Too Big Taboo Bundle: Naughty Brats, Forbidden First Time, Man of the House

by Veronica Vaughn

  I’m puzzled and unsure how to respond. I don’t quite believe what he’s telling me. “Daddy,” I ask, my voice shaking, “are you kicking me out?”

  “Your college will be paid in full,” my stepfather coolly replies. “You will no longer live in my home, under my roof. Unless.”

  My stepfather pauses. He frowns as his dark brown eyes drill into me. Under the power of his gaze, I feel like I’m melting into my seat.

  “Unless,” he continues, “you will become my wife and bear my children. Then all of my billions will be yours as well.”

  My eyes widen in absolute shock. My mouth probably falls widen open, but I’m too stunned to notice. First the surprise announcement that I will be given one million dollars. Then the devastating second option. Marry him? I could never. My brain goes so foggy, I have no idea how much time passes. Probably a few minutes.

  “You will make a decision and tell me in the morning,” my stepfather says.

  He picks up his phone. Everything is a blur, and I barely notice. A minute later, Rubio has entered the office. He helps me to my feet and escorts me back to my room. He shuts the door, and I lie down on my bed, too dazed to say or do anything else.

  III.

  I’ll take the college money and enroll in some university on the opposite side of the planet. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll grab whatever cash I can, and run far, far away—as far as I can get from Beast and his four-story villa and the beach and my friends and the only life I have ever known.

  With my eyes closed, I can picture my stepfather’s horrendous face. If I was his wife … ugh! Would he expect me to perform wifely duties? There is no way I could kiss a scarred mouth like that. And sex? With that monster? His enormous cock pumping me full of creamy white monster juice?

  No thanks. I’ll take the college fund and be on my way.

  What would it even be like, I wonder? Being with Beast, I mean. I’ve never had sex before, but I know the general idea. If I kept my eyes closed, or he took me from behind, I wonder if I would be able to make it through to his orgasm without throwing up. Or feeling like I had violated the memory of my dead mother, for that matter.

  As I lie in my own bed, alone with the door shut, I imagine his big rough hands on my little body. He wouldn’t be gentle. He’d tear off my bikini top and pull down my shorts, and brutalize my virgin pussy, stuffing me, stretching me to the breaking point. As my mind wanders, so does my hand, to that special place between my legs. It’s like my fingers have minds of their own. I don’t even realize they have begun to caress my swollen mound, sliding under the band of my gym shorts, feeling the outer lips of my pussy still trapped in my bikini bottom.

  In my fantasy, Beast bends me over and shoves my face into my own pillow. In real life I quietly moan as my fingers pleasure me, under my bikini now, caressing the sensitive little bump of my tightening clit. I can feel myself becoming wetter and I rub harder, faster, my fingers searching between my folds, as my body rocks and trembles as waves of pleasure emanate from between my legs.

  Oh my God. I’m about to come. My breath quivers and the orgasm explodes through my enraptured body. The second one is on its way …

  Knock! Knock! “Sofi! I’m coming in!” It’s Rubio’s voice. I frantically pull my slick fingers out of my shorts, trying to ignore my throbbing wet pussy as Rubio storms into my bedroom. He gives me a funny look.

  “What were you doing?” he asks.

  “Minding my own business,” I reply.

  “Whatever. I’m just here to let you know that you’re having dinner with Beast tonight. Banquet room. 7 p.m. Don’t be late. And Sofia?”

  Rubio smirks, eye-fucking my body like he did earlier in the day.

  “Yeah, what?” I ask, rising anger in my voice.

  “Better change out of that bikini,” he smirks.

  Rubio laughs and shuts the door, leaving me to get ready. I hit the shower, washing the gritty beach sand from my long hair, my pussy still sensitive from the attention I gave it a few minutes earlier. I want to touch myself again, but there’s no time. After my shower I fret over my wardrobe, trying on several things before settling on a simple white sundress. I like the way it accentuates my petite figure while managing to make my perky little boobs to look bigger than they have any right to. I should wear heels, too, but I’m a beach bum. Flip flops will have to suffice.

