Part of me was disappointed when he didn’t fight it like I did with his brother, but, as his arms finally moved to pull me in, I realized I was okay with that. Just feeling his touch was helping me forget all about that humiliation, and I realized that this stepbrother truly was different from the other; he took me out of the dom-sub mindset altogether and put me in a place of raw passion.
I moaned, pushing harder against his lips and pressed my tongue to his closed lips. After a moment, he opened his mouth for me giving me full exploration. I moved my hands up, beginning to caress his broad, hardened chest with the palms of my hands, feeling every curve and muscled crease beneath my touch. I felt him shiver slightly from the contact, and I realized he was enjoying it. This only spurred me further. Glancing down, I caught sight of the rising tent of silk in his pajamas and felt a sense of power at the effect I was having.
“Is that for me?” I heard myself say.
He began to stammer for a moment, seeming nervous about how he should respond. I assured him there was nothing offensive about it as I reached inside and took hold of it, giving it a gentle squeeze and earning a tremor and a groan.
Again my husky tone returned to surprise both of us as I said, “It is now.”
Slipping down the only piece of clothing dividing us, I gave his throbbing cock a quick kiss as I weighed his ample balls in the palm of my hand before standing again and forcing another kiss on his swollen lips. Then, tightening my hold on his shoulders, I jumped into his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist. Instinct and strength took control of him as he moved to support me, easily holding me up as I felt his length throbbing against the folds of my entrance, threatening to slip inside me at the slightest shift.
“Tell me you’ve got a condom,” I moaned into his mouth
“Mm!—iin the bedroom,” he nodded as began to carry me through the hall.
“Oh? So you were prepared for something, hmm?” I grinned, enjoying the ride.
“Better to have it and not need it than—mmm...” he trailed off as I kissed him again, whimpering as he dropped me on the bed.
I whimpered at my suddenly lonely pussy and spread my legs as a silent demand to fill me, smirking as I watched him struggle to retrieve his condom.
Kade was trembling with desire as he rummaged through his bedside drawer to find the condom, and I got to get a good look at him from a distance. His cock was glorious! The crown was already glistening with anticipation. Though he wasn’t quite as wide as his brother, he certainly had a few extra inches to feed me. Not waiting for him to find his prize, I leaned down and claimed mine, pressing another kiss to the head of his cock, before taking it into my mouth, letting his excitement throb against my tongue. Moaning at the flavor of his cock, I began to push even further down, rolling my tongue around him as I began to bob my head along his rigidness.
“Oh! That... that feels so good!” he moaned out, arching his head back as he knotted his fingers through my hair.
Though I could feel his strong hands at the back of my head, he didn’t push or make any move to guide my motions. He simply allowed me to suck his cock. Finally, the vacancy between my legs wasn’t willing to go unfulfilled and released his cock from my lips with a wet pop.
“You find that condom yet?” I teased.
Nodding, he took it and began to slip in on. I watched, feeling like a kid watching with growing impatience at a dessert being prepared, and before he could unroll it all the way to the base I pulled him down onto the bed. Clumsily finishing his task, he turned, laying on his back to look at me. I smirked, not sure if he was uncertain of what to do next or just giving me full control to ride him. In either case, I took control. Giving his cock one final tease and enjoying the way it bucked under my caress, I swung my leg over him and started to lower myself onto my prize. Sliding him inside, I let out a low, breathy groan in pleasure as my insides opened up to accept him. The feel of his cock stretching and probing the depths of my pussy was intense, and I had to pause to allow myself to get comfortable with his size.
“Am... am I hurting you?” he asked, wrestling with his own pleasure and the concern for my wellbeing.
That wouldn’t do at all.
“You just worry about yourself,” I smirked, allowing the huskiness to return to my voice and embracing the clouded look it put in his eyes as he heard it.
Satisfied that I was ready to take all of him, I dropped my hips and groaned like an animal in heat as I felt the head of his cock throb against places I didn’t realize I had. He groaned—no longer able to control himself—and began to shove back up against me. We allowed ourselves to get lost as we fell into a rhythm that had both our hips rolling to an unheard melody backing the guttural lyrics of our moans and whimpers. He moved his hands up and made an attempt at my breasts, and I smirked—remembering the power I wanted to have over him—as I caught his wrists and pinned them over his head. The movement brought me forward until I was leaning over him, bringing the tits he was reaching for mere inches from his face. His face twisted into a mask of lust and defeat as he tried to reach them, first by craning his neck and finally by letting his tongue snake out in an attempt to flick my nipples. In either case, he couldn’t reach them. I had him trapped as I rolled myself over him, bringing my pussy down on him with a growing force that had the room filled with the wet sounds of our sex.
“I’m in control,” I whispered down at him. “You just enjoy it!”
He nodded, resigning to my will as his eyes rolled back. I moaned, just as much at his submissiveness as at the sensation of his cock gliding deep within me.
Jace was completely different than Kade.
And maybe that’s what I needed.
