RICH BOY BRIT (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)(19)

I felt like the wolf again.

Eli climbed out of the car and together we walked toward the house. It was strange not to hear Annabelle’s loved-up squeals or Dad’s teenager-like guffaws when we approached the house. A silence fell upon it, and that combined with the gates and the high hedges made me feel as though this was a secret place for me and Eli. This place was just ours, so I could trick myself. There was no judgment here. There was no wrong here. There was only us.

When we walked into the house, I was afraid for a moment that I had imagined it all. I had been getting hornier and hornier by the second, just from looking at him, and looking inwards and remembering the night, that personality-changing night when I’d shed Jessica and become the wolf. Eli didn’t turn and kiss me; he didn’t pick me up and carry me away. He walked, silently, toward my bedroom.

I watched him leave, and then, when he was almost around the corner, he said: “Follow me.”

His tone was implacable. I couldn’t ignore it. It was the tone of a man who expects to be obeyed. I was so horny at this point (I could feel the dampness in my panties) that I would have agreed to anything. I followed him to my bedroom, and gasped at what I saw. He’d picked up one of my belts and held it by his side, staring at me calmly with his earth-brown eyes.

“Bend over,” he said, in that same tone.

I had never been into this stuff. Some of my roommates back home were, but I never had. But when he said it, my sexual taste shifted. The idea of being spanked by some random frat guy back home didn’t appeal to me much. It made me feel cold and uninterested. But when I saw Eli with his dagger-tattooed hand grasping the buckle of the belt, the thin leather dangling by his side, my body told me all I needed to know. Wet, aching, my pussy urging me to do as he said, I walked forward, stood opposite him, and then turned around and bent over. I lifted my dress up to my lower back, baring my ass cheeks.

This is my stepbrother, a part of my thought. This is my stepbrother. Our parents were just married. What we are doing is wrong. But it didn’t feel wrong. When he trailed his fingertips along my ass cheeks with his free hand, when he came close to my pussy and then skirted away, when he clamped his hand down on my clit and I gasped and moaned and writhed against him, it didn’t feel wrong at all.

“Ask to be spanked,” he said. “Ask me to do it.”

My heartbeat in my ears (but not with anxiety, not now), I said: “Spank me, Eli.”





Jessica

I knew it was wrong. I truly did. I could almost see Dad’s judgmental face, could hear Annabelle’s tears. But there was a war in my chest in that moment. There was the side of me that didn’t want to hurt Dad or Annabelle, and there was the side of me that felt Eli’s dagger-marked hand on my ass, that felt him push aside my underwear, that felt his fingers trail along my lips. He moved one finger down, toward my clit, and brushed it lightly. And this was the side I would listen to, I knew. This was the side I couldn’t ignore. They were in Malta, they were far away; Eli was here, his strong hands on me, compelling me.

He pulled his hand back, and I heard more than felt the spank. Thwack! The noise was violent, skin-on-skin, and then, delayed, I felt the impression his hand had left on my ass. It hurt, but there was pleasure in the pain. I bit my lip. My anxiety, before so forceful, had frittered away. I was done with that, I decided. I was done living in a prison of nerves and second-guessing. When I was with Eli (I thought frantically, awaiting the next spanking) I would be changed.

He spanked me again, jolting my body forward, and I let out a moan. “Fuck, Eli,” I moaned. “Yeah, fuck, fuck.”

“You want my cock,” he said calmly, in that in-charge voice which made me hot as hell. “Tell me.”

“I want your cock,” I moaned. I didn’t have to force the words. I didn’t have to pretend. I really did want his cock, right there, inside of me. I wanted him to pound me like he had pounded me the night when I was the wolf and he was the lion. I had felt something that night, as much in my own head as in the crushing of our bodies, and I wanted to recapture that feeling. I had felt somehow freer than I normally did. “I want it now, Eli,” I moaned, louder.

He pulled down my underwear. It fell, past my knees, to my ankles. I looked down, bending my head, and watched them as they fell. There was something important in it, I thought. Perhaps it was melodrama. People often said I was melodramatic, over-sensitive, etc. But I genuinely believed that there was something significant in my panties falling down. It was like planting a flag. This is who I am now, the simple action seemed to say. This is what I am now.

He was my stepbrother, and I had just let him pull down my underwear.

Past my legs, I could see his pants, falling down as my panties had. He stepped out of them, and then his cock, rock-hard, and huge like I remembered it, brushed my pussy lips. “Beg for my cock,” he said.

I had never been into this sort of thing but—fuck. I would’ve begged for anything if he told me to in that commanding voice. I had never understood the women who liked to be tied up and dominated, but now I did. It wasn’t about the act, at least not completely. It was about the person you did it with, too. “Please, please,” I said, getting turned on by the pleading in my own voice. “Please, Eli, please, I want your cock. Please, please, give me your cock. Fuck me, Eli. Fuck me, now.”

He must’ve planned for this, at least on some level, because I heard him bend down, reach into his pant pocket, go into his wallet and pull out a condom. Then I heard the low tearing sound as he ripped open the packet. He quickly put the condom on his cock, and then his cock was back on my lips, and then— I was so wet, he slid in without any struggle, though he was huge and I was tight. My pussy wanted him. It opened immediately. He gripped my ass cheeks with his strong hands and forced his cock deep inside of me, pounding my sweet spot. I kept thinking about how he was my stepbrother, about how this was wrong—damn wrong, disgusting to most people—and every time I thought about that, my pussy went tight and I came all over his cock. I came again and again, over and over, all the while thinking: This is my stepbrother. My stepbrother bent me over and spanked me. My stepbrother is fucking me. My stepbrother is pounding me harder than I have ever been pounded. Fuck, fuck, fuck.