Stepbrother Romance 2 - Consumed: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance by Tawny Taylor Page A
Authors: Tawny Taylor
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head to toe. My senses were hyper-alert. I heard him moving behind me. I felt the slightest gust of air when he came closer. I smelled his cologne.
I felt his heat burning my back, even though I was still wearing my clothes.
The hairs on my nape stood on end.
“I enjoy your fire, esclavo . Now, let me see if you enjoy mine.”
What did that mean?
My insides twisted.
Heat gushed to my core.
Shocked by my body’s reaction to the menace in his voice, I let my head fall forward until my forehead rested on the structure to which I was bound. “Go to hell.” Since when did the threat of rape turn me on? Since when did a bastard who didn’t give a fuck about me make me cream my panties?
I was sick. Sick!
I deserved to go to hell too.
Confused and disgusted with myself, I smacked my head against the wood and curled my fingers so tightly my fingernails dug into my palms. A sob ripped up my throat.
Behind me, he said, “Now, it is time to see what I have paid for.”
I felt a tug at the back of my shirt and then the sound of rending fabric echoed through the tense silence. My spine arched and I jerked in a desperate (but pointless) attempt at escape. A breeze chilled my back as the torn pieces of my tank top fell aside and my skin prickled with goose bumps. My bathing suit strap snapped and my breasts fell out of the cups. My nipples hardened almost instantly. And another blast of heat pulsed to my center.
I was fucked up.
“Stop it,” I yelled. “Stop it now.”
“Ah, esclavo , keep screaming. Keep shouting. Your pretty little voice makes my cock hard.”
My skirt was next, cut, torn, I couldn’t tell which. The material slid down my right leg, catching on a cuff at my ankle. My bathing suit bottoms would be next. Oh God.
My pussy clenched. Hot, sticky cream coated my folds, dampening the lining.
He audibly inhaled. “I can smell your cream. Intoxicating.”
“Fuck you.”
“As you wish.”
I felt the tug at the waistband and panic gripped me. I writhed, fighting the chains holding my ankles and wrists in place. But there was no hope, no use. I was bound tight, unable to resist. Fingers slid down my lycra-covered crack. I trembled. Tears coursed down my cheeks, even as more heat pounded to my pussy. I was shocked and ashamed by my body’s response. I despised this man. I didn’t want him to touch me. Not my back. Not my ass. And…oh God…not down there .
“No,” I said on a whimper. “No, no, no.”
His fingers grazed over my sensitive flesh. No man had ever touched my pussy. It felt so good. Good but wrong. Wrong but thrilling.
“Please stop,” I begged.
“Do you know what the scent of your cream does to me? Esclavo , you are so wet. I want to cram my cock into that slick, tight heat and make you scream until you can’t scream anymore.” My thighs tensed. My feet slid wider apart, as far as the chains would allow, opening my center for his probing digits.
What the hell was I doing, welcoming his invasion?
My breathing quickened. My heartbeat thumped through my body, sending wave upon wave of lust burning through my core. My pussy was empty and clenching, so wet and hot I ached. Instinct told me to open wider, surrender to him, even as my brain told me to resist, to fight, to beg for mercy.
I couldn’t let him take what was mine.
But even as that thought blazed through my mind, I quivered with need. His fingers slipped into the leg of my bottoms, fingernails grazing my labia. My insides pulsed, and the air filled with the sweet scent of my need.
I was shameless. I was a whore. A whore who didn’t just want his touch to delve deeper, I needed his touch to delve deeper.
Closing my eyes, I waited, my breath in my throat. My blood was like lava, burning through my body. Every nerve in my skin was electrified. His touch had awakened a part of myself I hadn’t realized existed. The feral self who didn’t give a damn about shoulds and should nots.
“This is mine. My cunt.” When
I felt his heat burning my back, even though I was still wearing my clothes.
The hairs on my nape stood on end.
“I enjoy your fire, esclavo . Now, let me see if you enjoy mine.”
What did that mean?
My insides twisted.
Heat gushed to my core.
Shocked by my body’s reaction to the menace in his voice, I let my head fall forward until my forehead rested on the structure to which I was bound. “Go to hell.” Since when did the threat of rape turn me on? Since when did a bastard who didn’t give a fuck about me make me cream my panties?
I was sick. Sick!
I deserved to go to hell too.
Confused and disgusted with myself, I smacked my head against the wood and curled my fingers so tightly my fingernails dug into my palms. A sob ripped up my throat.
Behind me, he said, “Now, it is time to see what I have paid for.”
I felt a tug at the back of my shirt and then the sound of rending fabric echoed through the tense silence. My spine arched and I jerked in a desperate (but pointless) attempt at escape. A breeze chilled my back as the torn pieces of my tank top fell aside and my skin prickled with goose bumps. My bathing suit strap snapped and my breasts fell out of the cups. My nipples hardened almost instantly. And another blast of heat pulsed to my center.
I was fucked up.
“Stop it,” I yelled. “Stop it now.”
“Ah, esclavo , keep screaming. Keep shouting. Your pretty little voice makes my cock hard.”
My skirt was next, cut, torn, I couldn’t tell which. The material slid down my right leg, catching on a cuff at my ankle. My bathing suit bottoms would be next. Oh God.
My pussy clenched. Hot, sticky cream coated my folds, dampening the lining.
He audibly inhaled. “I can smell your cream. Intoxicating.”
“Fuck you.”
“As you wish.”
I felt the tug at the waistband and panic gripped me. I writhed, fighting the chains holding my ankles and wrists in place. But there was no hope, no use. I was bound tight, unable to resist. Fingers slid down my lycra-covered crack. I trembled. Tears coursed down my cheeks, even as more heat pounded to my pussy. I was shocked and ashamed by my body’s response. I despised this man. I didn’t want him to touch me. Not my back. Not my ass. And…oh God…not down there .
“No,” I said on a whimper. “No, no, no.”
His fingers grazed over my sensitive flesh. No man had ever touched my pussy. It felt so good. Good but wrong. Wrong but thrilling.
“Please stop,” I begged.
“Do you know what the scent of your cream does to me? Esclavo , you are so wet. I want to cram my cock into that slick, tight heat and make you scream until you can’t scream anymore.” My thighs tensed. My feet slid wider apart, as far as the chains would allow, opening my center for his probing digits.
What the hell was I doing, welcoming his invasion?
My breathing quickened. My heartbeat thumped through my body, sending wave upon wave of lust burning through my core. My pussy was empty and clenching, so wet and hot I ached. Instinct told me to open wider, surrender to him, even as my brain told me to resist, to fight, to beg for mercy.
I couldn’t let him take what was mine.
But even as that thought blazed through my mind, I quivered with need. His fingers slipped into the leg of my bottoms, fingernails grazing my labia. My insides pulsed, and the air filled with the sweet scent of my need.
I was shameless. I was a whore. A whore who didn’t just want his touch to delve deeper, I needed his touch to delve deeper.
Closing my eyes, I waited, my breath in my throat. My blood was like lava, burning through my body. Every nerve in my skin was electrified. His touch had awakened a part of myself I hadn’t realized existed. The feral self who didn’t give a damn about shoulds and should nots.
“This is mine. My cunt.” When
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