by Celia Aaron
“Good girl.”
“Mmm,” she purred.
“I have another reward for you, if you want it.” Shit. Even I could hear the sudden nervousness in my tone.
She snuggled in closer to me. “Yes.”
I schooled my voice so I didn’t sound like a bumbling fool. “Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?”
She pulled back and held my gaze. “But you’ve never wanted to sleep in the bed with me before.”
My heart stopped for a moment on the thought she would deny me.
“Well,” I cleared my throat, “I’m offering now. If you want to, if it’s something you’d be interested in, if it would please you, you can—”
She stopped my mouth with her lips before murmuring “yes.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sadie Lorenz
The next morning I had my pussy perched above his face at 9 a.m. on the dot. He had me crying out his name in only minutes. The way he touched me, licked me, it was as if he relished every last bit of me.
We even spoke over our actual breakfast, telling each other about classes, friends, even jobs. It was like we were normal – except for him owning me body and soul for a week. After we cleaned up the dishes and made out a little more, he had to return to the university to work for a few hours. He’d told me to be ready for him at 4 p.m.
This time, I was going to set a fucking timer and be kneeling naked by the front door just as he’d said. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the cane, though. The pain he’d inflicted pushed me to the breaking point, but the loving way he’d handled me afterward brought me back. Or maybe I did break after all and he’d put me back together by snuggling me into his arms and sleeping with me the whole night through.
He could be so tender at times, so harsh at others.
Our week was coming to an end. It was already half over. I felt relieved that my mother would never find out, but also wondered what I would do about Gray after that time. He would still be my stepbrother. I would still see him, have to interact with him. What would that be like after we’d spent a week like this?
Before he’d left for work, he’d handed me a familiar backpack and told me to “look the part” when he returned. I sank down onto the sofa and sipped my coffee before opening the pack. Inside I found a pair of my stripper heels, a club outfit, and my platinum wig. I smiled. He wanted a dance? I’d give him one he never forgot.
***
I heard a car door slam at 4 p.m. on the dot. I was already kneeling by the front door. I’d done as he’d said, donning my heels, g-string, red open cup bra, and flimsy top, as well as my wig. I wore heavy eyeliner, false lashes, and painted my lips a bright crimson. My club look.
He unlocked the door and strode in. When his eyes lighted on me, a smirk took over his face. Beautiful, almost cruel, and absolutely sexy.
“Do you want a dance, mister?” I looked at him through my lashes.
“Yes, please.” He ran a hand over the solidifying bulge in his pants and offered me his hand. I took it and stood.
He devoured my body with his eyes, leaving no curve or thread untouched from his perusal. He whistled as he walked in a circle around me. “I don’t know if I can afford a dance from a girl like you.”
I blushed and looked down. “How much you got?”
He stopped in front of me and dug his wallet from his pocket. He grabbed every bill he had and held them out to me.
“That’ll do,” I said and pulled the side of my g-string away so he could tuck the money in.
His fingers were shaking as he placed the warm bills against my skin.
I took his hand and led him to the living room before pushing him down onto the sofa.
I bent over in front of him and picked up the remote from the ottoman and hit the music. A deep, hard beat started playing. My song. My rhythm.
His hands found my hips.
I whirled. “No touching, sir. This isn’t that sort of club.”
He yanked his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out credit cards, flicking them at me until they littered the ground around me. “Spend all you want, Sasha. Max them out and spend some more. I don’t care.”
I put my finger to my chin, as if I was thinking about it. “Well, for you, I think I can break the rules this one time.”
He leaned back and unbuckled his belt.
I knelt between his legs. “No, sir, let me.” I unzipped him and reached in to pull out his length. He was so hard that my pussy gushed at the sight. I blew on the head before standing back up and admiring him, dick out and ready. He put a hand on himself but didn’t stroke. Not yet.
I swayed my hips to the beat, back and forth in front of him. Then I turned around and stepped up on the leather ottoman. It would be my stage for the evening.
I dropped low and shimmied back up. I danced for him and him alone, seducing him with every turn, twirl, and shake. I wanted him desperate for me. I turned toward him and undid the yellow ribbon holding my top on. His eyes were glued to my every movement. I loved the feel of his rapt attention. I teased him by almost opening the top, then not. He glared at me as his hand slowly worked his cock.
When I whipped off the fabric so that all was left was my tits in the open cup bra, he let go of his cock and closed his eyes.
“You’re going to make me come by just looking at you, Sasha.”
I spun around and bent over. His eyes flew open and focused on the pink triangle of fabric between my thighs. “Well, you did pay for the best, sir.”
“Show me,” he grated.
I reached between my thighs and pushed the drenched fabric aside so he could look right at my pussy. He groaned and gripped his cock again.
I stripped the g-string completely off, rolling it down my legs slowly and stepping out of it. I stepped down from the ottoman and lay against him, just like old times. When my ass hit his bare cock, he hissed in a breath.
