by Aria Cole
If the hallway hadn’t been so dark, the song so charged with lust, if she hadn't been so plain irresistible…maybe I wouldn’t have kissed her.
When she’d caught me in that deserted hallway, looking up at me with those mystical blue eyes, I’d done the only thing I could think of and pressed my lips to hers. Parted the seam of her sweet lips with my tongue and fucked her mouth deeply for long minutes before my senses came crashing back in and I’d ended it.
I’d left my brother’s wedding with an epic hardon for my new stepniece, and I was still having trouble controlling the fallout.
“God help all of us if you don’t run upstairs and change into something longer, Leigh.” I dusted my fingertips along the exposed skin of her waist. “I’ve got a hell of a problem controlling my lips when I’m around you.”
Leigh pressed her own lips together, gaze hovering on mine as we stood suspended, heartbeats rocketing between us. Her chest heaved with breathless words, the faint outline of her nipples visible through the dark lace-cropped vest she wore.
A quiet rumble passed over my lips as my gaze dropped to the deep vee of her cleavage, some sort of shimmery glitter dusted there that was meant to attract attention.
“What’s with the shimmery shit on your tits? If you wanted my attention, all you had to do is say the words.”
Her gaze hardened, hand catching mine at her waist and yanking it away from her flesh. “You’re as arrogant as I remember, Asher Hunt.”
I tipped my grin, liking how rattled by me she was looking.
“So, my wicked little witch, now that you’ve got my attention, it’s my duty to tell you I won’t have anyone else’s eyes on you. Not tonight. Not if I can help it.”
“Who says you can help anything?” She backed a step away, hand on her hip. “You’re not my daddy.”
I shook my head, fury and lust and every emotion in between simmering through me. “If you were mine, we’d start with that perky little ass over my knee.”
Her lips rounded in an endearing little O, shock fading to something else, before she leaned in close, so close I could feel the brush of her tits against my chest. My fingers ached to tweak at the tight little nipples, show her what a real punishment would feel like to make her fall in line.
“Oh, yeah? Think you can control me?” Her eyes were liquid fire, searing into mine and choking me with the need to fill that smart mouth with my fat cock. “Just try, Asher Hunt, and see what happens.”
With those words, she turned, skirt flipping in the air as she bounced her way up the stairs, humming a Beyonce song as she went.
Sweet fucking Jesus.
“I shouldn’t be here.” I pushed a hand through my hair, feeling the sexual tension evaporate now that I was alone in the front room again.
“Hey, little brother!” The double entry doors swung wide as my brother and his wife came in, hands piled high with grocery bags. “Do you mind pointing the drivers to the back entrance? I don’t want those big-ass trucks tearing up the front yard when they drop off the outdoor furniture.”
“Outdoor furniture?” I asked, feeling a migraine seep behind my brain.
“Yeah, Miriam wanted a Halloween Carnival theme this year, and the clowns need more room for their new act—”
I waved my brother off, promising to handle whatever he needed as long as it didn’t involve any more long explanations.
My brother, Alistair Hunt, a brilliant mind and boring as fuck.
It’s not that I didn’t love him. He was my only sibling, so I loved him by default, but his life didn’t agree with me.
He was one of the most revered defense lawyers in the tri-state area, his schedule busy and his personal life nonexistent, until Miriam Everett and her sassy brat of a daughter entered his life.
Now, as much as Leigh got under my skin, I had to admit, family looked good on him. Alistair was taking more time off, traveling often, and discovering a new-found love for cooking and baking in his once empty state-of-the-art kitchen.
His four-thousand-square-foot home dwarfed my little two bedroom, but I didn’t mind. I liked the minimalist simplicity of my life far removed from all things Hunt. Alistair had taken over Hunt Legal Law from our father, as was expected, and I’d done the revolutionary thing and gone off to trade school. I was an electrician by trade, but my job description was now more general business owner. The handful of journeymen electricians who worked for me now handled the majority of the calls that’d kept me busy for much of my early years in the field.
After directing the deliveries to their proper locations, I found myself ducking back into the house in seek of some shelter from all the chaos. As the hours until the beginning of the party wound down, the activity in this big-ass house grew unbearable.
