Stepbrother's Secret

“Lie down on the bed, Cate. Make sure I can see that pussy.”

Excitement goes from humming in my blood to vibrating my every nerve ending. Making it hard to think or breathe or swallow. I walk forward on my knees on the bed toward the camera, then sit, stretching my legs out in front of me. And I lie back, opening my thighs slightly, shocked by what I’m doing. What I’m showing him. By his strained growl. All of it.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” Again, I hear that sound, moving faster now. Flesh on flesh. I don’t know what it is and yet it arouses me, slicks the flesh between my thighs. “Now lift your shirt up and give me a look at those tits.”

I pinch the hem between my fingertips and draw the shirt up to my neck, baring myself to him completely, exhilaration rushing from my head to my toes. Freedom like I haven’t known since the last time he was in my apartment, all that intense male focus directed on me. My heart is racing and it’s partly because of that rapid smacking sound. Somehow my brain and body know it’s sexual. “What’s that n-noise?”

On the screen, I can see the fine sheen of sweat on Tristan’s upper lip, forehead, his gaze riveted on my body, my sex, my breasts. “I’m touching myself, baby. Damn me to hell, I’m going to get myself off looking at my stepsister. And that tight looking cunt.”

“Show me,” I breathe, going up on one elbow. I’m a shameless creature, yes. I know. I’ve proven it by wondering what that big, cumbersome part of Tristan looks like up close. Been thinking about it way more than is proper for a girl studying to be a lady. “Please?”

His face leaves the screen. It’s replaced by his masculine hand, the wrist surrounded by the white cuff of his dress shirt, a gold cuff link. That hand moves up and down his magnificent shaft, his thumb swiping over the purple head, his knuckles bleaching of color every time he strokes. My lord, it’s so much bigger than I could have imagined. Thicker. I’m looking down at the male ritual taking place from his point of view and the sight is raunchy and beautiful at the same time. “You like that, baby? You wish you could give it a kiss?”

My pulse is loud in my ears. “Yes.”

His hand pumps faster. “So do I. You have no idea how bad.”

Keeping the screen of my phone in view, I lie back down on my back, my palms skimming everywhere. Across my breasts, down my ribcage, along the insides of my thighs. My touch naturally arrows inward, my fingers teasing the folds between my legs, shocked and embarrassed and proud at the abundance of wetness. “Tristan…”

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he says raggedly. “Trying to keep from coming already. God, you’re so fucking sexy. Going to burn up just looking at you.”

“You’re sexy, too.”

His laughter is strained. “Tell me what you feel between your legs.”

I use my middle and index finger to part my sex, rubbing down toward the bed and back up, sucking in a breath when I travel over my entrance. “I feel smooth and wet.”

“I bet you are,” he pants. “Go higher, Cate.”

My fingers move again, closer to the apex of my slit and my fingertips encounter a spot that makes me mewl, makes me feels dig into the mattress. “Th-that feels nice.”

His harsh, electronic breathing fills the room. “You’re only brushing the surface, baby. Keep rubbing, press harder. Get deeper. Find that pretty little pearl.” As I do what I’m told, I watch his hand charge up and down his stiffness, a white bead of moisture pooling on the tip. He catches it with his thumb and uses it to lubricate his palm. And it makes my hips shift excitedly, that early sign of his release—oh!

I scream behind my teeth, my lower body arching off the bed.

Oh lord, oh lord, oh lord.

“Ahhh, look at you. So sweet.” He stops stroking, squeezing his shaft almost violently. “That’s your clit, Cate. That’s where I’d love to lick you. I’d love to plant this dick between your thighs and tease that precious little thing until you’re strangle the come out of me.”

“Come here and do it,” I babble, my fingers busy exploring that ultra-sensitive nub, something quickening in my loins, my belly. “Come here, Tristan. I need you.”

“Stop.”

“Tristan,” I whine. “Help me.”

That fleshy smack is back, faster than ever, nearly drowned out by his grunts. “Keep rubbing yourself, baby. Just like that. Open your legs a little wider so I can see.” He breaks off on a moan. “Yes, good girl. You make my cock so hard. All fucking day.”

“Good,” I breathe, feeling bad. Feeling decadent and coveted.

His next inhale and exhale are stuttered. “I’m close. Tell me what you’re feeling.”