Stepbrother Master (3 page)

I waited, expecting Mac to say something else, but he didn’t. He pushed off the stall, grabbed his Gatorade from the floor, and stalked toward the exit.

That left Griff studying me and TJ gaping.

“You got a problem with that, TJ?”

He shook his head and lost the look of shock painted across his face. “No, sir.” He shoved off the straw bale. “I think I’ll be getting to the section of fence I was planning to ride today.”

And then it was just me and Griff—a man I trusted and respected, whose own respect I earned with my blood, sweat, and determination. He still didn’t think the rich man’s kid had what it took to run this ranch, and I was dead set on proving him wrong.

His chuckle was low, and his cigar-roughened voice rumbled through the barn. I expected him to make a comment about my new stepsister-to-be, but instead he said, “Your daddy gonna expect me up at that wedding? I don’t wear suits. Not even to my own goddamn funeral.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate it, but if you’d rather not, that’s your choice.”

Griff nodded once. “I’ll think on it.” He shifted the toothpick to the other end of his mouth. “That girl asks a lot of questions. Don’t think she’d know a cow pony from a cow patty.”

“You’re probably right about that,” I replied, thinking about the conversation at dinner.

Griff pushed himself upright, his joints creaking with the effort.

“Guess we’ll see how long she lasts, then.”

He ambled out of the barn, and I was once again left alone with my thoughts of Emma. Maybe if she got out of here fast enough, I’d be able to keep that fucking ball gag in my toy bag where it belonged.

Before Celeste had even picked up his dinner plate, Ford disappeared again. Russ's genial expression faltered for a moment, but Mom touched his arm and he smiled at her. I held back the urge to wonder where Ford was going. Either he was avoiding us—in which case, everyone should just let him sulk—or he was trying to give us our own space. Whatever it was, Ford chilling out a little could only be a good thing.

We went on chatting over coffee while Celeste cleared the dishes. An hour’s worth of small talk later, Russ yawned and set down his mug with a clunk. “I think it's time to check out the insides of my eyelids. You coming up, Cyn?”

Mom glanced at me as Russ pushed out his chair. “Do you need any help getting unpacked, sweetie?”

“No, thanks. I'll just pull out what I need for tonight and deal with the rest in the morning.” I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “Goodnight, Mom.”

Russ waited for Mom to get up, then started toward the stairs that led to their wing of the house. I put my plate and mug in the kitchen sink. They were the only dishes Celeste hadn't collected. I’d received the message clear as day: I was not welcome in what she considered her domain. Mom was too caught up in the excitement of wedding planning and being in love to notice the statement Celeste was silently making. But that was something for another day; I was too damn tired to deal with Celeste right now.

I went up to my room and rooted through my bags until I found my shampoo and long, fluffy bathrobe. Even though I was dead on my feet, I knew I couldn't get to sleep without a quick shower; I was rumpled and dirty from traveling all day.

I undressed and went across the hall, huffing with annoyance when I found the door shut. There was nothing I could do but wait.
Either that, or get lost forever trying to find another bathroom in this huge, dark house.

Finally the door opened. A pretty girl in a see-through teddie stepped out. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed … It was clear that she had just been well fucked. She squeaked when she saw me and darted down the hall to Ford's room like a scared mouse. I gaped after her until the situation finally clicked.
Is everyone getting laid around here except me?

Behind me, Ford stepped into the bathroom doorway. I turned to look and immediately regretted it.

He wore nothing but a towel draped loosely around his waist. I tore my eyes away from the trail of dark hair leading down his abs and realized that he was staring at me. Not an angry glare, just … brazen. This was his home turf, and he was daring me to either challenge him or slink away with my tail between my legs. Was everyone out to challenge me tonight?

“You going to shower or what?” he finally asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him.
Fuck you, buddy. It's not like I got a vote about staying here.

He showed no sign of moving to let me pass. I was forced to squeeze through the doorway around him, so close that his hand brushed my hip. My skin prickled where he touched me through the robe. With one last glance at my bare calves, he finally followed the girl back to his bedroom. I watched his tight ass as he walked away and told myself I was just doing it to spite him.
I definitely haven't lost control of my own hormones. Nope. Not at all.

