Nine Steamy Step Stories

by Lilian St. James

  While his tongue stroked my clit, he moved his fingers down to my opening and slid them inside my warmth.

  He lifted his head and looked at me, catching my gaze. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “This,” I breathed. “I want this. I’ve always wanted this.”

  “No,” he growled. “I want you to tell me what you want.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t say the words. Writing them down was one thing, saying them was something foreign.

  He curled his fingers inside me, hitting them off my sweetest of spots. “Do you want me to finger-fuck you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to suck and bite your clit until you can’t take any more?

  “God, yes.”

  With brutal slowness, he withdrew his fingers. “What else, Harlow. Tell me everything.”

  “I—I want to come on your mouth, on your c-cock.” He slammed his fingers into me and with a cry, I crumpled forward.

  “Good girl. What else.” Again, he withdrew his fingers.

  “I want to take you between my lips. Feel you explode in my mouth.” Once again, he slammed his fingers into me, ripping a moan from my chest.

  “Tell me more.”

  I was past the point of caring what words tumbled from my lips. “I want you to fuck me. I want it hard and gentle, fast and slow.” With every word I said, he thrust his fingers deep. My hips rocked, matching his movements.

  “We’re going to do everything you want and more,” he said.

  He licked, bit, and teased my clit, sending me to the brink but pulling me back before I fell. My channel fluttered and throbbed and just as I was about to climax, Sawyer stilled his fingers and his mouth. My body screamed, yearning for the release he refused to give.

  “Please, Sawyer, I can’t…” My body hummed and trembled, shaking with need.

  “Not yet,” he said, lapping at the juices trickling down my inner thighs.

  “You’re killing me. Please.”

  “Touch yourself. Make yourself come for me,” he instructed.

  “I can’t do that.” Touching myself was way too intimate. Something I only ever did in private when the lights were off and my eyes were closed.

  “If you want to come, you’ll play with your sweet clit and do as I say.” There was a steely determination in his words, and I knew he wasn’t bluffing. To show how serious he was, he completely withdrew his fingers.

  “Damn you to hell, Sawyer.”

  He chuckled and knelt back, his eyes trained on my every movement.

  My engorged clit ached, begging for release. Giving in, I reached down and opened my folds. Tentatively, I stroked myself. I’d never been this brazen, this daring in my entire life. Roaring heat rushed through my veins, making me heady with desire and want and need.

  “Do what you do when you’re alone,” he instructed. “When you think about me fucking you.”

  I moaned and scissored my clit between my fingers, pinching and tugging my slippery flesh.

  “Beautiful.” He eased his fingers into me as I continued to play.

  Fierce sensation built upon sensation until I could no longer take it. An intense climax crashed over me, pulling me under, yanking guttural cries from somewhere deep within. My inner walls clamped down on Sawyer’s fast moving fingers, my excitement soaking his hand.

  My pussy continued to flutter and pulse. Sawyer continued to finger-fuck me. And I continued to cry his name.

  Before I realized it, he laid me on the bed and knelt between my spread thighs, bending my legs at the knees. He wrapped his arms beneath my legs and leaned down.

  “No. No more. Not yet.” I wriggled backward, attempting to get away, but his grip on my thighs was too strong.

  Ignoring me, he ran his tongue from the rosette of my ass to the tip of my hypersensitive clit. “Have you ever tasted yourself?”

  I bit my lip and quickly shook my head.

  “You should, you’re fucking delicious.” He swiped a finger through my wetness and brought it to my mouth, smearing my lips. “Taste.”

  Excitement tightened my chest, stealing my breath. I swirled my tongue around his fingertip then sucked it into my mouth. The taste was tangy, not unpleasant, and deeply arousing.

  “That’s it, suck my finger the way you want to suck my cock.” He pulled his finger from my mouth and brought it to my nipples, dampening the tips until they puckered. “Everything about you is mouthwatering.” He buried his nose in the soaked curls of my mound. “The way you taste. The way you smell.”

