by Vivien Vale
And I want one last showdown before making him fuck me for the last time.
I lift my legs and turn around and, with my ass turned to him, I go on all fours on top of his body. I reach for his cock and, grabbing it, I point it straight at my mouth and lower my head.
At the same time, he hooks his fingers on my hips and forces me to ease my pussy down on his face. The moment I feel my wetness against his lips, I start to sway my body at a frantic pace, bobbing my head at the same rhythm.
We go like this for God knows how long, the whole concept of time becoming completely meaningless. With his mouth on my pussy, and my mouth on his cock, I can’t really focus on anything else. And, as he licks my clit with renewed ferocity, I feel my brain on the verge of shutting down.
Still, I manage to remain unconscious, only to have another orgasm explode inside of me, the shock waves of it rushing through my muscles and forcing me to take his cock out of my mouth.
Coming up for air, I scream as loud as I can.
Breathing so hard that I’m dizzy, I climb out of Palmer’s body and, without waiting to see what he wants me to do, I go on all fours on the couch. He gets up in a heartbeat, kneeling behind me, and smacks my ass harshly with the palm of his hand. He does it again and again, and only stops when the pain becomes so deliciously unbearable that I’m moaning in ecstasy and thrusting back at him.
I have my head bowed down, my hair cascading down my shoulders. And so while I can’t see him, I can imagine the wicked grin he has on his face as he presses his tip against my pussy.
With one simple thrust, he’s in me again, stretching me as wide as only he can do. I moan and scream, the sound of it blending into something almost inhuman. My voice caresses my eardrums and then claws at it, all while a firestorm rages inside of me, threatening to consume everything that I am.
Maybe I’ll die of pleasure now; maybe my final orgasm will be so intense that I’ll stop breathing, my heart will stop beating, and then my brain will shut down. My soul will float away into the afterlife and, if all this happens, I’m sure that I’ll be going with a grin on my face. I mean, to go out with Palmer’s thick cock ravaging me wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, would it?
No… no, it wouldn’t.
When I finally come, there’s no screaming or moaning; I throw my head back against the couch and just hiss like a rattlesnake, my throat too ruined to carry on. I almost think that Palmer’s done, but when he pulls his cock out of my pussy he keeps its tip pressed against my inner lips.
Oh, sweet God… I think I’m really going to OD on pleasure.
“Do it… Do it…” I beg him, and he starts to push his cock back inside me. It moves in at a slow pace, but it goes steadily all the same. Even though my throat has given up on me, I force myself to scream one more time, the pressure of Palmer’s cock on my insides too good for me to remain in silence.
“Hard… I want it hard,” I continue, and he doesn’t need any further instructions; he starts to thrust as if his life depended on it, ravaging me like he never did before.
He buries his cock so deep inside me that I have to scream again. At the same time, he slides one hand around my waist and presses down on my clit with two fingers, immediately stroking it at a furious and almost too violent pace.
It doesn’t take long for me to come undone — one more thrust of his cock and my mind snaps, my soul shattering into a thousand little pieces with it.
I thrust back, forcing him to push his cock deep into me, and then I hold that position as a violent convulsion takes over me. My muscles are burning, my skin is boiling, and both my heart and lungs are working overtime to keep me alive. It’s a wonder that I still haven’t passed out… I feel exhausted enough to fall unconscious, but I refuse to do it as pleasure still courses through my veins.
Even though Palmer and I have a lifetime ahead of us, I don’t want to waste one single second of what I’m experiencing now.
“I want you to come,” I find myself telling him, my brain seemingly having no say about what words leave my lips. As if my voice has a magical effect on his body, his cock starts to spasm and, half a heartbeat after that, it throbs violently and I feel the warmness of his seed filling me.
Instead of gushing all his load inside of me, Palmer pulls his cock out and, still on his knees, starts to stroke himself. I feel his thick ropes of cum cover my lower back, beads of it sprinkling my skin.
By the time he’s done, all I can do is roll around so that I’m lying on my back. I take a few deep breaths, and then I sit up. He’s sitting up as well, his head thrown back against the couch as he tries to catch his breath.
Slowly, I run my fingertips down his forearm and take them to his hand. I tangle my fingers on his, and then lean into him and press my lips on his face.
“I love you,” I whisper again, somehow knowing that I’ll never grow tired of these three words. As silly as it might sound, I feel like I’m the luckiest woman on Earth.
“I love you too,” he whispers back at me, his fingers tightening around my own. My body grows cold suddenly, and perhaps feeling it, Palmer reaches for his discarded shirt on the floor and makes me wear it. He dresses me as one would do to a small child, and I keep my eyes on his as he does it, just enjoying the delicate way he’s handling me.
For a man capable of such dominance and raw power, I can’t help but be surprised at how kind he truly is. I can’t believe I used to see him as someone cold and heartless, a total asshole even.
To say that I was wrong doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Standing up, his large shirt covering most of my body, I make my way toward the large windows of his living room.
