She squirms lightly as he leaves a trail of kisses along her belly, gentle touches that tickle the skin in orchestral flushes, before moving slowly towards the swollen, elevated plumpness of her perfect breasts.
He manoeuvres around the puckered skin of her left nipple in kisses so delicate they barely touch her, stopping briefly to tease the tumescent nub of toughened flesh into his mouth, to explore it's ridged and bobbled edges with the sensitive tip of his tongue.
Sash moans lightly as he moves towards the patch of skin above, that forms the meeting point of her breast bone and clavicle, and in there, where the dimpled hole disappears into a dark shadow, he leaves a series of secrets that Sash hopes will bind their forbidden love forever.
Sash tilts her head back, the sensation all too exquisite to bear.
She lifts his head up and kisses him. A long, passionate, necessary kiss of lips and tongues and bites and smiles that neither of them wants to break. Afterwards, when they feel like they've caught up just enough for now, she makes him kick his legs out and lie on top of her, so his weight pushes her into the mattress.
Like this they tessellate.
This is her stepbrother, her forbidden taboo. They are not meant to be together, but here they are again, sharing the same bed, sharing the same desires and the same wonderful conclusion. Her mind is filled with doubt, and a million unanswered questions, but as she feels the wonderful contentment of sleep begin to pull her under, she's more than happy to enjoy what she knows she definitely has now, and leave the rest to deal with in the morning.
As she turns, she makes sure Dante turns with her, his cock already hardening again against her leg.
"Slowly this time. I'm still mad at you for what you did."
Dante trails the tips of his fingers over the length of Sash's torso, from her outer thigh up to her shoulder.
"I'll make it up to you. I promise."
"Fuck me until I fall asleep in your arms, and then we'll talk about how you can make it up to me tomorrow. Remember you're already three years in debt."
"Ok", Dante agrees, closing in on her hungrily.
"And this one", Sash is careful to add, as she draws her knees up to her chest. "This one you get for free."
Chapter 7
The knock on the front door rouses her slowly from a deep and restful sleep, the sound belonging for a confusing moment to the cloudiness of her dream. When she realizes it's not going to go away, she forces herself awake. There is a moment of dawning realization, before the memory of last night comes back to her and she knows something is wrong. Turning quickly, she sees the bed is empty next to her. Dante has gone.
"No. no, no, no,no, not this time."
She looks under the bed, around it, in the shower, but he's not there.
"Fuck."
Where the fuck is he? She can't believe she's let him in again so easily, only to have him turn around and run out.
"Fuck."
She bangs her fists on the bed. She can't believe it. She can't believe he's gone. She can't believe she's been this stupid.
The knocking continues. Rhythmic taps on the panels of the door that show no sign of going away. Sash gets out of bed and pulls on her clothes. There is nothing else she can do but go on.
Martin presses his nose up to the viewing hole, hoping to catch sight of Sash through the spiraling darkness. When she opens the door quickly, he almost topples forwards into the room.
"Martin."
She half hoped it would be Dante.
Martin rushes to compose himself, running fat fingers through thinning hair. He's out of breath too, which is remarkable, considering the short distance he has to travel to get to her flat from his.
"Sorry to disturb you. I thought you might be sleeping."
In her haste to get to the door, Sash has forgotten about the mess they made of the living room last night. Realizing it now, she tries as best as she can to block it from view.
"I was."
"Did you have a party last night?"
Martin tries to peer round her, as though doing so is part of his remit as a landlord. "I heard noises. Banging. The walls were shaking."
"There was a cockroach", Sash lies. "I had to turn the living room upside down to find it."
"A cockroach?"
"A cockroach. A big ugly cockroach. It got away as well, but when I find him, I'm going to kill him."
"That's unusual."
Martin is clearly not entirely convinced by her story.
"Look, anyway, Martin, how can I help?"
"It's the end of the week. I need the rent money, Sash, otherwise I'm going to have to call the police."
"You don't need to call the police. I've got it here."
"I don't want to do it, but I've got no choice, I'm sure you'll understand. This is-."
"Just wait there."
Sash closes the door on him before he's even finished his sentence.
Frantically she searches for her coat, finding it eventually by the side of the couch. Expecting to find the money in the hip pocket, she's confused to find it empty. She checks the other one, but it's not there either. It's not in her bag, on the floor to the side, or the million and one other places she rushes around her apartment to search in.
She calls Dante's mobile but it goes straight to his answer phone, and when she phones his office it just rings out.
"Fuck", she screams.
When she opens the door again, Martin doesn't look like he's moved.
"-Serious now", he says, finishing the same sentence Sash cut off, as though the movement of the door might have acted as a pause button.
"I don't have it."
Sash begins to cry. "I had it, but I don't have it now. I'll get it. I promise I'll get it, just give me another day or so."
Suddenly she realizes she's not hiding the crime scene behind her anymore, and Martin is looking at her, and it, with concern.