I could feel my release coming and I began to move faster as Jace let out a loud groan. As I continued to ride him, I arched my head back, the looming orgasm already stealing control of my body from me, and I heard a low moan start past my lips as my back craned and my head dipped back. My hands fell from his wrists as the ripples of pleasure began to echo through my lower body, and as I began to orgasm on his cock he was finally free to seize my breasts.
“Oh! Oh damn! I’m... I’m coming!” he groaned, the word “coming” turning into a growl that stretched onward into his release as his grip on my breasts tightened just enough to offer some of the pain I secretly craved, yanking and twisting a new level of pleasure out of me as the second...third... then fourth orgasm slammed into me.
By the time I fell over him, panting and shaking with effort to pull myself off of him, I’d lost count of how many times that magnificent dick had gotten me off.
AS I RESTED MY HEAD against Jace’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, I felt a strange tug at missing what I had with Kade. It felt wrong to be comparing the two while Jace still held me, but I couldn't help it.
I loved the tenderness that Jace brought, and how I could find my strength and confidence with him. And while I wouldn’t confess to him that his final assault on my breasts in his moment of climax had hurt—he would only apologize and feel guilt for it; none of what I’d want to come from the confession—the way it had made an already incredible orgasm that much greater only proved that my body craved something more.
It craved what Kade gave it.
I craved the pain and humiliation that my bastard stepbrother gave me.
God... what was I becoming?
The sound of banging interrupted the peaceful moment and Jace carefully slipped away from me.
“Stay here,” he ordered as he slid his pants on and a tank top.
I sat up, covering my body with the blanket and bit my lip as the pounding grew louder and more intense by the second. Jace began to step out, calling out that he was coming. I waited, unsure of what exactly was going to happen. A mixture of fear and excitement filled me at the thought of it being Kade.
Cut that out, Mina! I shook my head.
“Where is she?” Though it was muffled, it was definitely Kade’s voice.
“Get out of here,” Jace’s voice was unnaturally calm.
I frowned, chewing my lip as I heard a loud bang and Kade letting out another holler. I couldn’t let this continue as it was. Taking a deep breath, I moved from the bed and slipped into the clothes Jace had offered me since mine were still wet. I stepped out and saw Kade standing in Jace’s doorway, his fist embedded in the side of the door. His body was soaked and his eyes were fierce as he turned his attention to me.
“Come... home... NOW!” he spoke between heavy breaths.
“Kade, you need to calm down. Now!” Jace narrowed his eyes, stepping in front of me. “You go home. I’ll send her home in the morning if I think it’s safe.”
Kade turned his gaze to me. “Couldn't get it from me so you turn to my twin?” he sneered, letting out a cold scoff.
I froze at that, unable to even meet his gaze.
Was that why I’d come here? Had I been hoping for this all along?
Kade staring knowingly at me and Jace’s dodgy glance back at me, curiosity at his brother’s words burning in his gaze. At that moment the truth was laid out for all to see, and both saw me for who I was; for what I was.
I really was a slut...
And, even worse, I didn’t hate it...
The humiliation I felt at that moment was actually turning me on!
After a moment, Kade smirked and shook his head at me. “I’ll see you soon enough.”
With that, he turned away after offering me one more glare and slammed the door, leaving Jace and me alone once more.
I knew he was right. The way I was feeling—the sick thrill of it all—was all the proof I needed to know I’d go back to him. And then he’d give my body exactly what it wanted, leaving me stinging from my own pleasures until I was forced to scamper back to the healing arms of Jace. I’d inadvertently started a cycle of craved abuse and erotic healing...
The End
About the Authors
Megan J. Parker lives in upstate New York and is normally found lounging in the writing office with her husband and fellow author, Nathan Squiers.
Since the debut of her first novel, Scarlet Night, Megan J. Parker has gained international recognition and has been a bestseller in paranormal romance and dark fantasy. Her first novel, Scarlet Night, also was a runner up for 2013’s Best New Series Award on the blog, Paranormal Craving.
Follow her on Facebook @
www.facebook.com/MeganJParkerAuthor
Nathan Squiers (AKA The Literary Dark Emperor) resides in Upstate NY with his wife and fellow author, Megan J. Parker. Nathan is usually found in his writing lair where he is either typing away at his latest work or staring out the window as he plots a new idea in the subspace of his mind. His first series, Crimson Shadow, is a bestseller on Amazon in both Dark Fantasy and Horror categories. Along with that, his Death Metal novel two awards in 2013 for best paranormal thriller and best occult. Nathan Squiers was awarded 2012’s best indie author of the year and has since then been rampaging the literary world with his take on vampires and the paranormal world.
Follow Nathan Squiers at www.nathansquiersbooks.com
Or on his Facebook @
www.facebook.com/Nathan.Squiers
FALL
Jen Ponce
About Fall
Sometimes when you fall, it’s the end ...
Marlowe Montgomery is ready to die when none other than Beckett Glass, notorious boss of an extensive criminal empire, pulls her back from the ledge.
Then he tells her she’s a spoiled little girl and that he’ll take her back to her family ... for a fee. Something snaps inside her, something long since stretched tight, and she let’s go.
She falls.
