Dick: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

by Wild, Nikki

  With one hand she balanced herself on the headboard behind me, and with the other she slipped her fingers between her thighs, stopping just before she reached her pussy and looking down into my eyes.

  “May I touch my pussy, Sir? I want to cum with you nice and deep inside of me.”

  I smirked, reaching up and pressing my lips against her own in another slow, passionate kiss. She worked her hips up and down, her pussy riding that hard cock perfectly. I could already feel that familiar pressure in my hips and gentle tightness in my cum-heavy balls.

  “Do it,” I whispered, looking down as she obeyed, her fingers dipping down into the velvety folds of her pussy just above my pulsating shaft. Her nimble delicate fingers worked slowly at first, brushing along her hard little nubbin until she let out a soft gasp, her eyes closing as her hips moved in their perfect rhythm.

  “Fuck!” she whined, her cheeks flushing with color. I watched her tight little body, her muscles shuddering as she felt the awakening of her own climax beginning to stir. I smiled wickedly, reaching up to tease ever-so-gently at her pert little nipples, leaning forward to take the opposite one into my mouth. “Oh God, Dick!”

  I let out a soft growl as my tongue softly encircled her erect little nip, slowly sucking on it before flicking it with the very tip of my tongue. I could feel her body against mine, her legs shaking as she struggled to keep rhythm, her mind filled with the pleasures brought on by the feeling of her fingers against her clit.

  “That’s it,” I cooed, my lips brushing slowly up from her chest and up along her collarbone. I ran my tongue ever so slightly along the line of her neck, tasting the sweetness of her as she let out a whimpering scream of pleasure. “That’s my good girl.”

  Jessica whined out loudly, throwing her head back, her pace becoming more and more erratic. I did my best to breath, the pressure between my lips was growing and growing with every movement of her hips. We were both close, and it took everything I had not to let myself feel that sweet release I’d been longing for.

  “Dick!” she whimpered, leaning back, her body covered in a glossy sheen of sweat, her body working and gyrating on top of my fat, thick cock. “Oh, fuck! Baby! I’m so close!”

  I couldn’t speak, my brain struck dumb as I felt the impending wave looking over my head, threatening to overtake me at any moment. I closed my eyes, hoping to God I could hold out until I heard her beginning to climax. I felt her pussy squeeze around my cock ever so slightly, a spasm that told me that only a few more moments and I’d feel my stepsister shudder in the throes of her own orgasm.

  “Cum for me,” I growled softly, taking every effort not to relent as I felt the torrential flood of my own climax battering at the doors of my mind. I needed to feel her surrender to me before I could reward her with what she wanted—a hot, thick load of my cum.

  It was almost as though I had flipped a switch inside of her, her back arching and her head going back as she cried out. I could feel her relax, feel the tremble of her body letting go as the wave of pleasure and ecstasy drowned her. Her hips bucked out of control, her muscles tightening in no discernable pattern, only to be relaxed once again.

  I couldn’t hold back anymore.

  I let out a loud groan, pumping my hips up against hers hard, the tightness in my balls reaching its peak before the pressure lifted all at once. My cock exploded in a wave of pleasure, electricity crackling through me as I felt the first gush of my cum shooting out from the tip of my cock. I gripped the sheets, digging my nails into them as my own hips began to buck against hers. With every pulse of my cock another hot rope of cum shot deep inside of her body, coating the walls of her pussy with my seed.

  I relaxed back against the headboard as Jessica leaned herself forward, resting her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms right around her, my eyes closed as we both relaxed, basking in the warm glow of our shared orgasm. I breathed deep, taking in the wonderful perfume of her hair as I began to slowly drift farther from consciousness.

  “I love you, Dick,” she whispered against my chest.

  “I love you too, Jessica.”

  And soon, everyone would know. I’d shout it from the rooftops, if need be. I no longer cared about the stigma, about what other people might say. Jessica was the only person I needed to understand me. She was the only person I needed in all the world.

