Jacinda grabs her tank top and tears it off. Her bra, leopard printed and a size too small, barely contains her slightly swollen breasts. Dane takes one of them into his hand, lifting it and then letting it fall. He watches as the surface moves like a body of water disturbed by a soft breeze, rippling and then slowing down again.
If he were lucid, he might come to realize that the aphrodisiac doesn't only affect the person using it. It affects the object of their desire, who responds to their sexuality with desire of their own. Dane bites his bottom lip as he peels down the cup holding in her right breast, revealing a dark brown nipple standing at attention.
His pale fingers take hold of the nub, pulling it out towards him. He moans as he twists it, enjoying the silky feeling of her skin. Pulling the other cup down, he reaches behind her and unclasps the bra entirely. They both let it fall to the floor before Dane takes both breasts in his hand, smooshing them together. Burying his face in them, he moans again. She smells like cherry perfume.
Her Daddy's lips flutter against her skin, making a trail down to one of her nipples. She arches her back, giving him an easier angle. His mouth opens, his tongue slithering around her skin. He wants her, badly.
He pushes on her chest, forcing her to lay back. Her breasts pool on her chest in such a beautiful way that he admires her for a few moments before tugging at her pants.
Pressing her feet against the edge of the table, she lifts up her ass to help him get her pants off. With them, her panties come off too. Both are thrown on the floor next to her bra and she's pulled back up. Their lips meet, pressing softly against each other. And then, harder. Their tongues dart in and out, playfully dancing and sliding against teeth.
Dane picks Jacinda up and pulls her closer to the edge. Her naked, hot body leaves ephemeral marks on the table. Spreading her legs wide, she allows his hand to press into her warm, silky folds. His fingers slither up and down before settling on her stiff clitoris. It throbs with desire. His own cock throbs, too, though it's still confined by his pants.
“Do you want me inside of you?”
Jacinda looks up, her eyes wild. “What do you think? Fuck me! Fuck me now, fill up your daughter's cunt!”
In a flash, Dane unzips his pants and lets them drop to the floor. He pushes his boxers down just enough to free his 9 inch beast before slapping it against her clit. “I'm going to fuck you until you scream,” he growls. His meat is hot against her folds. He rubs it up and down her slit, using it to stimulate her.
Jacinda arches her back, wrapping her legs around Dane. She tried to pull him into her, but he resists. Dane wants to tease her.
The cock rubbing against her slit has her writhing and shaking. As if he knows that she's about to have a breakdown if he doesn't fuck her, he finally pushes himself in, going past her folds and into her delicious cunt.
“Oh, god, YES!” She yells. He bends over and wraps an arm around her mouth.
“You don't want the others to hear, do you?”
“Let them hear,” she says, though the words are muffled. Having his hand against her mouth is only turning her on more, her eyes rolling back as he thrusts deep into her and pulls back out. Her pussy grasps at his cock, squeezing it, milking it.
“Where do you want me to cum?” He asks, taking his hand away from her mouth. He has an answer he wants.
“In me. I want your cum inside of me, Daddy!”
“Good answer,” he says with a grunt. He fucks her so hard that her tits start bouncing with each movement, up and down, her brown skin looking delicious in the lighting. He grabs one of them and squeezes, enjoying the soft feeling of the globules.
Then his hands wrap around her wide hips, pulling her in closer to him. She gasps, and then opens her legs wider. His balls slap against her ass as he fucks her like a wild animal in heat.
“Harder! Harder, harder, fuck me harder!” She begs, bucking her hips with his movement. Dane's going to cum soon if he doesn't slow down, but if she wants harder, he'll give her harder.
With his cock pumping in and out of her black pussy, he wraps a hand around her neck and cuts off her ability to breathe. Her eyes roll back as her mouth opens wide, but she doesn't claw at his wrist to stop him. No, instead, she cums, her juices spilling onto Dane's cock and rolling down his thighs. Then, she cums again. Her pussy spasms and twitches, which only pushes him closer to his own orgasm.
He moves a little bit faster, his strong as powering him in and out of her cunt. He lets up to let her catch her breath, then presses down on her throat again. With one more orgasm from her, he explodes deep within her, coating her inner walls with his spunk. Each spurt moves Jacinda closer to her fourth orgasm, her body a twitching, gasping mess as he lets go of her throat.
He pulls out of her, but he's still hard and he wants more of her body. He spreads her legs and buries his face into her mound, eating his own cum from her slit. As it oozes out of her hole, he laps it up and then focuses his attention on her clit. She lays her legs over his shoulders, and with each orgasm she presses them against his head, holding him still.
“Please, I can't take anymore! I'm too sensitive!”
But Dane doesn't stop. He licks her to two more orgasms. And then, when he's satisfied with that and his cock is painfully hard again, he grabs her hips and forces her to flip over.
Her big ass in the air just begs to be slapped. His hand comes down hard on her skin. She gasps and tries to move away, but he holds her still and slaps her ass again. Then, he spreads her butt cheeks and spits on the small hole.