* * *

The days until the wedding crawled by. While Mom and Russ snuggled obliviously in their wing, I was trapped, with Ford just a few doors down. And he made it clear that he didn't like me invading his space. Whenever I turned around, he was right there—ogling me, scowling at me, blocking my way, swaggering around half-dressed. Everything he did simultaneously pissed me off and made me horny as hell. I felt like I was being taunted. I didn't know why he couldn't stand me; I didn't know why I couldn't shake my dirty thoughts about him.

Shutting myself in my room to avoid him didn't work. I catnapped, flipped through all the books on my e-reader, and even repainted my toenails. The boredom just made it harder to ignore my libido. And being lazy during the day meant being awake at night, when I'd be sure to glimpse the seemingly endless stream of booty calls coming and going from his bedroom.

By my third night at Wild Cliffs, I was already fucking done. I couldn't stand just lying in bed trying to sleep anymore. I needed some fresh air. I needed to get far enough away  from Ford's room to stop wondering whether he slept naked. I threw on the clothes I had worn to dinner the previous day and crept downstairs.

As I opened the front door, a cool night breeze caressed my face. I breathed in deep: dust, grass, animals, wood smoke, and the strange spice that I'd learned was the smell of truly clean air. The stars twinkled in the deep black sky, brighter and more numerous than I'd ever seen in the city.
My head's clearing already.

I didn’t go outside with any particular goal. I stood on the porch for a while, just enjoying the peacefulness of the night. Eventually my eyes drifted to the horse barn. Like every little girl in the world, I had been obsessed with “magical ponies” once. Now that I'd seen real herds of show horses running in their paddocks, spirited and graceful, I was falling in love all over again. Maybe I could visit them for a little while.

Filled with thoughts of petting soft noses and offering sugar lumps, I strolled down the brick walkway in front of the house. But when it turned off toward the horse barn, becoming a dirt path, I heard a strange noise. It sounded like it was coming from the tack room. Confused, I ventured closer and heard it again—that sharp snap, followed so quickly by a low moan that they were almost the same sound.

Light was shining through the crack in the tack room door. I glanced through the slim space and gasped.

A woman knelt naked on the concrete floor. I couldn't see her face. Her arms were raised over her head, bound at the wrist by white rope; the other end of the rope disappeared into the rafters. The pale skin of her ass was covered in painful-looking red marks.

And Ford stood over her with a riding crop.

He wore only old, faded blue jeans. The harsh light of the tack room's single bare bulb cast his amazing body into sharp planes and angles of shadow, defining every muscle. And I could see one thing in particular
very
clearly: the long, thick cock straining against his zipper. My mouth went dry.

With an expert flick of his wrist, Ford cracked the crop over her right ass cheek. The motion was fast and fluid, as if he had a lot of practice, and the tendons in his forearm bunched with the force he put into the blow. The woman gave a high-pitched, desperate sob. Her back arched, pushing her ass toward me, and I could see her pussy glistening. A fresh welt bloomed on her tender skin.

“Just three more, pet,” Ford barked. His deep voice took on a new and strange, rough tone that made my clit snap to attention. “You can do it. You asked for this. Unless you don't care about your reward anymore?”

The woman shook her head rapidly, making a guttural noise. Her sandy-colored hair slid aside to reveal a leather strap around the base of her skull. She was gagged.

I couldn't take my eyes off them.
Should I call Mom? Should I call the police?
But the tied-up woman was writhing
into
Ford's blows, not away from them, and moaning like a cat in heat with every word from his full lips. Whatever the hell was going on here, she liked it. Loved it. She wasn't scared at all—and I wasn't either. Some other feeling had frozen me to the spot. A bizarre fascination that went down to the pit of my stomach.

              With a shock, I realized that I was rubbing my thighs together, trying to ease the hot ache of desire. I shifted slightly and felt a flood of slickness.