  Now that was something worth shouting about.

  Renowned bestselling author Kat Jackson is back with another full-length steamy romance novel!

  Madison

  I can’t be doing this… Not now… Not with him.

  Preston Harvey is a wealthy asshole. He’s the living symbol of everything I hate in this world. I wouldn’t sleep with him if he were the last person on Earth.

  Except… I just did.

  I have a sickness… A fixation.

  Preston

  We are so fucked.

  Our parents are engaged for Christ’s sake. Somebody is going to find out we’re doing this and there will be hell to pay...

  When I gave Madison a job as my personal assistant, this was not the position I had in mind for my soon-to-be-step…

  And now I can’t stop. I can’t ever stop…

  I want this… And a billionaire always gets what he wants.

  This is a stand-alone novel with a HEA and does NOT end in a cliffhanger! I’ve also included a VERY SPECIAL BONUS for my lovely fans!

  Published by the Kat Jackson Publishing Group

  Copyright © 2015 by Kat Jackson

  This book is a work of fiction, any names, places, and situations portrayed within are products of the author’s imagination.

  Join the Kat Jackson Mailing List!

  Thank you for reading one of my steamy stories! Just so my lovely readers know, my entire catalog is now FREE TO READ for anyone who has a Kindle Unlimited subscription!

  You might also be interested to know that I offer special discounts, new release notification, and FREE EXCLUSIVE CONTENT to anyone that subscribes to my Kat Jackson Mailing List! So go ahead, sign up is easy and I will NEVER send you spam or share your e-mail address with anyone.

  Sign up for the Kat Jackson e-mail list by clicking RIGHT HERE!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my husband and my wonderful children for being so patient with me as I pursue my writing dreams. You have no idea how lucky I am to have you all.

  Thanks to Nora, my tireless editor who never fails to get the job done. Thanks to my cover artist Ethan and my incredible publicist Devlin Rice.

  A special thanks to my new elliptical machine, for helping me lose my five pounds of “novel fat”.

  And finally I want to thank you, dear reader. It is your graciousness that allows me the opportunity to press these words onto paper. I could never live my dreams without you.

  “I can’t do this,” I told her. “I can’t pretend like last night never happened. I need you, Madison, and not in the way that a brother needs his stepsister.”

  I began lifting up the hem, revealing the creamy white tops of her thighs inch by inch until finally, I caught a glimpse of her underwear. I pulled my cock out and nestled it against her crotch. I felt my balls seize and I snarled in her ear. “I could blow my load right here, Maddy. I could soak these panties before dinner, and your mother and my father wouldn’t know a thing. You’d spend the whole night with my cum staining your panties... That’s what you do to me. You make me want to do the nastiest fucking things to you.”

  Maddy shivered and looked up at me with hooded eyes. “Preston… Jesus, we can’t. What we did last night was wrong. I wanted it… We wanted it… But you know it can’t happen again.”

  I pulled her panties open, letting the tip of my dick violate the space between them and her sweet, soaking wet lips. I thrust, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so near to her, of feeling my bulging head slip around in her honeyed nectar. “It has to,” I whispered. “Every time I look at you, all I want to do is get inside you again.”
<
br />   I was so close. But Madison gently, yet firmly took me by the wrist. I could see lust in her eyes, but there was something else too. Maybe it was self-restraint…

  “We can’t,” she repeated, and this time there was no “maybe” in her tone. I withdrew and she let her fingers brush mine. “I’m sorry, Preston, but think of what could happen if we got caught…”

  I nodded. As frustrated as I was, she made sense. But dammit, I didn’t want her to make sense! All I wanted was to throw caution to the wind and bury myself in my darling little stepsister.

  She fixed her skirt and helped tuck my cock back inside my pants, her hand lingering on its straining girth longer than she needed to.

  “Let’s hope there’s wine tonight,” I said as her fingertips left me, her graceful body moving around the car and sliding into the passenger seat.