  He moved his head downward and, using his tongue, he rimmed my entrance, teasing me to the point of pain. My pussy pulsed and throbbed and vibrated. He spread my legs wider and drove his tongue into me. His thumbs found my clit and he began massaging with slow, sensuous strokes.

  Sawyer tongue-fucked me over and over again. A second, even stronger orgasm hit, sweeping over me in a series of seismic waves. My pussy gripped his relentless tongue, and I grabbed handfuls of his hair, holding on as if my life depended on it. My hips jerked and bucked, and I strained to get away, but he didn’t release me until my body shuddered in surrender, and I sank onto the mattress in a sweaty, gasping mass of pleasure.

  Sawyer kissed his way up the midline of my body until he reached my lips. He kissed me deep and hard and, once again, I tasted my essence. It was even more decadent than it had been on his fingers. He wrapped his arms around me and hauled me into his warmth, the hardness of his cock pressing against my stomach.

  “Are you ready for more?” He ran his hand up and down my back and drew circles over my spine. “I still haven’t fucked you. You still haven’t felt my cock deep inside your tight pussy.”

  A sound that resembled a squeak fell from my lips. “Um, okay.” How was it possible that I still wanted—needed—more? In the past, one orgasm was enough to last me weeks, now two in a matter of minutes wasn’t nearly enough. Fierce need mounted inside, stronger than before.

  Images of him taking me in ways I’d only ever dreamed of flashed through my mind. Sawyer fucking me from behind. From above. From the side. Positioning me however he desired. Of him using his body, toys, whatever he needed to bring both of us to new heights.

  He pressed his lips to mine, kissing me, devouring me, using his tongue, his lips, his mouth to bring me untold pleasure. He positioned his body between my legs and began showering kisses over my neck and shoulders.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered against his chest.

  He growled, gripped his cock, and rocked the tip inside my waiting pussy. I ached to have him fill me. He was bigger than any man I’d ever been with. But I was wet enough, turned on enough, to accept all of him. Taking his sweet time, he slid in to the hilt, stealing my breath, my heart, my soul.

  “Do you want me to fuck you now? Do you want me to make you mine? Do you want me to make our fantasies come true?”

  “Yes,” I whimpered.

  He fucked me in a slow, steady rhythm, showing me he wasn’t in a hurry. With every thrust, my pussy clutched at him, wanting to hold him inside. My hips moved in time with his every stroke, ratcheting up my arousal.

  “Please, Sawyer. Please fuck me hard. Give me everything.”

  He didn’t listen and kept his strokes slow, steady, and deep. Pleasure coiled low in my belly, getting ready to unravel. Sawyer pumped faster, pushing me toward the edge…but he held me there, not allowing me to fall. I thrashed my head from side to side, and nonsensical words fell from my lips. Hoarse groans exploded from my throat.

  Reaching down, he pressed his fingers against my clit. That was all I needed. I cried and screamed and sobbed, my body giving him everything. His breathing became harsh. And with every plunge and retreat, his heavy balls slapped against me. With one last thrust, he exploded, his hot cum gushing into my depths. I dragged in breath after breath, my lungs burning from exertion.

  After a few seconds of stillness, Sawyer slid from me and eased my shaking legs onto the mattress.
/>   Gathering me in his arms, he held me tight, our hearts pulsing in time.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  The front door closed, and I sank into the pillows of our new bed and pushed down the cups of my lacey bra until my nipples peeked over the tops. Sawyer strode into the room, his eyes flashing when he saw me.

  “I received something very interesting in the mail today,” he said, setting a familiar black box on the bed beside me.

  “You did?” I feigned innocence while looking at the box. “Anything interesting?”

  He shrugged off his suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. “Open it and see.”

  I smiled, lifted the lid, and glanced inside. Two pairs of specially commissioned gold-plated handcuffs lay on top of watery black silk. “I wonder where these came from.” Using my fingertips, I scooped them up so they dangled back and forth.

  Sawyer peeled off his trousers and prowled toward the bed. “Yes, I wonder.” He took the handcuffs from my fingers and pressed my wrists above my head. “It seems some little minx wants to explore some more.”