I began to work, rubbing his thick head and hot shaft with my ass. Instead of fisting his hands at his sides like he did at the club, he ran them up to my tits and squeezed as I worked him. He was doing what I’d always hoped for at the club, breaking the rules. My pussy was already clenching, the heat from him making my stomach tighten and my clit hyper aware of my folds rubbing against it.
“These tits were made for fucking,” he said in my ear.
“Yes, sir. The customer’s always right.”
“Get up and bend over, Sasha.”
I rose and put my hands flat on the ottoman. My hooker heels made sure my ass was up in the air, the perfect height for him. He stood and fisted his length, walking to me and rubbing his head against my hot, wet skin. He slid home and I gasped, my pussy clenching around him as he sank all the way inside.
“That’s it, take it all.” He reared back and slammed into me. His fingers dug into my hips as he punished me with hard, fast strokes.
I’d driven him over the edge, finally made him lose control. I licked my fingers and reached down to stroke my clit, enjoying every surge of him inside me, every jarring impact and the slapping sounds of skin on skin.
My clit was so sensitive that it only took a few moments of my strokes to send me hurtling, careening out of control before I erupted into a million sparks. I came screaming his name like a cheap whore, unable to stop myself.
A few more hard thrusts and he pulled out with a loud groan. I felt hot spurts of cum lashing across my back, my ass, my pussy.
“Fuck!” he bit out as the final wave of heat splashed against me.
I heard something, something that wasn’t in the deep beat of the song. Something metallic. Like a lock clicking over.
I looked up toward the front door. A man entered and then my mother. I stood straight up.
“Shit,” Gray bit out and hastily wiped my back frantically with his sleeve.
“The man took one step, saw me, and said in a voice I recognized, “Sasha?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gray Elliot
&nb
sp; I stepped in front of Sadie to shield her from my father’s eyes.
Wait, did he just call her Sasha?
“What is going on here?” Phoebe dropped her designer bag and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head.
I realized my dick was hanging out, so I zipped up.
“What is Sasha doing here?” my father asked.
“Who’s Sasha?” Phoebe asked.
“She’s a stri—” My father stopped himself in time. “She’s a student at the university. I, uh, I thought this girl was her, but I guess it’s not.”
“No, this is my daughter, Sadie.” Her eyes adjusted to the darker room and she blinked hard. “What is going on? What have you two been doing?”
The music stopped. Sadie must have grabbed the remote. The sudden silence was thick, smothering.
She pressed into my back and whispered in my ear. “Your father is my Wednesday night regular at the club.”
Oh, fucking hell.
“It’s nothing, Mom,” she trilled from behind me.
“Nothing?” Phoebe’s voice rose. “You fucking your stepbrother is nothing?”
“I, uh, I—” Her fingernails scrabbled at the back of my shirt. “Shit,” she said under her breath.
“Why are you back so early?” I was stalling. I had to get Sadie out of the room and somehow rectify the situation.
Phoebe gave my father a hard look. “We had irreconcilable differences.”
My father shrugged and kept trying to peer around me and get a look at Sadie.
“But you just got married,” Sadie said.
Her mother didn’t seem to mind her disembodied voice. “It’s been annulled. Nothing was ever, well … Let’s just say the contract was never performed.” Another hard look at my father.
“I may have forgotten my prescription.” He scratched his balding head and took a step into the living room.
I reached behind me and placed my hand on Sadie’s hip. “Dad, not another step.”
He stopped and Phoebe came to stand beside him. “I think you and your father should leave. Now.”
“No.” Sadie’s voice shot out from behind me.
“What?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes, I fucked my stepbrother.” She sidestepped me, standing naked before my father and her mother. I stepped in front of her again, but she put a hand on my arm. “Let me do this,” she said softly.
I couldn’t deny those blue eyes. I never could. I returned to my original position. Under protest.
Phoebe sputtered. My father stared, slackjawed. I wanted to end him.
“Mom, I’m a stripper.”
Phoebe literally clutched her pearls. It was so comical, I wanted to laugh. But I wanted to murder my father more for looking at what was mine.
“No, you’re not. You’re a scholar.”
“No, Mom. I dance for money. This guy.” She pointed to my father. “Is my Wednesday night regular. Gray is my Friday night regular.”
“I need to sit down.” Phoebe walked to the sofa on unsteady legs and sank like a rusty ship.
“Can I cover you now?” I asked, still bristling to commit patricide.
Sadie crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, please.”
I pulled my shirt over my head and slid it down around her, the fabric swallowing her in a billowy bag. Much better.
She sat next to her mother. “I am a scholar and a stripper. I can be both.”
Phoebe shook her head. Her sunglasses fell and perched on her nose before she swiped them away angrily.
“No. And that’s bad enough, but it’s not even the worst, is it? With your stepbrother, Sadie?”
“Ex-stepbrother,” I interrupted. The taboo was hot. Sadie, in the flesh, was far hotter.
“Right, ex-stepbrother.” Sadie pulled her wig off and shook out her red hair. She took Phoebe’s hand in hers.
Phoebe tried to pull away, but Sadie held her fast. Slowly, Phoebe met her daughter’s eyes. She sighed and slumped, giving a sad shake of her head.
