Forced Series Box Set: Books 1-5

by Celia Aaron

  Jax broke his kiss and sat back on his knees. He drew the belt through his left hand and gave me a look that made my already-wet pussy gush. He handed the belt to Liam, who took it with a vicious grin.

  Jax’s cock was already leaking pre-cum. I leaned over and licked the tip, relishing the little taste of salt on my tongue. His hips jerked toward me. His large hands came down on my back and easily ripped my top away. It fell to the floor, a whisper of ruined silk.

  “On your knees, Phoenix.”

  I eagerly obeyed before nuzzling his wet tip against my cheek. Liam stroked my ass, kneading and rubbing.

  “Fuck.” Jax fisted my hair and guided his head to my lips. “I was going to wait. I can’t. I need to fuck your dirty, lying mouth.”

  With that he pushed against my lips and I opened wide for him. His cock slid on my tongue, pushing to the back of my mouth and making me gag. My eyes watered but he didn’t stop, just kept pulling out to my lips and shoving back in.

  He nodded to Liam. “Do it.” Then he captured my gaze again. “If I feel any teeth, I’m going to lash your tits, understand?”

  I moaned at the thought of the leather marking my nipples. Then Liam gave me the first hit. I shuddered at the mix of pain and pleasure and arched my back even lower. Jax rammed his cock home again and again, the taste of his pre-cum driving me wild as Liam struck me.

  I lost count of the lashes. I knew I deserved every single one. All I could feel was the sweet sting of pain and Jax’s cock in my mouth. His grunts and the thrusts of his hips were making me so needy that I wanted to spread all the way and grind against the bed. But I couldn’t lose the lash. Every time Liam hit near my pussy, a tremor went through me. I wanted the bite of the leather. Needed the punishment.

  The lashes stopped, but then I felt Liam’s hard cock at my ass.

  “Fucking perfect,” he growled.

  He slid his head down to my pussy and thrust inside. He gave me no time to adjust before fucking me so hard it drove Jax’s cock into my throat, lodging it deep.

  Liam bent over my back, still fucking me with rapid, fevered strokes, and fingered my clit.

  His voice was in my ear. “You fucking cunt. You want to come, don’t you? I know you do. I know you want every little bit of my spend. Greedy slut.”

  I moaned at his words and pushed back hard, meeting him stroke for stroke. His finger kept pressure on my clit, my pleasure growing by the second.

  “I should whip you again just for this. Just for making me need your tight little cunt so badly,” Liam growled.

  Jax was fucking my mouth like it was my pussy, his balls slapping against my chin. I wanted to take him deeper, to swallow him whole. I wanted both of them to use me, to call me the little slut I was. Anything, so long as they never took their cocks away from me.

  I was tightening, the pressure building inside me. Liam rose back up, one hand still at my clit. He sank two fingers into my asshole, and it was over.

  My pussy was turbulent, rolling, convulsing. I screamed my release around Jax’s cock. It sent him over the edge. His hips bucked wildly and forceful spurts shot into my mouth. I swallowed each hot jet with relish, my pussy still spasming around Liam’s length as he pounded me from behind.

  “Fuck!” Liam barked and gripped my ass hard enough to leave fingertip bruises. I could feel his cock kicking inside me as he yelled, the creamy jets filling me, leaking out around his cock and coating my pussy lips. A few more hard thrusts and he slumped on my back.

  Jax moved his hips back and pulled out from my mouth. He collapsed and dragged me up next to him on a pillow. Liam crawled behind me and snuggled in against my back. I was pressed between both of them, all three of us sweaty and panting.

  Liam brushed the hair away from my neck and fastened his lips to my jugular, sucking and nipping at me. Jax rolled onto his back and scooped up something from his pants pocket on the floor. He turned back toward me and dangled the item in front of my face.

  A red collar with the names Jax and Liam branded into the leather.

  “Be our princess?” Liam whispered in my ear.

  I gripped their cocks, loving the feel of them coming alive in my palms. “Collar me.”