I swallowed hard. My hand slipped under my thin, jersey knit skirt—
just to test
, I told myself. I already knew I was almost as soaked as the woman in front of me. Even touching through my panties, my fingers felt damp.

Ford struck one, two, three more times, true to his word, and the woman moaned with each harsh snap. He was breathing hard, but not from exertion. His eyes burned me without even facing my direction. The look on his face was somehow both faraway and immediate, consumed by the absolute need of here and now. Almost unconsciously, I rocked into the heel of my hand.

He threw the crop aside to clatter on the floor. He dropped down behind the woman, one knee on either side of her left leg. “Good girl,” he purred. Now his voice was hypnotic, rather than overtly commanding, and it dripped with sin. “Are you ready for me to fuck you?”

Without waiting for a response, he shoved two fingers inside her. She screamed against the gag and pushed back, trying to take him deeper. He growled in appreciation and started savagely thrusting his hand. “Such a good pet; you're so wet for me.” He panted. His free hand strayed to his zipper.

My willpower collapsed. I suddenly didn't care if Ford was my stepbrother, a total douchebag, or a fucking space alien. I just needed to get off.
Now.
As my fingers started to rub in earnest, I stifled a loud moan of relief.

Ford's head whipped around. His eyes found mine and went wide, then hardened in rage.

The erotic spell shattered. Suddenly, I felt like the Peeping Tom I was. I jerked back from the door, stumbled, and bolted back to the house.

I didn't stop running until I was safe upstairs in my bedroom, filled with shame and lingering arousal. Any minute now, Ford would come thundering up the stairs on my heels. If he hadn't hated me before, he sure as hell would now. How could I spy on them like that? What kind of pervert was I? I couldn't remember the last time my body had reacted so wildly to anything. My libido had kicked my brain out of the saddle and seized the reins. If Ford had stopped me, if he had commanded me to come closer, if he had chased me down when I ran and pushed me to the ground like prey…

“Fuck,” I muttered out loud. My pussy still ached, clamoring for me to finish what I'd started.
I have to shut this shit down. Right here and now. No flicking the bean while 'accidentally' thinking about my stepbrother.
After what I'd just seen, though, I knew I would never get that image of Ford out of my head—him standing over that woman with a riding crop in his hand and raw lust in his eyes.

Even if a cold shower would have helped, I couldn't bring myself to venture out of my room. But after the minutes ticked by with no sign of Ford, my tension started to ease. Maybe he wasn't going to confront me after all. If he wanted to act like none of this had ever happened, I was more than happy to play along. A few painfully awkward family meals and the whole episode would be behind us.

I just needed to put my pajamas back on, get into bed, and pretend I hadn't seen a damn thing. Satisfied with that decision, I started to pull my blouse over my head.

And then Ford burst in.

The high that had been thrumming through my veins—the high I only got when I was in the middle of a scene—evaporated the second I caught sight of Emma. My dick, which I had worked my ass off to keep hard for Chelsea, deflated just as fast.

After Emma and I locked eyes and she turned tail and ran, I helped Chelsea out of her bindings, wrapped her in a blanket, and sat with her while she came down. A few sips of water and a few bites of chocolate and she found her balance again.

I walked her to her car, and my mind went to the woman in the house who’d just fucked up my night. The whole reason I had Chelsea bound in my ropes tonight and under my hand was because I needed to release the tension that Emma had stirred within me.

But she’d taken that from me.

And now the nosy little girl had some explaining to do.

I sanitized and wrapped up my ropes and repacked my toy bag. Tossing it over my shoulder, I stalked up the brick walkway, and all I could picture was the shock in her bright blue eyes. And then the horror.

It was enough to gut a guy. She clearly had no clue what she’d interrupted. She was probably calling the cops right now to report that I had a woman tied up. The thought made me move a little quicker. It’d be one thing if Deputy Jackson Harrison answered the call—I knew from his comments that we shared a kink—but the rest of the small county department would haul me in first, regardless of my last name, and ask questions later.

My wing of the house—well, what
had been
my wing of the house—was quiet and dark.

