Degradation (The Kane Trilogy 1) by Stylo Fantome

But before she could even adjust to that, she could feel his erection. She didn't even make a sound, just held her breath. He was huge, or at least a lot bigger than Drew. She bent completely in half, her face in the couch cushions, her ass in the air. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion, and when he was inside of her, pressed up against her, she sucked in a gasp of air, her whole body shaking. She had only ever had sex with Drew. Nobody else. Until now.

It occurred to her that she had been missing out.

“Goddamn, Tate,” Jameson growled. “You're so fucking tight.”

This was surreal. Having sex with Jameson. Jameson talking dirty to her. How had this happened?

Then he was pulling out of her. Then pounding in to her. Pull. Pound. In. Out. She moaned, made noises in her throat, and managed to push herself upright. She couldn't even think straight. Everything felt so amazing. She'd never had sex like that before, with someone behind her. Drew was not adventurous. Only ever at night. Her laying down. Him on top. Lights always off.

All the lights were on in Jameson's trendy loft apartment. It wasn't daylight out, but all the shades were open. Anyone in the building across the way would be able to see her having sex. No wait, what had he said; what hadn't she been able to say earlier? Fucking. He was fucking her. She hadn't ever really been fucked before, but she could now see that there was a huge difference. This was much, much better. Jameson Kane could fuck her whenever he wanted, she thought to herself.

Oh my god, I am fucking my sister's boyfriend.

“This is wrong, Jameson. So wrong,” she panted out. His hand suddenly came around her throat and pulled her towards him. She had to arch her back to meet him.

“Then tell me to stop,” he dared her, pressing his face to the side of hers, his teeth bared against her skin. She shook her head.

“I can't, I can't,” she cried out. He laughed and the hand on her throat went to her ponytail, pulling hard on it.

“You love this. You've probably fantasized about this. Did you ever? Ever touch yourself while you were thinking of me?” he asked, his fingers pulling at the roots of her hair. She shrieked.

“God, yes! Yes!” she answered. He laughed again and leaned away from her, but didn't relinquish his hold on her hair.

“Fuck, Tate, you are so sexy. You should see yourself,” he groaned, his free hand running over her ass. “I knew I should've fucked you a long time ago.”

She was shocked.

“You ..., wanted to do this ..., before?” she managed to get out between thrusts.

“Are you fucking kidding? I don't know any guy who hasn't thought about trying to fuck his girlfriend's hotter sister, and baby girl, you are definitely a hotter fuck,” Jameson informed her, pulling harder on her hair.

God, he's talking about fucking Ellie while he's fucking me. So wrong.

“Oh my god, we have to stop, this is wrong. You're Ellie's ..., I'm her ..., this is so wrong. Oh my god!” she cried out. He pulled out of her, and she moaned at the loss. But then he was spinning her around to face him, his fingers digging roughly in to her arms.

“Don't fucking say her name again,” he told her.

“But it's wrong, Ellie could be -,”

“If you say her name one more time, I'm warning you, I will fuck your mouth,” he growled, and then he was kissing her again.

It was like getting slapped, when Jameson spoke to her that way. No one had ever spoken to Tate like that before – she couldn't believe it. She knew she should be offended. She wanted to be offended. But she wasn't. If anything, it made her hotter. Did he talk to Ellie that way? She couldn't imagine it. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I won't say it again,” she whispered, kissing him back. They stumbled in to the bedroom, lips attached, hands roaming everywhere. It hadn't escaped her attention that his kisses seemed just as desperate as hers, just as needy. As if he couldn't get enough of her taste. He wanted this just as much as she did – maybe even more.

“You're goddamn right you won't,” he snapped, giving her a rough shove so that she fell onto the bed.

He was on top of her in an instant, his hands everywhere. He pulled the cups of her bra down and lavished attention on her breasts, teasing her nipples with his teeth. His hand was back between her legs, his fingers gliding through her wetness. She moaned and thrashed around beneath him, her fingernails raking across his shoulders, no thought about hurting him. He hissed and brought his mouth back to hers.

“Jameson,” she breathed against his lips.

“What?” he snapped.

“Are we -,” she started to ask, but then he was plunging inside of her. No hesitation, no accomodating her – just full, hard, length, driving as deep as he could go. She screamed his name, her legs moving to wrap around his waist.

“'Are we' what, Tate?” he asked, his voice breathless as he slammed his hips against hers.

“Are we going to do this again?” she managed to ask. He pulled himself up onto his knees and grabbed her by the hips, driving in to her even harder. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

“You're going to let me do this whenever I want,” he informed her.

“Yes, Jameson, yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, scratching her nails down his arms. One of his hands came to rest flat against her chest, between her breasts, pushing her down against the bed. Anchoring her to his thrusts.