  Forced by the Stepbrother

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter One

  Sasha

  I slid down the pole and rocketed back up, bending over and rubbing the slick metal against my ass. I arched my back and swayed to the rhythm of the pounding beat. The room was dark, smoky, but I knew he was here. Watching.

  I twirled and reached behind me, unhooking the lacy bra and teasing it off a little before stripping it away completely. Whistles and crows went up from the crowd. It was Friday night. The club was packed with businessmen, college boys, hard-up husbands – a never-ending array of testosterone and cash. They were all here for me, to use the sight of my body for their own pleasures.

  My nipples were bare, hard, and needy. My skin was lit with the electricity of the lust that filled the room. All of it was directed at my body as it twisted and shook.

  Dancing always turned me on. It was primal. Dancing to a room full of strangers? I was on fire.

  I swirled around the slick stage, an expert in hooker heels. I shimmied to the edge of the bar along the front. Thick fingers reached up and tucked cash into my g-string. I got on all fours and put my ass to the audience, spreading and letting them see my pussy imprinted against the thin fabric. More fingers, more cash. Bills fluttered down around me, a cascade of green.

  I rolled onto my back and spread, my legs in the air. The men crowded closer, eagerly eyeing the small triangle of fabric separating them from me, from my most secret spot.

  Some of them even called my name. “Sasha” said both reverently and desperately.

  Then I saw him. Sitting in a chair toward the back, smoking a cigarette. He always watched every move I made. He never approached me when I was onstage. Just watched. Smoked and watched and waited.

  He was handsome, young. He may have been a student at the university right along with me, though I’d never seen him on campus. Only here at the club. Up close and personal in our room. His dark hair fell across his forehead, the perfect accent to his green eyes. And he was fit. I’d rubbed my soft curves over the hard muscles of his body many a time.

  The song was coming to an end. My show was almost over. Red-faced men surged closer, wanting one last contact. They threw money at me, pawing at my g-string like wild animals. I should say that I hated it, that every touch disgusted me. It would be a lie. I wanted to be wanted, to be desired, to be put forever into their spank bank.

  I rose and bowed before blowing a kiss and hurrying off stage so the next girl could begin her routine.

  It was time. Our time.

  I tied my flimsy top back over my breasts and checked myself in the backstage mirror. Even in the dark, I could tell my platinum blonde wig was smooth, my eyes bright. I was ready.

  I strode out from behind the curtain. Men had lined up, waiting for me like I was throwing out candy at a parade. They held bills in their hands, tempting me with folded twenties and even a few hundreds. I smiled at them. “Maybe later, doll” or “I have an appointment, but then you’re next.” I’d say anything to get them to back off so I could get to the one I wanted.

  I only kept two dates during the week. I had a Wednesday night regular, nice older guy. Handsy, but tame and paid extremely well. And my Friday night. I lived for my Friday night. For him.

  He was still sitting in the same chair, cigarette finished. He watched me emerge from the flock of men. No, he didn’t watch, he devoured me with his eyes. Toes to tits to the top of my head. He took it all in and absentmindedly swiped at the hard length in his pants. I felt like I knew it by heart t
hough I’d never seen it, never even touched it with my hands. I’d felt it wedged against my ass plenty as I shimmied around him.

  He stood and took a fold of bills from his front pocket. I could barely rip my eyes away from the outline of his hard cock, thick and ready. He motioned me toward him with two fingers. I obeyed. When I got close enough, I recognized his scent. Some sort of a woodsy, clean blend, not too heavy but all male.

  “Would you like a dance?”

  He nodded. He never spoke. Never said even a single word to me over the months we’d done this same dance. He’d spoken to the bartender at the club a few times – I’d asked – but other than that, not a word.

  I took his hand and led him past more customers and into the champagne rooms. I took the one on the back left, our usual spot. The room was slightly brighter than the club, mirrors lined the walls and a pole was in the middle, surrounded by a small platform. There were two small couches, both made of leather or something like it. Easy to wipe off.