“You're going to fuck my ass? Oh, baby, that's so hot!”
He presses his cock against her sphincter and slowly eases it in. She's tight, almost painfully tight, but he's bound and determined to fuck her shitter. “You ever done this before?”
“No,” she squeals, her hands balled up into fists.
“Good.” He thrusts the last few inches into her and then pulls out. The first few thrusts are painful for both of them, but then a switch goes off and her ass relaxes, and Dane is finally able to pick up speed.
He pumps his cock in and out of her ass, reaching over to grab her hair and pull it. Her face turns, and he reaches over and inserts two fingers into her mouth. He pulls on her cheek, painfully wrenching her face up. She looks at him, and even though it's painful and degrading she loves it. She wants more of it.
Her ass twerks against him, fucking him as much as he's fucking her. With one more grunt, Dane shoots another load into her ass.
“Ffffuuuck yeah!” He yells, slapping her ass cheek one more time. She moans as he slides out of her with a 'pop!'
She stands up, blushing and scared.
“How do you feel?”
“Almost normal,” she says, staring at the ground. He pulls her in for a hug, her naked body still a pleasure for him to feel. Her skin is so soft.
“Having orgasms might make it wear off faster. After you calm down a little bit, we'll go another round.”
3 MONTHS LATER
“Do you have the papers for the children's hospital?”
Jacinda spins in her chair, her lab coat draped dramatically over her. “Yes, it's on your desk already, Dane.” She smiles and winks, and the older man comes into her office and closes the door.
“We still on for tonight?”
“Of course. What do you want me to wear, Daddy?”
“Absolutely nothing. But see if you can pick up some rope from the hardware store tonight. We're going to need it.”
Jacinda raises and eyebrow as Dane winks at her. He turns to leave as she raises her hand to wave a goodbye. The sunlight streaming in from her office window catches the surface of a diamond ring resting on her beautiful, dark mahogany skin.
Tempt Me
Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Novel
Ivanna Roze
Chapter One
Sometimes, people ask what my earliest childhood memory is. I lie.
I should have earlier memories. I should have memories
of when I was really little, of my time in elementary school. Of what my life was like when I was really little, of getting to know my family.
My most powerful memory, the first one that comes to mind when I think, wasn't until I was fourteen years old. I don't know what is wrong with me. I know most people remember plenty before they were fourteen. Not me.
I just remember two things about that day. I remember watching Eric step through the door, his broad shoulders framed in the outside light, the house still dark. I'd gotten up to get a drink of water before I went back to sleep.
I remember watching him, not being able to say anything because I'd wake everyone up, and I remember being terrified that I would get yelled at if I did. He didn't look back, and he didn't see me standing there.
Which was a good metaphor for our entire relationship, because the other thing that I remember is that I was hopelessly in love with him at the time.
I don't know how old I was when his Dad married my Mom. Mom has told me so many different ages that I don't know which to believe. Some time between ninety-five and ninety-seven. Probably closer to ninety-five. They had a short relationship before they were married.
I think Eric's Dad thought he needed a mother. Mom… well, I don't have to guess, but I shouldn't think such awful things about her, either. I'm sure that she doesn't realize what she's doing until it's too late, but she's never been in any relationship that wasn't "serious."
I was fourteen years old, and at the same time I knew that I wasn't supposed to be thinking about my brother like that. Blood-related or not, he was completely off-limits. Like. Not even part of the conversation. You don't tell your friends "well, there's this one guy, he's my brother."
So I don't think he knew, and I know I sure as hell didn't talk to anyone about it, not so you'd know who I was talking about.
But when he left, I just remember feeling like my heart was getting ripped out of my chest.
Nothing before that feels like a real memory. Just little flashes, but nothing that makes good sense. Nothing with real context. A few teachers' faces. I don't know their names. Can't put them in order. Couldn't tell you something I learned from them.
But that image of Eric walking out my Mom's front door, the morning sun just hitting the horizon and shooting pink-colored lights around him, that I remember well.
More than that, I remember how, when everyone else was up—I couldn't go back to sleep after that, could I?—I couldn't get anyone to tell me what had happened.
It wasn't something that they wanted to talk to me about.
There are things I know now, that I didn't know then. Things I understand that I didn't understand at the time. That's how it always is, really. There's always something that you don't know until it's too late.
I learned that just because two people say they love each other, that doesn't mean that they're going to be together forever.
Mom had assured me a thousand times over that she loved Dad. That wasn't how it worked out. In fact, after Eric left, it seemed like it was only a matter of time. Something had changed, however small, and then it just got bigger as time went on, until they couldn't ignore it any more.
I learned that Mom was prone to mistakes. Later, I learned that I'd been the one making a mistake—Mom's mistakes were always the sort of mistakes you can avoid with the radical technique of 'not looking for trouble.'
I learned that fairy tale romances aren't real. My Mom taught me about everything anyone could ever want to know, and I guess for all that I think about her, I guess I have to thank her for that.
Without her little lessons, I wouldn't have toughened up. I wouldn't have the understanding I do now, of the world and of how to get by in it. I wouldn't be where I am today.
