by Rachel Bond
Without actually letting him come.
This was her plan for Zac. She would drive him crazy, then when she was ready she would use her silken sheath to bring him to full release.
“I love your cock,” she said. “It’s big. Really big. And really hard. Are you going to come for me?” She found herself talking differently, it was like another side of her personality.
She slowed down her movements, focusing on the tip and the area just below it, on the underside.
“Yes,” he said.
“Gooooood. I like that. I want you to come. Come for me.”
She massaged the top two inches of him, rhythmically squeezing her hand up and down.
He started to twitch.
“Come for me!”
His cock was throbbing and twitching.
“Good, Zac. Let it out.”
He tightened and she knew his body was ready to release its beautiful load. But she didn’t let it. Instead, she clamped and pushed on the base of him, taking her other hand away from his member entirely.
He gasped—loudly.
He took a few short, panting breaths, straining for air. His whole body stiffened. He squeezed the sheets and blankets.
His cock shook and trembled in her hand, but nothing came out. The tip was completely dry.
“Oh—oh!” he cried out. “Oh fuck! FUCK! UH-UH-UH!”
She smiled, watching his face contort in a look of pleasure so intense that it appeared he was suffering pain.
His cock twitched once more and was still. Her hands remained dry—no cream had come out.
Good, she thought. It’s working.
She licked her left hand again several times, getting it good and wet, then closed it on his shaft once more, this time moving all the way up and down.
“How did that feel?” she asked.
He had to catch his breath. “Damn fucking awesome.”
“Want another?”
He nodded.
She accelerated her hand until she was stroking him as fast as she could. For a second she released her right hand and used both hands on him. Then she clamped him again and squeezed as he went into spasm for the second time.
Again he started making grunts and groans. “Oh—uh—oh God—uh UH UHN!”
His cock shivered and twitched once more as she took her left hand away. His body was trying to shoot out his load, but she wouldn’t let it.
When this one was over, she unclasped her right hand from him and reached down between her own legs, slipping her middle finger into her own pussy. She was ready. Wet, fully aroused, but still tight. She pulled the finger out and spread some of the copious juices all over her own asshole. It was so sensitive. She hoped he would play with her there.
Zac lay panting, moaning a little, watching her with a look of shock on his face. She wondered if any of his previous partners back in San Francisco had ever done anything like that to him. She didn’t think so. They might be young, but she had the benefit of experience and a toned, muscular physique.
She was ready. Ready to have herself filled. Her whole body wanted it. It had been hours since her orgasm, and she was dying for another one.
She grabbed his pants and boxers and pulled them down as he lifted his hips. He kicked them off and she heard them hit the floor with a thump. She peeled his shirt up and off, exposing his muscled chest and dark brown nipples. She leaned down and sucked the right one, hard, then bit it a little, giving him a taste of his own medicine.
At the same moment, she brought her right leg over his body and straddled him, her sweet wanting lips touching his cock. It was still massively hard because—she reminded herself—he hadn’t really come yet. Until his cream actually passed into the shaft of his cock and up and out, he wasn’t finished and could continue to be rock hard.
She leaned down, grabbing his arms, and held them against the bed. She brought her mouth to his, kissing him hard, pushing her tongue into his mouth even as she started to slide her pussy onto his cock.
Oh. My. Christ.
She couldn’t believe what it felt like, it was so long and thick. Could she take it in? For a moment, she wasn’t sure. He pushed up against her, letting out a gasp of pleasure, and she pushed down against him, feeling him move up and into her.
She was on. He was deep inside. The skin of his cock slid smoothly against the sensitive inside walls of her channel, and her clit touched the firm area just above his cock.
“I’m on the pill,” she whispered. “You can fuck me. You can come in me. I want you to.”
She began to grind against him, not allowing his cock to move much, building him up again and making sure he didn’t come too quickly. She knew he was close, having just experienced two dry orgasms. He would crave full release.
Slowly, slowly, she started to undulate on him, clutching with her tightness. She pulled off farther and farther with each gyration, sliding back down all the way to his base.
He lay there, watching her, looking at her face, her mouth, her tits as they swayed. Her breasts were small and firm, and she sighed as he reached up with both hands and played with them. His thumbs on her nipples would usually have been too strong a sensation, but now in the throes of riding his engorged cock, they felt perfect.
She took her time, screwing him slowly sometimes, then speeding up, then slowing down again. Her shaved folds felt smooth and slick against his hair and the flesh of his cock. She knew she could come at any time, just by making a few hard thrusts.
He fondled her breasts. It felt good but she wanted something else. So she took one of his hands and guided it around to her ass, wanting him to touch her there. He obliged, moving it over her butt cheek and then touching her dripping slit. She thought about how good it had felt minutes earlier when she’d spread her own pussy cream onto her anus.
She leaned all the way down, her lips to his ear. “Finger me,” she said.
A moment later she felt his fingertip rubbing her tight little ass hole, slick and wet with her own juices. He probed and stroked, then started pushing insistently. She leaned back into his finger and it popped past her muscular outer ring, the tip of it slipping inside her. It felt incredible.