"I'm sorry Sash. I've been more than reasonable."
"Martin, please. Just until the end of the day."
Martin shakes his head. "No. Time's up Sash. I want you out of here by six. Either you go alone or the police escort you."
"Martin, please", Sash cries, but Martin has already begun to shift his immense bulk into a turn. Getting him to come back and change his mind would be like trying to change the course of an oil tanker. She's fucked.
Back in the apartment, she screams at the top of her voice, kicks one of the fallen paper back books against the far wall and then crumples into the sofa.
"Dante", she screams out loud, shaking her head in disbelief. "Where the fuck are you?"
She can't believe it. Not only has he tricked her into fucking him for the very first time, claiming something she would never give him the first time around, he's taken the money she needed to pay her rent.
Fucking ass-hole.
Sash folds herself over so she's lying down on the couch. With her hand on her belly, she remembers the incredible fuck he gave her last night, that almost brought the whole house down. She remembers the kisses he left on her clavicle, and the delicate way he held her and fucked her to sleep. What she can't understand is why he'd do that only to then fuck her over again.
Did he just want what she couldn't give him the first time around? Was that it?
Most of all, she remembers the way he came inside her, and the fact that it didn't even occur to him to ask her whether she was on the pill.
Typical fucking Dante.
She wonders whether he would have continued anyway, if he knew for a fact that she wasn't. It doesn't matter now. It could be growing inside her already, and there would be nothing either of them could do to stop it.
Despite the fact he's fucked her and fucked off, and Sash feels cheated again, she's certain that if it's already begun, there is no way he'll be able to refuse her. The words feel heavy and unfamiliar on her lips.
"Baby", she says, just to hear them spoken aloud.
She shakes them away and feels st
upid for saying it. The idea won't leave her though. She imagines herself confessing them to him, having him hear the words and then holding the thing out to him and getting him take it.
"It isn't that weird", she says out loud now. "It wouldn't be the first time I've dreamt it."
###
Giving My Billionaire Stepbrother A Baby 1
Giving My Billionaire Stepbrother A Baby 2
Giving My Billionaire Stepbrother A Baby 3
Giving My Billionaire Stepbrother A Baby 4
Giving My Billionaire Stepbrother A Baby 5
Tempest: A Stepbrother Romance Part 1
Stephanie Brother
© 2015 Stephanie Brother
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author's imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
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About This Book:
When filthy rich businessman Philip Mandrake De Vries collapses, his gold-digging wife, Alexis, believes receiving his substantial inheritance will be nothing more than a formality.
The arrival of the mysterious and drop-dead gorgeous Leighton Tempest seems destined to complicate things, however.
Leighton comes to pay his respects for the dying man, but hides a secret that could have a devastating effect on the whole family.
Whatever happens, Leighton won’t leave until he’s got what he wants. And when Leighton decides he wants something, there is little that can stand in his way.
This is part 1 of a multi-part series. Part 2 is already written and will be released a week from publication of this title.
BONUS! Free copy of Part 1 of Giving My Billionaire Stepbrother A Baby with each purchase. (The link is contained at the end of the document).
***
Leighton Tempest. Even his name made him sound super-human. Dark eyebrows that perfectly lined stormy, brooding eyes. Lips that didn’t so much beg to be kissed, as demand it, for the sake of humanity. A torso so perfect it looked like it had been chiseled out of stone by a renaissance artist and then brought to life by some visiting deity, only it was somehow better than that. Somehow more perfect than perfection itself.
Then there was his cock, which only the privileged few got access to, and had to be seen to be believed, and his bank balance, of course, which was just as large, and just as exclusive. Esmeralda had heard all of the rumors before she became one of the privileged members, and the rumors turned out to be more accurate than she could possibly have imagined.
Continue reading the series:
Tempest: A Stepbrother Romance Part 2
Tempest: A Stepbrother Romance Part 3
Tempest: A Stepbrother Romance Part 4
Chapter 1
He had been lying face down, hand still gripped around the stem of a crystal glass that contained the remnants of a 1962 chateau petrus, eyes glassy and lips glossed with coughed up blood for over an hour. Alexander, the faithful family hound was the first on the scene, perhaps too faithful to do anything other than lie next to the motionless man as though assigned there for guard duty.
Pandora, Philip's eldest stepdaughter, was the one to eventually break the news to the staff, some time after she’d realized, somewhat disappointingly, that although her filthy rich stepfather may have been temporarily indisposed, he wasn’t quite fully dead yet. Pretending she hadn’t found him at all was something that repeatedly crossed her mind as she was googling on her smart phone how to check for a pulse.
