by Ami Snow
Tate stood above her, his sleeves rolled up and speckled with splotches of red wax, holding a flickering flame against the melting candle, a beautiful, raw, hardened mosaic, flowering on her back, the splashes of reds and oranges tainting the canvas of her flawless flesh. He watched as she wriggled and thrashed, her vulnerability almost too much for him to handle. He wanted to see more – her sweet, naïve expressions contorting to agonized grimaces of pain, the way she looked at him meaningfully with desperate, tearful eyes, simply understanding how much she needed to be punished.
He reached over for a clothespin-clamp, clinching it against her nipple. He bit his lip, watching her squirm, her muffled yelps invigorating his throbbing cock, once again lifting the thawing candle above her. Sandra tugged forward with her hands, the golden bell jingling above her. Tate blew out the candle and chucked it to the side, shoving the full length of his cock between her folds as she shivered turbulently, his fingernails burrowing into the flesh of her full, wobbling stomach. He thrusted hard, his cock easily, noisily slipping in and out, stretching her gloriously tight crevice as he held her face down against the cushion of the bench in a pool of her drool. He groaned under his breath, pulling out, splattering his hot, sticky mess all over her back and legs.
Tate quickly undid her blindfolds and restraints, handing her a clean towel as he threw on his clothes rapidly, panting. He wiped off the sweat on his forehead with the slip of his tie, glancing over at Sandra as she lurched forward clumsily, shedding off the tatters of her pantyhose. She looked up at him questioningly. Tate glanced behind him as he stalked out the room.
“I'll be right back.”
Chapter Eight –
“Are you okay, Sandra? You look kinda sweaty.”
Sandra choked, drops of iced tea sputtering from her lips as she set her glass on Coraline's bedside table. Coraline tilted her head, rumpling her brow, studying Sandra's strange, twitchy behavior – there was a flushed glow to her cheeks, her hair was freshly brushed, and her plait neatly braided, yet the violet ribbon was missing. Her eyes narrowed, stripping a yellow blob of wax from the back of her dress.
“What's this?” inquired Coraline, rolling the wax into a ball with her fingertips.
“Oh, that's nothing,” muttered Sandra, flicking the wax out of Coraline's fingers.
“Okay,” said Coraline, her eyebrows raised, “Where'd you go, anyway? You missed KewlCat – it was the episode where they go fight a team of cow ninjas!”
“Darn,” grinned Sandra, swinging her fist theatrically, “That does sound like a good episode. Maybe I'll catch the replay.”
“Maybe,” shrugged Coraline, flopping down on her stomach, flinging her legs in the air. She lifted the remote towards the screen, turning up the volume, “If it shows again.”
“So tell me – how'd your tryouts for the Little League go?”
Coraline jumped up excitedly, tucking her legs beneath her. She grinned gleefully, announcing proudly, “I made the team! And it was awesome – there's this other girl named Amanda, she watches KewlCat too! I'm gonna go over to her house next week for our first play date, and guess what? She doesn't even own a barbie!”
Sandra beamed, basking in the little girl's newfound enthusiasm, “I'm so happy, Coraline, I –”
Coraline reached towards her and clamped Sandra's hand with her small, warm fingers, “And it's all 'cause of you, Sandra. Thanks a lot for convincing Dad to let me drop out of ballet class. I was miserable there.”
“Aw, Coraline, I –”
“You're never leaving, right?”
Sandra's mouth dropped open, breathing heavily, “I'm –”
“Sandra, can I speak with you? Hey, Coraline.”
Tate shambled into Coraline's room, his usually dapper hair falling over his tired, narrowed eyes. He cleared his throat, waiting as Sandra and Coraline gaped at the hollowed expression on his face, fixing his collar as he attempted to improve his haggard appearance. Sandra rose from the bed, stroking Coraline's hair affectionately.
“I'll be right back, yeah? Tell me all about what KewlCat gets up to in this episode later.”
