Shakily I lowered myself to the floor, ignoring the hard press of the wood against my bare knees, then leaned forward, my fingers reaching for the zip of his suit trousers.
He didn’t help this time, letting me fumble as I got him unzipped then reached inside his boxers. He was long, thick, his skin hot and silky-smooth. And God, so hard.
That was me, wasn’t it? That was me making him hard.
He was staring at me so intently, so arrogantly I could hardly breathe. And then, like he could read my mind, he said, ‘That’s because of you.’ There was an accusing note in the words that made me shiver with delight. ‘You and your delicious pussy made me hard. Now, what are you going to do about it?’
I held him in one hand and eased forward between his thighs. ‘Shall I...suck it?’ My voice was embarrassingly thick and shaky-sounding, making me blush. But I couldn’t stop myself from adding, ‘Please...’
He made a rough sound. ‘Of course you should suck it. What did I say about getting your mouth around my cock?’
I didn’t need to be told twice. I bent, touching my tongue to the shiny head of his dick, tasting salt and musk.
A moan escaped me and I opened my mouth wider, taking him in deep.
God, he tasted so good. Raw and dark, and intensely masculine.
The look on his face mesmerised me, set in harsh lines of hunger, his gaze boring into mine with such intensity I wanted to look away.
But his hands were suddenly fisting in my hair on either side of my head, holding me still as his hips flexed and he thrust his cock into mouth, hitting the back of my throat.
I groaned, holding him as tightly as he was holding me, the sound vibrating against his shaft as he thrust again.
He bared his teeth, his breath hissing. ‘You’ve got no idea how fucking erotic this is, watching my dick disappear into your mouth.’ He thrust again. ‘I could do this all night.’
I couldn’t speak, not that I wanted to. Not that I could have with my mouth full of his cock. The ache between my thighs was getting unbearable and I was desperate to touch myself, get myself off because the taste of him and the look on his face, stern and commanding and full of desire, was turning me inside out.
Because, yet again, there was power here. A power that was mine. The power to make this strong, harsh, beautiful man breathless with desire. So much so that he wanted to make me his for the night.
You want to be his for more than one night.
I pushed that thought away hard.
I didn’t have time to think about crap like that, not when his cock was in my mouth and the harsh sounds of his breathing filled the room.
‘This is getting you off, isn’t it?’ His voice was gravelly and ragged. ‘Sucking my cock is making my bad girl horny.’
I nodded frantically. I didn’t know why I just didn’t touch myself. Maybe because I wanted his permission—which was totally against everything I’d believed about myself, but then again, this whole evening was totally against everything I’d believed about myself.
That I’d be some man’s fuck toy. That he’d spank me then order me to suck him off and that I’d like it.
No, that I’d love it. Even find power in it.
Makes a difference when someone other than yourself is punishing you, right?
The thought was fleeting, gone before I had time to hold onto it, and then he abruptly pulled out of my mouth and I let out a helpless sound of loss.
He ignored me, reaching for one of the condom packets then ripping it open. With a lazy, practised movement that stole my breath completely away, he rolled the condom down. Then, before I could move, he leaned forward and pushed me down onto the floor onto my back.
Kneeling between my thighs, he gripped my hips, hauling my pelvis into his lap but leaving the rest of me lying on the floor, making my back arch.
He looked arrogantly down at my pussy and I couldn’t breathe as he rubbed the head of his cock through my slippery flesh a couple of times, teasing me. Then he fitted himself to the entrance of my body and, gripping my hips, thrust hard, watching all the while. I cried out, my sex throbbing as I felt myself part then clench around him.
The hard wood of the floor pressed against my spine, but I barely noticed. All I was aware of was the iron bar of his cock and the exquisite slide of it inside me, the deep, hard thrusts that had me crying out yet again.
Casually, he lifted a hand, his dark gaze watching where we were joined and his fingers found my clit, stroking me in time to his thrusts.
The orgasm crashed over me and I sobbed, writhing on the floor, arching up as he thrust harder, deeper.
He didn’t stop, the ragged sounds of masculine pleasure echoing around me in time to the sound of his flesh on mine and, before I knew it, another climax was building inside me again, bringing raw pleasure. Intense ecstasy.
I sobbed, his name pouring out of me. ‘Xander... God... Xander...’
‘You’ve been such a good girl.’ His voice was so dark, so rough. His hold on me was so tight it was going to leave bruises. ‘Such a good little fuck toy. I’m going to make you come again.’
‘I...can’t,’ I moaned.
‘Yes, you can,’ he said as if there was no doubt or argument. ‘Unless you want to say your word.’
No. Never.
I said nothing and he laughed, the sound as roughly erotic and deep as the feel of his cock inside me.
Then he didn’t talk any more, using his fingers as he fucked me, making me come yet again, sobbing and writhing on the floor.
And when he was done I felt him move harder, faster and, through the pleasure that was dragging me under, I heard him call my name. And then follow me into ecstasy.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Xander
I COULDN’T BREATHE, the effects of my orgasm squeezing my chest tight, squeezing all the air out of my lungs. My heartbeat thundered in my head and in that moment if anyone had asked me to perform a simple equation I wouldn’t have been able to do it. Even two plus three would have been an impossibility.
