Stepbrother Romance 3 - Addicted: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance (2 page)

A
little
work? This was what Mom considered
a little
work?

I sighed and fell back into my car.

I would have loved stretch out and fall asleep in a nice, soft, cushy bed, but I didn’t want to bang on Kent’s door every time I had a problem.

No, I didn’t.

I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t.

As it was, he was doing way too much for me. He’d paid off my school loans. He’d paid for my car. And he’d bought my house for me.

But I was too tired to drive all the way out to Ransom’s. And, thanks to my empty bank account, a hotel was out.

I looked around in my SUV.

Why not? It was fairly big, roomy. Safe.

I rolled down the windows and I moved to the passenger seat so I would have more leg room, slid it as far back as it would go, and then reclined until the back was almost resting on the seat behind it.

This was doable.

A nice cool breeze wafted in the open window.

I closed my eyes.

Yes, this was better than doable. It was downright cozy.

Ahhhh.

He swept me into his arms and carried me into his mansion before I realized what was happening. I was teetering between sleep and wakefulness, in that hazy world where it was impossible to tell what was real and what was a dream. He was so beautiful, like a prince in a fairy tale, and so strong that at first I was sure I was dreaming. But then I sank into the soft bed and his lips sealed over mine, and I knew I wasn’t dreaming anymore.

Kent’s kiss was like the kiss of no other man. It wasn’t shy or polite. It was bold, domineering, and utterly decadent. I quivered as his mouth made me forget my dreams, awakening me to a world of pleasure more delicious than any fantasy ever could be. His tongue stroked mine as his hands explored every inch of exposed skin. Within a few moments I was writhing beneath him. My heart was galloping in my chest like a runaway racehorse. And colossal waves of heat were blasting through my body.

His touch and his kiss gave me life, breath, hope. I was lost and empty the instant he broke the kiss.

My gaze met his and I gasped.

He looked so… dangerous. Feral. Wicked. Could there be a more beautiful man? From the arch of his brow, to the sharp slant of his cheekbone, to the strong angle of his jaw, he was utter perfection. His dark eyes told me I should run, jump in my car, and drive far away. Before it was too late. Before I surrendered to the furious need he would ignite within me.

But his mouth and hands commanded me to stay.

“Shayne, why are you here? Is this a dream?” He dipped his head lower, lower, until his lips were almost touching mine again. His sweet breath caressed my mouth. “If I’m sleeping,” he whispered. “I don’t want to wake up.”

I hooked my hand around the back of his head and pulled, closing the distance between our mouths again.

He growled, the sound vibrating through my body.

His lips and tongue teased, tormented, and white-hot need blazed through my body, electric jolts arcing from my center. Abandoning my mouth, he nipped my earlobe, and I shuddered. Goose bumps prickled over my entire upper body.

It seemed he knew exactly how to make me burn. Where to touch me, how to kiss me, what to say. I would never feel this way with another man. Never. It was either we found a way to be together or my heart would fracture into a million tiny pieces. And no one would ever put them back together again.

He cupped my cheek. His thumb grazed my lower lip. “What is it about you? Why do I think about you night and day? All I want is to hold you, taste you, hear you scream my name as you come. But I can’t. I shouldn’t…” He jerked his hand away.

My insides twisted. “Please, Kent. Don’t stop.”

“Shayne. My Shayne.” He suckled on my earlobe, and I let out a little whimper. My whole body quivered as tingles raced down my spine. I squirmed. I wriggled. I moaned. “Look at you. You’re so responsive. I enjoy torturing you. If I could, I would torture you all day and all night.”

Another blast of erotic heat blazed through my body. “Oh God.” I didn’t know which would be worse: him stopping or him tormenting me for hours.

He nipped my collarbone, my neck. One hand made its way to my breast, covered by my bra and cotton tank top. The material was so thin I could feel the heat of his hand burning my aching nipple. My spine tightened, back arching. His mouth took the place of his hand, warm wetness encasing my nipple, tongue laving through the damp material. Pulses of heat rippled through my body with each lick. He nipped, teeth pricking and my muscles jerked into knots.

“Oh God,” I murmured again as I squeezed my inner muscles around aching, pulsing emptiness. How I longed to feel his bulk on top of me again, his thick erection filling me.

While he suckled on my breast through cotton knit, his hand meandered lower, down my side, over my hip, across my lower stomach.

Between my legs.

A sigh of relief bubbled up my throat but I swallowed it back down. I parted my legs, welcoming his hand, wishing it were inside my shorts instead of outside. His touch was too soft. The fabric too thick. Even so, the pounding of my heartbeat sent bursts of heat through my whole body, up to the top of my head and down to the soles of my feet.

