RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE) (58 page)

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.

Fuck. She was tight. Her muscles
squeezed me, beckoned me in deeper, and I gladly accepted their invitation. I
managed to fit in three and piston them against her spot, making her buck her
hips into my face over and over. She squeezed my head between her thighs, and
with all her squirming, it was a wonder she didn’t break my damn neck.

She could have. I wouldn’t have
cared. All that mattered was pleasuring her, eating her, licking her. All that
mattered was her delicious, ripe pussy.

“I’m
gonna
come!”
Gwennie
whimpered, riding my tongue. “Oh, you
sweet bastard—I’m
gonna
come!”

I dug the fingers of my free hand
into her hip, holding her as still as I could while I drew out the process.
Little licks. Light taps.
Gwennie
was screaming and
whining and cursing my name by the time I was done.

And when she exploded, when I
finally drove her to release, she came all over my face. I was covered in her
juices. My chin was dripping with them. Yet still, I hungered for more.

I chuckled softly and kissed in the
insides of her quivering thighs. “Bastard, huh?” She blushed and opened her
mouth to explain. “No, no,
Gwennie
. No need for that.
I’ve just got to wonder where my good girl has gone. The one who couldn’t even
bring herself to look at my cock, when she had the chance.” I grinned at her.
“Do you want to see it now?”

Gwendolyn’s nipples stiffened at the
very thought.

“Say it,
Gwennie
.
Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want,” she said,
eyelids half-lowered.

“Is it this?” I asked her, pulling
her ass to the edge of the kitchen island. Her wet quim was pressed to my
slacks now, leaving a trail of lust that soaked right through. Gwendolyn
moaned. “Tell me, or I’m just going to grind against you here until you’re
ready to come again. And then I won’t let you.”

“Goddamn you,” Gwendolyn moaned.
Music to my ears. “Yes. I want your cock. I want to see it. I want it…” She
blushed even deeper. “…
inside
me.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice.

I pulled away and undid my belt,
opened my slacks, and hauled my throbbing cock out. Gwendolyn looked at it and
licked her lips like she wanted nothing more than to taste it, to pull me into
her mouth and gag on the length. Maybe later, I’d let her. Right now, that
pussy was just too good to resist.

I sawed my shaft against her slit,
my piercing toying with her sensitive folds. “I kept the piercing,” I told her,
as if she couldn’t feel it. “I kept it just for you. I remembered how wide your
eyes got…” I reached up, cupping her tits in my hands. “What do you think,
Gwennie
? Should I get rid of it now?”

“No,” she said, squirming against
me. “Oh, Christ, Tristan. Don’t stop.”

I growled, giving her tits a
squeeze. I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to have Gwendolyn, stepsister or
not. “I
wanna
see these bounce,” I said, tweaking her
nipples, and she purred her consent.

I breached her opening with the head
of my dick, sucking in air through my teeth as I did. Fuck, this was good. Too
good. Better than any woman I’d ever had; tighter and warmer, with soft, plush
walls that seemed to mold to my cock as I plunged in up to my nuts. The thrill
of victory, of conquest, rolled down my spine and I moaned for her. I knew I
wouldn’t last long inside of her, especially unsheathed like this.

Her cunt was so warm, so wet, and
with my massive dick inside it, it was filled to bursting. I grabbed her hips
and pulled her against me, stretching her tiny channel, claiming her for my
very own.

My
Gwennie
.

“Tristan!” she moaned, raking her
nails across my abs. It forced me into action and I began to thrust. I fell
into a steady rhythm as I pushed in and out of her, pressing my thumb against
her clit. She was soaking wet and wailing with every movement, linking her legs
up high over my shoulders so I could penetrate her further, deeper. She was
like heaven around me, squirming so much that I could feel
my
cum boiling in my balls. So much pressure was building inside me. It was
impossible to hold back much longer.

