by Nikki Wild
“That was a long time ago,” she said, though the way she stared at me I could have sworn we were right back there, the both of us so ready to take one another that we could taste it. I could still recall the way she felt against my lips, how her skin had turned to goose flesh beneath my soft and caressing touches. “We were still kids.”
“Like hell we were,” I said, shaking my head as I recalled just how adult the two of us had felt back in that pantry. I could tell by the way Gwennie’s body fit against me that we had been by no means children. “We were most certain not behaving like any children I’d ever met… though I always did love playing doctor.”
“You’re such a bastard,” Gwendolyn spat, though the look on her face told me that she immediately regretted it. It was cute how much she cared for my feelings, cared about how I felt about my place in the world. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—”
“I know what I am, Gwen,” I said, leaning against the door of her refrigerator. “I’m not ashamed it, not like my father is. I’ve been told so many times that the word has lost all meaning to me.”
“Still, I was insensitive,” she tried to reason. “I shouldn’t have called you that.”
“And just how do you plan to make it up to me?” I asked, smiling down at her as I took a step closer. Our young bodies pressed together. I summoned the memory of her hand down my pants, holding on to my pierced cock. I could almost feel the sensation—her firm, but timid grip.
“You always know how to turn something innocent into some disgusting innuendo,” she said, shaking her head, though I spotted her lips turning up at the corners and knew that she was enjoying herself.
“It’s a special talent of mine, actually,” I laughed, drawing nearer to her once again. “One of many that I’ve already offered to show you.”
Her face flushed with color, turning it away to hide what I knew was a smile from me. Though as I pressed my body against hers, it was a gasp that escaped her lips, short and high-pitched like a mouse. I adored that gasp more than she could understand. It brought back all the memories I had of my playful, lusty games that all led up to that night.
“That offer’s still open,” I whispered into her ear. “The one I made to you all those years ago. All you have to do is take it.”
“We can’t,” she whimpered. God, we really were replaying that night, weren’t we?
Only this time, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake. I wasn’t going to let her use our reputations as an excuse. I wasn’t going to take “we can’t” for an answer—not when everything she did, from the way she looked at me to the way her body sang in my arms, told me she wanted to. That we could.
Hell, that we ought to.
“Come on, Gwennie. We’re alone. No one’s going to see. Your mum isn’t going to walk in at any moment and ruin the fun, and she never has to know. Nor does my father. We’re not teenagers anymore.”
“I thought you said we were adults back then, Tristan,” Gwendolyn murmured, squirming as I slid my prick up against her, forcing her to understand the weight of what she did to me. Her body grinding against it, however involuntarily, wrested a low groan from my throat.
“We were. Just inexperienced ones. Even me.” I chuckled, thinking of how I’d been convinced I was some kind of Don Juan who knew everything there was to know about sex and women. Growing up a bit had taught me I was wrong, that I had so much to learn. And I’d been a good student. Now it was time for me to ace the ultimate test: bedding my stepsister once and for all.
“Are you still a virgin?” I asked her.
Gwendolyn flushed so red I was sure she’d say yes. But she surprised me. “N-not exactly…”
I grinned. “No need to be embarrassed, love. That just means I don’t have to take it slow.”
I reached over, giving her plenty of time to stop me. But she didn’t, and so I pulled away the neckline of her robe, exposing the tops of her incredible tits.
She sucked in a breath, making them jump. “Tristan… what are you doing?”
I pushed the fabric down over her shoulders. Still, she didn’t stop me. Her breasts shuddered. Her flesh pricked with goosebumps. “Tristan, I… We’ve been over this before… What if someone hears? Or sees?”
It was an excuse. A stupid, flimsy excuse. She didn’t mean it. I could tell.
I undid the belt on her robe. Then I pushed it away, down onto the floor. Gwendolyn was naked in front of me except for that silly towel turban in her hair, and I yanked it away, letting her red locks spill over her neck and shoulders.