  “Maybe.”

  After a month of Sawyer asking me to move into his apartment, last week, I finally agreed. Since the first time we’d made love, we’d spent every minute we could together and each time we explored my limits a little further, building up my confidence.

  Spanking, it turned out, was one of my very favorite kinks. But until now, I hadn’t agreed to him tying me up or any other kind of bondage. The handcuffs were my way of telling him I was ready to take things to the next level. I trusted him completely and knew he would never hurt me, emotionally or physically.

  Calling him Sir was something I still couldn’t do, and I still wasn’t ready for public scenes, but I enjoyed watching them at the club. Perhaps, in time, I would attempt more, but for now, what we explored in the safety of our bedroom was enough.

  He leaned down and kissed each of my wrists. “Are you sure?”

  I wiggled beneath him. “If you don’t hurry up and handcuff me to this bed, I’m going to take control and handcuff you.”

  He chuckled and snapped my wrists in place one at a time. “If they hurt, or if you’ve had enough, you have to use a safe word. What is it?”

  Without hesitation, I said, “Blackmail.”

  “Brat.” Sawyer swatted my thigh, then placed a deep, open-mouthed kiss on my lips, and I surrendered, giving into my deepest desires.

  The End

  Stepbrother Revealed

  A Standalone Short Story

  Chapter One

  “Well, Libby, have you met anyone new?” My mom placed a questionable chicken casserole in the center of the table. I sent up silent thanks to the food gods for reminding me to throw some antacids in my purse. Sunday evenings at my mom’s house meant bad food—beige, brown, or burnt—and the Spanish Inquisition about my disastrous love life.

  “I’ve set up a profile on a new dating site called eLove. It guarantees I’ll find someone compatible. Someone who’ll be a perfect partner and father.” I grabbed the white wine from the ice bucket beside me and topped up my glass.

  Dylan, my asshole stepbrother, who acted like as if he were eight, not twenty-eight, sat on the opposite side of the dinner table. He took a swig of beer and snorted. “What happened to the last guy? Not rich enough?” Trust Dylan to make me sound like a shallow, gold-digging bitch.

  I regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “He wanted a willowy blonde with blue eyes, not a munchkin-sized, brown-eyed brunette.”

  Mom pulled out a chair and sat. “I hope you find someone soon. I need some grandbabies.”

  I took a gulp of wine, which curdled in the pit of my stomach. “God, Mom, not that again. I’m twenty-five. I’m not having babies for at least another eight years. Let me enjoy the last few years of my twenties.”

  Dylan’s dad, Eddie, strolled into the dining room and kissed my mom on the cheek. “What’s this I hear about grandbabies?”

  “Vivian wants Libby knocked up,” Dylan said. “I’m willing to bet Princess Perfect won’t risk losing her figure.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I’m going to have babies.” As usual, to get a rise out of me, he was behaving like a jerk. For one, it would be nice not to have an argument at the dinner table. Fat chance. This evening would go the same way every Sunday dinner went. Mom would cook something inedible. Dylan would drink one beer while goading me into an argument, and I would drink half a bottle of wine, sometimes more, to deal with his jibes. Then he would say something to make me explode. I would storm out, and because he was my ride back to the city—trains didn’t run late on Sundays— I would order a cab so I didn’t have to breathe the same air as him.

  “Children,” Mom said, exasperated. “Enough. Is it too much to have a meal without you two bickering? I thought this would have ended when you were teens. You’re both professional adults in your mid-twenties. Enough is enough.”

  “He started it.” I glared at Dylan whose eyes twinkled with mischief. He got a kick out of baiting me and every time I fell for it. Ever since our parents married—he was ten, I was seven—his mission was to make my life hell. He knew which buttons to press and how hard. But he wasn’t getting away with it, not this time.

  “So what about you, Romeo? Who’s your girl of the month? Or is that day? I can never keep up with your conquests.”

  Smoke billowed from the kitchen. “Crap! The bread.” Mom jumped up and rushed away, followed by Dylan’s dad.