“I want to come inside you,” I told
her through gritted teeth. “I want to fill that pussy up,
Gwennie
.
I want to make it mine.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not on the
pill…”

“I don’t care,” I growled, and in
that moment, I really didn’t. I wanted to burst inside her more than anything
else I’d wanted in my whole life. I had to have her. All of her. Nothing else
would do.

She seemed to be giving this some
consideration, but I couldn’t wait forever for an answer. I leaned forward to
play with her tits, using my other hand to stroke her clit until she whined.

“Yes, Tristan!” she shrieked at
last. “Come inside me. Please!”

Gwennie
was a smart girl. A safe girl. But
when it came to my dick, she was careless and wild.

That thought alone drove me over the
edge. Bucking rapidly, I roared and slammed my fist hard into the table as I
jetted inside her, coating her womb with my lust. My cock lurched and
spasmed
, dumping load after load, filling her so thoroughly
I could feel some of it dripping back out.

And then
Gwennie
threw her head back too, clutching my arms with her nails and crying out as she
came again, this time around my pulsating cock.

I pressed one hand to her chest,
breathing hard, feeling her heart beat tremulously beneath my palm. Her eyes
were closed in bliss, her lips parted, and I gently brushed my own against them
before I collapsed on top of her, burying my face into her shoulder.

What the hell was wrong with me? I
almost felt like I should cry. There was something about being inside Gwendolyn
like this that felt more like home than I’d ever experienced, something that
made me feel like I belonged. It made me so… happy. So fulfilled.

What on earth had she done to me?
Whatever it was, I wanted her to do it again.

I picked Gwendolyn up with her legs
around me, clutching her to my chest. Then I kissed her again, holding her up
high as if I wanted the world to see.

Maybe I did. But that could wait.
First, there was the matter of finding her bedroom…

Chapter 9

I woke up feeling the best I had in
ages, rested and relaxed, my troubles so far away that I could barely make them
out on the horizon of my mind. At least until I remembered
why
I felt so good.

Oh,
God! What have I done?

Last night had been possibly the
best—no, definitely
the
best—sex I
had ever had in my entire life, all of it with the man I’d dreamed of since I
was a teenager. I bit my lip, swallowing hard as I felt the warmth of my
stepbrother radiating from behind me as I lay on my side. I honestly couldn’t
remember how many times we’d gone at one another, our bodies writhing and
pulsating in time together. Just the memory of it had me shivering with the
desire to have another round.

No
! I chastised myself, trying to bring
my focus back away to the way his cock felt so divine inside of me, his cool,
metal piercing hitting at just the right spot to drive me to levels of pleasure
that I had never felt in my entire life. But I knew that even though what I’d
felt had been beyond words to describe, I knew that it could never happen
again. What if we’d been caught? If some errant member of the paparazzi and
just so happened to have been following Tristan’s date the night before with
Patricia.

My mind buzzed with all the possible
ways that this could blow up into an enormous disaster. I could already hear my
mother’s screams of indignation if she were to discover what we’d done. I could
only hope that by some miracle no one had seen anything through my windows. It
had been late when Tristan had arrived and by that time hopefully any reporters
had been satisfied by Patricia being ousted angrily from the limo.

“Good morning,” I heard from behind
me and my entire body tensed, cursing the reminder that my indiscretion had
indeed taken place I had not simply dreamed the whole thing. I’d been so
frightened to turn over, to truly recognize Tristan’s presence that I’d
resigned myself to simply avoid even looking at that portion of my bed for the
rest of my days. “I trust you slept deeply.”

“Tristan” I began, my voice filled
with tension. “Last night was a mistake.”

“A glorious mistake,” he chuckled,
and I felt the strength of his arm sliding around my waist and pulling me
closer to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a night like that in my life.”

“But it can’t happen again,” I said,
my heart fluttering as I felt his morning erection pressed against my back. Oh
how I longed to feel him inside of me again, but knew more than anything that I
ought to simply make him leave. “What we did was wrong. You’re my brother.”