Thankfully, Alistair knew I had anti-social tendencies and had tucked me into the guest bedroom as far as I could be from the beehive of activity in the rest of the house.
A crash of tableware echoed from the kitchen, and I sucked in a fortifying breath, needing some sort of serenity now if I were going to make it through this party. And then maybe tomorrow morning I would leave early, scratch a note to Alistair that I was thankful for him but would probably not be back for next Halloween.
The pressure on my nerves—in truth, the pressure of her in my line of vision—was too much.
I should have known better, but I hadn’t.
Instead I was stuck here, with her, and a rock-hard, leaking erection with Leigh’s name on it.
Taking the stairs to the basement two at a time, I headed for the wine cellar, my mind on a top shelf Scotch I’d sent Alistair last Christmas. I’d discovered it when I was backpacking through Europe earlier that summer, but Alistair had so many clients giving him gifts on the regular, chances were good he hadn’t even cracked it yet.
I pushed through the cellar door, cool air hitting my nose as I took in the bottle-lined walls.
The room was a work of art, just like everything in my brother's life. This wine cellar had been featured in Wine Aficionado when he built the house, and it was undoubtedly my favorite room in this house.
I felt the soft snick of the door behind me, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I took in the richly toned wooden walls and racks, bottles arranged by maker and vineyard. The intoxicating smell of caramel and honey invaded my nostrils as fantasies of Leigh pushed up against the wall and my head under that lace skirt skittered through my brain.
My cock throbbed, pain biting behind the zipper and forcing me to loosen the button and drop the metal teeth, freeing my raging problem and causing a sigh of relief to wash through me.
And then I thought of Leigh’s lips on mine, and I was done.
I cupped my balls in one hand, sliding my palm up the shaft and fisting tightly. I imagined what I’d do to her if she was with me, pushing her fleshy ass cheeks apart and licking her sweet little cunt clean.
I jerked my cock harder, the need to relieve the pressure causing me to boil over. I steadied my hand on the stone wall, imagining bracing her with my hips and fucking her hard and deep until she was exhausted and weak around my cock, my seed and only mine coating her completely.
I was a man possessed with wild and forbidden thoughts of her, my little brat of a stepniece.
Just the thought of spanking the sass out of her and then dragging my tongue across her succulent skin had me creaming, jets of semen covering my palm and soaking the front of my dark denim jeans. The cage of my chest rattled, all the muscles in my body tense as I came down from the best fucking orgasm of my life, all because for the first time in two years, I’d finally allowed myself to think of her again.
“Oh, hey! I didn’t know anyone was in here.” The door crashed open, and a voice sing-songed over my shoulder.
My back tensed, cum still leaking through the crack of my fingers.
I gulped, adjusting my still twitching cock back into my jeans and trying to quick-button them.
“Leigh.” I turned, fake smile co
vering the embarrassment that the woman of the hour had just caught me jerking off…to her. “So much for giving a guy a head’s up.”
She arched one eyebrow. “I just came down to steal a bottle of booze before I head out for the night.” Her gaze dropped, noticing for the first time my zipper, still unzipped. “But it looks like I just stumbled upon something a lot more interesting.”
I licked my lips, thinking how maybe it was just my luck that she’d shown up here when she did.
“Just thought I’d grab a bottle myself.” I hoped she didn’t hear the crack in my voice.
“Looks like you’re grabbing something, all right.” Her eyes twinkled with knowing, and I knew then I was way the fuck busted. She turned away from me and bent over, skirt riding way too fucking high up her thigh for my liking, and plucked the nearest bottle of wine from the shelf. She spun, standing up straight to nail me with her intoxicating eyes then, that ridiculous caramel honey scent I loved so damn much drowning me in that moment.
“Kinky Uncle.” She whispered the taunt.
A mix of aroused anger bubbled up inside me before I gritted out, “Wicked brat.”
“Well, I’d love to stay and entertain you, but—” She stopped abruptly, hand tugging on the door handle. “Wait, what the fuck?”
My eyes rounded, and I nudged her out of the way, hands gripping the handle and yanking gently, then with more force. I pulled again, using all of my energy.
“Oh, fuck.”
“What do you mean, oh fuck?” Her tone was significantly higher.
“I mean, oh fuck, I think we’re stuck."
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