He plunges a finger into me, pumping quickly in and out until my pussy aches for release. I want to ride his finger, pull it deeper into my body until I come all over his hand. I bend slightly to give him easier access.
“I know what you want.”
The sound of his zipper makes me shiver with anticipation. I wait for him to lift my skirt. When he does the cool breeze against my heated skin brings up goose bumps. The fear of getting caught makes the act even hotter. It feels dirty and raw and so, so good.
“Over to the hood,” he commands.
I do as he asks, shimmying further over and draping myself in the way he wants, giving him a great view of my ass. His hands cup my cheeks then he parts them in the rudest way possible. Oh god, he’s just looking at me, bent over so helplessly, everything on display. He glides his dick down and between my pussy lips, coating himself with my juices.
“You’re going to love this,” he says.
“No,” I gasp, swaying back slightly when the tip of his cock presses against my entrance. We both sigh as he pushes into me. He’s so big but he always waits until he knows I’m slick enough to take him. He drives me hard and fast, the car shifting slightly with each thrust. A coil of pleasure slowly winds in my stomach and moves lower. My clit throbs, pulsing in time to his thrusts. When I think I can’t stand it anymore he plunges even deeper, pushing, pushing, pushing until I’m on the edge.
“I can feel how much you want it,” he murmurs against my neck. “You can’t deny it when your body is clutching at me like that.”
“No,” I pant.
“Stop lying to me, baby girl. I know just what you want.”
His fingers reach to pinch my aching clit and I can’t hold it anymore. My orgasm crashes through me like an exorcism, causing all my muscles to seize, and spasms to wrack my body. My legs feel weak, but Cory’s there to hold me up.
He grunts his release, clasping my hips tight enough to bruise, pounding his jerking cock inside of me. It feels so good when he surrenders that way. I’m never happier than when I see how much pleasure I give him and feel how much pleasure he gives me. When Cory pulls out he ruffles my skirt back down, kisses me on the back of the neck and slaps me lightly on the ass.
“You really shouldn’t speed,” he says helping me upright and turning me in the circle of his arms. He brushes a kiss over my lips then kisses the end of my nose.
“I promise it won’t happen again, Office Carlisle.”
“Why is it that I don’t believe you?”
I smirk and run my fingers down the front of his uniform.
“Maybe because you know what I naughty girl I am,” I reply, and he grins at me like I’m his favorite thing in the whole damn world.
“I’ll follow you home, okay baby?”
“Pick up a pizza on the way. I’ll make a salad.”
He kisses me again. “Make sure you don’t speed or I’ll have to pull you over again, and this time, I’ll really make you sorry.”
I laugh and brush my lips against his in a soft kiss. I reach down and cup his dick. “Promises, promises!”
His deep laugh warms me all over again. “If you’re not careful I’ll have to arrest you and take you down to the station.”
“Why does the thought of that make me so damn horny?”
I trail my hand over his muscular chest, marveling at how lucky I am as I walk back to the driver’s side door and get back in my car.
As I pull away from the roadside, with the taste of Cory on my lips, I can’t help marveling at how much has changed. The past year has been such a mix of good and bad. Drew’s case hasn’t reached trial yet, but I know that when it does I’ll have the support to be able to deal with it. Mom and Jeff are so happy it’s almost nauseating, and they were actually over the moon when they found out that Cory and I were a couple.
We’ve both come a long way since my sexy officer pulled me over for speeding that dark and scary night. It’s taken Cory’s open-minded attitude and gentle care to make me accept that my kinks don’t define who I am as a person. When you find a person who accepts you for all the little parts that make you unique, even the bits that you’ve struggled to come to terms with yourself, it’s as though all the puzzle pieces of life fall together to make the perfect picture.
A year ago, Officer Carlisle could have arrested me. Instead, he recognized something in me that was just right for him.
And you know what? Cory may be a good cop, but he’s also a very bad boy. And in the end, all that matters is that he is totally and utterly perfect for me.
About the Author
Stephanie Brother writes scintillating stories with step-siblings as their main romantic focus. She’s always been curious about the forbidden, and this is her way of exploring such complex relationships that threaten to keep her couples apart. As she writes her way to her dream job, Ms. Brother hopes that her readers will enjoy the full emotional and romantic experience as much as she’s enjoyed writing them.
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Keep reading for your bonus book – HUGE
Also by Stephanie Brother
Huge X2 – A TWIN STEPBROTHER ROMANCE (MENAGE)
Description
There are rumors going around about my twin stepbrothers.
HUGE rumors.
I try to ignore gossip, but that’s easier said than done when it involves crazy sex stuff and verified reports about the size of things that a stepsister should know nothing about.
Ethan and Nathan are the identically gorgeous hunks of man flesh that have just moved into my house. Even before the rumors, I could barely look at them, with their ridiculously twinkly blue eyes, and smiles that turn me into a mindless puddle of goo.
We’re supposed to be family and I’m trying my hardest to be a welcoming little stepsister. But then I overhear them talking about things I am definitely not supposed to know, and suddenly I realize I’m in double trouble.