It took thirty minutes for the private ambulance to make it’s way to the vast estate on the edge of the Chesapeake river, two minutes of which was spent negotiating the ambling drive. When they lifted him into the back of the modified car to cart him away at high speed to one of Baltimore’s top facilities, Philip had regained consciousness momentarily, but remained completely confused. Pandora, Isabelle and Gracey watched on with varying levels of concern, their mother a darkened shadow in the upstairs window, too involved in something she deemed far more important to come down and wave him goodbye. Alexander watched the ambulance disappear, whimpered, and then curled up at Gracey’s feet.
“About time”, Pandora said, before the ambulance had even got out of sight.
“Good riddance”, Isabella said and put her arm around her sister.
“Come on Alexander”, Gracey said, and led the dog inside.
***
Philip Mandrake de Vries was a very rich man. He was also a very fat man, and took up a huge amount of the specially converted, privately ordered double bed he was now lying in.
After regaining consciousness for the briefest of moments to see his stepdaughters standing in a row, framed by the back window of the car he was confused to find himself lying in, he slipped once again into unconsciousness, from which he hadn’t yet had the presence of mind to return from.
Several hours had passed. Philip had been hooked up to various different machines and a pantheon of very expensive and mostly unnecessary tests had been run on him. The results? Largely inconclusive. Philip had suffered a heart attack, and a stroke of some kind, he had swelling on the brain, and he’d broken a tooth and bruised a rib in the fall. They didn’t know why he wasn’t waking up, nor what might happen to him if he did. They were, what they affectionately called in their circles, playing the patient game. The longer he stayed alive, of course, the more value he was to them. A corpse in a private hospital is only a good earner until the men in black coats come along to cart him away to the cemetery, after, of course, all necessary posthumous tests have been carried out. A patient, and a patient in a coma furthermore, was a constant source of monetary donation. A well of giving, if you will. It was in their interests to be vague with the tests and even vaguer with the truth. It was nothing more than what was expected, especially at this level of care.
Philip’s wife, Alexis, a former pageant queen who currently divided her time between cosmetic surgery enhancements, magazine reading and alcoholism, had decided, if this indeed was going to be the last breath her husband was going to draw, that she ought to be there alongside him to watch it and make absolutely sure. Pandora and Isabella felt the same. Gracey was perhaps the only one amongst them who felt any kind of anything but resentment for her recently incapacitated stepfather.
Philip was not a well liked man amongst his household, but as I’ve already said, he was a very rich man, and in the lives of the women that surrounded him, money talked a lot louder than anything else.
After sitting for a while to try and gauge just by looking at him whether the man that held the key to a possible future fortune for her was going to die before dinner time, Pandora gave up and went to find a qualified opinion. If the good looking doctor couldn’t give her that, she thought she’d try and see if he wanted to give her something else instead.
Gracey held her stepfather’s hand. He hadn't always been there for her, but she certainly didn’t hate him for it in the same way her sisters seemed to. Being there at all was a start, and besides which, Philip had only just recently promised to put her through University after the summer, which was something he never did for the other girls. That in itself was worth sitting beside him while he convalesced, hoping he would get better to make good his word.
“Do you think he’ll pull through?” Isabella asked, her eyes going instinctively to her mothers in the absence of her older sister.
“I hope not”, Alexis bemoaned. She dug into her handbag and fished around for her cigarettes
. “I don’t think I could take the disappointment.”
“Mom!”
Isabella’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment. She may have been feeling it, but she didn’t quite have the balls to say it.
“What?”
Alexis held her thin arms up in defense.
“How can you be so cruel?”, Gracey complained. “He’s right here.”
Alexis rolled her eyes and put a cigarette to her lips.
“Oh I know where he is alright, you can hardly miss him.”
“You know, maybe it’s best for everyone”, Isabella interjected, her eyes going quickly again to her mother’s for appraisal. “You know if he-. I mean, he’s not always been the-”
Alexis nodded. “I’d turn off the machine right now if I could”, she said, filling in where her daughter failed to find the words.
“The machine isn’t keeping him alive”, Gracey noted with disdain.
“I’d still turn it off”, Alexis retorted. “It might help.”
“It’s a monitor. It monitors his vital signs.”
“How do you know so much about this anyway, little miss clever clogs?”
Alexis lit her cigarette, took a deep pull and blew a large smoke cloud out over the bed.
“Mom”, Gracey complained, waving the smoke away. “You can’t smoke in here.”
“If I’m paying for the room, I can do whatever the hell I like in here.”
“Somehow I doubt that”, Gracey said, but quiet enough she hoped for her mother not to hear.
“You think by sitting beside him and mopping his brow like some little goody two shoes you’ll somehow make your way into his will?”
A stack of ash fell onto the bed by Philip’s feet.
“Let me tell you something, darling”, Alexis intoned, leaning over and squashing her surgically enhanced tits against her knees, her smoking hand up for emphasis. “When this fat, horrible man is gone, and Lord knows I hope it’s soon, all of that delicious money will be coming to me. Do you know why? Because I’ve earned it.”
Max: A Stepbrother Romance Page 9