might.
“You have such nice fucking tits. Play with them for me.”
She does, tugging, plucking, and squeezing her nipple, until she moans even louder.
I keep delivering all my promises of making this girl come a few times tonight. I slip my hand between our heated bodies, and find her clit, rubbing it with my thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure, and pushing on it in tempo with each rock of my cock.
I imagine myself with her. And then, I close my eyes—tight. So tight. Tight like her pussy tight. But her f
ace won’t leave me. And it never has. It never will.
“I’m going to come,” she shouts.
“Whose hard cock are you going to come all over?”
“Yours,” she cries.
“That’s right. Remember that my dick is the one that makes you scream and moan. My thick cock is the one you beg for when we’re not touching.” I slam into her again. “And my fucking cock is the one you dream about when we’re not together.”
She shuts her eyes—her lips parted, her hands hanging onto me for dear life, as if I'd ever let her go, her pussy clenching my cock so good—as her body loses control. I damn near lose mine.
“Open your eyes. Look at me.” I want her to remember who’s bring her this pleasure. Who’s making her come.
The feel of her pussy gets painfully tighter. But, I keep rocking in to her. Harder and faster. Before my cock shoots off deep inside her, I pull her lips with my teeth, and slip my tongue in her mouth. I’m so fucking close.
Her brown eyes lock with mine as I pull away from the kiss, and it slays me. And there’s no turning back. Everything I feel for her pushes up from my chest, like a geyser boiling, trying to escape through my mouth. But I can’t tell her any of that shit. Not today. Not ever.
“Oh god, don’t stop. I’m going to come again.”
“Come for me, Rhi. Show me who makes you feel so good. Show me who owns your pussy.” I pump harder. “Damn, you’re so fucking wet.”
She cries out, and I follow right along to the point where nothing else matters.
“Fuck, you make me come so hard,” I grit out as the first wave of my orgasm hits. And she does. So fucking hard.
Together, we fall. Each minute ticking down to that final second that this will all be over.
29
Rhiannon
Oh my God. Let me say it again for emphasis. Oh. My. God. I can’t breathe or think. His tongue, his hands, those fingers...oh those naughty ten digits. But that dick. It’s something out of this world. Like NASA space men brought it back from the planet Well-Endowed and bestowed it unto him. Like the God’s all sat around while creating him, and thought, ‘let’s go big on this one.’
Because that’s what it is. But, even more than the length is the way he uses it. And believe me, he knows how to use that massive weapon of destruction. But honestly, the only thing it destroyed is my heart.
Because if I thought I loved him before, then that was all child’s play. This feeling swarming through my chest, radiating to every limb of my body, and pulsing through every nerve fiber, is so much bigger than love. What’s bigger than love? Xavier’s dick. Ha. I kid, but it is.
But, back to my point in all this. I'm feeling a little panicky, because no one can ever compete with this. And I don’t want them to even try.
I flee to the safety of the bathroom to collect myself. I need to remember why I’m here. I need to remember that this man has a plan, and I am only a pawn in the grand scheme of it.
But he made me feel things. Made the impossible come alive in me. The squashed, repressed hopes I held onto were all there. In color nonetheless.
And that makes me pause. I’ve always dreamed in black and white. Knowing full well I can never have the things I wish so hard for. But when the streaks of cherry-red and sky-blue and every other color of the rainbow burst through my vision like an oil painting he did just for me, well, I nearly cried. It was too much.
I take a deep breath, staring at myself in the mirror. Keep it together, girl. Don’t let amazing sex ruin you.
When I enter back into the bedroom, Xavier is lying on his back, arms stretched behind his head, etched abs I want to lick, and a barely there sheet covering his most prized possession from me.
And it turns me on instantly. Greed tears through me, wanting more of all he has to offer.
“Ready for more?” He laughs, and I bound onto the bed.
“Yes, you promised me many more orgasms,” I say, my pep talk I just had in the bathroom flying completely out of the window. ‘Goodbye,’ I say to it as I wrap my hand around his cock and meet his soul-searing eyes.
“Good, because I’m nowhere near done claiming that pussy yet.”
And his words must be true, because his dick is already coming to life in my hand.
And for the rest of the night he does just that. He claims me in every way imaginable. He doesn’t stop claiming until the soft shine of the morning sun filters in through the blinds. When he finally kisses me goodnight, and snuggles his body in next to mine, right before I fall asleep, I hear him whisper, “I wish this was right,” into my hair.
