The sexual frustration, the effort it takes to keep from ejaculating, sends my teeth into her shoulder, burying there with a roar. Her cries are gratified, her fingers tunneling into my hair and holding me there, even encouraging me with whimpers to bite down harder.
I have to stop.
I cease my hurried pumps, all too aware that five more and I’m done.
“Lasting until you come is going to be the death of me,” I rasp, my lips moving over her mouth. “But I’ll wait every single time.” I nip at her chin. “No relief until you’re shaking.”
“I don’t know how,” she says in a rush. “Th-there’s a ticklish feeling but it’s different than the one…than when you did it with your mouth.” Pink climbs her neck and I fall in love with London a hundred fold. No, a thousand. “It’s b-bigger.”
“Damn right it is, baby. My cock is filling you this time.” Keeping eye contact with her, I grind the base of my shaft against her clit, only thrusting a few inches in and out of her entrance. “Let the feeling get even bigger. I’ve got you.”
London nods, looks at me through her lashes. “The feeling is in my chest, too.” She claps a hand down over her heart, her tits bouncing around it with my punctuated drives. “H-here. I can’t help it. I know this has to be a secret—”
“No.” My heart shoots up into my mouth. “Don’t you dare try to help that feeling, London. It’s safe. You are safe with me.” I pick up my pace, driving her up the seat with every slap of my hips. “Let the feeling get bigger everywhere. In your tummy and in your chest. I have the same ones.”
Her back arches on a moan. “You do?”
“God, yes, baby. Do you think I’d be able to keep you a secret?” I drop my mouth to the slope of her neck, raking a path up to her ear. “If we’re in the same room, my hands are on you. No other way I can live.”
“But—”
“I’ll worry about the hard stuff. Right now, your job is to come.” I groan into her neck, gripping her knees and shoving them up until they’re touching the seat and she’s folded in half, my hips pounding furiously, the seat creaking beneath us, the car rocking on its wheels. “Daddy’s meat can’t take much more.”
Two thrusts later, her breath catches, her pussy cinching up tight around me and she wails in my ear, her knees shaking against my pressing shoulders. “Brody.” She slaps her hands down on my humping buttocks and digs her nails in, screaming up at the roof of the car. “Daddy.”
Nothing could keep me from releasing now. It tears out of me like a pack of wild dogs, shredding my stomach and knitting it back together tightly, harsh shudders taking me over. Everywhere. My thighs, my straining balls, my throat. Months of lusting and fantasizing are pumped between her thighs, my much larger body flattening her on the seat, my final drives savage, an assault on her tempting body and sweet, wet cunt.
“Mine.” I grip her around her throat, looking her in the eye. “Mine.”
“Yes,” she gasps, eyes unfocused. “Just for Brody.”
“That’s right.” A hard shudder wracks me as the final drop of come is expelled. “Forever, little girl,” I say, kissing her hard. “Consider your fate sealed.”
I go boneless on top of her, my mouth moving against her temple, whispering her name, promises, praise for the way she took me. But when I catch her eye, she looks like she wants to say something.
“What is it, London?”
The color on her face deepens. “I was wondering if…well. What about the rest?” She crooks her finger and I come eagerly, my dick getting hard again when her lips graze my ear. “I want my spanking, Daddy.”
The words have barely left her mouth before she’s flipped over, face down on the seat, the sounds of my slaps and her answering whimpers echoing in the dark car. It has never been more obvious that this girl was made solely for me. That she is the love of my life. My soul mate and obsession. We are two sides of the same coin and nothing will ever come between us.
And that means it’s time to tell her everything.
As soon as we get home, London is going to find out exactly how deep—and twisted—my feelings for her run. Not to mention, what I was willing to do to have her.
8
London
I’m depleted of energy. Feel like I’m flying, even though I’m a lump of limbs on the passenger seat of Brody’s Range Rover. I can’t seem to stop mooning at him, either. Everything about him steals my breath. The way he drapes his wrist over the steering wheel, making capable turns, reaching over to stroke his thumb down the side of my face every so often.
What am I going to do?
What is happening here?
Am I in a serious relationship with my stepfather? It certainly seems that way, especially when he’s throwing around words like fate, forever and mine.
And Daddy.
I’m not sure what’s happening inside of me—or if there is something a little twisted between me and Brody—but I can’t help the rush of emotion attached to that title. It makes me feel coveted and safe and treasured. Like our attachment is permanent and not fleeting, not temporary like I’m used to. When he uses that word, or even when I do, I feel special. And this thing between us becomes more permanent.
Right?
A touch of worry creeps in. I’ve been fooled before. My mother tried to put down roots a few times when I was young and I got my hopes up, made friends in school, thought this might be the time she finally stuck around longer than a few weeks. But that was never the case. There was always that afternoon when I came home from school and found someone else in her place. Or a note explaining that she was gone and a non-family member would be watching out for me until she returned.
This thing with Brody feels incredibly different, but that just means it will hurt hard if I’m wrong, doesn’t it?
My pulse is firing when we turn the corner down his block—and it skyrockets when I see who is standing in the driveway of Brody’s house.
It’s my mother.
She’s leaning against the bumper of her Jetta, studying her nails. Tan, but visibly exhausted in a teal Cancun sweatshirt and pajama pants. I’ve arrived home to this scene more times than I can count and there used to be a spark of joy and hope when she came back. This time, though, there is nothing.
At first.
Dread starts to creep in slowly—and I realize in that moment how attached I’ve gotten to Brody in only a single day. Stupid. That was a stupid thing to do. My mother is home now—his wife! He’ll have no choice but to set me aside. Abandon me. It’s even the right thing to do, isn’t it? I’m the interloper here. I’m the betrayer.
“Goddammit,” Brody mutters through his teeth. “I don’t believe this.”
“It’s fine. I understand.”
His sharp gaze zips to mine. “You understand what?”
“That you have to…that this c-can’t happen again.” My throat feels like it’s closing up. I don’t believe it, but I think I fell in love with this man. I was right, this hurts worse than any other time. He can’t keep me. No one ever keeps me and this time is the worst it’s ever felt. A hundred times worse. I yearn for the safety of juvenile hall where they could lock me in and I could lock out the hurt and the people who did it to me.