  Beast is waiting for me, alone, when I walk through the double doors of our banquet hall on the ground level of the villa. Every time I step foot in this place it takes my breath away. The slap of my flip flops echoes across the cavernous room. Exquisite murals hang on the rich wooden walls. A long table big enough to seat a hundred of Beast’s closest associates stretches down the middle of the room. A long row of tall candles flicker in a glowing line down the center of the table. Beast is sitting at his usual seat, the head. I walk toward my usual place at the foot of the table, but Beast raises one finger and points it toward the seat next to his. A place has been set for me there. I gulp away my trepidation and will myself to walk toward him.

  “Sit,” he says, pushing my chair away from the table so I may comply with his order.

  He says nothing else, but I can tell by his raised eyebrow that he has noticed my change in attire. He likes that I dressed up for him. I stare at the nearest candle, watching the golden flame. Things would be so much less awkward if he would just say something. If he would say something, one word, ever.

  Should I just tell him now that I won’t marry him? That I would never marry him? That I appreciate everything he has done for me, everything he has given me, and now it’s time for us to be going our separate ways?

  Just tell him. Just be brave, for once.

  “Daddy,” I ask, turning to face him.

  He nods solemnly. He has positioned us so that the good side of his face is closest to me. The scars are turned away, harder to see, though I can still see the corner of his lip where it has been permanently gashed open. His eyes are very dark, smoldering like coals. High cheekbones and a chiseled jawline. His lips are full, almost pouty. If I were to agree to marry him, that’s the mouth I would kiss every night.

  Stop it! He’s your stepfather!

  “Daddy,” I repeat, trying to work up the courage to tell him my decision.

  “Thank you for your offer,” I say hesitantly, searching for the right words. “It is incredibly generous. I have decided …”

  Before the words could escape my mouth I felt my stepfather’s gruff finger pressing across my lips, preventing me from speaking.

  “You will tell me in the morning, as I instructed,” he says.

  He shouldn’t be able to bully me like this. I should just tell him anyway. Right when I’m about to resume my effort to tell him of my decision, the kitchen doors swing open and our longtime chef, Pepe, comes bustling into the banquet hall, balancing two bowls, which he places on our plates.

  “For you, Beast,” he says. “And for you, little Sofi.”

  It’s a fresh salad of mixed greens and colorful flourishes, strange tropical fruits, tiny cubes of red and yellow bell pepper, and slivers of almond in a tangy vinaigrette. Pepe waits expectantly at my stepfather’s side, waiting for him to take his first bite. Beast swallows a mouthful of greens and nods in approval.

  “Delicious,” he says.

  “Thank you sir,” Pepe practically squeals with joy and relief. “Beast,” our chef continues a bit more reluctantly, “is this a good time to ask you a question?”

  “Good as any,” Beast mutters.

  “Well, you see,” Pepe stutters, clutching his white chef’s hat in his hands, “I need to ask off for a day or two. My mother is in the hospital. They say she’s dying, that she won’t make it through the night. If it would not inconvenience you too much, I’d like to catch the next ferry to the island. I’d like to tell her goodbye. Or, if I am too late, and she has passed, to pay my final respects.”

  My stepfather glares at Pepe. No way is our chef leaving work
for a couple of days. Obviously Beast doesn’t care about someone’s dying mother. He’s a monster. Pepe is sweating Beastets. He can tell he made a mistake, asking too much. Beast pulls out his phone, mutters something, and an instant later Rubio is standing at our side.

  “Bring the chopper,” Beast orders. “Take Pepe where he needs to go.”

  “Right away, boss,” Rubio turns, hustling for the door.

  “Thank you, sir!” Pepe cries. “Oh, thank you!”

  Beast wipes his mouth with his napkin. He does not seem to be stirred in the slightest by Pepe’s gratitude. This man would steal candy from a baby. Could it be that I don’t know everything about the man who raised me? It’s a lot to process.

