Harley made sounds, like maybe he was rubbing his hand over his face and trying to contain another outburst.
“You feel better now?” I asked in a small voice.
“That’s not the point.”
“Kind of is,” I whispered. “I knew you needed a girl to get you off, make you feel sexy. And I knew you needed to yell.”
“It’s not all right, Sara. The job. The fact you just seduced the shit out of me. What the hell is Hunter gonna say?”
“You going to tell him?”
“Yeah. I have to, babe.”
“Well, fuck.”
*
A week later, the front door slammed. I winced but kept my seat.
I sat nude on a kitchen chair. My nipples squeezed by rubberized clamps. My hands cuffed behind the chair, my thighs spread, and my feet hooked around the front chair legs.
He’d called thirty minutes ago, telling me in his terse, growly voice that he, Payton, and Marco were on their way home—and that I’d better be there.
I’d cursed Harley for about a minute after Hunter ended the call, and then raced through the house, stripping, getting the cuffs, arranging the chair, because I wanted to take him by surprise. Instant lust might mitigate my punishment. Scenarios from my phone sex notebook played through my mind, but I was too nervous to settle on any one thing, so I chose to be submissive. To let Hunter decide how we’d proceed.
Booted heels, more than one set, pounded through the apartment. The kitchen door swung open.
“Girl, you have a thing for kitchen chairs?” Payton drawled, in his sexy, sugared-rum voice.
I shivered but didn’t dare glance his way. I kept my gaze cast down between my splayed thighs.
A set of sand-colored boots entered my vision. Pain flared in my ripening nipples. Fluid wet the chair beneath me.
A thumb lifted my chin, raising my gaze to meet Hunter’s flinty gray eyes. A muscle flexed along the edge of jaw—his sexy, dark-stubbled jaw. I forced a fake smile. “Welcome home…?”
He grunted and swept me with a look that singed my skin every place it landed. “So, tell me, sis,” he said, his voice tight and soft at the same time. “You plan on taking all my friends on as clients?”
I licked my bottom lip, suddenly nervous. “Um, what are you talking about?” I murmured, not willing to admit a thing until I figured out just how much Harley the Rat had divulged.
Hunter gave one nipple a stinging flick of his finger. “Try again.”
I gasped and couldn’t help squirming on my chair. “Guess you talked to Harley. Did he mention he was the one who called me?”
He flicked the other nipple, and I bit my lip to halt a moan. It would be a mistake to let him know how much I liked it.
“I was just trying to make him happy,” I said, my voice tightening into an unbecoming whine.
“How long have these clamps been on?” he bit out.
“Long enough,” I said, panting.
He opened them and tossed them away, and then pinched a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, letting his nails bite.
God, that was so much better. My eyelids slid halfway down.
Something that made Hunter’s eyebrows lower even more. He jerked up his head and signaled behind me with his chin.
The cuffs opened. Hands slid upward from my wrists to hook beneath my underarms, and I was lifted from my chair. When I stood, my arms were brought higher behind me, forcing me to bend at my waist, and I was propelled forward by a sharp slap on my ass.
Kept bent over, I was hustled through the kitchen door, past the living room, and down the hallway to Hunter’s bedroom. Once inside, I heard clothing rustling, boots dropping. Several sets. I didn’t mind one bit that my shoulders ached or that my ass and pussy were exposed and flushed with heat. The guys were back home and set on punishing me for what I’d done with Harley, and I couldn’t imagine anything sexier. They were tag-teaming, trying to intimidate me, and maybe teach me a lesson, although I was pretty sure all three thought I was unteachable. And Hunter was there watching. No doubt about it. I could almost feel his laser-hot gaze roaming my curves.
Payton walked in front of me—dark, sleek skin, his thick cock bobbing. He stood at the foot of the mattress. “Bend over the bed, Sara.” He held out his hand, but he wasn’t waiting for me to give him mine; Marco slapped a flogger across his palm.
I knew the one. Deer hide. Long slender straps. The ends flicked like fire, but when the lengths were swatted gently, nothing sent me into a sex-stupor faster. Which would he give me?
Again, I didn’t really care. Burned by fire, gently stroked—both would eventually get me there.
