Page 45 of Jealous Stepbrother
Asher
It’s Friday morning.
I’m fucking my stepsister for the… yeah, shit, I’ve lost count… when my cell starts to ring. She’s spread wide on my bathroom vanity, her knees touching her ears, and I’m kissing the hell out of her, our tongues mimicking the thrust-withdraw happening down below.
I’ve discovered in the past forty-eight hours that Scarlett loves to kiss as she’s fucked. Something about our mouths fusing as I shuttle in and out of her tiny cunt makes her cream like a faucet. And I’m one hundred percent here for it.
I barely register the ringing stop, until it starts again thirty seconds later.
She tenses.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I growl against her mouth, pinching her nipples.
She gasps and her pussy clenches.
I think I’ve distracted her enough, but another ping and her eyes flicker toward the nightstand. “B-but it could b-be important,” she gasps, then cries out when I tunnel deeper, attempting to feed her those last inches she’s having a hard time taking.
“More important than making my baby sis come all over my cock? Don’t fucking think so,” I grunt. Pinch her nipple harder.
“Asher! Oh God.”
“That’s more like it. Want more of this?”
Her head slams back against the mirror as I grab her ass, lift her higher, and yank her into my thrusts. Feel her pussy flutter madly, a sign that she’s about to come.
I’m addicted to that flutter. Addicted to the drugging look that glazes her eyes when she’s cresting her peak. Crazily obsessed with the way she milks my dick in sublime contractions.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she screams. Then she’s coming, babbling my name every other word.
My balls tighten at the last strains of her orgasm squeezing me. I drop my forehead to hers and groan. “Here it comes, my beautiful princess. You’re going to be a good girl and take it all, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Asher. Give it to me.”
I give it all to her.
Then I carry her into the shower. Wash her from head to toe as is my privilege and my right.
But another series of pings shatter the sweet aftermath when I walk us back into my bedroom.
Setting her on the bed, I pick up the phone just in time to watch the video and photos drop.
Someone, somewhere in Central Park, had their phone out the day I lost it over that asshole looking at her ass.
The angle is bad enough—me in the fucker’s face, then me in Scarlett’s space, my ultra-possessive hand on her waist, her face turned up to mine—but the captions make it worse.
#HouseOfMForbiddenLooksHot
#BossAndInternShenanigans
#HouseOfM #StepOrNot
On their own, I wouldn’t even care what a handful of pictures and hashtags knocking around on social media depict.
But from the missed calls already piling up, I know this isn’t ideal.
“Asher? What’s going on?” Scarlett asks, her sweet voice edged with worry.
I grit my teeth but don’t respond right away.
