by Alexis Angel
“There’s nothing better than hearing you beg…” he whispers against my ear and, with one violent thrust, he impales me on his cock. I scream, forgetting all about the dozens of people hanging around Mason’s office. There’s still a semblance of rationality inside of me, though. I close my mouth and, gritting my teeth, trying to keep silent as Mason slides his cock out of me. But then, when he thrusts again, another scream crawls up my throat. I hiss and moan, fighting against the urge to scream like a banshee, but Mason seems hell bent on fucking me so hard that screams of pleasure become mandatory.
Pistoning into me with the fury of a god, I feel my inner walls straining to accommodate him. He slides in and out of me at a frantic pace, stretching me wide, and I let my head down and press it against his shoulder. I bite there, burying my teeth into his flesh hard enough to draw blood; he doesn’t even seem to notice it. By the time I take my mouth off of his shoulder, the mark of my teeth on his skin is clear as crystal. A memento of sin.
I open my mouth to beg him not to stop, but there’s no need for it. As if he could read my mind, his thrusts grow even more wild and ferocious, and I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope. Sparks of pleasure are biting at my muscles and, as tension builds deep inside of me, I grit my teeth as hard as I can, bracing for impact. Don’t scream, don’t scream, I think to myself, but then reality chokes all that out of me.
An explosion goes off inside of me and, knowing what’s to come, Mason places his hand over my mouth. I let out one fierce scream but, with his hand, he manages to muffle it. My pussy starts to spasm around his shaft, and it feels as if someone has poured my body with gasoline and then put a flame to it.
“Oh, God…” I sigh as Mason takes his hand off of my mouth. Carefully sliding his cock out of me, he takes my legs out from his back. When my feet touch the floor, I suddenly feel weak and spent. Still, when I open my eyes and meet his devilish grin, adrenaline starts to course through my veins once more. Bring it on, stepfather; since we’re already sinning, let’s go all the way.
I turn on my heels, eager to go at it again, and Mason places his hands on my waist. There’s a hunger to the way he moves, and I can’t help but want to be devoured by him. I jut my ass back, and I close my eyes as I feel his thick shaft between my ass cheeks; without waiting to see what he does, I start to rock my hips against him, stroking his cock with my crack.
Allowing me to tease him, he lays his mouth on my neck and starts to kiss me, his kisses eager and impatient. When he finally decides to act, there’s no hesitancy about it; he grabs his cock and, pushing it down, places it right between my thighs, his glans brushing against my pussy. I jut my ass back even more, angling myself, and he thrusts at once. His cock pierces me like thunder, and Mason starts to rock his hips at that furious pace of his. The sound of his thighs slapping my cheeks fill the whole room, and I can’t help but wonder if we’re being too loud. Then, as if to drag my worries into the light, someone knocks on the door.
The sound of it has the same jarring effect a gunshot would have; Mason stops thrusting and my eyes widen in surprise. I remain in silence, my heart thrashing against my ribcage, and then there’s another knock.
“Mr. Kane?” The person on the other side of the door calls. It’s the voice of a young woman, probably one of the new interns. “I have some documents here for you to sign.”
“Come back later,” is his curt response. “I’m in a meeting,” he continues, slowly rocking his hips. I purse my lips, doing my best to remain quiet, but as Mason picks up the rhythm it becomes almost impossible.
“Yes, sir,” the young woman replies. After that, the lively chatter of the traders outside fills Mason’s office again. Acting as if nothing happened, he grabs me by the hips and, keeping my body in place, starts to thrust once more. The sound of flesh on flesh drowns all other sounds and, when I feel my eyes rolling in their orbits, I add a cadence of moans to the symphony.
“Don’t stop, Mason… Don’t stop…” I beg him, my pussy tightening around his shaft. That familiar pressure starts to mount inside of me and I press my forehead against the wall, surrendering to the incoming avalanche.
“You don’t need to ask,” he tells me, thrusting even faster. I’m barely moving, but even so I can already feel heavy beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Mason is on a whole new level; forget about boys, I found myself a man.
When I finally come and my muscles start to twitch, I place my forearms on the wall and hiss through my gritted teeth. Pleasure rages through me with a fury and my mind starts to drift off; right now, I can’t focus on anything aside from the river of ecstasy rushing through me.
“Now,” he whispers against my ear, slowly pulling his cock out of me. “I want you back on your knees.” I take one deep breath and obedient, I turn on my heels and go down in front of him. His cock is wet and glistening from my fluids and, guided by wicked instincts, I lean into him and place my lips against his glans. My own scent and flavor hits me at once and, losing all control, I open my mouth as wide as I can and roll my lips down his shaft. As I move back, I suck him dry, taking all of my fluids into my own mouth.
When I take his cock out of my mouth, I look up at him and smile. Mischief is burning in my heart and I pick up my discarded thong up from the floor. It’s still wet, and I wrap it around his cock; grinning wildly, I place my hand on top of it and start to stroke him softly.
“I want you to come in my mouth,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. Slowly, I start stroking him harder, now using both my hands. When my rhythm reaches its peak, I pull the thong down his shaft and then throw it away; it’s time to get serious. “I want all of it inside of me,” I continue to say, the words tumbling down my lips completely unfiltered. I’m unhinged, and I just love it.