“Where are you going?” He asks me, picking his boxer briefs from the floor and getting inside them. He goes up to his feet and then joins me by the window, his arm laced around my waist.
“The city… it looks so beautiful from up here,” I whisper, not even knowing why I’m saying. At ground level, from the windows of the Old Tale, the city is nothing but a blend of smog and dirty concrete. But from up here, there’s a certain magic about it all.
The streets have an orange glow at night, and the tall spires of office and apartment buildings rise up in the air like Christmas trees. And though I know that no one really sleeps in a big city, right now it feels so… calm.
It’s almost relaxing.
“It does,” Palmer agrees with me, and then he’s the one brushing his lips against my cheek. “But only because you’re here with me.”
I look into his eyes, but this time I don’t say anything.
Sometimes, words just get in the way.
Smiling, I go up on tiptoes and kiss him, closing my eyes as I let the memory of this moment be forever imprinted on my mind.
Love—sometimes it’s even better than what we imagine it to be.
Wanted: Big Bad Brother
A Billionaire Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance
By Natalie Knight & Vivien Vale
Copyright 2017 by Crimson Vixens
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work intended for adults only.
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Keagan
The more I drink, the looser I feel. My life is as fucking stressful as it is comfortable.
Letting loose occasionally, especially somewhere I won’t be photographed, has been a long time coming. Far Bar in Los Angeles is full, and we are surrounded by friends. Mason stands next to me, sipping his beer and leaning his arm on the bar. The other guys are all hunting for girls in the crowd that they can take home.
I’m only interested in one of them.
I glance across the room. Dana is with her friends a little further down the bar. They’re smiling and talking about the talent available. It isn’t hard to see who’s thirsty around here. The girls are all dressed to kill, and they’ll all land their prey before the night is out.
My eyes are on Dana. We’re close, but you that one girl that you just can’t fucking have?
Yeah. That’s Dana. My stepsister, the ultimate “one who got away.”
She wasn’t always my stepsister, of course. There was a time when she was the pretty girl at school that I crushed on. The one I wanted to ask to the seventh grade dance. She was the one whose mom had run into my dad at an unfortunate parent evening and decided to get engaged, just before I got around to telling her how I felt.
And now she’s my fucking sister.
Go figure.
She looks like sex on a stick. I watched her grow from a girl to a woman at the same time my own hormones developed. There’s nothing as awesome as having your jerk-off material live in the room next to yours.
Or knowing she’s in the fucking shower, totally fucking naked. Or even worse, as we got older, hearing her moans right through the fucking wall as she did God knows what all alone in her bed. I mean, I knew exactly what she was doing, and it served as the ideal fantasy for my spank bank.
Now it just grates the hell out of me that I will never be able to fuck her the way I always did in my fantasies—correction, still do.
But we’re siblings. Sort of. Stupid fucking taboo.
“Hello,” Mason calls in a sing-song voice, bringing my attention back to him. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying, or are you too busy bird watching?”
“Sorry,” I say, grinning at him. “What were you saying?”
“I’m saying Sociable’s infrastructure needs a serious upgrade if we want to move forward with the influx of users.”
I shake my head and sip my beer. I haven’t had enough alcohol yet. I’m still fucking aching for Dana, my cock rock fucking hard.
Too drunk to stop myself from wanting her, too sober to stop thinking about it, especially when she’s laughing and tossing her hair, talking to some motherfucker who will never be good enough for her.
“Can we not talk about work tonight?”
Mason shrugs. “I can’t help it, man. It’s because of you I have this job at all.”
“You know what?” I say, nodding. “You’re right, and you know what you’re talking about. I wouldn’t have suggested you as a candidate for the IT department interviews if I didn’t think you were worth it. But I’m sick of hearing about Sociable.”
Mason shakes his head, chuckling into the beer bottle he lifts to his lips, taking a sip.
“Well, it’s going to be hard getting away from it, since you created it.”
I shrug and take another sip of my drink. I created a new social media platform, and it blew up. I’m almost as fucking huge as Facebook and Twitter, and I landed my ass in butter almost overnight.
I didn’t expect it to take off like that. I worked on a concept, and the right people saw the idea.
My friends refer to me as the Master because where they’re all scrambling, I have it made. If I only fucking had Dana, I would consider that the truth.
Sociable is a big company now, with different divisions, a turnover that’s growing exponentially as the rest of the world is getting on board, and I have an IT team that works feverishly to stay ahead of the technological curve.
Mason’s on that team.
I glance over at Dana again. Something about her is different tonight. She arrived after I had a few drinks down, and she blew me away. She’s wearing a low-cut top that shows off just enough of that fucking perfect cleavage without looking slutty, and her eyes are made up with smoky eyeshadow that makes her blue irises pop.
Fuck. She’s wearing a sexy short skirt. Easy access. I like that. My cock strains against my zipper, begging to come out and play with my sexy as sin stepsister.