Only she doesn’t die. That damnable man pulls her free of the river only to tell her she owes him a favor: find out what happened to her father’s former driver. A strange request, and it seems easy enough, but her digging unburies a dark secret that threatens to destroy everything she believes about the world.
It doesn’t help that Beckett Glass won’t leave her alone. His eyes, that smile, those dimples; she can’t keep him out of her head no matter how hard she tries—or how hard he pushes back.
Sometimes when you fall, it’s the end ... And sometimes, it’s for keeps.
ONE
Desperation had driven her here, to this tiny ledge off the side of the Red Span overlooking the churning, toxic mess of the Azazel River below. Did she have the courage to jump? To escape the pretty gilded cage she’d allowed her parents and her fiancé to build around her?
She didn’t think she did, which made standing there staring down at her death—so close, and yet so far away—as painful as a knife to the heart.
She should have been on top of the world. Her parents were the wealthiest couple in New Orion. Her fiancé—the Eric Lightbourne—was poised to become the next mayor of the biggest city in the country, and she was getting married in exactly one month on Valentine’s Day.
Any other woman would be happy to be caught up in such a mess. Any other woman probably wouldn’t have thought of it as a mess in the first place.
What was wrong with her?
Her hand slipped and for a terrifying, dizzying moment, she thought she would fall, but she caught herself in time. Rain pelted her, rain turning to sleet, and she shivered as she clung to the icy rail. She should climb over, get into her car, and drive home, accept the censure of her parents and Eric for ditching her bodyguards and missing their party. She should accept that she was too scared to say no to her family, to put a stop to the wedding, to kill herself and finally win free of everyone else’s expectations.
Any number of women would kill to trade places with her.
“What is wrong with you?” Her mother’s voice ricocheted in her brain, tearing through her reasons for climbing over the rails of the Red Span on a cold January night. “You spoiled little girl.”
The gunshot made her nearly lose her grip again. She whipped her head to her right, squinting into the oncoming headlights through hair the wind and sleet were making a wet mess of, trying to see what was happening.
There was a shout, then sharp male laughter, and the distant splash of something hitting the river far below.
She watched the news. She knew that the criminal crews Eric had vowed to keep from operating in New Orion liked using the Red Span to dispose of their victims. Had that been what she heard? The splash of a body hitting the water?
Sometimes, or so her maid said, the dead didn’t stay dead. Once they hit the eerie stew of the Azazel, anything could happen, up to and including reanimation. During the day when the sun was shining bright and the world seemed almost good, she would laugh at such stories. Now, though, now she could picture just such a thing happening.
More laughter. Doors slamming. They were leaving. They hadn’t seen her here in the dark and that was good. No telling what would happen to her if one of the crews caught her. Ransom her, probably. Maybe slice off her ear or a finger to send to her father.
Would he pay? she wondered idly. He didn’t negotiate with terrorists or kidnappers, after all. He might just write her off as a poor investment. Then he’d find another likely female to take her place. She wasn’t important, after all, except as far as she was useful.
The voice, when it came, made her almost lose her grip for the third time that night.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Marlowe Montgomery standing on the precipice of death.” The voice was low and sensual. It held all sorts of dark promise and it made her shiver, hard. Men didn’t speak to her like that. Not the kind of men her father surrounded himself with. She was to be catered to and kid-gloved. This man, whoever he was, didn’t give a shit about her; she heard that in the velvety mockery in his words. “What are you doing here, little girl?”
She flinched at the endearment which wasn’t endearing at all, not when he said it, not when her mother said it. Not the few times her cousin had mocked her with it out of earshot of her
parents.
“Not speaking, are we? Mother taught you to be wary of strangers. Good, good.”
“Leave me alone,” she said, annoyed that her words come out more like a desperate plea than an angry command. She wished she could see him, wished she dared shift on the ledge enough to look at him and see the face that voice belonged to.
He tsked. “Normally I would respect a beautiful woman’s wishes in that regard but, you see, I think you heard somewhat of my business here tonight and I cannot let that go. For the safety of my lads, you understand.”
The wind kicked up hard enough her hands slipped free of the rail. She shrieked, a million regrets thundering through her in the seconds between losing her grip and the hand clamping around her forearm. When she snapped to a stop, she finally got a look at the man who had almost killed her and then saved her all in a matter of minutes.
Her breath left her in a gasp.
Beckett Glass.
‘Shattered’ was tattooed over his left eyebrow. A heart sat under the edge of his right. Pale green eyes assessed her as if he was looking into her soul. Eyes without a hint of the deference her father’s men had for her. This was a man who didn’t give a shit about who her father or fiancé was.
He pulled her back to standing and helped her wrap her shaking arms around the railing.
After a moment, after she had her breath back and she thought she could speak without sobbing, she said, “Why didn’t you let me fall?”
The question caught him off guard. He slipped his tattooed hands into the pockets of his expensive, tailored suit and stared at her as if picking apart a puzzle. “Seemed too easy.”
Too easy. She almost laughed. It would have been a hysterical kind of laughter, had she let it escape her lips. “You’re a low-life piece of garbage. That’s what they say about you on the news.”
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