Marco’s hands released my wrists, and I slowly straightened and strode forward. I bent over the end of the mattress, spread my legs to remind them what awaited, then reached out to bunch the coverlet in my hands.
Payton swished the flogger down my back, over my buttocks, down the outside of one thigh. When it drew away, I held my breath.
The first swat was thuddy and directed at the back of my right thigh. I rose on tiptoe to lift my ass. I wanted more.
He tsked behind me then stroked my bottom with one of his large hands. I loved the calluses scraping over my skin. Reveled in his simple touch. I’d missed this. Missed them. I was a sexual creature, made more ravenous by their endless stimulation when they were there. But left starving for connection, for petting, when they left.
The flogger landed again, this times the ends. I hissed but didn’t complain. As he flicked me again and again, leaving hot welts on my bottom, I grew hotter and wetter.
He tossed down the flogger beside my face and resumed my punishment, using his large hands to swat and smack. Sometimes cupping his hand to make the strike louder, but softening the blow with air. Then he’d strike hard enough to burn my ass with a stinging slap, but again, I held silent, biting my mouth, rubbing my breasts on the coverlet, because they were harder and aching to be touched.
He heated up my ass, my thighs, landed random swats against my cunt. Those had me grinding my teeth, because just two in quick succession would have thrust me over the edge.
But he was cruel. Alternating, without any pattern I could follow, keeping me on the edge, until I quivered and cursed softly. “Mother fucker,” I whispered. Then I released a sob.
The slaps ended.
Hands cupped my shoulders and brought me upward. When I stood, I was turned. Hunter was in front of me. His cock pointing toward me and pulsing. Without waiting for him to get past his anger to tell me what he needed, I dropped to my knees.
I closed my eyes and nuzzled against his length, rubbing my face against his shaft, my mouth over his balls. I drew in his spicy scent and let the moment overwhelm me.
But he moved backward, out of my reach. I glanced up, noted the hot darkness in his eyes, and hoped I understood what he needed from me now.
I stood and bent over, gripping his hips, and then I lowered my mouth over his cock. His fingers tangled in my hair, trying to pull me away, but I bore the sting and braced my feet apart, wagging my ass just a little, an invitation for one of his friends to provide the thing Hunter needed most—to watch me being fucked.
Latex stretched and snapped. Fingers spread my folds. A cockhead pushed against my vulva and slid between my lips. Marco’s low, gritty groan told me who slid deep inside me.
Hunter fisted my hair and pulled again, but this time, angled downward. My mouth was too stretched to smile, but I murmured around his cock, letting the sound vibrate while I slid my tongue along his shaft.
“Fuck, Sara. Harley?” he whispered furiously, even as he began to roll his hips, pushing into my throat, withdrawing.
I knew why he was angry—not that I’d teased his friend into an orgasm, but that he hadn’t been there to see. So long as he could watch, he felt in charge. Hunter considered me his, even if he shared me with his two closest friends.
But now, I’d shared something intimate with yet another. How
would he handle this?
Not that I was one bit sorry. Harley had needed me. I’d heard the desperate anguish in his tone, even as he’d tried to work his drawling charm.
Hunter and the guys were worried about Harley, too. They’d all suffered when he’d been injured. Hunter bore scars from the same IED that had taken his friend’s leg and hand. Payton and Marco had pulled both men from the crater left in the road by the explosion. But they’d continued to deploy, to train, to play together, while Harley had faced surgeries, and now, rehab.
I hadn’t been allowed to visit Harley—his choice. The guys had said he was in a dark place, that he needed time. Eventually, he’d come around.
I didn’t think he needed time. He needed a little shaking up, to remember what living was all about. These tough guys with their battle-hardened bodies and heads needed a special brand of TLC. As I sucked hard on Hunter’s cock, I paid attention to the little signs—the ones he couldn’t mask that told me he was needy. The curled toes, the trembling belly, the way his fingernails dug into my scalp, trying to pull me closer, needing me to gobble him up.
Marco smacked my ass like a drum while he fucked in and out of my vagina, his grunts adding a thick percussive quality to his sharp strokes.