My muscles ache before I even open my eyes against the sun streaming in through the window. Xavier sleeps soundly beside me, and I've got two choices here: I can stay in this sex cocoon a little longer and go back to marry Ian, which is not my choice, or I can do a little snooping, see if I can find some clue as to what my father has that Xavier needs so bad he would go to these lengths.
I lift his arm and carefully slip out from under the navy comforter, snatch his white dress shirt from the floor, and tip toe out.
The house is eerily quiet without the usual team of people moving in and out, and I have no idea when they’ll return, so I race to his office, step inside, and lock the door.
I sag against the door frame. Now what? The glossy black desk is virtually empty on top, except his large monitor and a neat stack of file folders next to it. I'll start there. My heart beats so fierce as I move behind his desk, I'm afraid it's going to wake him. As if it’s going to burn me or set off an alarm, I quickly tap a key on the keyboard and jerk my hand back. The monitor comes to life. Should've known it would need a password. Folders next. I thumb through the first, all jibberish. Second, the same. My hands shake as I grab the last folder, and I cut my eyes to the door expecting him to walk through it at any moment. I thumb through the papers and freeze.
One.
Two.
Three.
I rub my eyes to clear them. This can't be true.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I. can't. breathe.
The thin document weighs a million pounds as I lift it from the folder and stare at the signature. Alfred DeLaurio.
Son...
Xavier DeLaurio.
Whaaaat?
I just fucked my brother.
My legs give out, and I sink into the chair and drop my head between my knees. Oh god. Oh god. Why would he not tell me? I am in love with my brother. My brother. No; it can't be.
The things I thought. Fantasized about all these years.
This is beyond warped.
How do I turn it off?
I'm sick. Sick. Sick.
I enjoyed it.
I begged for it.
And he let me.
Oh good lord.
My deep breaths do nothing to stop the hyperventilating that's happening.
All the sex. He knew.
What if I keep loving him?
“What the hell are you doing in here?” his deep voice booms.
I don't move. I can't breathe.
I'm in love with my brother.
His bare feet appear in my vision. A tear drops onto his toe. Why am I always looking at his feet when cataclysmic things happen? Maybe it's because I'm a servant, serving everyone’s sick purposes.
“What's wrong? Look at me,” he says.
I'm scared to look at him. What if I still see him with love goggles? What if I'm still attracted to him? Does love stop just like that? This is so fucked up.
He squats, and oh god, touches me. Visions of us tangled together torment me. He knew.
Finally, I lean up and meet his eyes. They're not angry—they’re worried.
They should be.
I punch him in the jaw. He barely flinches, grabbing my wrist.
“How could you?” It's pathetic my voice doesn't sound angry; it sounds sad and confused—weak. A kitten’s mewl instead of a lion’s roar.
“How could I wh
at?”
Unable to look at his face that bears no guilt for these sins that are sending us straight to hell, I look over his shoulder.
“Fuck me,” I rasp out.
My brain isn't moving him into sibling mode. Oh god, he didn't move me either.
“I’m sorry. It won't happen again.” His hand lands on my thigh. “I thought you wanted me too.”
“Jesus Christ. You can't want me,” I scream. “We’re freaks.”
“Rhiannon,” he starts.
“Stop, please.” I don't want to hear his voice. It still affects me, and it's wrong. “You’re my brother, and you didn't tell me?” I nearly choke on the words. On the shame. My heart isn't hearing anything I'm saying.
He blinks. “For fucks sake, you think I'd have sex with you if I still thought that?”
“Still?”
“Yes,” he stands, running a hand through his hair. “It was a lie your father told me.”
Pummeled. I'm always pummeled with this craziness from every direction.
“When?”
“After I kissed you all those years ago.” He takes a breath. “After my mom died.”
I close my eyes and rub my temples to make my brain function. I can’t believe any of this. Keep calm, I tell myself.
“Obviously he's not my father. But the sick fuck wanted me to think it.”
“And you're giving me back to this sick fuck?” I drop my hands. “I'm just a temporary means to an end, right?” So much for keeping calm.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”
This must be what it feels like to lose your mind. It's like I'm in front of a funhouse mirror, warping and distorting reality. I want out of here, away from all of the things I can't control. And I can't control myself around him. “Did you know that most of the drawings on my greeting cards have our initials hidden inside?”
This catches his attention, and he meets my stare. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I do this swirly type drawing, and I always add an R for me, and an X for you. Like our very own prescription. Rx.”
He runs a hand down his jaw. “That’s pretty fucking cool,” he murmurs.