“Sure, Sandra. Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
Sandra followed Tate to his study, closing the door behind her. She jerked backwards, wincing, as he hurled his fist against his door, leaving an indented crack in the wood. He swore under his breath, rubbing his stinging fist furiously against the side of his crinkled dress shirt, bloody track marks leaching through the polar white fabric. Sandra scooted past his menacing, seething build, towards his collection of premium bottled hard liquors and clear, crystal glasses. Her fingers hovered over the indistinguishable bottles unsurely, finally settling on one which she deemed had the fanciest label. She corked open the bottle of liquor and poured it into a glass, handing it to Tate.
“Thanks,” muttered Tate, accepting the glass from Sandra, and chugged it dry.
“Would you like another one?”
“No,” growled Tate, pacing across his room.
He reached into his pocket, propelling a fleeting blur of silver towards his desk. It bounced off onto the ground, silently clattering by Sandra's toes. It was Renee's engagement ring. She picked it up and placed it gingerly upon his desk. She rested her folded arms on her stomach, waiting.
“That lying cunt – five fucking years down the drain,” grumbled Tate, pulling up his swiveling chair. He cradled his head in his hands, continuing, “How could I have been so blind –”
“If it makes you feel any better,” said Sandra softly, gnawing on her bottom lip, “Hindsight's always twenty-twenty.”
Tate shriveled in his chair, sighing deeply. He glanced up at Sandra with reddening eyes, his age and immortality shining through for the first time. He lamented, running his hands through his hair, “It's not even about the money. If she wanted fucking money, she could've simply asked. It's the lying, the deceit – I've been through enough to know better. It's no one's fault but my own.”
Sandra took a deep breath, ready to unleash the riveting speech she had conjured up in her head. She wanted to debilitate Renee's name further, drenching it across mud and dirt, to tell him he was far better off without the leeching succubus in his life. Instead she blinked, biting her tongue, peering into the crushed defeat exuding through his dimmed green eyes. She knew exactly what he needed. Tate watched in silence, confounded, as Sandra disappeared behind his bookcase. His forehead crinkled, peering into the darkness. After long, agonizing beats of impatience, she emerged from the shadows. He breathed out his mouth, gripping the armrests of his chair.
Sandra crawled towards him, completely naked, her plait dangling off the side of her shoulder. His eyes zoomed in on the glinting, studded collar around her neck, a long, leather leash trailing behind her. The tip of his moistening cock began to tickle his zipper, unable to tear his eyes away from her innocently devious eyes. She bent further down, the plump mounds of her breasts and her ample stomach grazing against the dark wood of the floor, closing in on the medallion tips of his dress shoes. She looked up at him, peering intently into his eyes, licking her luscious red lips.
“I'll be your toy, Daddy Donahue. Your wish is my command.”
THE END
The Admirable Badass
Stepbrother Romance
By: Amanda Bolton
The Admirable Badass
CHAPTER ONE
Arianna Pepple peered over the hedge trying desperately to tamp down on her blushes and rising excitement as she watched her new step-brother, Dylan Vanderbilt, trail one hard, sun-bronzed masculine hand down the full, thrusting, naked breasts of his girlfriend, Linda Herron. His fair head leaned further down to worship her breasts, his velvety tongue flicking out to lave at one erect, prodding nipple, wringing eager breathless moans of pure undiluted pleasure from Linda’s slim throat.
Arianna’s green eyes widened to the size of small saucers in her gamine face as she saw Dylan’s hand disappear into Linda’s bikini
panties and she watched as the other girl arched against his hand, her arms twining encouragingly about his head.
“Damn,” Arianna breathed softly as she felt lust war with jealousy inside of her.
It had been like this all summer. Her mom and her new step-father had suggested they take a trip to Santa Fe to visit her step-brother whom she had never met and ever since she had clapped eyes on him, she had been in a constant tizzy. When he was in the room, it took everything she had to pretend not to be watching him and when he wasn’t she missed him dreadfully. She had taken to following him around, albeit stealthily and she just knew she would die if he noticed her unholy interest in him.