  “Next course,” Beast intones.

  “Right away!” Pepe cries. “You’re in for a treat!”

  That night we feast. Pepe’s sous chef takes over and handles himself admirably, serving us delectable course after course of delicious steamed lobster dripping with butter and thick seared steak. To my surprise the meal ends with a simple bowl of homemade mango ice cream.

  “My favorite!” I exclaim.

  “I know,” Beast says.

  How does he know what ice cream I like? The revelation takes me aback, but not for long. I quickly grab my spoon and lick down every bite. I’m enjoying the ice cream so much I fail to notice that Beast has barely touched his, eating maybe a spoonful or two before it has melted to sticky orange soup.

  “Come with me,” he says when I’m done with the last spoonful.

  He rises from the banquet table, his hard, strong body looming over me. When I notice his attire I feel under-dressed in my simple white sundress. He is wearing a tailored suit of exquisite light tan fabric, perfect for business in the tropics. His shoulders are impossibly broad, his waist narrow. His shirt is opened wide at the collar, exposing the body hair that so revolted me as a little girl. But now I wonder what it would be like to run my hands through it, to feel those bulging muscles of his chest, to feel the hardness of his rippled abs, maybe to try something more.

  It makes me angry with myself when I realize I am fantasizing about him again.

  Beast motions for me to stand up, and as he guides me through the banquet hall door he places one hand firmly in the small of my back. Tingly sparks of electricity shoot through my body. I feel hot, flustered. Is it my imagination, or does Beast notice how ruffled he is making me? He seems to be enjoying himself in a very subtle way, like internal laughter is ever-so-slightly breaking through the wall he has built between himself and other people.

  We’re walking side by side now through the hallway, toward the door, and I catch myself studying the scars slashing across his face. They are as gruesome as ever, reminders of wounds that will never heal, all purple and deep, like ugly trenches across his skin. Beast notices that I am staring at him, and the traces of his laughter vanish.

  “Let’s go to the beach,” he says.

  IV.

  We wander across the lawn, side by side and not saying a word. The full moon illuminates our path through the palm trees and gardens, down to the sandy beach where the water sparkles like stars on the rolling waves. Heavy waves break into white foam on the shore. The rhythmic rise and fall of the roaring breakers soothes my pounding heart.

  At the edge of the sand, Beast steps out of his shoes and I follow his lead, kicking off my flip flops. He still hasn’t uttered so much as a word, or even looked at me. We walk side by side along the shore. The wet sand feels gritty and cool under my bare feet. The strongest waves lap at our ankles, leaving sea shells and sand dollars. Tiny crabs scurry away from our approach.

  “Sofi,” my stepfather says softly.

  He stops as I turn to face him. In the moonlight, I see Beast still wearing his suit, with his pants legs rolled past his shins, exposing the sharp contours of his muscular calves. The darkly ornate body art that covers his arms and torso is mostly hidden by his clothing, though the upper ends of the tattoos lick at his neck.

  He cuts an imposing figure, and he is far more handsome than I ever realized. My feelings are so tangled and conflicted by this man who has done unspeakably horrible things to build his empire—an empire that has given me everything I ever wanted.

  Beast’s dark eyes burn into mine. They burn with so much strong feeling they overshadow his scars.

  “I am not a man of many words,” he says. “In my business, it is not prudent to reveal emotion. Any perceived weakness would most certainly be used against me.”

  A flash of anguish shoots through Beast’s eyes. For a man who speaks so little, he is now struggling with words and emotions he finds difficult to express.

  “I miss your mother. I think of her all the time,” he says after pausing to recollect himself. “You remind me of her so much. That’s why I pushed you away from me. To remain strong, in control, I had to lock you out of my heart. Now that you are a woman I think you should know that.”

  Now I’m crying softly. He wipes away the tear and something inside of me breaks.

  “I could have used a parent,” I say.