HUGE X2 is the story of a girl’s realization that the best things in life come in extra-large, twin packs.
EXCERPT
1
DOUBLE TROUBLE
When people ask me if I have brothers or sisters I usually tell them no; then I remember Ethan and Nathan and blush furiously at my mistake. See, I was an only child until I turned nineteen, so it’s strange to suddenly find myself with two huge stepbrothers and a whole new status as a little sister.
Tiny is what they call me. Sometimes Titch. Midget is a favorite too. And Peanut. Whatever name they give me, I hate it. The whole teasing thing is something totally new to me, and at first I really didn’t know how to take it. Girls who grow up with real brothers are toughened up from birth. I got the joy of having to learn as an adult.
After a year, I’ve grown used to the teasing, but not their size. At five foot three, I’m a fraction under the average height for a girl, but Ethan and Nathan are towering hunks of men that loom over me at six foot three and a half. They like to remind me of the half, as though being a foot taller isn’t enough for them to be happy. Sometimes I feel like they are as broad as they are tall, with their ridiculous shoulders and chests with more hills and valleys than a national park. And their thighs. Oh god, their thighs are just so massive and muscular that their pants look like they might split at any moment.
Did I mention how gorgeous they are? When I pass them in the hallway I find myself leaning against the wall, not only because they seem to take up most of the space wherever they are, but because looking at them is like looking into the beams of a passing car; I’m dazed until they have passed, and even for a few moments afterwards.
All my friends are blatant in their jealousy. “I can’t believe you get to share a house with the Stanmore twins,” they say. They’ve heard the rumors about them too. The whispers about the size of things I should know
nothing about, and how well they know how to use them. There are darker tales too, tales that keep me awake at night. Apparently they like to share, and I’m not talking about KFC family buckets here.
I keep quiet when Katelin and Abigail gossip about them. I don’t get involved in the speculation about who they are fucking and what it must be like. Instead, I tell my friends about all the annoying things that come with having them live with me: how their shoes are like a row of canoes by our front door, and how I can never find any snacks in the cupboards because they eat everything in sight.
As much as I complain about them, I actually secretly like having them around. My house was pretty boring when it was just me and mom. Now I have a stepfather who’s hilarious, and a home that’s always full of people. We have cookouts and movie nights, and everything’s so much more fun than it used to be.
That’s why my secret is kind of terrible. It’s why I haven’t told anyone, not even my best friend Katelin. It’s not that she’s particularly judgmental or prudish or anything. It’s just that when you think you might be in love with your twin stepbrothers, anyone would find that news shocking. I mean, what am I thinking? For one, they are two years older than me and always have these perfectly amazing looking girls buzzing around them like flies on unmentionable stuff. For two, they seem to think I am just available as a source of amusement. For three, and most importantly, they are twins.
There are two of them.
Did I mention they are twins and not just one person?
I wish they were one person.
Sometimes I fantasize that I creep into their room in the middle of the night, and with my imaginary super strength, pick one of them up and slot him inside the other, like human fleshy Russian dolls. But then I get caught up on which one of them I’d slide into the other, and what that would mean. If I chose to slot Ethan inside Nathan, would that leave me with bubbly Eth or cuddly Nath? I get my fantasies tangled and complicated with feelings because I could never choose between them, not even in my mind.
It’s Saturday night, and I should be out having fun. I want to find the prospect of going to a bar with my friends appealing. I’ve been single for ten months, basically since I realized that every time I kissed my boyfriend, I was imagining other faces. Katelin has been hassling me about going out more. I think she thinks that I’m depressed. I know she’s worrying about my abnormal dislike of socializing, but I just don’t find the prospect of going out and talking to other men appealing in any way. I want to kick back in my living room and hope that Ethan and Nathan are tired from working out and come to hang out with me. They always want to watch sports, and I get a lot of criticism for begging to watch movies. When they eventually cave to my womanly tactics – pouting, sulking, and threats to knee them in very tender places – they join me on our ark of a couch for a marathon of 80’s teen movies. I hold the popcorn because they don’t eat carbs after 5 pm, and they provide the hilarious running commentary on fashion and hairstyles. You see, that’s how I know they love The Breakfast Club and St Elmo’s Fire as much as I do. And don’t get me started on Pump up the Volume. Christian Slater rules.
Anyway, I digress. Sort of.
So here I am on the couch alone.
Somehow my plan seems to be failing in two very crucial ways. No Nathan and no Ethan. And starting Pretty in Pink now, when I’m by my lonesome, seems like such a sad, sad waste.
My phone rings and it’s Katelin calling to tell me that I have to meet her at our favorite local bar. From the noise in the background, I can tell it’ll be a good night. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her no, but when she starts listing all the people that are there, including my stepbrothers, that no becomes a rather too enthusiastic YES.
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Escape – A Stepbrother Romance
Description
The last person I expected to see in a police interview room was my estranged stepbrother…
Samantha
When I’m called to represent a mysterious client, I had no idea it would put me face to face with the one guy I could never forget.