Before she could say my name again I kissed her, covering her mouth with mine, engulfing it, consuming it. I drew her against me, against the hardness straining against my slacks. When she moaned, I knew what I had to do.
I had to take her.
With one sweep of my arm, I cleared one end of her kitchen island, letting the plates she’d let gather there crash to the floor. Fuck it, I didn’t care if I destroyed her entire flat. I wanted Gwendolyn. I needed her. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I would’ve destroyed the entire city if it meant I’d get to finally have her.
I grabbed her tiny waist and plopped her down on the edge of the island, sinking my teeth into her lip until she gasped. I needed to hear her moan again. I needed to hear those breath-stealing sounds she made, the ones that urged my cock into a frenzy. I needed to feel her shudder.
“I’m hungry,” I said, shoving her down on her back so I could spread her legs wide for me. She blushed and put her hand on mine as if to stop me, but one sharp look made her bite her lip and settle back, her entire body quaking.
“Don’t be shy,” I told her, pushing her thighs apart. “Not with me, Gwennie. You don’t ever have to hide from me.” Then I bent my head and puffed a hot breath over her labia, making her squeal. Now that was a sound I just had to hear again. I opened the lips of her pussy and dove in with my tongue.
“Fuck!” Gwendolyn breathed, as if this entire time she’d thought I’d pull away, like maybe this moment wouldn’t happen, after all. She dug her manicured nails into my hair. “Tristan!”
Oh, God, Gwendolyn’s pussy was incredible. It was pure ambrosia, even sweeter than I had imagined it being. I lapped up her lust and musk, thrashing my tongue against her nub, making her beg and cry and arch up off the kitchen island while I thrust my fingers inside of her.
Fuck. She was tight. Her muscles squeezed me, beckoned me in deeper, and I gladly accepted their invitation. I managed to fit in three and piston them against her spot, making her buck her hips into my face over and over. She squeezed my head between her thighs, and with all her squirming, it was a wonder she didn’t break my damn neck.
She could have. I wouldn’t have cared. All that mattered was pleasuring her, eating her, licking her. All that mattered was her delicious, ripe pussy.
“I’m gonna come!” Gwennie whimpered, riding my tongue. “Oh, you sweet bastard—I’m gonna come!”
I dug the fingers of my free hand into her hip, holding her as still as I could while I drew out the process. Little licks. Light taps. Gwennie was screaming and whining and cursing my name by the time I was done.
And when she exploded, when I finally drove her to release, she came all over my face. I was covered in her juices. My chin was dripping with them. Yet still, I hungered for more.
I chuckled softly and kissed in the insides of her quivering thighs. “Bastard, huh?” She blushed and opened her mouth to explain. “No, no, Gwennie. No need for that. I’ve just got to wonder where my good girl has gone. The one who couldn’t even bring herself to look at my cock, when she had the chance.” I grinned at her. “Do you want to see it now?”
Gwendolyn’s nipples stiffened at the very thought.
“Say it, Gwennie. Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want,” she said, eyelids half-lowered.
“Is it this?” I asked her, pulling her ass to the edge of the kitchen island. Her wet quim was pressed to my slacks now, leav
ing a trail of lust that soaked right through. Gwendolyn moaned. “Tell me, or I’m just going to grind against you here until you’re ready to come again. And then I won’t let you.”
“Goddamn you,” Gwendolyn moaned. Music to my ears. “Yes. I want your cock. I want to see it. I want it…” She blushed even deeper. “…inside me.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
I pulled away and undid my belt, opened my slacks, and hauled my throbbing cock out. Gwendolyn looked at it and licked her lips like she wanted nothing more than to taste it, to pull me into her mouth and gag on the length. Maybe later, I’d let her. Right now, that pussy was just too good to resist.
I sawed my shaft against her slit, my piercing toying with her sensitive folds. “I kept the piercing,” I told her, as if she couldn’t feel it. “I kept it just for you. I remembered how wide your eyes got…” I reached up, cupping her tits in my hands. “What do you think, Gwennie? Should I get rid of it now?”