Her hair. That’s what’s different. Her brown hair is cut in a shoulder-length bob now. Before, it hung over her shoulders. The new cut frames her face and brings out her freckles. Freckles that she never covers with makeup. It was what I fell for when I saw her for the first time in the fifth grade.
Besides her curves and her tits that make a man sit up and beg, her freckles are one of my favorite features.
She glances at me. Our eyes meet, and she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I smile back. But I can tell something’s wrong.
I have to ask her what’s up. We’ve always been close, just not in the way I want to be. We’re only a year apart, and we shared friends our whole life. I wish it was just the two of us, here right now, though. I want to be alone with her.
I imagine leading her to the restrooms, locking the door behind us and pinning her against the wall. I would hike up one leg, shove her lacy thong aside, and ram my cock into her so hard, making her scream my name. Hearing my name on her lips would push me over the edge in a second.
I want to fuck her so fucking bad. I’ve always wanted to fuck her.
I shift, adjusting my cock in my pants. It would be poor form to stand in the bar with a visible hard-on, but I can’t fucking help it. One look at her is all it ever takes.
It’s so fucking unfair that I can’t have her. The only girl I want. Forbidden fruit and all that shit.
“So, who will it be tonight?” Mason asks.
“What?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Mason says. He nods toward the girls. “I can see you ogling. Which one do you want to take home tonight?”
Dana.
Of fucking course it’s Dana. But I can’t say that. Instead, I shrug.
“I don’t know, man. I don’t think I’m going to make a move tonight. I just want to relax.”
“Sure,” Mason says with a laugh, not believing me. I sigh but he keeps pushing. “You should go and talk to them. You know Dana’s friends all want a piece of you now that you’re famous and shit. And you’ve been single for far too long. It will be too fucking easy to get into any of their pants. They’re probably all fucking wet for you right now.”
He’s right. It would be easy. But it’s not their pants I want to get into. And I don’t like him referring, however subtly, to my ex, Lisa. We dated for three years in college, and she damn near ripped my heart to fucking pieces in the process.
“You better make a move fast,” Mason says. “It looks like someone else is moving in for the kill.”
I look at the girls again. Mason is right. A guy with black hair and an attitude walks up to them. He’s smiling ear to ear, and he’s got the Latino thing going for him with a shirt that’s unbuttoned way too fucking low. The chest that’s showing is smooth.
“What a prick,” I say.
“A prick that’s getting what he wants,” Masons says.
I watch him introduce himself to the girls, and they’re practically swooning.
“What do you wanna bet he has an accent?” Mason asks.
I don’t respond. Mr. Perfect is smiling at Dana, his teeth too fucking white to be natural. She’s smiling back at him in a way that shows her dimples. She only smiles like that when she’s flirting.
Fuck.
I’m jealous right away. He’s not the right guy for her. None of them fucking are. I want her, and if I can’t have her, fuck everyone else.
I’m being an asshole. I know that. But I don’t care. I’ve had too much to drink, and I don’t want anyone that fucking close to her.
The other girls? Sure, he can have them. What the fuck ever.
But Dana? Fuck no.
She’s mine.
I watch while he flirts with her. He turns his back on the others, leans on the bar, and shows off his chiseled chest. Just because he’s showing it off doesn’t mean there aren’t other people here with better bodies.
Like me. I can show Dana what a real man looks like.
A
nd I have fucking chest hair. I’m not a naked mole rat.
If I’m being unfair, I don’t fucking care.
Dana is smiling and laughing when he speaks. Christ. He can’t be that funny. Not unless she’s laughing at him because he’s failing. I’d fucking love that.
But judging by the dimples in her cheeks, that’s not the case.
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a business card, and I down the last of my drink. My head spins a little with the rush of alcohol, and a jealous rage ignites in my chest. I want to do something violent. Instead, I watch him walk away with her fucking card.
“Someone should take him into a dark alley and strip him of that business card,” I say.
Mason raises his eyebrows at me. “A little too protective, aren’t you?”
I shrug. Dana’s face has fallen. The dimples are gone, and she’s not even smiling now. She’s nodding at what one of the others are saying but she looks totally bummed out.
“I’ll be right back,” I say and walk over to her without another glance at Mason. When I get closer to her, I swallow.
“Are you okay?” I ask, putting my hand on her shoulder.
She looks up at me, and her eyes are fucking brilliant. “I’m fine,” she says, flashing me a smile that seems forced.
“What’s wrong?” I ask anyway.
She shakes her head. “Nothing, Keagan. Really. It’s fine.”
I look at her for long enough that she gets irritated. She shakes her head at me and shrugs my hand off her shoulder.
“Really, go back to your friends.”
Right. She doesn’t want me to crowd her.
“I’m just asking,” I say, my nerves on fucking edge. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”
She rolls her eyes, irritated. When she gets upset, she does this thing with her bottom lip that looks like a pissed off pout. It makes me want to bite it. To kiss her, rough and hard. It makes me want to do so many fucking dirty things to her.