Except for the pale glow that came from beneath Emma’s door.

I didn’t bother knocking. I ripped the door open, stepped inside, and shut it behind me with a
click
that had Emma spinning to face me.

She had her blouse halfway over her head, and I got a glimpse of smooth, fair skin and a lacy pink bra. My limp dick was suddenly no longer limp. She yanked her shirt down, covering herself, but my dick didn’t go down with the damn shirt. Nope, that fucker was getting harder by the second. I stifled the urge to readjust myself and forced my focus onto the fact that she was the reason I wasn’t coming down Chelsea’s throat right now.  It worked.

My frustration mounted and fed my anger.

“What the fuck was that?” My words were harsh and clipped. I wanted her on edge and as uncomfortable as I was. She looked at the floor for a beat, and I used that moment to shift my dick into a more comfortable position. But I wasn’t quick enough or stealthy enough, because as her eyes lifted they caught on my hand.

“Wha—what are you talking about?” she stuttered, her eyes darting up to mine and then back down again.

I don’t think so, sweetheart.

She twined her fingers together, shifting from foot to foot, her pink polished toes digging into the thick pile of the rug.

I crossed the room in two strides and had her chin between my fingers, forcing her gaze up to mine. I wasn’t even sure when I decided to move.

“Unless I tell you I want your eyes on the ground, I want them on me when I’m speaking to you.”

Her blue eyes went wide with surprise. Apparently my new sweet stepsister-to-be didn’t have much experience being manhandled or ordered around. The confirmation of what I’d suspected had me jumping into my next question. The imperative one.

“Did you tell anyone what you saw?”

She swallowed, and her surprise faded away as she decided to try for courage.

“Not yet, but you better believe I will. Where is she? Is she still tied up? Did you hurt her?”

Her questions were like a slap to the face. For any woman to think a Dom would abandon a bound playmate was abhorrent. I stemmed my rising anger by reminding myself that she clearly had no fucking clue what she’d just seen.

“Do you have any idea what you walked in on?” I asked. I couldn’t help the need to educate her. I told myself it was just because I didn’t want her running off and spreading the word that I was a sick fuck who liked to tie up women and spank them. Even though that wouldn’t be a
completely
untrue statement.

Her eyebrows knitted together, hardening her expression. “I know I saw something that wasn’t right.” She spat the words and I felt like I was watching a kitten learn how to swipe with its claws for the first time.

Oh, kitten… Don’t judge what you don’t understand.

My grip on her chin relaxed, and I glanced around the room. I saw what I was looking for on the nightstand.

An e-reader.

I took a calculated risk.

“You look like the kind of girl who’d spend some quality time curled up with a book.”

Her chin jerked down, and I took the nod as a ‘yes.’

“You ever read anything about BDSM? Dom/sub relationships? Power exchange?”

“That’s fiction. It’s not something normal people do.” Her words, while judgmental, didn’t carry a harsh tone. They were softer, more questioning.

I couldn’t help but skim my thumb back and forth beneath her chin. She stiffened at the contact.

“Are you sure it’s only fiction, pet? Because if it were, that would make it pretty fucking hard to believe that there’s a Dom standing in front of you right now.”

I released my hold on her chin and slid my hand down the arc of her throat. I felt the shiver run through her body against my calloused fingers.

“I …. I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t understand what you’re—”

“You don’t have to say anything, pet. And all you need to understand is that some men have … particular needs. More strict expectations. And I happened to be one of them.”

Her pulse, already thudding against my touch, kicked up to a gallop. I wasn’t sure how she did it, but the shy, submissive vibe I was getting from her morphed into something completely different.

Her eyes flashed, and she stood straighter, sidestepping and knocking my hand away.

“Particular needs and strict expectations? And what exactly does that entail? The need to gag a woman and tie her up before you fuck her? How about you tell me exactly what those needs and expectations are? I might as well learn something while I’m here this summer.”

Something about those pretty pink lips saying the word ‘fuck’  made me want to do exactly that to her mouth. My cock pulsed against my zipper, hard as a fucking rock. I sidestepped to meet her movement and leaned closer. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and I felt a flare of victory when she unconsciously leaned toward me.