A second soft touch nearly made me blind with need. I clenched and relaxed my center, wishing something would slip inside to stroke away the delicious tightness. He’d vowed he wouldn’t take me again. Not until he could be the man I deserved. Because he’d said it wasn’t fair to me. But I didn’t care. I wanted him to tear off my clothes and take me. Right there. Right then.

“Kent, please. I’m burning all over,” I pleaded, knowing I was doing it again—throwing caution out the window and setting myself up for heartbreak once more. But I didn’t give a damn. To be held by this man, touched, kissed, it was worth the risk. I was in love with him, and I treasured every moment I spent with him. He said he didn’t love me yet, but I could tell he wanted me. He needed me. Could love be very far away?

“Burning, you say?” He slipped his hand into the gaping leg opening of my shorts. His fingertip slipped between my folds, grazing them through my panties.

Oh yes!
I tensed up. My legs trembled. “Please, Kent,” I whispered again.

“Is this what you need?” His finger pushed a little deeper, slipping between my labia, taking the crotch of my panties with it.

A white hot inferno blazed through my insides. Yes, yes, yes, that was what I wanted. But deeper. Harder. Without the material holding him back. I arched my back, wishing his invading digit would plunge inside,
all
the way.

“Damn, you’re so wet,” Kent murmured. He exhaled. Hard. Shoved his fingers through his hair, like he always did when he was frustrated. Good. I hoped he was frustrated! Because I was too!

Sitting upright, he tugged on the legs of my shorts, dragging them down my thighs. And then across the room they flew, smacking the wall and plopping on the floor. My panties were next. Whoosh, gone. Now I was totally bare from the waist down. He gently eased my knees apart and touched me again, parting my outer lips to expose my slick folds. I felt so exposed and vulnerable. And that only made the fire within me sizzle hotter. “Damn, it seems you’re out to torture me too.” Dipping his head lower, he flicked his tongue over my exposed clit.

“Oh, God.” My stomach spasmed and I groaned. I couldn’t wait to feel him inside me again. I had to have him. I had to feel his cock thrust deep inside. I needed his arms wrapped around me.

To hell with the risk.

This torment had to end.

He expertly worked his tongue over my clit, up and down, up and down, while his finger plunged in and out of my tight channel. I squirmed beneath him, soaring toward release. But just as the swirling heat was about to blaze through my whole body, he stopped.
Everything.

The bastard.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to make him suffer for what he’d done. In the most delicious way, of course.

“Jerk! Asshole! You’re going to be sorry you did that.”

His head between my legs, his sexy dark eyes glittering with mischief, he curled his lips into a lopsided smile and chuckled. “What are you going to do, kitten?” His shoulders and arms were clenched, producing scrumptious, sinewy lines between the thick, bulging muscles. With that face and body, he was made for pleasure.
My
pleasure. Only mine. I would not lose him! No way was I going to let him walk away from this, from what we had. It was too special, too precious. He didn’t know it yet, but he would see. I would make sure of it.

He plunged his tongue into my opening and my inner thighs burned as I stretched my legs wider apart. More. I needed more. I wouldn’t be satisfied until his cock was buried inside me again, to the hilt. That wicked tongue danced over my clit, sending sharp little jolts of electricity zipping through my body.

Oh God. I was dying. From the pleasure.

I was hot. Everywhere. And tight. And on the verge of release.

So close.

Almost there.

Trembling. Breathless.

He stopped again.

“No!” I shouted. How could he be so cruel?

But then he sat up, yanked down his pajama pants and settled between my legs. Sweetly, he smoothed my hair back from my face and stared into my eyes as his thick erection pushed into my slick channel, filling me at last.

The sensation was delicious. And the connection I felt with him as our bodies became one was so intimate and intense tears gathered in my eyes.

This was meant to be. There was no denying it. Our bodies were one. We clasped our hands together, palms pressed, eyes locked. I felt as if his soul was calling to mine, through his eyes. He needed love. My love. Even if he didn’t know it yet. I would give it to him. And he would love me in return. With all his heart.

As our bodies moved together in the beautiful dance of pleasure, the tendrils of desire coiled through my body, tightening, constricting, knotting with every thrust.

Tears streamed down my face.

“What are you doing to me?” he muttered.

His erection thickened, filling me perfectly. The sensation was so delicious I didn’t want it to end. But with every stroke, every breath, every touch, my body soared higher, closer to completion. My muscles contracted. My inner walls clamped tight around him. He jerked his hips back, but I clamped my legs around his hips, forcing him deep again. As he succumbed to bliss, a tsunami blasted through me.