“Mom, please, can you accept me as I am? Stripper, scholar, daughter?”
“I can,” my father said and took yet another step closer.
“Can it, old man,” I growled.
“Well, I-I-…” Phoebe trailed off before straightening her back and looking Sadie in the eye. She gave a little shrug before a half smile crept into her face. “Seeing as how I met your father while I was wrapped around a stripper pole, I suppose I can.”
Epilogue
I dropped low, squatting with my legs open as I faced him. His eyes burned for me even in the low lights of the club. His two fingers were in the air again, motioning me toward him. But now he spoke.
“If you aren’t on my cock in ten seconds, Sasha, you’re going to get a spanking.”
I rose and twirled around the pole. “Promise?”
“I’m counting.” He unzipped his pants and let his erection spring from his briefs. I wanted it in my mouth, in my pussy, between my tits. I needed another hit, just a taste of my favorite client.
I swung again, hurtling myself around and around until I slid down to the dancing platform. I dropped to the floor and crawled on all fours to him. I pressed my tits around his gorgeous dick. His hips shot up, pushing his cock between my flesh, rubbing his hardness against my soft skin.
“You like that, mister?” I leaned forward, letting the tips of my blonde wig tickle his bare skin.
“Fuck, yes.”
I rose and straddled him, my panties long since shed.
“You were two seconds late.” His voice was a growl as he pushed my face down into the leather and pulled the rest of me so I lay across his lap. He rubbed my ass in slow circles. “Do you like teasing me?”
I turned my head to the side so I could take in his profile. His cruel smile was there, the one that I saw every night when I needed discipline. “Yes.”
He slapped my ass so hard I jolted against him. The sweet burn exploded across my skin and sank into my pussy.
“Do you like your punishment, Sasha?” His hand was rubbing again in a slow, deliberate circle while his other hand pressed down on my back.
I scooted my ass farther up into the air, leaving my pussy bare for the sting of his hand. “Yes.”
Another loud crack bounced off the mirrors and came hurtling back to my ears as my pussy grew even wetter. The pain was pleasure whenever he gave it to me.
He gripped my upper arm and wrenched me back to a sitting position. I snugged up to him closer, rubbing my tits in his face and his cock along my slick folds.
He ripped the wig from my head and tossed it aside before running his hands through my hair, roughly removing the few pins that still remained. The wavy red strands cascaded down my back, and he fisted the unruly mass.
I rose and he used his other hand to position his tip at my entrance. When I sank down, Gray had only one word on his lips. “Sadie.”
Forced by the Quarterback
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter One
Jericho
Renna bent over to yank the cord of her laptop from the wall. Her ass looked perfectly round in her jersey shorts. I didn’t see the outline of panties, not even a thong. She was bare beneath the thin fabric. I licked my lips and smoothed my hands along my thighs, tamping down the animal that raged inside.
“J, man, come on. We’re going to be late for practice.” Todd, Renna’s big brother, grabbed his cleats and headed for the suite’s front door.
Renna straightened, her long legs shapely and lightly tanned. She gave Todd a wave before disappearing into her room.
I stood, painfully aware of the raging erection in my jeans.
Todd, oblivious as ever, motioned toward the door. “Hurry the f
uck up, QB. We can’t exactly play without you.”
I followed and we left the dorm. The cooler fall air hit me in the face and tried to knock me out of the Renna-stupor I was in. No such luck. We headed toward the football field.
School had just started and we’d been practicing all summer. Our season opener was coming up. We’d test our mettle against the second best team in the conference. We’d whip their asses and send them back to their state. Despite my confidence, I hadn’t had my head in the game the past two weeks. I was distracted. No, obsessed was more the right word. Renna.
She was a freshman, just settling into her college career at the university. I’d known her for the past three years, ever since her brother and I became teammates and best friends. She’d grown from bratty little sister into something much, much more. Now she was all grown up, all woman. All mine, too. She just didn’t know it yet.
She’d been teasing me for weeks, prancing around the suite in skimpy outfits. She didn’t exactly flirt with me, but sometimes I would catch her watching me, almost openly gawking, especially after particularly hard workouts when my muscles were at their peak. I wanted her eyes one me.
She had no idea how much those stares turned me on. She looked like she could eat me up, but I was the one with the big bad wolf complex. I wanted to devour her. I didn’t think I could want her more – her tight body, her sweet smile, her open disposition – but then I found out her secret. And that was like the big fucking bang. It set me on fire, the need for her eclipsing even my focus on the football season.
The day I’d discovered her – the real her – was seared in my mind. After a particularly brutal practice, I’d crashed on their sofa instead of going across campus to my dorm. Renna had left her laptop out when she’d gone to bed. I signed on to check my email and look at porn when I found the mother lode – her online profile.
It seemed Renna had a taste for the dark side. She was involved in a social media site for self-described “doms” and “subs.” Her screen name was “GoldilocksWantsBear.” Her profile was very specific about the type of sexual encounter she was after – “forced submission,” “nonconsensual play,” “breath play,” and a host of other types of sexual experiences, some of which I had to look up.