I’m fucking my stepfather, and I’m being as dirty as I’ve ever been; by all means, I shouldn’t be feeling sexy, but that’s exactly how I feel. I don’t know, there’s just something about the way he looks at me… About the way he gets hard for me. Is there anything better than knowing that a man like Mason can’t look away from you?
“Fuck,” he groans and, when I feel his cock spasming slightly, I lunge at him and place his glans inside my mouth. Not even a fraction of a second after, he erupts, his warm cum rushes into my mouth, his cock pulsing violently as it unleashes all of his seed. It’s salty, and has a harsh flavor; the best way to describe it would be to say that it tastes like a real man. Which seems just right.
It only takes two seconds for my mouth to be brimming with his semen; still, he keeps on cumming. Thick strands of it start dripping down my chin and, as he keeps on gushing, more and more of his seed escapes my mouth. But I remain frozen in place, not taking my mouth off his cock; I only do it when the spasms stop, half of his load inside my mouth, and the other half already dripping down my neck and moving toward my tits.
Moving slowly, I roll my lips back and his cock pops out of my mouth. Looking up at him, I let a wild grin take over my face and then open up my mouth; the moment I do it, his cum starts to spill out of my mouth and drip down my chin. Grinning back at me, Mason places two fingers under my chin and closes my mouth.
“Swallow,” he tells me in a hushed tone and, without even thinking about it, I do it. As his flavor burns down my throat, he reaches for me with one hand and makes me go up to my feet. Now standing in front of him, I let a gentle smile take over my face. He brushes two fingers over my cum-coated lips, his eyes glazed as he takes in the sight. With a smile on his lips, he bends down and picks up my thong from the floor; he presses it against my lips, using it to dry my skin. I stand there, frozen in place, as he moves the fabric over my skin at a tortuous pace, cleaning me up.
When he’s finally done, he lets the thong fall from his fingers and kisses me.
“What the fuck are we doing?” he asks, more to himself than to me. I say nothing and just look into his eyes; I’m wondering the same.
What the fuck are we doing?
11
Mason
I can hardly believe what transpired between Becca and I … in my office no less. Now I'm in my apartment, leaning back into the leather of my couch and looking out across the city. Cityscapes have a way of calming my nerves. The skyscrapers are a testament to human achievement, power, and determination. The hum of traffic, people, and hustle is music to my ears.
One of the reasons why I chose this apartment was for the view. Floor to ceiling windows on the 40th floor… the view is unparalleled. I pick up my glass of scotch from the nearby table and listen as the ice clinks against each other. I swirl it around for a moment with quick flicks of my wrist before bringing it to my lips.
The heat of the liquid burns a comforting trail down my throat and I close my eyes. I need to figure out what's going on … with Becca and Lorna. Lorna seems hell bent on destroying the company I've worked so hard to build up. I don't understand why she'd urge us to embark on such a risky investment. No, risky isn't the right word … it's downright suicide.
And Becca … what can I say? She drives me wild. The way she walked into my office … determined, knowing exactly what she wanted … I couldn't help myself. I knew I needed her as much as she needed me. There was a hunger in her movements … and in mine. But I know it's wrong.
There's a knock on my door and I stand up to answer it, but I must've left it unlocked because the door opens without me, and before I can react, in walks Lorna.
"Hello, dear," she says, placing one hand on my arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. She then walks past me, throwing her leather purse on top of the dining room table.
Her touch makes me want to shrink away, and when she calls me 'dear,' I try not to lose my stomach. Instead, I walk away and pour myself another glass of scotch without saying a word. I think the expression is speaking volumes to her right now. It's a mixture of disgust, exhaustion, and frustration, and she's trying to ignore the fact that I want nothing to do with her.
At least the scotch should help … I hope.
She approaches me from behind and rakes her fingers through my hair.
"You're not still mad about earlier, are you?" she asks.
I lift her fingers off of my hair and take a few steps away from her.
"I don't know if mad is the right word, but—"
She cuts me off. "Good, because I have an idea," she purrs, walking to me and placing her hands on my chest. She reaches for my tie and starts loosening the knot. "I think I know of the perfect way to let off a little steam."
She pulls my tie from my shirt collar and moves to the buttons, slowing unhooking them. I bring my scotch to my lips and take a big gulp.
What can I do? This snake of a woman has the power to ruin me, and Kane Price, the company I've worked so hard to build up.
Do I force her out and risk her backlash?
Do I walk out, and leave her standing here, wondering?
As I'm trying to figure out how I can get out of this, I realize Lorna has my shirt completely open.
"Mason, you're even more … impressive than I had imagined," she says, using her cold fingers to trace the contours of my muscular chest.
Great. The last thing I want to do is impress this woman.
"Look out there," she says, pointing to the glittering cityscape of New York City. "Together, you and I will rule this city."
"Not if I have anything to do with it," I mutter. "There is no 'we.' There's just 'I.' And we'd certainly never rule anything …let alone the whole of New York City by making bad investments."