So it doesn't change how I feel, but she's right about one thing. I should feel bad for her. She didn't want to be a walking disaster, and she didn't want to chase every man in her life away.
She didn't want to chase the only man in my young, fourteen-year-old world away.
It was just how she was. The question then became, how far was I willing to carry that anger, and when you put it that way, the answer became much clearer.
She wasn't. No reason to suffer for nothing, just to be self-righteous. Mom would get what she deserved, or she wouldn't.
But I'm not going to carry a torch for it. The damage is already done, and I learned an important lesson in the process. Don't put yourself in positions to get hurt. Don't trust anyone unless you know how to get yourself out of the situation.
Look at the details. Think about solutions, rather than problems. My solution is right in my hands. A letter of recommendation, stacked on top of a resume that is as good as any can be, coming straight out of school.
So I should probably have earlier memories of my life. I should probably have lots of things.
I should probably have a real Mom. I should probably have some faith in Dad. He's doing his best. I'm sure that Eric's dad did, too.
I should probably have an apartment in the city, if I'm going to be working here. I should probably have a metro pass.
But I don't. I have an older sister that I have to take care of on occasion. It's a reality I have to deal with.
Dad's going to keep the relationship going as long as he can. He's been working hard at it for the past five years, and he's got the patience of a saint. Even a saint has to break at some point, and Mom has a unique gift for breaking folks.
Apartments are expensive, and I would never admit it out loud but I have no idea where I'm supposed to buy a metro pass. Which I guess covers everything.
I swallow hard. I've got the interview in the bag. It's not going to be a problem. The letter of recommendation should do a lot. The fact that I've got a special interview, that I was introduced and I'll be speaking to the head Partner, rather than some HR department goon…
Those things are all acting in my favor. So there's nothing to freak out about.
But my oldest memory is one of having my entire world shattered, and since then, I've had to get used to one thing:
No matter how bad things seem, they can always get worse. Be prepared to be disappointed, because you always will be.
I flip through my papers one more time. As if they will have gotten themselves out of order in the past five minutes, since I sat down. They're all in order.
A woman's head pops out from the other side of the door. She's got silky-smooth red hair that mirrors my own. It's rare that I run into red-heads, but he's got one working as his secretary.
I'm not above letting a man hire me because he thinks I'm attractive. Another bonus.
"Miss Logan?"
"Yes?"
She smiles and steps through the door. She's got a nice body. I feel a little jealousy simmering, as if there were some sort of 'law of the jungle' that said no woman could be any better-looking than I am. "Mr. Warren will see you now."
Chapter Two
I don't know what I was expecting when she came in. Len had a solid head on his shoudlers, and he had a wit that couldn't be beat. He'd have made a great trial lawyer if that had been what he'd wanted.
Hell, maybe he had been a great trial lawyer, once. It's difficult to say, because as long as I've known him, he's been teaching.
The other thing I know is about his weakness for attractive women. A particular weakness, and particularly strong in him.
So when someone named "Autumn" came across my desk, it was hard to know if I was getting Len, the legal genius, the argumentative son of a bitch who wouldn't give an inch even past the point where the argument was belabored, or if I was getting Len who regularly slept with available young women who needed a solid GPA more than they needed a solid reputation.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, of course, the idea wasn't totally foreign. Autumn isn't a common name, after all. How many 'Autumn's are there in the world? A hundred thousand? How many in the country?
Not many. Not as many as there are Sarahs, or Jackies, or
Ellens. But plenty. So while the idea that it might be that Autumn had occurred to me the minute that he'd made the call, I'd dismissed it.
Obviously it wasn't her. What were the odds, really? One-in-a-hundred or less.
Then she walked through the door. Her hair was still the same fire-red, a loose braid pulled forward over one shoulder. There were differences, too. Very big differences. Two of them at least.
Natural differences between a fourteen-year-old girl and a grown woman. She walks like a woman, and I can't help watching her do it.
I wonder idly as she settles into the seat across from me whether or not to tell her I know who she is. Part of me wants to think that I knew before, but I didn't. The last name sealed the deal, it definitely wasn't her.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Logan."
"Mr. Warren. Beautiful day, isn't it?"
She's looking out the window. It's large and behind me and it shines light in the face of whoever's sitting across from me, and I like it that way.
"Absolutely beautiful. Len Carson tells me that you're his brightest student. His star pupil. Is that right?"
She blushes at the praise, her pale skin darkening deep to a color almost approximating her hair.
"I don't know about that…"
I don't know if I'm frowning. It's been a long time since I've practiced any of these expressions in a mirror, but I give her my stoniest expression.
"I don't need modesty, Miss Logan. I need talented people."
"I have distinguished myself well. I don't think that any of my classmates would disagree that I've stood out."
"Good."
She's playing the professional. Of course, so did her mother, when she wanted to. She was all goodness and righteousness, when it was convenient for her. Yet, when it wasn't, or when she didn't want to fake it any more, she could become a completely different person.
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