“Good,” she whispered hoarsely. “Right there. Finger fuck my ass.”
She concentrated on the sensations, closing her eyes. His cock deep in her core. His finger working in her ass. Slick, smooth, wet, tantalizing.
This was it. She as going to come again. Her body tensed and she kept moving exactly right.
“I’m coming,” she said. “Fuck me! Fill me up!”
He started thrusting with his cock, lifting her up off the bed with powerful legs. He pounded her, and fingered her, and in a few seconds she was there.
Her slit squeezed and released, over and over. He pushed into her as she moved on him in perfect time.
Now he was coming, too. She could tell. He let out a loud moan and then a cry of pleasure, and she felt the white-hot cream of his load exploding inside of her. Again and again he spurted, at the same exact moment that her orgasm reached its crescendo. She didn’t cry out, just released a series of quiet moaning gasps as wave after wave of drug-like pleasure rocked her entire body from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.
He kept fucking, even as she slowed, trying to get the last moments of pleasure from her body. Finally he stopped, and lay still, his finger slipping from her tight hole.
She collapsed on top of him, spent, done, exhausted. Nobody had ever made love to her so hard, or so well.
CHAPTER 18
Savannah spent the rest of the day in bed. Despite her protests that she felt fine, that the cut on her brow was not a “closed head injury,” and that she in fact did not have a concussion, thank-you-very-much, Zac simply would not let her get up and move around.
“I want to take care of you,” he said repeatedly. “You’re my kept woman.”
“Is that right?”
“Sure. Every billionaire worth his salt should hav
e one.”
Zac sat on the edge of the bed, eating bonbons. Literally, he had a container of them that he’d gotten from the freezer. Every once in a while he would reach over and pop one into Savannah’s mouth. They were cold and chocolatey and sweet.
This whole thing was kind of like living inside an impossible dream, she thought.
Gradually the afternoon turned to evening. They hung out, talked, and watched a few older episodes of Game of Thrones. Zac owned all the DVDs. Every time one of the countless topless scenes or sex scenes came on, Savannah felt a rush of heat and wondered if they’d be having sex again soon. Finally, the eighth time this happened, she kissed Zac, put her hand down the sweatpants he’d changed into (they were Giorgio Armani sweatpants, of course), and quickly got him hard.
“I want you again,” she said, turning around and getting onto all fours. She lifted up her skirt, got her head and arms as low as she could, and stuck her ass in the air. A second later his cock plunged inside her and he fucked her deeply. It was fast and hard, and he hit her spot so well that before she knew it, she was coming.
This time the orgasm was both stronger and more subdued at the same time, flowing outward from deep within her cavern rather than from her clit.
When she was done, he kept going for several minutes more, flattening her onto the bed and lying on top of her with his mouth at her ear. “You’re so tight,” he whispered. “You make me so hard.”
She tightened her sweetness on him as he came, enhancing his pleasure. When he was done, they lay side by side and snuggled, sometimes kissing, sometimes touching each other’s bodies.
Like lovers, she thought, hardly daring to tell herself the word.
***
He wouldn’t even let her out of bed for dinner! Just like with lunch, he brought her dinner in bed, despite her protests.
When he set down the plate of Fettuccine Alfredo, Savannah was shocked. It was her favorite.
“How did you know?”
“Well—”
“Wait, lemme guess. Elaine at Cuppa.”
“Good guess.”
They lounged in bed and ate the pasta and talked about jobs they’d had when they were younger. Zachary had worked in a giant cannery one summer, which sounded awful to Savannah. The worst she could come up with was a temp job typing letters in a state office, so she had to admit he had her beat.
Evening turned to night, and when they were tired they curled up and fell asleep in each other’s arms. The next morning after breakfast (not in bed, she thought with irony), it was time to head home. She didn’t know what the future might hold for this relationship, but she had to feed Ginger and scoop the litter box, check her email, and generally do some normal-life stuff.
Zac let her borrow the Lamborghini, and as she got in, she was still amazed that the paparazzi didn’t know where Zac lived. As she drove through town, she felt like everyone was staring at her (because, as usual, they were in fact staring at her).
She also wondered about Charles. The thought of him came rushing back like a bad dream and filled her with anxiety. He was here, in town. He might be anywhere. She’d have to be careful. She made sure her phone was easily available and that the car doors were locked.
She swung by the office to pick up the work mail, driving by first to make sure Charles wasn’t there. She saw no sign of him. After getting the mail, she headed up the hill for home.
As she approached the Victorian, she slowed and did the same kind of drive-by she’d done at the office. She scanned the house and yard for signs of Charles, but saw nobody and nothing suspicious. She turned around at the next street and came back, doing the same thing again. He could be hiding in the bushes, but she doubted it. It wasn’t really his style to skulk around a lot—she would expect him to be sitting on the front porch. Maybe he’d given up.