I came off Hunter’s dick and glanced upward. His gaze wasn’t on me—he was glaring at Marco. His buddy must have been taunting him, making sure his noises kept Hunter distracted.
Sure enough, a minute later, Hunter pulled my hair and backed away. Marco’s laughter was low and dirty.
I reached backward and smacked Marco’s outer thigh. Marco withdrew, and I straightened. I scanned the room and found Payton sitting in the armchair beside the bed, his thighs spread, his hand stroking his own cock. Since he was already suited up, I sauntered toward him, faced the bed where Hunter was settling on the mattress, and wiggled my way backward onto Payton’s lap, my knees crowding beside his hips and thighs. I clutched the upholstered arms of the chair, and leaned forward, waiting as Payton took my cue and fed his cock into my pussy. Then I began bouncing down his long, thick shaft.
I made sure Hunter saw everything—the thick cock disappearing inside my cunt, my hands cupping my breasts, fingers teasing my tender nipples. I let him see my expressions—the challenge in the tilt of my chin, my growing pleasure as my jaw grew lax and my eyelids heavy.
Payton clamped his big hands on the corners of my hips and took control of the pace, bouncing me faster on his cock. My motions quickened, causing my breasts to jiggle. My hair stuck to the sweat coating my skin.
I was getting closer. Rising higher. The tree trunk stuck up my vagina made it impossible for me to hold back. I was too hot, too stretched. His girth rubbed me raw. I wanted to squeal, to screech, to vibrate on his cock as I sank into the pleasure.
I shot Hunter a desperate glance.
Hunter’s mouth tightened, but his gaze traveled downward, to my cunt, to Payton’s cock. “Now, Sara,” he said, his voice raw. “Bitch, do it now.”
I screamed and pounded downward, aided by Payton’s biting grip. Our breaths shortened. My wet bottom smacked his skin. Then Payton crushed one nipple with his fingers, and I flew, my shout harsh, loud, edged with a sob.
I slowed, rocking on Payton’s cock, forward and back, as he wrapped his arms around my belly and kissed my shoulder. His quivers shook me. But then he gently lifted me off his cock, his hands aiding me as I lowered my feet to the ground.
Behind me, Payton padded away. I didn’t know when Marco had left, but I didn’t need to look back to know he was gone as well. The moment of reckoning had come.
Hunter was stretched on the mattress, his hands behind his head on the pillow. If his cock hadn’t been pointed at the ceiling, I might have thought he was completely relaxed. His expression was another clue that I was still in deep shit.
Hunter was a scary-looking dude. All hard angles. Rough edges. His gaze was sharper than any Ka-Bar knife.
And even though I’d just come, or maybe because my pussy was still wet and a little sore, I wasn’t ready to pretend contrition. I dropped my hands to my sides and adjusted my posture, thrusting out my breasts and widening my stance. Curling a lock of hair around a finger, I let my gaze roam every chiseled inch of the man I loved.
A low creaking growl sounded. Hunter’s thighs tensed. I was so busy watching the lovely long muscles jump that I didn’t notice his fists bunching the bedding until suddenly he jackknifed to a sitting position, reached for my arm, and dragged me over his lap.
I tried to get my knees beneath me so I could scramble away, but he thrust an elbow between my shoulders to pin me in place. Then with his free hand, he rubbed his rough palm over my ass, rubbing harder on the red, hot knots Payton had left.
I winced and again tried to slide under his elbow, but a stinging slap landed on my right cheek. I couldn’t raise my hips more than three inches off the mattress, but it was enough to get my knees bent, enough to open my pussy to the air. While he paddled me with his bare hand, I tensed my pussy, closing it, relaxing, making myself hot.
All the while he was quiet. Focused. Precise. Each slap stinging Payton’s welts. When he ran out of those, he slid his hand between my legs.
I couldn’t help it. I shivered and more fluid wet his palm.
Hunter pinched my clit, and I turned my toes into the mattress, trying to push into his hand, but there wasn’t enough bend in my knee to get any leverage, and he wasn’t letting me up.
Then he pulled it—fitting his thick digits around my tiny nub to give it one micro-tug, and then another. Working it like a tiny penis. Almost. “All right, I’m sorry!” I burst out.