I wouldn’t have even known what numbers meant.
There was only Poppy, naked, her beautiful body stretched out in front of me, the curve of her butt resting in my lap, the rest of her arched back on the floor.
Perspiration shone on her bronzed body, her curves burnished and lit by the neon from the city lights outside. She had her eyes closed, thick, silky black lashes lying on her perfect cheekbones, her breathing harsh and ragged, echoing mine.
She felt tight and hot around my cock, her muscles still pulsing, and I wanted to keep going, to take her some more, but I’d used her hard so far already and she needed a break.
I didn’t question the urge that gripped me; I just went with it, pulling out of her and dealing with the condom. Then I gathered her up in my arms, nestling her soft weight and warmth against my chest.
Her head fell back on my shoulder and she looked up at me, her lovely eyes darkened and glazed with pleasure. She didn’t speak, but her smile made something start to thaw inside my chest that I hadn’t even realised was frozen.
I should have put her down then, put her down and walked the hell away, but I couldn’t. I just...couldn’t.
Instead I smiled back. ‘You okay?’
She made a deep, satisfied sound. ‘Oh, yeah. More than okay. I think you might have broken me a little though.’
‘I do aim to please.’
She reached up and touched my jaw, her fingers gentle, a casual intimacy that had my heart racing for some reason, that frozen piece of me thawing a little more. No one ever touched me like that. Just because they could, because they wanted to, as if touching me was a connection they needed.
My mother had died when I was small so I never had memories of her touch and my father wasn’t one for physical affection. He wasn’t one for affection
at all. No, if anyone touched me it was because they wanted sex. Nothing more.
I tried to ignore the way her fingertips felt like flames, searing my flesh, and concentrated on getting us into the en suite bathroom.
It had a huge white-tiled shower and I carefully put Poppy down on the side of the bath before going and turning it on. Then, while the water heated, I stripped.
She watched me, her eyes widening with obvious awe, and I wasn’t too proud to admit that I liked it. Liked that she liked what she saw.
‘Come on.’ I pulled her to her feet. ‘Let’s get you warm and clean.’
‘I am warm.’ Her voice was slightly husky. ‘And I’m not dirty either.’
But she didn’t protest as I ushered her underneath the warm water, giving a sensual little shiver as it cascaded over her, turning her hair into a skein of liquid black satin flowing down her back.
I picked up the bottle of shower gel and pumped some into my hands, then touched her smooth wet skin.
She groaned and leaned back into me as I ran my palms down her spine. ‘Oh, that feels good.’
There was something calming in taking control of her and there was something calming in taking care of her too, and for a moment I simply stopped thinking, consumed with the simple task of washing her beautiful body.
‘Why did you make my word seven?’ she asked sleepily after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.
The question took me by surprise, so much so that I found myself answering before I could think better of it. ‘It’s the name of a...dog I befriended when I was a kid. Seven was my lucky number.’
‘You had a pet?’
‘Seven wasn’t a pet. At least, she wasn’t mine. She was a stray.’ Small and white and ragged round the edges, she was a mongrel with bright black eyes. ‘She was afraid of people, but I managed to make friends with her.’ My small triumph. I’d never forgotten the way that dog had finally let me stroke her, after weeks of slowly gaining her trust.
I’d always wanted a pet. Something that was mine. A little sister. A friend. Someone. But Dad had kept me isolated because it had made me easier to control. Isolated even from my own brothers. That had changed when Ajax had first come to me when I was twenty and he’d told me those financial games I’d been playing were real. And that he needed my help to take Dad down.
It had taken us years to finally do it, but take him down we had, and we’d grown closer since then.
Even so, I still didn’t have anything that was mine. Nothing but money. That had always been enough in the past, yet now... Why did it feel like it wasn’t?
‘Oh, how sweet,’ Poppy murmured. ‘What happened to her?’
The thawing thing in my chest ached.
I slid my hands around Poppy, cupping her breasts in my palms, concentrating on the slippery warmth of her body rather than that goddamn ache. ‘Dad ran her over.’ I kept my voice level. ‘He didn’t like me being...distracted.’
Poppy stilled. ‘He ran her over?’ She sounded appalled.
I didn’t know why I kept talking. Maybe it was simply that I’d never told anyone about Seven before and I wanted to. ‘She disappeared one day. At first I thought she’d found a meal somewhere else, so I didn’t worry too much. But then a few more days went by and I decided to go looking for her.’ My hands slid over Poppy’s smooth skin. ‘I couldn’t find her and I thought maybe she’d moved on. And then, a couple of days after that, I was searching for something in Dad’s garage and I noticed that the front bumper of his car was bent. And when I looked closer, I saw a red stain.’ I took my hand from Poppy and rubbed absently at my chest, at the ache there, remembering the gut-punch of understanding that had hit me. ‘There was white fur in the treads of the tyre. Seven was white. And I knew.’
Poppy was still for a moment. Then she turned in my arms suddenly, her eyes dark with sympathy as they looked up into mine. ‘Oh, Xander...’