Up the stairs she went, concerned that Ginger was probably starving and had a full, disgusting litter box. Oh, well…the cat would live.
She opened the door, stepped inside, closed it, and flipped the bolt locked. Ginger meowed loudly. As Savannah turned around to face the room, her heart leaped into her throat.
Charles was reclining on the sofa like he owned the place. She stepped back in surprise, but recovered quickly, jamming her hand in her pocket to make sure her phone was there.
“Hello, sweetness,” he said quietly.
It took Savannah several seconds to recover her wits. Finally she managed to say, “What—what the fuck, Charles? What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”
“Small town landlords are so trusting, aren’t they?” he said, his voice sounding as thin as the squeak of a saxophone reed.
“You talked to Mrs. Marsh?”
“Told her I was your brother, in from out of town. It was easy, since I know everything about you.”
“Goddamn it, I told you not to come. You need to get out.”
Savannah thought about calling Zac. Her fingers gripped her phone inside her pocket. He would come right over and get this handled. But no—she had to do this herself. She couldn’t hide behind a man.
First, she unlocked the bolt and opened the door. She hoped any noise would be heard elsewhere in the old house. Next, she took out her phone, dialed 911, but didn’t hit Send. All the while she kept a close eye on Charles.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. “Leave.” She gestured toward the open door.
“Darling, I came thousands of miles to see you. The least you could do is offer me a cup of tea and a chat. For old times’ sake.”
“Get out, Charles. Now.”
“Look, Savannah—I need you back. I’ll do anything. I’ll move out here, we can try again. I’ve changed.”
“Bullshit. Now leave my house. It was over before and it’s twice as over now.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Fine.” She hit Send and put the phone on speaker.
“What’d you just do?” he asked, standing up and taking a step forward.
A woman’s authoritative voice came over the line: “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
“Oh, shit,” Charles said.
She leaned into the phone. “Someone broke into my house. He’s still here. I need the police right now. 1211 Montello Avenue, Hood River.”
“You fucking bitch,” Charles said.
“Ma’am, I’m dispatching a unit right now. Is that him, I can hear on the line?”
“Yes.”
“Ma’am, I need you to get out of the house. Can you do that?”
“Fuck!” Charles said, moving toward the door. “I’m leaving. You didn’t have to call the police.”
Savannah stepped several feet aside, hoping he wouldn’t do anything stupid as he passed by.
“Go to hell,” Charles said on his way out the door. Savannah watched him go down the stairs, then closed and bolted the door. She took the phone off speaker.
“He’s gone,” she said.
“Okay, ma’am. The officers will be there in about one minute. Please remain on the line.”
Savannah sat down and waited. A load had been lifted from her shoulders. Her life was changing.
Finally, her life was indeed changing.
Two days later, Zac’s lawyer put the fear of God into Charles. She was pretty sure she’d never hear from that creep again…but she would always be grateful for his sex instructions.
The following few days were a mixture of a little bit of work, a lot of making out, and a hell of a lot of making love. Savannah walked around town with a new energy in her step and more confidence than ever before. She felt almost like a different person.
Over the next several weeks, she finished the real-estate website and started getting more business than she could handle. She had to hire two new designers to keep up with it all, and she was even starting to look for an office manager-slash-salesperson. The only downside to being so busy was that she and Zachary had to postpone the Africa trip they’d talked about.
&n
bsp; With immense pride and a tear of joy in her eye, she wrote a $10,000 check to her mom and dropped it in the mail, the first step toward paying back her parents.
As the cold rains of October and November settled on the small northwest Oregon town of Hood River, Savannah realized she was happy—truly happy—for the first time in many years. It was a kind of happiness that went beyond money, beyond a successful business, and even beyond the friends she saw every day.
It was a kind of happiness that grows out of realizing that you care deeply for another human being…and that this person cares about you just as deeply. And that you care about him not for his immense holdings in stocks, bonds, and gold…not for his private jet…and certainly not for his bright yellow Lamborghini. You care about him for his heart, and his kindness, and everything else that makes him who he is.
Then one cold day in late November, when an otherworldly fog lay over the mighty Columbia River, lit up by the sunshine like an impossible jewel, Savannah sat out on Zac’s back deck in her bathrobe, clutching a mug of coffee. Yes, it was the most expensive coffee in the world, flown in from Vietnam, but that didn’t really matter. And it didn’t matter that she wasn’t jetting around the world in a private plane. What mattered was that Zac was sitting next to her, and she hoped he always would be.
Because as she gazed at the fog on the river and wondered how such beauty was even possible, Savannah realized she was in love with Zachary Cushman.
And that he loved her back.
THE END
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Start reading Stepbrother Beloved right now…
STEPBROTHER BELOVED
by Rachel Bond
Chapter 1
Julia lifted her favorite pair of pink Victoria’s Secret panties from her underwear drawer, fingered the soft cotton and black lace edging, and placed them in the suitcase along with everything else. The panties were cut just right to fit her slim young hips and athlete’s butt.