But memories are like shadows, following you around no matter how hard you try to break free from their chains.
He was my best friend and my stepbrother, but now he’s a stranger.
Then our eyes meet across the interview room and I know I’m not going to be able to stay away, no matter how many times he warns me it’s too dangerous to become mixed up in his life.
Brandon
On the outside I’ve crafted an image to help me fit in: tattoos and muscles, street clothes and a scowl.
I’ve modeled myself on the man I despise most, the man who took me from a happy home only to neglect me as a kid and use me as an adult.
I’m stuck in a world I don’t want to be in because there’s nothing for me outside of this. But then Sammie walks back into my life and nothing feels the same.
She’s beautiful, and I know I shouldn’t want her that way but I do. Just one touch and I can’t get her out of my mind.
I want to escape but how can I when I know I’ve lived a life that’s put me beyond the point of return. Saving myself now would risk the only girl I ever loved.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Samantha
My day starts off great. Maybe that’s why I have this little niggling feeling that something’s going to happen. Something big and maybe bad. Call it women’s intuition or maybe it’s attorney’s suspicion. I have a gut instinct that doesn’t like too much positive karma for fear that it’ll all swing back the other way.
When you wake up five minutes before your alarm, style your hair in record time, make it to the subway early enough to grab your favorite coffee and receive chocolates from your boss for hard work all in one morning, it’s hard not to be watching where you step for fear you’ll break your ankle to even the score. Add to it that a very sexy man engages me in conversation at the deli counter and then slips me his card, and I’m positively dreading the downward slip of bad luck that’s heading my way.
Then the phone rings and I know this is what my day has been building up to, as ridiculous as that sounds.
“Samantha Corrigan?” The voice on the line is deep and husky in a way that reeks of danger.
“Yes, speaking,” I say, with no idea who’s on the other end of the line. I shift forward on to the edge of my seat and grab a pen, ready to jot down anything useful.
“A friend of mine has been arrested today. I want you to represent him. Can you get down to the Spring Street Police Station now?”
“I can be there in an hour,” I say, writing Spring Street on my legal pad. “What’s the name?”
“Ask for Connor,” he says. “He’ll be in the waiting room.” Then he hangs up.
“Connor,” I mumble, jotting it down too. I check my phone for a record of the last call received but it’s unknown.
When you’re an attorney specializing in defense cases you get used to calls that come out of nowhere, but it’s usually the defendant or his family that make the arrangements and I usually have a few more details provided before I arrive at the police station. The mystery caller didn’t even tell me what his friend’s been arrested for.
Strange.
I make a few phone calls and send three emails for other cases that just can’t wait. Then I’m out the door with my briefcase, hopping into a cab outside the office and heading to Spring Street.
It’s a beautiful day, the perfect mix of sunshine and breeze, without too much humidity. Outside the station I catch a scent on the air, floral and damp as though someone has been watering hanging baskets, and it reminds me of days spent in the backyard, dancing under sprinklers with Brandon. I think about him every
so often. He’s a part of my past that seems so distant that it takes a song, a scent or another person with the same name for me to recall my long-ago stepbrother. It’s been fifteen years since he left, promising he would keep in touch. Shit. I swallow down a lump in my throat as I recall the day his dad came to collect him. He sat in the backseat of his father’s truck with his head hanging forward, not wanting me to see how upset he was about leaving. By that point I’d become used to holding in my tears.
I make my way through the automatic doors and into the cool waiting area, pushing those memories aside. It smells musty, like old magazines and unwashed bodies, the nose-wrinkling odor of crime. I scan left and right looking for someone who resembles a ‘Connor’ and a huge, hulking man stands up and makes his way over. He has that way of walking that is part stalking animal and part aggressive human male. Shorn hair and all black clothes make him menacing, but I’m used to dealing with individuals like him. I draw myself up to my full height, 5’8” plus my skyscraper heels. Even so, I only reach his chin when he comes to stand way too close. “Samantha,” he says surprisingly quietly.
“Connor?” I ask.
He nods and draws a brown envelope from inside his bomber jacket. “This is for you. There’s payment inside. When you need more, there’s a number inside the envelope for you to contact. The man you’re representing is being held on assault charges. It’s important that he gets released without charge.”
“Okay,” I say, taking hold of the envelope cautiously. Cash handed over in envelopes is highly irregular, and the envelope is fat enough for me to suppose it contains a large quantity. I want to tell Connor this but I can tell he’s just carrying out someone else’s instructions, probably someone he wouldn’t want to ignore. “What’s my client’s name?”
“Brandon Ford,” he says, and I blink at him in shock.
“Brandon Ford?” It’s not a particularly unusual name but it’s weird that I was just thinking about my ex-stepbrother and now here’s Connor mentioning his name.
“Yeah,” Connor says, stepping back and looking towards the door. “Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ve been sitting here for hours and I got shit to do. You got it from here?”
ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance Page 16