"Oh come on now," Lorna laughs. "Are we going to talk about that again? I thought we've moved past that. Let's have a little fun, shall we?"
She hooks her fingers under my belt loops and slowly unbuckles my belt. I can hear the clink of the metal buckle unfastening and I shift uncomfortably, my pulse increasing.
"I can't do this," I say, pushing her hands off my belt.
She isn't listening. "Of course you can," she purrs, "and you will. We're married, remember? This is what husbands and wives do." She renews her efforts, shoving her fingers under the waistband of my boxers.
My stomach lurches at her touch and at the thought of Lorna as my wife. She's one of the most heartless people I've ever encountered in my life—and I've encountered a lot of despicable people on Wall Street. There's no upside to being with a woman like her.
I push her off me again, and this time I stand up from the couch. It's a bold move and Lorna isn't happy. Her eyes are as cold and unpredictable as a brewing storm.
"I won't say this again, Mason," she says, glaring at me. "You better do as I say and follow my lead, starting with Red Lion Aviation."
"I've already told you, it's a terrible investment," I say. "Red Lion Aviation is an Indonesian airline with one of the worst safety records in the industry. It's not uncommon to hear that another one of their planes has taken a nose dive into the ocean."
"Minor details," Lorna waves dismissively. "Planes go down. People understand that. They're still far safer than cars."
I'm not willing to hear her reasons for why we should invest in Red Lion Aviation because no matter what, I've performed the market research, crunched the numbers, and I know that it doesn't make sense on any level.
"I won't do it," I reply.
"What did you just say?"
"You heard me."
"I'd carefully reconsider what you're saying," she hisses. She walks over and grabs her purse from the table. "Because if you don't, I'll make sure the Board sees that you are unfit to lead this company."
Without saying another word, she walks to the door and steps out before slamming it shut behind her.
Fuck me. How did I allow myself to get into this mess?
Just as I'm about to sit back down on the couch and try and forget about Lorna for the night, I hear a knock on the door.
I hope she isn't back for another round.
I open the door.
And I see her … it's Becca.
But she looks different. There's a suspicious look to her eyes.
12
Becca
I shouldn't be here at his apartment. Every fiber in my brain is telling me that I should just turn the other direction and walk away.
No, I should probably run away.
As far away from Mason and my mother as I can get.
If I have half an ounce of common sense in my head I won't go any deeper. I'll cut my losses and tell myself it was what it was—a very hot, passionate affair with an older man who just happens to be my stepdad.
But that's if I had any common sense.
That's if I could make myself forget how hot he made me when he held me. How excited I got when my hand wrapped around his hard shaft. How I felt him grow in my hand. How I made him hard.
Sure, he's a playboy. I knew that going into it.
He's 16 years older than me. I can do the math.
But the times that we've been together, when he's taken control of my body—owned it and used it for his pleasure—can never be forgotten.
I can't forget his cock inside of me, stretching me out.
I can't forget seeing his eyes roll back into his head when I put him in my mouth and run my tongue up and down his shaft.
When I pumped him repeatedly.
When I licked his tip.
When I made him cum.
Oh God, when he came. It's almost as hot as when I think back to how he makes me cum.
See where my mind has gone? See what's happened?
No, I'm definitely not thinking with my brain.
I'm thinking with my clit.
Is that even possible for a woman to do? I've heard of guys who think with their cocks, but women are supposed to be smarter than that, aren't they? I mean, your husband or your boyfriend, babe. You're way smarter than him, right?
So why am I standing here then like a ridiculous deer looking at headlights?
I mean, thank God Mom didn't see me as she walked off. She was walking the ot
her direction, but she was too busy straightening her clothes out to notice anything.
Mason recognized me though.
He's looking straight at me.
I can't help myself. I should be running away. I should be protecting myself from what Mom can do to guys.
But I don't run away, do I?
I stay here as he comes up to me.
I can smell his cologne wafting into my nostrils and I close my eyes as I inhale. He smells like...man.
All of those thoughts of self-preservation that were in the back of my head are now completely gone.
All of the dark, twisted, sexual desires that I've been living with Mason—fucking my older stepdad—are back and stronger than ever.
It's as if the demon Lust has taken control of my body. Because when I open my eyes, Mason's standing in front of me.
He looks at me silently. He's so confident. So strong.
And why shouldn't he be?
He knows he owns me.
The way he grabs me by the arm and starts walking toward the open door to his apartment. I have no choice but to follow. And even if I had a choice, we both know that I would go wherever this man took me.
I feel more than hear the door to the apartment close behind me.
But just as suddenly as he grabbed me and pulled me in, Mason lets me go and turns toward me.
I notice the skyline visible through his open window. The skyscrapers of New York City glitter in the evening. It would be a breathtaking view, if I could even compose my thoughts at the moment.
I mean, my Mom walking out of Mason's apartment.
Adjusting her clothes.
There's only one reason that she could have been here. Only one thing she could have been doing.
"Becca," Mason says to me, looking at me. As much as he acts the completely dominant alpha-male around me, I see in his eyes true concern for what's going on in my head. He takes a step closer to me. "Listen to me before you jump to any conclusions."