“No,” she said, squirming against me. “Oh, Christ, Tristan. Don’t stop.”
I growled, giving her tits a squeeze. I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to have Gwendolyn, stepsister or not. “I wanna see these bounce,” I said, tweaking her nipples, and she purred her consent.
I breached her opening with the head of my dick, sucking in air through my teeth as I did. Fuck, this was good. Too good. Better than any woman I’d ever had; tighter and warmer, with soft, plush walls that seemed to mold to my cock as I plunged in up to my nuts. The thrill of victory, of conquest, rolled down my spine and I moaned for her. I knew I wouldn’t last long inside of her, especially unsheathed like this.
Her cunt was so warm, so wet, and with my massive dick inside it, it was filled to bursting. I grabbed her hips and pulled her against me, stretching her tiny channel, claiming her for my very own.
My Gwennie.
“Tristan!” she moaned, raking her nails across my abs. It forced me into action and I began to thrust. I fell into a steady rhythm as I pushed in and out of her, pressing my thumb against her clit. She was soaking wet and wailing with every movement, linking her legs up high over my shoulders so I could penetrate her further, deeper. She was like heaven around me, squirming so much that I could feel my cum boiling in my balls. So much pressure was building inside me. It was impossible to hold back much longer.
“I want to come inside you,” I told her through gritted teeth. “I want to fill that pussy up, Gwennie. I want to make it mine.”
She bit her lip. “I’m not on the pill…”
“I don’t care,” I growled, and in that moment, I really didn’t. I wanted to burst inside her more than anything else I’d wanted in my whole life. I had to have her. All of her. Nothing else would do.
She seemed to be giving this some consideration, but I couldn’t wait forever for an answer. I leaned forward to play with her tits, using my other hand to stroke her clit until she whined.
“Yes, Tristan!” she shrieked at last. “Come inside me. Please!”
Gwennie was a smart girl. A safe girl. But when it came to my dick, she was careless and wild.
That thought alone drove me over the edge. Bucking rapidly, I roared and slammed my fist hard into the table as I jetted inside her, coating her womb with my lust. My cock lurched and spasmed, dumping load after load, filling her so thoroughly I could feel some of it dripping back out.
And then Gwennie threw her head back too, clutching my arms with her nails and crying out as she came again, this time around my pulsating cock.
I pressed one hand to her chest, breathing hard, feeling her heart beat tremulously beneath my palm. Her eyes were closed in bliss, her lips parted, and I gently brushed my own against them before I collapsed on top of her, burying my face into her shoulder.
What the hell was wrong with me? I almost felt like I should cry. There was something about being inside Gwendolyn like this that felt more like home than I’d ever experienced, something that made me feel like I belonged. It made me so… happy. So fulfilled.
What on earth had she done to me? Whatever it was, I wanted her to do it again.
I picked Gwendolyn up with her legs around me, clutching her to my chest. Then I kissed her again, holding her up high as if I wanted the world to see.
Maybe I did. But that could wait. First, there was the matter of finding her bedroom…
9
I woke up feeling the best I had in ages, rested and relaxed, my troubles so far away that I could barely make them out on the horizon of my mind. At least until I remembered why I felt so good.
Oh, God! What have I done?
Last night had been possibly the best—no, definitely the best—sex I had ever had in my entire life, all of it with the man I’d dreamed of since I was a teenager. I bit my lip, swallowing hard as I felt the warmth of my stepbrother radiating from behind me as I lay on my side. I honestly couldn’t remember how many times we’d gone at one another, our bodies writhing and pulsating in time together. Just the memory of it had me shivering with the desire to have another round.
No! I chastised myself, trying to bring my focus back away to the way his cock felt so divine inside of me, his cool, metal piercing hitting at just the right spot to drive me to levels of pleasure that I had never felt in my entire life. But I knew that even though what I’d felt had been beyond words to describe, I knew that it could never happen again. What if we’d been caught? If some errant member of the paparazzi and just so happened to have been following Tristan’s date the night before with Patricia.