“
Step
brother,
Gwennie
,” he whispered, and for once I didn’t
entirely hate that name. The way he said it made my entire body shudder. “We’re
not really related and I know that you don’t really have much of a care.”

“Tristan, I—”

He pressed a finger to my lips
gently, halting my thoughts as he turned me over and pressed his lips softly to
mine. I felt like I was floating on a cloud, fireworks bursting behind my
eyelids as my entire body relaxed.

“We can’t do this,” I repeated, my
eyes shut tight against the sensation of his hands sliding across my body.

“I think speaking is the last thing
either of us need to do right now,” he whispered softly as I gave a surprised
gasp, his rough hands cupping my breast, his thumb brushing across my pert
little nipples.

My entire body shuddered, feeling my
hips squirm back against his body of their own accord. I loved the way he
touched me, how alive it made me feel. Every caress was like a drug in my
veins, spreading its effects from fingertip to the ends of my toes. It was so
hard to resist those exploring hands as they made their way between my thighs.

After last night and the dreams that
promptly followed, my pussy was soaked and more than ready for a second round
with my stepbrother. Just the thought of that piercing sliding inside of me
made me squirm, recalling the way that it so perfectly rammed against my spot.
I’d almost came from that feeling alone, my body writhing as I recalled the way
my climax had overwhelmed me.

“I think it’s time we had another
go,” Tristan whispered into my ear before slipping those soft lips against my
own in a slow, steady kiss. I was in absolutely no place to argue whatsoever,
and my body made it clear whose side it was on as I involuntarily moaned in
pleasure.

Still, I had to make an effort. “You
know we can’t. We’ve already crossed a line. If we go there again, things will
get… complicated. I love what you do to me, Tristan, but we can’t continue on
like this. Not if we want to make it out unscathed. Not if you’re going to
get…” I swallowed thickly and averted my gaze so he couldn’t see the wet sheen
in my eyes. I’d scared him off like that once before, back when I was a stupid
girl who believed we could be together in a way that meant more than physical
bliss. “…married.”

“Where does that leave us, then?” he
asked me, propping himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching my face. “I’ll
leave it up to you this time,
Gwennie
. Do you want to
go, or stay? Whatever you choose, I’ll protect your reputation. Keep you safe
from any of the fallout, should it ever come to that. But I want you to choose.
Go, or stay?”

I wet my lips. They were suddenly
dry, cracking. My mouth was parched. I knew Tristan’s kiss would sate it,
quench the deep thirst rising up inside of me.

But I didn’t know the answer to his
question. Go, or stay?

My stepbrother was trouble. Clearly.
Always had been. Maybe always would be. He had a knack for making a mess of
things, but that was, in some sick way, part of his charm. He was so careless,
yet his touch was so gentle. He was so arrogant, so damn cocky, and yet now
here he was humbling himself to me, letting me choose.

Letting him go would rid myself of a
complication I didn’t need, one of the biggest ones there was. Letting him go would
be playing it safe, would ensure that I didn’t get tangled up in my
heartstrings again, that I didn’t fall head over heels for a man I could never,
ever have, except in secret.

But staying with him would be
paradise. At least, for my body. And maybe I could pretend that there was
something more there, that we had a future together, until we didn’t. Until it
came time to accept that I was never going to be the woman to tame Tristan
Wolfe.

And then what? A mental breakdown?
Would I become the wino cat-lady, the newest incarnation of all women spurned
by their true loves who had come before me? Weren’t there enough of those in
the world already?

Either way, it seemed this couldn’t
end well. When taken to their natural conclusions, neither option seemed
appealing. But maybe, somehow, despite all evidence to the contrary, there was
a third in there somewhere. My heart leapt at the prospect. I wanted there to
be. I wanted a version of me and Tristan that worked out okay, a version I
could talk about with our grandkids someday.