  Dylan leaned back and stretched, his t-shirt riding up and revealing his gym-honed stomach. To stop my tongue lolling out like a cartoon cat, I turned my attention to the condensation running down the side of my wine glass. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly hot? He was tall with dark hair and a smile that would melt the knickers off a nun. Plus, he ran an investment firm and lived in a million dollar house by the beach.

  He leaned across the table and gave me a smug smile “You do know what eLove stands for, right?”

  “Eternal love?”

  “Nope.” He smirked. “Easy Love. It’s for men looking for easy hook-ups.”

  I spluttered and stared at him with wide eyes. “Why do you have to be such an ass? It’s a site for professional people who don’t have time to date. Anyway, you’re one to talk. I saw the Swift Sex app on your phone.”

  “And? It’s the same thing you’re doing. Finding strangers online for meaningless sex.”

  I gripped the stem of my wine glass so hard it was in danger of snapping in two and slicing my hand. “I’m using an exclusive site that vets all members. The information they require and the interviews potential members go through are not about finding a hook-up. It’s about finding someone for a lifelong commitment. I am not using a casual sex app where fickle people can judge me on a photo and what pages I liked on Facebook.”

  “Not even you’re that naïve, Lib. I guarantee the men you find on eLove are not the kind of men someone like you needs. You need…” He paused and didn’t finish his sentence.

  “What? What do I need?” Heat scorched my cheeks. Did he know that my deepest, innermost fantasies involved him? He couldn’t know. Could he? There was no way. It was hard enough admitting them to myself. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. What I need is someone normal with a normal job whose idea of excitement doesn’t involve jumping on a motorcycle at midnight and driving across the state line.”

  “Normal isn’t going to make you happy. You crave danger. You always have.”

  “You think you know me? You don’t know shit.” No more hooking up with men for meaningless nights of thrilling sex. No more down and dirty encounters with bad boys who treated me like their personal call girl. No more spending my days on edge wondering if they’d get in touch. No more pining for men who would never love me the way I loved them.

  Mom scurried into the dining room and placed a plate of burnt bread on the table. “Sorry about the food. I got the timings wr
ong again.”

  I grabbed a bread roll and ripped it in half while continuing to glare at Dylan. The older he got, the more infuriating he became. I took a deep breath and reminded myself not to rise to the bait. I averted my eyes from his flawless face and smiled at my mother.

  “Mom, everything looks delicious.” I placed a napkin across my knees, and when she wasn’t looking, I dropped pieces of food onto my lap. Since I always cleared the table, she wouldn’t notice that I hadn’t eaten a thing.

  ****

  Dylan put his Jeep in park outside my apartment building and stared out of the windshield. “You’re really going to look for a husband on a dating site?”

  I sighed and placed my hand on the door handle. “It’s none of your business what I do or don’t do.”

  He ran impatient fingers through his wavy hair and blew out a breath. “When you’re in the hospital because some freak attacked you, I’ll make sure I’m the first one to say I told you so.” He looked at me with a soft expression in his eyes. “Be careful, Lib.”

  I wasn’t buying his bullshit. Not today. I pushed open the car door and jumped onto the pavement. “Save your concern, brother. You wouldn’t care if I humped every man within a mile radius. In fact, you wouldn’t care if they lined up outside my apartment and I sucked them off one at a time. It’s a bit late to pretend you care. Where was your protective big brother persona at school, huh?” My lips twisted in disgust. “Oh, that’s right, I remember where you were—you were the one I needed protecting from.” When I was a freshman at Millburn High, Dylan was a junior. He made my life unbearable. For two years, he teased me mercilessly. He was the one and only person allowed to give me a hard time. If anyone one else dared, he put them in their places with his fists.

  The day he graduated was the happiest day of my life. Once he went off to college, I only saw him during the holidays. Now, seeing him even once a week was too much. Our lives didn’t intersect in any way. As an investment banker, he lived the champagne and caviar high life; I worked as a freelance physical therapist and sometimes had to borrow from the Bank of Mom to cover my rent.