“Wow, are you sure you’re not a psych major?” He shakes his head, a look of disgust crossing his face. “You’re batty. You really are. If you want to call me a sociopath and tell yourself that I’m the most egotistical bag of shit who ever walked this earth, then fine, be my guest, but you are off your fucking rocker, darling. You really are.”
“Are you kidding me?” I take a step closer to him, then another. I want to slap that smug look off his face. “You just want to stand there and act like you’re this innocent bystander. That you did nothing wrong. But I know that’s not the truth. And I actually don’t want to know anything else about you. Because anyone who would be so completely fine with cheating on their wife—”
“Whoa!” He holds up his hands. “What?”
“You heard me.” I take another step, and am close enough to jab him in the chest with my forefinger, which is exactly what I do. “I saw your wedding ring in the hotel room that morning. You know, when you were pretending to be Mr. Chivalry by going to get me a pastry or whatever the hell it was you brought back. I know that plenty of married people out there cheat and that there’s plenty of people out there who are totally fine with sleeping with someone who’s married, but I am not one of those people! And I guess I should’ve known better.”
He grabs my wrist and jerks my arm, and, once again, it seems that he knows exactly how much pressure to exert before real pain actually sets in. The look on his face, though, is dark, and for a second I wonder if I’ve gone too far, and how loudly I’ll have to scream for someone to hear me. But outwardly, I just stare back at him. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and he’s looking at me with such intensity it feels like I’m just going to dissolve.
He brings his face right to mine. “You’re funny,” he says. “You really are. I’m not married. Never have been, as never plan on it, as a matter of fact.” He squeezes my wrist a little tighter.
“You’re just making it worse—I saw your ring. Saw it with my own two eyes.”
He lowers my arm, and then presses my hand against his crotch. I can feel how hard he is. I try to jerk away but his grip is like a vice.
“You are completely infuriating, and that is such a fucking turn on,” he whispers. “Do you feel that? Do you feel how hard your fucking antics have me? All this nonsensical bullshit you’ve been going on and on about? I’d find it tiresome with most girls, but with you . . .” He moves his head so his mouth is right against my ear. He takes a deep breath, nips at my earlobe. “I am not married. The wedding ring you saw is my father’s. You know, for the wedding they’re having tomorrow.” He presses my hand harder against him and takes a sharp breath in.
“So why was it just sitting there on the table? Why wasn’t it in a box or something?”
“It was in a box. If you’d looked a little harder, you would’ve seen the little black box right next to it. I took it out to look at because my mother was curious whether or not it was the same one he had when he was married to her.”
I try to pull my hand away again but he’s not letting go.
“That’s total bullshit. Who would use the same ring?”
“Some people would. If it had been in the family for a while, say. Which it has. The ring my father wore when he was married to my mother was made by my great grandfather, who was a goldsmith.”
“Oh.”
“But it’s not, in case you’re wondering. I don’t know what he did with that ring. Probably put it in a safe deposit box or something. Who knows. Who cares.”
My cheeks start to flush. “Well . . . I jumped to conclusions, then.”
“That would be a drastic understatement.”
“But that still doesn’t mean I want to—”
He doesn’t let me finish. He lets go of my wrist and grabs my hips, lifting me up onto the bathroom counter. My breath catches in my throat as my shoulders collide with the mirror. He’s kissing my neck, his hands all over me, and I wrap my legs around his torso and run my hands through his hair.
“I don’t want to be doing this,” I gasp, but we both know that’s not true. And if he’s not actually married, then . . . it’s not as bad. And he’s not technically my stepbrother yet.
He starts moving lower, kissing my collarbone, between my breasts, making a trail of kisses down my stomach. He doesn’t take my g-string off, but just pushes it to the side before he starts swirling his tongue over my clit, sliding first one, then a second finger into me. I arch my back, pressing against the cold glass of the mirror. As he moves his tongue over me, his fingers inside me, I look out the bathroom door, into the room I’m staying in, where the door is slightly ajar. Anyone could walk by at any moment. They’d have to actually push the door open a bit to be able to see anything, but the bathroom light is on, making me feel like I’m under a spotlight any anyone could be watching.
But any concern I have about that is quickly diminished by that pleasurable tingling that’s threatening to overtake me like a rogue wave. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out, and I do so hard that I taste my own blood in my mouth. I twist my fingers around his hair, wrap my legs around his neck. He groans, and the vibration of the sound reverberates throughout my whole body.
He pulls his head back just a little, takes his fingers out and rubs the slickness over my clit then back down to my pussy, sliding one finger deep inside me, just once, before pulling it back out and tracing that same path, over and over.
I am about to come. I am about to have the most intense orgasm I have ever had. I can feel it in the air, inside me, it’s like this static electricity, crackling and fizzing and building to this ferocious culmination—
He stops.
All of a sudden he stops, pulling his hand back, his head back. He stands, and I slump down against the mirror, my ass sliding off the side of the counter, my hips bucking. He stands there, watching me pant and writhe.
“All right, darling?” he says after a moment.
“What . . . why . . . what are you doing? Why did you stop?” My voice is shaking. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, licks one of the fingers that had just been inside me. But he doesn’t make any move to continue.
“Please,” I say. “That felt so fucking good. That was incredible.”
“What was?”
“You. What you were doing. I can’t . . . you can’t just stop like that. I feel like I’m going to explode.” And I do. It’s like there’s this energy in me, that energy and sensation that had been racing toward a climax, is now just circulating through me on this endless, frenetic loop. My inner thighs tremble. My brain feels as though it can’t form a coherent thought, other than to beg him to touch me again.
“Please,” I say.
“What was that?”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please . . . touch me again. Do whatever you were doing. Or fuck me.”
He starts to unbuckle his pants. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.”
He pushes his pants down. “Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
I scoot back so I’m all the way on the counter. He comes forward, cock leading the way. He pushes my legs apart, lifting one of my knees, then the other, and resting them over his shoulders. He leans into me. Once the head of his dick is in, he thrusts his hips forward, and goes all the way in, his lower torso pressed right up against my ass. He fucks me like that, hard and fast, my tailbone grinding against the hard marble of the counter.
My breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps the harder he fucks me. That frenetic energy that felt like it had no place to go earlier is building, centered right in the deepest part of my pelvis, radiating out in all directions. His shoulder muscles strain, the veins in his neck stand out. He’s growling something into my ear that might be words or maybe it’s just nonsense, I can’t even tell anymore because that feeling exploding through me like an earthquake, shockwaves of ple
asure rolling down the length of my body. I clench my fists, curl my toes, and bite down on the hard bulk of his shoulder muscle to keep from shrieking. Jai comes a minute later, hips bucking, his back slick with sweat. He lets my legs fall off his shoulders and he sort of collapses on me, and we half sit-half lie against the bathroom counter like that for several minutes, our bodies entwined, and it’s like I can’t tell where mine ends and his begins. And as my breathing starts to regulate, I can’t help but wonder how it is that something could feel so good yet be so wrong at the same time.
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StepF*@k series release dates:
Goodreads: Book Two: June 25th
Goodreads: Book Three: July 3rd
Goodreads: Book Four: July 10th
Step F*@K: Part Two (A Stepbrother Series Book 2) Page 6