  “I think I’m going to need it,” Maddy replied, trying to avoid my gaze as I sat down beside her. We didn’t say another word as her hand found its way to my thigh, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

  A drink was definitely going to be required. Maybe a little buzz would help me forget, but as we drove, all I could do was try to ignore the heat radiating from her fingertips. My mind drifted, traveling back to the day she ran into me on the street with those big beautiful tears in her eyes… So perfect… So broken…

  One month earlier…

  “Madison, lunch was over two minutes ago.”

  I looked up from microwavable meal. It was a small plastic bowl of steamed rice and veggies, but the shitty microwave in the break room had only heated things up on one side, leaving me with broccoli stalks with freezer burn still clinging to them.

  My gaze fixed on Miguel Herrera, the general manager of the small rental company I worked for. He reminded me of a man who had once done greater things, but had since been exiled to the dredges of monotony that corporate life entailed. Maybe he’d been military, or maybe he’d once been a little higher up the food chain where commands weren’t questioned and his iron fist ruled all. Either way, it was painfully clear that a man like Miguel was never meant for a company like ExecuSpace.

  ExecuSpace itself was an interesting animal. Instead of renting tangible things like cars, homes, or office buildings, they rented out virtual office space. I sat behind a desk answering a multi-line phone system where each line represented a different suite supposedly housed in the six-story building I worked in. A prompt would pop up on my computer with each call, reminding me to answer for “Lindsey’s Lawn Service” or “Jack Vogler, Esquire.” Then I’d place the caller on hold and transfer them to the client’s voice mailbox, their cell phone, or even their home phone where they really worked.

  Basically, ExecuSpace rented nothing at all—nothing but the illusion that their clients were more important than they really were. It was brilliantly deceptive, and it worked like a charm.

  That meant the phones were busy. That meant that sometimes I didn’t get to take a lunch break, and when I did, running sixty seconds past the mark would earn me a visit from Miguel’s dark, scowling face.

  “You left your desk at half past noon, didn’t you?” he asked, raising one of his charcoal eyebrows. I shuffled the food in her bowl and nodded, taking another bite.

  “I did, but I got stopped in the hall by Mr. Franklin, who wanted me to run back to my desk and put a parcel into the outgoing mail. Then when I got back there, Lacy got a phone call from her ex and ran outside to take it, so I had to wait for her to get back before I could leave again. After that, Ms. Harris asked for a physical list of the calls she’d received today, even though they’re all logged on her voicemail, and ten minutes later I finally got to heat up my lunch and sit down here.

  “So,” I continued, glancing up at the clock over my shoulder, “I’m not two minutes late. I’m actually just sitting down to eat, so I’ve got about twenty-five minutes left.”

  Normally I wouldn’t have spoken to Miguel—or anyone at ExecuSpace—that way. That was because I desperately needed this job, or I’d be completely screwed in the way of keeping a roof over my head. That meant putting up with grueling twelve- to fourteen-hour shifts, even if I had to clock out at five p.m. like everybody else, enduring the abuse of my colleagues and the incompetence of my supposed assistant, and above all else, not stepping away from my desk unless I needed to use the restroom or had some other emergency.

  But today was different. Today, after four long, arduous years without so much as a pay bump or a pat on the back, I was not in the mood.

  I had bills to pay, and they were mounting quickly. I’d been hired in at a measly ten dollars an hour and that hadn’t changed, even though my responsibilities had. I was no longer the receptionist answering the phones, opening mail, and sending off a few e-mails every day—not that my job had ever only entailed that, despite what they’d told me during my interview. I was the personal assistant to pretty much everyone on the floor, as well as the office manager for when nobody else wanted to deal with the bullshit that sauntered up to the front desk every day. I could—and had—run the entire operation by myself on many occasions. So why was I still being treated and paid like Lacy, the girl with no education, no computer skills, no ambition, and no desire to be here?