  I walked to the music station hidden in the mirrored wall and picked a song with a slow, sensual beat. He sat, his legs spread apart and his hands on his knees. He never stopped watching me. I’d realized over our time together that the mirror was never enough for him. He wanted to see me at all times.

  My pussy was already wet, like it always was when he came to call.

  I swayed my hips to the music before turning to face him. He feasted on me with his gaze. Up, down, tits, pussy, face. He was hungry for all of it. I ran my hands down my body as I danced, pausing at my nipples and tweaking them through the fabric. He licked his lips. I slid my hands lower, caressing my sides, my stomach before I went even lower, rubbing my thighs and the slip of fabric between my legs.

  I put a heel onto the platform and grabbed the pole. He took in his breath sharply when I stepped up, my legs spread for the briefest moment. Did he see my pink? By the way he was fisting his hands, I suspected so. I smiled down at him and unhooked the back of my bra. His gaze was rapt. Still moving, shaking my tits along to the music, I slipped the bra off.

  “You like that, baby?” I asked. He remained silent, so I teased him with my words right along with my body.

  He moved his hands further up his thighs, gripping his legs and easing closer and closer to the bulge in his pants. I turned away from him and bent over, dropped it down and then back up again. I peeked over my shoulder. He was looking at my pussy so hard it was like he thought he could will the g-string off me. His two fingers were in the air again, demanding I come to him.

  “You want me?” I put one hand between my legs and ran my fingers down the drenched fabric.

  His two fingers again. This time more insistent. He drove me wild with that shit, but I wanted those two fingers somewhere other than in the air.

  I stood back up and turned before dropping down to the floor. I took the two steps to him and got on my knees. I leaned forward and placed my face directly over his cock. My mouth watered. I could see the imprint of the head through his dark slacks. What would he taste like?

  “What I wouldn’t give for just a little lick.”

  His hips jerked slightly at my words, moving his cock even closer to my face before he settled back down. He looked down at me so intensely it was almost a scowl.

  I pushed against him and lifted myself off my knees, brushing my tits along his cock before straddling him. I was enveloped in his scent, familiar and delicious. He’d moved his hands to the side, palms flat on the black leather. He followed the club rules to a fault.

  I rose and fell against his cock, not caring that my panties were soaked and leaving darker marks along his pants. I looked into his brilliant green eyes as I smoothed my body against his, up and down to the pounding rhythm. He had a dark shadow along his cheeks. I wondered what that stubble would feel like against my thighs. I moaned at the thought. His hips jerked again.

  His gaze flicked to my too-red lips. I let my tongue play along them, giving him ideas of how soft and wet I was. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  He fisted his hands again. I was bringing him close to the edge. He practically vibrated with tension. I flipped around so that my ass was against him. I worked up and down and lay with my back to his chest. I was desperate for him to touch me, to simply reach up and cup my breasts. The thought sent a buzz of heat straight to my pussy, making it clench. I arched even more, keeping my ass tightly against him as I worked his cock.

  I laid my head against his shoulder and turned to look at him. His gaze was on my tits and lower before he came back to me, back to my eyes. His eyes said everything his mouth wouldn’t. How he was fucking me in his mind, the same as I was doing to him. I wanted him buried deep in my pussy. It pulsed at the thought.

  “Wouldn’t you like to be in my tight, pink cunt?” My voice barely made it over the sound of the music.

  He dug his short nails into the leather and stilled. I’d gotten to him. He was wound so tight that when he came he let out a deep rumble of a breath. Finally, a sound.

  Wet warmth bloomed along my ass. I shuddered, wanting every bit of it, hating that it was wasted in his pants. I rubbed against him until I knew it was over. My pussy didn’t know it quite as much – it was aching for him. Like it always did. But it would remain unsatisfied. Like it always did.

  ***

  “You what?” I had to pull into the closest gas station just to keep from wrecking my car. I’d been driving the hour long trip back to her house for the summer when she’d called.