I wanted it all. Him. Us. A future
worth having. But was it in the cards?

Tristan grazed his thumb across my
lower lip. “Go, or stay?”

“Tristan,” I whispered, pulling
back. He pursued me, moving with me, his body lithe and powerful against mine,
so warm beneath these soft sheets.

“Tell me you want to go,
Gwennie
,” he murmured, the words oozing from his mouth like
hot molasses. “Tell me you want to leave, and I’ll let you.”

I couldn’t. But I moved back again.
And again, Tristan moved with me. There was no escape. My pulse was pounding.
My sex was burning. My thighs ached to spread.

“Tell me no,” he said as I teetered
on the edge of the bed. “Tell me no,
Gwennie
, and
I’ll stop. For good. Once and for all.”

I stared at him helplessly. I
couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to.

He bent his head, and when his lips
devoured mine, I surrendered. No more fighting. I’d been doing that for years.
No more struggling and seething and holding on to the worry and anxiety inside
me. It was time to let it all go. Start something new.

However long that might last.

I reached up to put my arms around
him, lacing them around his neck as he held my waist. Slowly he moved his hands
to my hips, cupping their supple roundness, brushing his thumbs against the
bones until I gasped and squirmed. I could feel his cock hardening, coming to
attention between us, prodding into me. The cold steel of his piercing was a
wordless desire, a command:
Fuck me,
Gwennie
. Fuck me.

I drew in a shuddering breath
through my nose and let go of it in a whimper. Tristan growled in reply, and as
I arched against him, he took the opportunity to dip his hand between my legs.
I let my pussy reply in silken, sopping tones:
Yes, Tristan. Yes. Anything you want. Anything…

Tristan plunged his fingers between
my slick folds, into my opening, his thumb positioned firmly on my clit. He
stroked and rubbed and thrust his fingers in and out of me, and I tilted my
head back and moaned, digging my nails into his back, his shoulders, his neck
as the sheets fell away from us to reveal our naked, entangled bodies.

Everything that had happened over
the past few days was crazy. Insane. And yet this, this one thing, felt right.
Good. Peaceful. But like it would tear me apart at the same time.

I welcomed it. Only Tristan knew how
to do this to me. We fit together so perfectly. How could it be wrong? In my
haze of lust, all I could think was that I was made for this man—his status as
my stepbrother be damned.

Tristan teased me, pleasuring me yet
depriving me of what I wanted, what I needed: his enormous cock. I whined and
pulled at him, hands shaking as I stroked his hard, muscular flesh. “Please,
please, please…”

“You want my cock,
Gwennie
?” he asked. God, how I hated that name, and the
frustration that boiled inside me only made me want him more. I bit down on his
shoulder in reply, and he chuckled. Always the master. Always in control. “I
suppose that’s what I’ll give you, then.”

“Yes,” I hissed, waiting for that
sweet sensation of being completely filled.

But the bastard—the
literal
bastard—fooled me. Instead of
plunging inside where I need him most, Tristan slid his cock up into my slit,
letting his piercing nudge and flick against my wet clit.

“Oh,
God,
” I grunted, moving my hips, falling into a rhythm. I locked my
legs so hard around Tristan’s waist I was sure I’d break his ribs. “No chance
this thing vibrates, does it?”

Tristan brushed aside my auburn
locks and looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “Not this one,” he said, looking
impressed. “But that could be arranged. If I’d known…” He sawed back and forth,
tantalizing my most sensitive spot, filling me with such an ache I almost
sobbed. “…that you would want it so badly…” I cried out and he grinned,
lessening the pressure, pulling me back from the edge he’d just taken me to. “…then
I would have prepared.”

My eyes rolled back. I was so heady
with desire now that I’d become some sort of wild animal, clawing and beating
at Tristan’s back, whining like a whore, desperate to have him inside of me
when I came. If he even let me come—the way he was torturing me, I wasn’t so
sure.