  Lacy also happened to be my “assistant,” but she was an awful lot like my burden. She rarely lifted a finger to answer a call before I got to it and yet she still had her job and half the office tripping over themselves to take care of things for her. That usually involved passing her work off to me while she skipped out on some obscure “errand” or spent an hour in Miguel’s office with the door shut. She was young and pretty and she knew it, and I supposed that was what got a woman ahead in this place more than anything else.

  Miguel appraised me, putting his hands on his waist in a way that spread apart his blazer to reveal his paunchy belly. I made sure to tightly cinch my legs together under the table, though the violet pencil skirt I was wearing hugged my thighs enough that I was sure he could use his imagination as to what was between them. I didn’t want him to do that, of course, but there was no stopping Miguel Herrera when he decided he wanted something.

  When his gaze finally dragged back up to meet mine, I realized what he wanted was for me to toss away my lunch and go back to my desk. I held his stare, trying not to let my mouth twitch or my knee shake, trying not even to blink. I didn’t want to make any move that might be perceived as a sign of weakness, because today, after a shitty annual review and yet another thirteen-hour shift the day before, I was taking my goddamn lunch break.

  Eight hours. That’s what I get paid for, I reminded myself, a low heat rising in the pit of my empty stomach. Lunch is supposed to be an hour. Lacy gets an hour. So do Ross and Ben. Miguel himself takes as long as he likes. I’m entitled to sit and eat once a day, thank you.

  “Okay. You just sit there, then, while there’s a crisis up front,” Miguel growled, waving a hand dismissively in my direction. He looked utterly disgusted with me. “I’m sure the rest of us can manage your job for you.”

  I ignored his tantrum. It wasn’t easy—I could feel my cheeks beginning to scald and my throat tighten. “What sort of crisis?” I managed as I took in another deliberate mouthful of rice. I tried not to wince as my tooth sunk into a shard of carrot.

  “One of last month’s interviewees showed up,” he answered, and I could tell by the tone in his voice exactly which one it was. “Again.”

  I finally looked away, heaving a sigh through my nose. Last month, Miguel had wanted to hire a few more salespeople and had put out an open call on Craigslist. We’d received hundreds of applications, and he and Ross, our staffing manager, had decided on group interviews being the most efficient way to separate the wheat from the chaff, as it were. Unfortunately in their enthusiasm, they’d made promises they couldn’t keep, and some of the prospective hires had to be told they either weren’t good fits (mostly due to some background check revelations) or that there simply wasn’t enough room fo
r them on the team.

  Except that Ross refused to tell them that. He just dodged their calls, allowing each and every one to go to his voicemail and directing me to say he wasn’t in the office. Miguel had declared the matter was “beneath him” and that Ross would just have to deal with it.

  But when Ross didn’t deal with it, it suddenly became my problem. Suddenly I had to let someone down regarding a decision I hadn’t even been a part of. Suddenly I had to bear the brunt of their anger and frustration. Me, the woman who was constantly reminded that she was “only” an administrative assistant and not a manager.

  “Isn’t Ross around?” I asked, though I was sure I already knew the answer.

  “He’s at lunch. And you are our front desk girl, so this seems like it falls under your purview.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You know what he’s here about, don’t you? It’s been a month, and Ross hasn’t returned his calls. He’s probably furious.”

  Miguel shrugged. “Part of your job, Madison, is to handle customer service issues. If you can’t hack it, well, then…”

  He trailed off as he always did. He never actually said he’d fired me or that I should look for some other job, but the threat was always there hanging in the silence. He knew it. I knew it. But he didn’t have the guts to utter the words out loud. He was that type of asshole, the one who did everything in his power not to do his own dirty work, not to seem like the dick that he really was. If I went to HR to complain now and said, “He made me feel as though my job was in jeopardy,” Miguel could come right back and say, “I never said that.” And it would be true. The bastard sure knew how to wiggle.