His hand released my clit. His elbow slid away. I pushed up on my hands and looked sideways at him.
Hunter’s eyes were still narrowed, but his nostrils flared. He sat so still I knew fury still roared through him, but he was holding back, waiting to break. Waiting for me to strike the match.
Slowly, I backed off his lap and turned over. Then I opened my legs, planting my feet on either side of his bent thighs. I settled against the mattress and stared down my body at his.
Then slowly, I played with myself. The same way I had the first night he’d shown me how to masturbate myself into an orgasm. I began as he’d instructed, fondling my breasts, squeezing the mounds and watching the tips of my nipples spike, then playing with them, twisting them, pulling them, until I felt the tug all the way to my core.
Then I smoothed my hands down my belly, over my hips, my thighs, up the insides of my thighs, finally covering my pussy with my hand and giving myself a caress, while I moaned and undulated my hips.
I moved slowly, gauging Hunter’s mood, drawing him deeper into my play. When he wrapped his fingers around his cock and joined me, showing me how he liked to be touched, I smiled and traced the length of my folds with my fingertips.
At last, Hunter had control, and he bent, planting both hands beside my shoulders, resting on his knees as he glanced down my body and back up, at last locking with my gaze. “Have you been talking to daddy?” he whispered.
I nodded.
He cussed under his breath, but this time with much less edge. His pushed his cock between my folds, but only wet the crown. “Did you get off when you mind-fucked Harley?”
I drew a deep breath then nodded again.
Hunter pushed inside an inch. “Harley’s in a bad place,” he rasped.
“I know. He won’t let me see him.”
“He doesn’t like it when we visit.”
“I’m afraid for him,” I said.
“Me, too.” Hunter drew a deep breath. “I’m okay with it—with you talking to him,” he said, nuzzling beside my ear. Then he bit my lobe and drew back. His gaze was hard again. “But I want to be there. I want to hear.” And then he stroked deep, filling me, rolling his hips to screw deeply, sliding all around my walls, touching every nerve ending.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rubbed my sore breasts against his che
st. “I missed you, Hunter. I love you.”
He buried his head in the corner of my neck, and I smiled. He needed my words. Needed to know he was my guy—no matter if I fucked his friends or turned some stranger inside out on the phone. I was his cunt. His fuck. His little sister. His lover. Whatever he needed, I would give it. And my disobedience was something he craved.
We were perfect for each other, because I needed Hunter to hold my chain and give it a jerk every now and then, and tell me how it had to be.
As his strokes deepened, so did my breaths. I shook my head and thrust out my chest, reveling in the unique freedom he’d given me to just be me.
Hunter bent suddenly and nipped my bottom lip. “So, when were you going to tell me about Perez?”
My eyes widened. “Harley’s got a big mouth,” I muttered. “Never.”
Hunter lay against me and reached back to drag down my arms. He pushed them up, latching a hand around both wrists to hold me. Then he pumped his hips in short, sharp strokes. “I want to hear everything, Sara.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Did he touch you?” he asked, his lips curling into a snarl.
“No, fuck no,” I lied, because Hunter couldn’t know or he’d kill the perv. “He wanted to date me,” I said, beginning to pant because Hunter was still moving, still pistoning inside me, and pleasure was spilling over me. “I refused. He insisted. Tried to corner me, but I escaped.” He’d been more successful than that, getting a hand under my skirt, but Hunter couldn’t know. “I didn’t like the job anyway. Boring as hell.” I gasped as he thrust harder toward my core. “I like the job I have now. I like being your fuck, Hunter. I like making your bed, your breakfast. I like giving you this,” I said, giving his cock a squeeze with my inner muscles.
“Are you going to quit the phone work?” he growled.
I grimaced and shrugged. “Maybe. If you make me.”
Hunter grunted. “No, you won’t,” he said, hooking his cock at the end of the stroke and holding still inside me.
“Probably not,” I whispered. “You like my job, too.” The corners of his mouth curved, very slightly, but I saw it. I smirked and arched an eyebrow. “I knew it. You probably want to fuck me when daddy calls. He’s always wanted a threesome. Bet he’d love it with another guy.”
Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His SEAL Team, Part 2 Page 2