Arianna had never wanted to go on the summer vacation convinced the unknown Dylan Vanderbilt would be every bit as stodgy, austere, rigid and boring as his father, her mother’s husband of a mere six months. Will Vanderbilt was a nice enough man, but he tended to come off as cold and aloof; probably because of his aristocratic upbringing. He was good at looking displeased too whenever she was near; kinda like a great big dignified Dalmatian uncertain of how to act around a tiny, over-enthusiastic puppy.
She remembered now with renewed embarrassment how she had pinkened and perked up when she had seen the tall, blond, blue-eyed handsome stranger striding confidently down the driveway to meet them. He had a granite jaw and the kind of shoulders that made one want to lean against them; thick, slashing eyebrows; controlled, silent power like a man you wouldn’t want to cross; and a broad chest that tapered into a slim waist. He was for want of a better word a Greek god! For the first time in a dreary six-hour trip, she had felt real excitement; perhaps the holiday wouldn’t be as bad as she had feared. The man looked hot enough to make a nun blush and if her guess was correct, she had thought, he was probably a staff on the premises which meant she could lead him on to her heart’s content and enjoy watching him struggle with lust and his commitment to his job. Surely someone as fastidious as Dylan Vanderbilt had to be would probably fire a man for so much as flirting with his step-sister.
However, her interest had quickly dissolved into confusion when Will, her step-father had introduced the handsome, debonair stranger as his son, her step-brother. He was tall at almost six-two, he had golden blond looks with sweet blue eyes. But a granite jaw belied any hint of softness in his face and his strong aquiline nose gave him a definite stamp of character. He had a clearly defined six-pack and washboard abs. His chest was hard with muscles and sinew. He had surprisingly full, pink lips and deep slashing dimples which she had caught sight of when he grinned his welcome at his Dad. He had looked every inch the billionaire playboy she had heard he was.
Dylan had however stared at her out of cool blue eyes and said, “Hi Arianna,” in a voice that made her want to curl up under the warmth of it and purr like a kitten.
She had swallowed, tossed her head and replied in what she thought of as her confident and unaffected voice, “Hello.”
A faint, mocking smile had touched his lips for the merest hint of a second, before he flicked his cool blue eyes to his new step-mother, Penelope Vanderbilt, and murmured, “You’re welcome Maám.”
Those were the only words he had spoken to Arianna in the ten days she had been here and she had been hanging on his next word since then. Her eyes widened now as his fair head disappeared between Linda’s thighs and she craned her neck, unconsciously trying to get a better view. She lost her balance and toppled out of the hedges with a loud crash that had the couple on the chaise lounge springing apart and turning towards her in unison.
Linda gasped and rushed towards Arianna, pulling her bikini into place as she moved, “Are you alright?”
Her liquid brown eyes were filled with concern, her blond hair framing her head, as she helped Arianna up from her undignified sprawl on the ground.
Unbidden, Arianna’s eyes shot to Dylan’s and she recoiled as she saw the cold, murderous fury blazing in his green eyes as his eyes flicked tellingly to the hedge she had been hiding behind and then returned to her face.
His lips curled in an expression of contempt and he said quietly, “What happened?”
“I ah, lost my footing. Was just going for a swim,” Arianna lied desperately, brushing down her clothes.
“In jeans and a sweatshirt?” he asked.
“Oh shush Dylan,” Linda said, oblivious to the cold anger of the man standing behind her. “Can’t you see the child is rattled? She probably saw us being naughty and freaked out or something,” she added with a giggle.
Arianna rolled her eyes inwardly at being called a child. She couldn’t blame the woman though; she was 22 years old and yet she always managed to look like a child of sixteen. It was not the first time she had been mistaken for a child. Dylan was twenty-eight but there was nothing childish about him, he was as masculine as they came. Arianna’s green eyes wistfully trailed Linda’s voluptuous curves and full, thrusting breasts; she looked anything but childish.
Unhappily, she stared down at herself. She was tall at five-eight with a tiny waist that was so slim it was barely there; her chestnut brown hair extended below her waist in a riotous mass of curls that were the bane of her existence and her breasts were a boring size 34B. Was it any wonder everyone thought she was a child?