My mind buzzed with all the possible ways that this could blow up into an enormous disaster. I could already hear my mother’s screams of indignation if she were to discover what we’d done. I could only hope that by some miracle no one had seen anything through my windows. It had been late when Tristan had arrived and by that time hopefully any reporters had been satisfied by Patricia being ousted angrily from the limo.
“Good morning,” I heard from behind me and my entire body tensed, cursing the reminder that my indiscretion had indeed taken place I had not simply dreamed the whole thing. I’d been so frightened to turn over, to truly recognize Tristan’s presence that I’d resigned myself to simply avoid even looking at that portion of my bed for the rest of my days. “I trust you slept deeply.”
“Tristan” I began, my voice filled with tension. “Last night was a mistake.”
“A glorious mistake,” he chuckled, and I felt the strength of his arm sliding around my waist and pulling me closer to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a night like that in my life.”
“But it can’t happen again,” I said, my heart fluttering as I felt his morning erection pressed against my back. Oh how I longed to feel him inside of me again, but knew more than anything that I ought to simply make him leave. “What we did was wrong. You’re my brother.”
“Stepbrother, Gwennie,” he whispered, and for once I didn’t entirely hate that name. The way he said it made my entire body shudder. “We’re not really related and I know that you don’t really have much of a care.”
“Tristan, I—”
He pressed a finger to my lips gently, halting my thoughts as he turned me over and pressed his lips softly to mine. I felt like I was floating on a cloud, fireworks bursting behind my eyelids as my entire body relaxed.
“We can’t do this,” I repeated, my eyes shut tight against the sensation of his hands sliding across my body.
“I think speaking is the last thing either of us need to do right now,” he whispered softly as I gave a surprised gasp, his rough hands cupping my breast, his thumb brushing across my pert little nipples.
My entire body shuddered, feeling my hips squirm back against his body of their own accord. I loved the way he touched me, how alive it made me feel. Every caress was like a drug in my veins, spreading its effects from fingertip to the ends of my toes. It was so hard to resist those exploring hands as they made their way between my thighs.
After last
night and the dreams that promptly followed, my pussy was soaked and more than ready for a second round with my stepbrother. Just the thought of that piercing sliding inside of me made me squirm, recalling the way that it so perfectly rammed against my spot. I’d almost came from that feeling alone, my body writhing as I recalled the way my climax had overwhelmed me.
“I think it’s time we had another go,” Tristan whispered into my ear before slipping those soft lips against my own in a slow, steady kiss. I was in absolutely no place to argue whatsoever, and my body made it clear whose side it was on as I involuntarily moaned in pleasure.
Still, I had to make an effort. “You know we can’t. We’ve already crossed a line. If we go there again, things will get… complicated. I love what you do to me, Tristan, but we can’t continue on like this. Not if we want to make it out unscathed. Not if you’re going to get…” I swallowed thickly and averted my gaze so he couldn’t see the wet sheen in my eyes. I’d scared him off like that once before, back when I was a stupid girl who believed we could be together in a way that meant more than physical bliss. “…married.”
“Where does that leave us, then?” he asked me, propping himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching my face. “I’ll leave it up to you this time, Gwennie. Do you want to go, or stay? Whatever you choose, I’ll protect your reputation. Keep you safe from any of the fallout, should it ever come to that. But I want you to choose. Go, or stay?”
I wet my lips. They were suddenly dry, cracking. My mouth was parched. I knew Tristan’s kiss would sate it, quench the deep thirst rising up inside of me.
But I didn’t know the answer to his question. Go, or stay?
My stepbrother was trouble. Clearly. Always had been. Maybe always would be. He had a knack for making a mess of things, but that was, in some sick way, part of his charm. He was so careless, yet his touch was so gentle. He was so arrogant, so damn cocky, and yet now here he was humbling himself to me, letting me choose.
