Wearing Him Down

Or so he lets the world believe.

With me, once a day, he lets his guard down and absorbs the human contact the rest of us need to be happy. To survive. He’s chosen me to give him that few minutes of comfort and I’m not going to twist our act of love into something sexual. As badly as I might want it to be.

I walk toward him on my knees, arms outstretched. He used to feign indifference during this part, but he doesn’t any longer. Now, his pupils dilate, turning his blue eyes black. His breath shudders in and out through his nose, faster and faster the closer I come. And when I finally wrap my arms around his neck, he groans into the quiet room, picking me up off the bed with ease and holding me tight to his chest.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he orders, his mouth open against my ear.

“I’m your princess.” I wrap my legs around his waist. “All yours.”

“The rest of it, Sienna.”

“I’ll never leave.”

A shudder goes through him and I soak it up, letting my stepbrother run his hands all over me. Down my back, over my hips, up my arms. He’s so starved for human contact, he has to do this. I could feel his need for touch from the very first day we met, which is why I spontaneously hugged him our first night living together. I had an immediate need for Grant to know he could be human around me, if no one else.

After stiffening for several seconds, he returned the hug.

And now every night, we meet here and recreate a moment that gets better with time. Wrapping my legs around him is something new. Something I’ve only done for the last week or so. His big hands might have started exploring me in different—lower—places, like my backside and thighs, but that could just be wishful thinking. Maybe he’s always done it. As for his erection, I’m not sure when that started since I only noticed it when our private parts begun touching, thanks to my legs around his waist. I know his body can’t help reacting to the nearness of a female, so I don’t read too much into the thick, raised flesh prodding my panties.

I just wish I was free to rub myself all over it.

God, I would love that. I would die from happiness.

But I’m too afraid to lose this connection. I crave our closeness. It’s my world.

If I pushed too far and found out Grant doesn’t want me as a lover, I would ruin this unique relationship we have. After a youth of being passed around between nannies, it’s the most honest, genuine one I’ve ever had. So I remain still and let him take from me. Let him be someone other than the god of finance for five minutes.

Right now, he’s just my stepbrother.

I’m his stepsister.

And he touches me like I’m his personal princess.

Because that’s exactly what I am.

Something else new happens now, however. Grant plants his knees on the bed and lays me down on the mattress, my ankles still wrapped loosely at the small of his back. His mouth is an inch from mine and I force myself not to whine or beg for kisses. Our first. I would do anything. I’d do anything for him to ram that big, meaty part of him against me, too. Just to know what it feels like.

Grant doesn’t kiss me, though. Or ram his arousal into me.

In a slow deliberate movement, Grant rolls me over onto my stomach. Air kisses the backs of my thighs and I feel him looking at me there. I squeeze my eyes closed and fist the sheets, waiting. Waiting for what?

I almost shred the bedclothes with eager fingers when my stepbrother lifts the hem of my robe, exposing my barely covered buttocks.

“I know you weren’t sleeping when I walked in, Sienna. I know every fucking thought in your beautiful head. You wanted to show this off to me.” His hand comes to a rest on my bottom, cupping my right cheek, jiggling it hard. Before I can process what’s happening, Grant delivers a slow, sensual swat to my flesh. A spanking wrapped in silk, with just enough bite to make me gasp. “Do not let it happen again.”

I’m still reeling when the door snicks shut behind him and I’m alone again.

A frustrated sob leaves my mouth.

All at once, I realize I can’t go on like this. My femininity is clenching, my underwear is sopping wet—and having Grant touch my naked skin is a freshly formed addiction.

I need another hit.

I just have to figure out how to get it.

CHAPTER TWO

I press my knees together tight to keep them from shaking.

It doesn’t help.

I’ve never been sent to the headmistress’s office before. I’ve never even had an instructor become cross with me. If anything, I’m the teacher’s pet of the finishing school, turning in my work early and raising my hand during lessons. Not today. Today I’m sitting in the row of cold, hard, plastic chairs of shame, waiting for…what? Is the headmistress going to call my stepbrother?