“I’m sorry I was such a bother. I’ll get out of your hair now,” she said quietly, studying the toes of her shoes.
Silence reigned for a bit and she glanced up just in time to see a silent exchange pass between Dylan and Linda. His eyes were like ice chips and he turned to her and said, “Would you care to join us?”
A little devil hopped onto her shoulder and prompted her to open her mouth and say cheekily, “I don’t think you need an extra person for what you were doing.”
The ensuing silence was so absolute it seemed the very air was still as his blue eyes locked with her green ones. He stared at her silently until hot colour began to creep up her neck and bloom in her cheeks. Even Linda was startled into complete silence.
Dylan stared at Arianna until she was completely uncomfortable. But just as she opened her mouth to apologize, he said in a voice cool enough to freeze ice itself, “You would be surprised, Arianna.”
Then before she had quite recovered from her surprise at his response, he wound his arm around Linda’s shoulder and walked away with her, leaving Arianna staring after them with her mouth hanging open. Had she imagined it or had his eyes lingered on her breasts?
CHAPTER TWO
Arianna slipped her feet into a pair of flat sandals flipping her long, silky hair over one shoulder. It was a beautiful morning, she decided as she looked outside through her curtains. Dylan’s estate spread out beneath her window in sprawling fields of green vegetation that made her eager to start exploring.
Hastily, she ran a brush through her hair and then tossed it carelessly onto the dresser; smeared some lip gloss on her lips and ran downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Slow down!” her step-father Will shouted form the dining room.
Arianna consciously slowed to a walk, almost bursting with enthusiasm as she took a few measured steps; then unable to contain herself, she quickened into a run again as she raced the rest of the way into the dinning room. She was so excited even Will’s usual disapproving frown couldn’t faze her.
“Hey Mum,” she greeted, as she cheerfully stacked her plate high with bacon and eggs.
“Hey honey. How was your night?”
“’Twas okay I guess,” Arianna mumbled as she chewed on her bacon. Her green eyes flitted around the room; no Dylan and she relaxed automatically.
Her relief proved to be short-lived though because Dylan appeared immediately as though on cue, striding into the dinning room like the lord of the manor; which, she reminded herself, was exactly what he was. His blonde hair was sexily mussed, springing up around his head in every direction as though he had just gotten out of bed. He was wearing a white tee-shit and a pair of well-washed jeans that fitted so snugly against
his thighs, she could have sworn she could make out the outline of the bulge behind his fly.
Arianna’s egg stuck in her throat as that train of thought conjured up the naughtiest images possible in her brain. Resolutely, she shoved the thought away and forced a bite of egg down her suddenly constricted throat.
“Morning,” Dylan greeted casually, his blue eyes encompassing the occupants of the room before coming to rest on Arianna’s already heated face.
She ducked her head, focusing intently on the slices of bacon on her plate as she took a sip of her now-tepid coffee.
Dylan deposited himself onto the seat beside Arianna and she desperately tried not to notice how he seemed to fill the entire room somehow. Every single one of her senses were attuned to him, as he blithely took a sip of Earl Grey tea. His strong hands held the delicate china with ease and unbidden, her mind’s eyes filled with images of those same hands caressing soft, plaint breasts. How did he manage to stay active without caffeine pumping through his system, Arianna wondered idly, deliberately forcing her mind to more mundane things.
“We’ll be going to see the museum today honey. Wanna come with?” Penny smiled at her daughter. “Arianna is such a fan of the histories,” she added to her husband.
Arianna barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she tried to think of a graceful way out of a potentially boring day. They had been visiting the museum every single day since they arrived and she was itching to enjoy Santa Fe before she had to traipse on back to Manhattan. While the El Museo Cultural de Santa Fe was nothing to sneeze at, she wasn’t too eager to live out her three weeks holiday in the same spot; this was her first time in Santa Fe and who knew, she could go out exploring and fall head over heels for one of the many artists in the area. But how could she turn her mother down without making her feel bad?