She wants to learn something this summer? She’s come to the right place.
I froze as soon as the thoughts solidified in my brain.
She’s going to be your stepsister in a handful of days. And what’s more? She’s a tight ass, stuck up bitch who just missed getting her M.R.S. in college
.

“I don’t think an uppity little princess like you could even begin to understand what a man like me needs. Let alone have a chance in hell of delivering it.”

Her flashing blue eyes taunted me. “Try me.”

The answer shocked the shit out of me. I wrapped my hand around her shoulder and crowded her until she was forced to back up a step. And then another—until her back hit the wall and I was blocking her escape.

“You think you could handle this, sweetheart?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but I didn’t wait. I’d had
enough
fucking waiting tonight. I lowered my lips to hers and
devoured.
My hands tangled in her hair, and I angled her head so I could deepen the kiss. Her hot little tongue darted out, and I took it as the green light to take this a step further. I shifted my left leg, sliding it between her thighs. It caught on her skirt, so I dropped one hand to the hem and shoved it higher. Gripping the back of her thigh, I slid my hand up… and up... until I hit the soft smooth skin of her bare ass. I groaned into her mouth at the discovery, deepening the kiss. Her ass, which I’d openly admired from day one, was soft and full, and I fought the urge to give it a little swat, just to make sure she knew who was now in charge. Her hands skimmed up my chest, and I pressed into her, wanting to feel her against me. I swallowed the little whimpers she made as I took my time caressing every inch of her luscious, curvy little body

Fuck.
Had I known she was wearing a thong beneath this dress, I couldn’t have been held responsible for my actions. I took half a step back, and my palm teased her cheek before sliding between her legs. My cock jerked insistently the second I felt the damp lace covering her pussy. She shifted, pressing against my hand, and it took everything in me not to shove that flimsy barrier aside and sink two fingers deep inside her.

I pulled back from the kiss only a fraction of an inch. “Fuck me, you’re soaked, baby. Did your pussy get wet watching me earlier, or were you waiting for my hand on this hot little cunt?”

Her moan in response was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

I wanted inside of her. I just fucking wanted her. 

The thought slammed into me with the subtly of a freight train.

I pulled back, dropping my hand and placing a few necessary inches of separation between us.

Her eyes fluttered open, and I couldn’t deny the rush of male pride that surged through me at the clouded arousal in them.

We both stood, inches apart, sucking in enough oxygen to get our brains back to normal functioning levels. My attention locked on her and her every movement. I could almost pinpoint the moment her mind snapped back to what she’d seen in the barn.

“Where is she? What did you do with the woman? You never answered me.”

“She’s home by now. All tucked up warm in her bed, probably wishing a nosy little blonde hadn’t interrupted a scene guaranteed to make her come harder than she’s ever come before in her life.”

“Why didn’t you … finish?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question of the night?

I decided to go bold, because that was the kind of guy I was, and I made no apologies for it. “Because maybe after I saw you, she wasn’t the one I wanted bound and on her knees  before me.”

Her sharp inhale and dilated pupils were more intoxicating than the rotgut Griff sipped on.

I moved back, my hands circling her wrists, pulling them above her head, and pinning them to the wall. My mouth dropped to hers, and I took another taste of the forbidden.

It was that thought—the knowledge that she was going to be my stepsister in a couple of days—that had me pulling away and crossing to the door, even though she was still panting and needy.

But it was my own goddamn lack of filter that had me saying, “If you ever want a real man to show you the pleasure in submission, you know where to find me. In the meantime, lock your fucking door.”

The confusion on her face was plain when I shut the door.

I made my way down the hall to my bedroom and ducked inside, not bothering to lock my own door. If Emma had the guts to come to me tonight, I wouldn’t have it in me to turn her away, even though I knew this was the worst fucking idea I’d ever had in my life.

But that didn’t stop me from heading to the shower, gripping my cock, and picturing her wide blue eyes and perfect pink mouth as I took my own release.