  “I got married!” My mom’s voice chirped through the phone. At least she was awake. And not drunk, though ten in the morning was early, even for her.

  “What? You did what?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, your trust fund is still safe,” she sniped.

  “I wasn’t—that wasn’t—I’m just, I didn’t know you were even seeing anyone.” My mind was spinning so fast I had to rest my forehead against the steering wheel. My mother, Phoebe Lorenz, was a notorious rich bitch with a penchant for alcohol and sleeping around. I was shocked that anyone managed to tie her down. She’d sworn off long-term anything the day she booted my philandering father from our house. “Who is he?”

  “Would it be too much to ask for a simple congratulations?” Petulance was my mother’s forte.

  “Yes, I mean, um, no. Congratulations. So, who is he?”

  “Winston Elliot. A land baron. He does some sort of trustee work at the university, too. We met at the country club a few weeks ago and it’s been heavenly ever since. We went and did it at the courthouse just this morning.” She paused and gave a forced sigh. “Filthy place full of even filthier people.”

  “Mom, your snob is showing.” I leaned back and stared at the roof of the car. The gray fabric was faded, peeling in places.

  “Oh, calm down. What have they been teaching you at college? Some bleeding heart nonsense?”

  “No, just The Communist Manifesto.” Let the pearl-clutching commence.

  “I am unamused.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Well.” Her tone instantly changed back to girlish gossip. I realized I preferred the snob to this new version of her, the one with secret lovers and elopements. “He is taking me to Venice!”

  I snorted. “You’ve been to Venice, like, twenty times.”

  “Well, not with him, I haven’t. We’ll be gone for a week. It’s all the time he could take away from his business. But then he’s promised me Paris later in the summer.” She giggled. I didn’t know Phoebe Lorenz could giggle until that moment.

  “So, when are you leaving?”

  “Our private plane takes off in two hours.” She squealed with excitement. I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

  When she stopped making the dying pig noise, I continued, “Wait, what? But I’m on my way home.”

  “I know. I want to hear all about freshman year and all that. But it will have to wait until we get back. True love conquers all.”

  “I won’t even see you?” Phoeb
e and I weren’t always warm and fuzzy, but it had been months since I’d seen her. My college town was too far away for me to make many trips home during the hectic school year. Driving back to the city now felt like a much-needed homecoming. “So I have to show up to an empty house?”

  “Oh, no dear, not empty. Winston’s home is undergoing renovations, so you’ll have a housemate when you get here. Gray, your new stepbrother.”

  Chapter Two

  Gray Elliot

  The Lorenz home was huge, much like my father’s. It was done in a gaudier palette, with more plaster work, and several more pieces of art. It reeked of money. Not an altogether unpleasant smell.

  I smiled graciously at my new stepmother and shook my father’s hand. Phoebe Lorenz prattled on about how pleased she was that I was part of her family and for me to make myself at home. She was good looking for her age, medium height, pretty face, and big, fake tits. My father had done well on this fourth marriage.

  After an inordinate amount of time spent on pleasantries, she showed me to my upstairs room. Large and with a luxurious en suite with sunken tub and shower. It would do nicely for the summer. I didn’t intend to spend all my time here. I was a graduate assistant with teaching duties here and there during the summer session.

  I also had my usual Friday appointment at the Gentleman’s Club that I refused to miss. I worried that my girl – Sasha, she was called – was a student and would be away for the summer. It didn’t matter. I would find her. I smirked at the memory of the previous night and how hard she’d made me come.

  “—is to your liking, then we’ll be off. My daughter, Sadie, will be home soon. She’s quiet, will probably spend most of her time reading or studying. She’s always been a bookworm. Really smart. On scholarship at the university. A freshman. Straight-A student. But I’ll warn you. She’s very shy. A perfect lady, just like her mother.” Phoebe was a talker.

  I nodded. The university had fifteen thousand students. I taught upper level Greek and ancient civilizations. There was no way I’d ever seen or spoken to her uptight daughter. Still, I smiled down into Phoebe’s eyes.