I shouldn’t have said anything more and yet I kept going. ‘Dad didn’t want me having friends. He refused to let me have a pet. Numbers were all he allowed me because they made him money.’
She leaned into me, her warmth sinking into my skin. ‘That’s awful. You must have been so lonely.’
I didn’t need or want her sympathy. It hurt for some reason.
‘She was just a dog,’ I said, dismissing the subject. ‘I got over it.’
But the words sounded hollow and I hated myself for saying them. Seven hadn’t been ‘just a dog’. She’d been the one thing I’d had—even so briefly—that was mine.
Poppy put her hands on my chest then spread them wide, her arms coming around me. Then she laid her head right over my heart, her wet hair soft against me. ‘It’s okay. I know what it feels like. I was lonely too.’
The simplicity of the confession felt like a blow, hitting me in a place I had no idea was vulnerable. I couldn’t help thinking back to the day Dad had brought Lily home to meet us, and there had been this little girl trailing in her wake. I’d been excited to meet her and the minute I laid eyes on her I’d wanted to make her my friend. She’d reminded me weirdly of Seven, the same wary, lost look in her gaze. So I’d smiled at her.
And she’d turned away, as if she couldn’t bear the sight of me.
The lost note in Poppy’s voice got to me, reached inside me and twisted hard.
‘I tried,’ I said hoarsely. ‘I wanted to be your friend, did you know that? When you first came to us, I was excited to have a little sister.’
There was silence, filled with the sound of rushing water.
Christ, I sounded pathetic. Like a kid.
Poppy turned her head then lifted it, looking up at me, a crease between her brows.
‘I’m sorry, Xander. I behaved...terribly over the years. I just... When I came to live with you and your family, I’d just lost my father. And Mum was very angry about it. She was angry with him for choosing to leave us and angry with me for... I dunno...being alive, I guess. She resented me in many ways.’
Poppy paused and looked down at my chest. Her hold on me shifted and she began to draw a small circle on my left pec.
‘She never wanted me. I was a mistake. And after Dad died I became this millstone around her neck. Losing him was awful and Mum made me promise to be good when we came to see you, because she needed Augustus and didn’t want me to give him any reason not to marry her.’
The movement of her finger slowed, the sparks of her touch echoing through me.
‘I guess I resented all of you. I wanted my dad, not another family. And then I saw you and...’ She stopped all of a sudden.
My chest was tight, the protectiveness inside me reaching out, wanting to enfold her, wrap her up, keep her safe. Show her that she was never a mistake and that she would never be lonely.
But, more than that, I wanted to know what she’d thought when she’d seen me.
I put a finger under her chin, tilting her head back. ‘You saw me and what?’
Her gaze was full of something I didn’t understand. ‘It sounds stupid, but you smiled at me and it was the first smile I’d had since Dad died. It made me feel...connected to you somehow. But I didn’t want it. I didn’t understand it.’ Her expression was full of regret. ‘I was afraid of it.’
The thawed piece of me ached, a raw, bruised feeling.
‘I wouldn’t have hurt you,’ I said thickly. ‘I would never have hurt you.’
‘I know you wouldn’t. But I was afraid and I’d lost my dad and I didn’t want a friend. Not right then. But even so I...couldn’t leave you alone. I was drawn to you and I hated it, resented it, and yet...’
So pointless. So fucking pointless. Not instinctive dislike after all, but the opposite. That was what it had been, all these years of enmity. That was all it had been. A neglected ten-year-old’s fear and an isolated fifteen-year-old’s inability to understand it
.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I’m so sorry, Xander. I didn’t mean to—’
I put my finger over her mouth, pressing into the softness. ‘No. No apologies. What’s done is done. We can’t go back. We can’t change it. All we can do is make sure things are different going forward.’
You need to tell her about her father.
The voice in my head was insistent, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to disturb this moment between us and I didn’t want to upset her. There had been too much of that already. And maybe that was selfish of me, but I didn’t care.
I wanted to make her feel good, not rip her world apart. There would be a better, more appropriate moment but that moment wasn’t now.
She blinked up at me then murmured against my finger, ‘And how will things be different going forward?’
A night. That was what I’d told myself. One night to have her as mine and no more. But...what if that wasn’t enough?
It won’t be and you already know that.
I also knew that there were many reasons why it shouldn’t be more than one night too. The fact that she was my stepsister—though, to be honest, I didn’t give a shit about that kind of scandal. But my role in her father’s death? Yes, I gave a shit about that. It made all the things I wanted to do to her even more wrong.
Except... I couldn’t shake the thought of what having her like this for more than one night would feel like. If she was mine for maybe another night, or two, or three. Or even a week...
The idea made me burn.
‘How different do you want them to be?’ I traced the curve of her bottom lip, unable to stop touching her, indulging myself.
‘I want them to be like...this.’ Her gaze searched mine. ‘Like what we had tonight. You punishing me then taking care of me. Me giving you pleasure. Being yours.’
Relief spread through me, along with a deep spike of satisfaction. And even though I knew it was wrong I also knew that I wasn’t going to refuse her. I couldn’t. She wanted this and so did I so...why not? If we both knew what we were getting ourselves into, no one would get hurt.
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