Rock Hard

I snorted. “What, is your flat bugged?”

“With you here, it might as well be,” she answered, casting a furtive glance out the windows. “No doubt a fair few paparazzi followed you here tonight. And you never know what lengths they’ll go to.”

“Oh, yes, what a scoop,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Duke’s Son Once Again Cocks Up a Date, Goes to His Sister’s to Have a Whinge. I’m sure it’ll sell out nationwide.”

“Stepsister,” she reminded me, and I narrowed my eyes.

“Who are you reminding here, Gwennie? You, or me?”

Gwendolyn didn’t answer that. She pursed her lips and turned away from me. Thanks to the towel turban holding her hair back, I could see that the tips of her ears were turning red. Her chest was flushing the same color. I wondered where else the blood in her body was rushing. I knew my own pulse had culminated in some very intimate places.

“Look,” I said, trying to sound more gentle than I was feeling, “we need to talk about this. We never discussed—”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Gwendolyn put in, but I went on.

“—what happened before I joined the Royal Army. What happened between us.”

I remembered it well. And no matter how much Gwennie tried to hand wave it away, I knew she remembered, too. The way her eyes glazed over when I brought it up made me certain of that fact.

Absently, she touched her lips, as if she could still feel the way my breath had been upon them in that cramped, hot pantry. Dear Lord, I’d wanted to devour her in there, hold up her tiny body against the shelves and just dive face-first into her virgin cunt. Maybe if we’d had a few moments more, that’s exactly what I would have done. I’d been a stupid boy back then, though, and I’d strutted out of there before she could give in, certain she’d follow me. I’d underestimated how stubborn my Gwennie could be. It seemed she’d only grown more obstinate with age.

My Gwennie. Shit, did I really think of her that way? Or could I chalk it up to an errant imagining, one I wasn’t totally responsible for? I knew which one I’d like to do, but what would be the truth? It’s easier to lie to yourself if you can at least suss that out.

“That was a long time ago,” she said, though the way she stared at me I could have sworn we were right back there, the both of us so ready to take one another that we could taste it. I could still recall the way she felt against my lips, how her skin had turned to goose flesh beneath my soft and caressing touches. “We were still kids.”

“Like hell we were,” I said, shaking my head as I recalled just how adult the two of us had felt back in that pantry. I could tell by the way Gwennie’s body fit against me that we had been by no means children. “We were most certain not behaving like any children I’d ever met… though I always did love playing doctor.”

“You’re such a bastard,” Gwendolyn spat, though the look on her face told me that she immediately regretted it. It was cute how much she cared for my feelings, cared about how I felt about my place in the world. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“I know what I am, Gwen,” I said, leaning against the door of her refrigerator. “I’m not ashamed it, not like my father is. I’ve been told so many times that the word has lost all meaning to me.”

“Still, I was insensitive,” she tried to reason. “I shouldn’t have called you that.”

“And just how do you plan to make it up to me?” I asked, smiling down at her as I took a step closer. Our young bodies pressed together. I summoned the memory of her hand down my pants, holding on to my pierced cock. I could almost feel the sensation—her firm, but timid grip.

“You always know how to turn something innocent into some disgusting innuendo,” she said, shaking her head, though I spotted her lips turning up at the corners and knew that she was enjoying herself.

“It’s a special talent of mine, actually,” I laughed, drawing nearer to her once again. “One of many that I’ve already offered to show you.”

Her face flushed with color, turning it away to hide what I knew was a smile from me. Though as I pressed my body against hers, it was a gasp that escaped her lips, short and high-pitched like a mouse. I adored that gasp more than she could understand. It brought back all the memories I had of my playful, lusty games that all led up to that night.

“That offer’s still open,” I whispered into her ear. “The one I made to you all those years ago. All you have to do is take it.”

“We can’t,” she whimpered. God, we really were replaying that night, weren’t we?

Only this time, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake. I wasn’t going to let her use our reputations as an excuse. I wasn’t going to take “we can’t” for an answer—not when everything she did, from the way she looked at me to the way her body sang in my arms, told me she wanted to. That we could.

Hell, that we ought to.

“Come on, Gwennie. We’re alone. No one’s going to see. Your mum isn’t going to walk in at any moment and ruin the fun, and she never has to know. Nor does my father. We’re not teenagers anymore.”

“I thought you said we were adults back then, Tristan,” Gwendolyn murmured, squirming as I slid my prick up against her, forcing her to understand the weight of what she did to me. Her body grinding against it, however involuntarily, wrested a low groan from my throat.

“We were. Just inexperienced ones. Even me.” I chuckled, thinking of how I’d been convinced I was some kind of Don Juan who knew everything there was to know about sex and women. Growing up a bit had taught me I was wrong, that I had so much to learn. And I’d been a good student. Now it was time for me to ace the ultimate test: bedding my stepsister once and for all.

“Are you still a virgin?” I asked her.

Gwendolyn flushed so red I was sure she’d say yes. But she surprised me. “N-not exactly…”

I grinned. “No need to be embarrassed, love. That just means I don’t have to take it slow.”

I reached over, giving her plenty of time to stop me. But she didn’t, and so I pulled away the neckline of her robe, exposing the tops of her incredible tits.

She sucked in a breath, making them jump. “Tristan… what are you doing?”

I pushed the fabric down over her shoulders. Still, she didn’t stop me. Her breasts shuddered. Her flesh pricked with goosebumps. “Tristan, I… We’ve been over this before… What if someone hears? Or sees?”

It was an excuse. A stupid, flimsy excuse. She didn’t me

an it. I could tell.

I undid the belt on her robe. Then I pushed it away, down onto the floor. Gwendolyn was naked in front of me except for that silly towel turban in her hair, and I yanked it away, letting her red locks spill over her neck and shoulders.

Before she could say my name again I kissed her, covering her mouth with mine, engulfing it, consuming it. I drew her against me, against the hardness straining against my slacks. When she moaned, I knew what I had to do.

I had to take her.

With one sweep of my arm, I cleared one end of her kitchen island, letting the plates she’d let gather there crash to the floor. Fuck it, I didn’t care if I destroyed her entire flat. I wanted Gwendolyn. I needed her. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I would’ve destroyed the entire city if it meant I’d get to finally have her.

I grabbed her tiny waist and plopped her down on the edge of the island, sinking my teeth into her lip until she gasped. I needed to hear her moan again. I needed to hear those breath-stealing sounds she made, the ones that urged my cock into a frenzy. I needed to feel her shudder.

“I’m hungry,” I said, shoving her down on her back so I could spread her legs wide for me. She blushed and put her hand on mine as if to stop me, but one sharp look made her bite her lip and settle back, her entire body quaking.

“Don’t be shy,” I told her, pushing her thighs apart. “Not with me, Gwennie. You don’t ever have to hide from me.” Then I bent my head and puffed a hot breath over her labia, making her squeal. Now that was a sound I just had to hear again. I opened the lips of her pussy and dove in with my tongue.

“Fuck!” Gwendolyn breathed, as if this entire time she’d thought I’d pull away, like maybe this moment wouldn’t happen, after all. She dug her manicured nails into my hair. “Tristan!”

Oh, God, Gwendolyn’s pussy was incredible. It was pure ambrosia, even sweeter than I had imagined it being. I lapped up her lust and musk, thrashing my tongue against her nub, making her beg and cry and arch up off the kitchen island while I thrust my fingers inside of her.