  “I’m sorry, Sofi,” he says, pulling me into his embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

  Beast holds me tightly. He smells good, like a man. My tiny body tucks securely into his much larger frame, his muscular arms wrapped around my shoulders, his large strong hands grasping my back. I can feel the roughness of his palms and fingers upon my sundress, hard upon my skin.

  Still standing at the water’s edge, on the moonlit beach, I am overcome by emotion. I feel like I understand my stepfather for the first time. Something wild and uncontrollable comes over me. I want to feel his mouth against mine, to kiss him deeply, to show him that I love him and all is forgiven. I cup his scruffy cheeks in my hands and pull myself toward his face, scars and all. My lips find his mouth. He hesitates at first, then gives in to his own pent-up passion. His full lips nuzzle mine, and when I feel his tongue my mouth parts slightly to accept him in. He dips into my mouth and our tongues caress each other.

  His savage hands rake down my back, grabbing my ass and pulling me harder against him. It makes me so hot, I can feel the wetness gathering between my legs. I can feel the gathering hardness of his crotch pressing against me, making me even wetter.

  Suddenly Beast breaks our embrace. “Sofi, stop,” he says, pulling away from me. “I want you so bad. If we continue there will be no turning back.”

  A naughty gleam fills my eyes.

  “Here’s your answer,” I say, dropping to my knees on the wet sand. I loosen his belt buckle and unbutton the front of his pants. When I unzip him he reaches down, and an impossibly big, deliciously meaty cock spills from his trousers

  My eyes widen in a mix of surprise, alarm and hunger. I don’t know if that thing would even fit in my mouth, let alone in my … another wave of fear washes over me, thinking of Beast stuffing me full of his stiff rod. Growing braver, I take him in my hands. It’s almost comically oversized. I can barely wrap my fingers around it. I stroke him greedily, watching it grow before my eyes. I can’t wait to taste him. I lick the swollen head of his cock, running my tongue around the tip, my hand caressing his shaft as he pushes his thickness between my lips. I nearly gag at first, it’s so huge. I want to suck him off and drink him down, feeling his hot wet cum explode at the back of my throat. The thought of his juicy load turns me on even more.

  “Fuck, Sofi. Oh, fuck,” Beast murmurs, still standing on the beach, his trousers dampening from the ocean spray. “This feels amazing.”

  I love making him feel good. I suck faster, my mouth running up and down his shaft. When I touch his balls he moans with pleasure. His body tenses, and he groans and thrusts, and his seed sprays my throat. It catches me by surprise and I remove my mouth from him in time to catch the second and third spurt of his hot jism on my face. I smile, enjoying his taste as I wipe some of the white cream from my chin, licking my fingers clean.

  Beast doesn’t give me a second to rest. “My turn
,” he growls, tearing off his clothes and tossing them on the sand, just beyond the ocean’s reach. I stare at him, mesmerized by his chiseled body covered with those ornate tattoos. He yanks me back to my feet and rips my sundress over my shoulders, then he pulls down my lacy little bra, exposing my breasts to the night air. Beast kisses me again, then nibbles my neck. His mouth finds one of my tightening nipples, teasing it, running circles around it, making it even harder. It feels so good I bight my lip to stifle a low moan.

  He throws me down into the wet sand and tears off my panties in one motion, tossing them aside. The shallow waves lap at my naked body. Everything is happening so fast, I have no choice but to submit to his lust. His face plows between my legs, forcing apart my thighs, as his wet tongue licks the folds of my swollen mound. His tongue works between my outer lips, teasing me apart, lapping all around my throbbing clit. I cry out with pleasure, it feels so good, Beast’s face between my legs and me lying on my back at the edge of the ocean. The sensations are so overwhelming my body begins to twist and writhe in rhythm to Beast’s tongue. Two of his fingers press through the chasm of my pussy, searching and caressing me. His tongue and his fingers own me. I give in to the pleasure, and I howl as the orgasms rock my body like waves hitting the beach.