My whole body spasmed as I came, every muscle. My pussy walls rhythmically clenched as his cum filled me. I cried out his name, the sound echoing through the room. Then it was instantly silenced as he sealed his mouth to mine.

I had his love. It was in that kiss.

I lay in Kent’s arms, the steady thump-wump of his heartbeat lulling me. I was drowsy. Content. Blissfully happy. Kent was reclined, head and shoulders propped up on pillows. I was on my side, most of my upper body resting on him. We were skin-to-skin, legs tangled under the sheets. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

I sighed and squeezed Kent, kissed his chest. In response, he stroked my hair and plopped a kiss on the top of my head.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” I said, the statement followed by a long, drawn out sigh.

“So do I.”

“Then why don’t we?” I lifted my head and looked him in the eye.

I hated to risk ruining this moment. But, at the same time, this was an opportunity to talk about important things, things we needed to sort out if there was any hope of a future together. And that was what I wanted. More than anything. I wanted to be free to love Kent. And I wanted him to love me in return.

“I told you why, Shayne. Just like I told you why I didn’t want to do this again.” He stroked my arm. It wasn’t a sexy touch. It was a comforting one, one that said he cared about me.

“Yes, yes you did.” I lowered my head again, listening to his heartbeat, the whoosh of air as he inhaled. “But I’m having a hard time understanding. Clearly we both have feelings for each other. Normally when that happens, people enter into a relationship.”

“Yes, normally. But this isn’t a normal situation,” he said.

“Because of our parents?”

“That’s only one issue. There are others.”

“Your marriage?” I asked. I wanted to understand. Desperately. He was holding back. Why?

“That will be a non-issue soon.”

I lifted my head again and searched his eyes for something, a hint, anything. “So what are these other issues, Kent? Will you tell me?”

Kent shifted positions. He was uncomfortable with this conversation. Too bad. I didn’t want to cut it short. Doing that would suggest this wasn’t important to me. It was. Very.

It would be so easy to just change the topic and get back to that warm, happy place we’d been basking in. But why do that? This was the second time we’d had sex. It wasn’t a one-time thing now. “Kent?”

Kent breathed deeply, the long inhalation making my head rise and fall. “For one thing, I’m worried. Yes, we’re not actually family. We don’t share blood. There’s no law against us being together. But that doesn’t mean it won’t look bad.”

So it was
that
? Because we were stepsiblings? Evidently, that was a bigger deal to him than I thought. For me it had become something of a non-issue. There was still that small fear, that if things went bad, I’d be forced to see him on a regular basis. That would be horrible. Especially if he eventually married someone else.

But he wasn’t worried about anything like that. No, he was concerned it would
look bad
. The guy who appeared to live his life the way he wanted, and to hell with everyone.

Why start to care how things looked now?

“Do you think it’ll hurt your business somehow?” I asked, trying to understand why what should be a small issue was becoming a big problem. “Will it tarnish your reputation with your business associates?”

“No. I don’t give a damn what those people think of me. I never will.” He thumbed my chin, lifting it until I was looking in his eyes. “It’s you I’m worried about. I can handle the leers, the whispered comments. But you…you’ve never been around people like them, people who love to hate people like me and will do anything to bring them down. What we do will eventually end up in all the tabloids and on all the gossip blogs. Paparazzi will follow you everywhere, trying to snap the most unflattering, embarrassing pictures they can because those photos go for the most cash.”

I understood now. But comprehending didn’t mean I agreed. So what if people plastered us all over the stupid internet? I didn’t care. We weren’t doing anything wrong. We were adults. In love. It wasn’t a dirty, ugly thing. “So that’s it?” I sat up, dragging the sheet over my body. I couldn’t have this conversation when I was naked. I felt too exposed. “They decide who we can love and who we can’t? Those people out there? Strangers with cameras, people you don’t like, reporters who don’t give a crap about us?”

“We’re going to let them decide if we don’t want to suffer the consequences.” Kent shook his head, raked his fingers through his hair. “I won’t let them smear your name and reputation through the mud. It would be ugly. Very ugly. Trust me when I tell you that.”

“Ugly how? Are they going to threaten my life?”

“No, but you’d be surprised what hell a pack of jealous women can stir up.”

“What women? Who?”

“Wives of business associates. Chairpersons of charities. Wives of competitors.”

“Well, I don’t care. I think you’re worth it.”

He grabbed my shoulders, looked straight in my eyes. “I’d rather protect you, Shayne.”

Protect. He was always trying to protect me. “That’s sweet, Kent. The fact that you are so protective, over not just me but your dad and my mother too, is what has made me fall in love with you in the first place. But, really, I’m a big girl. I can handle a few haters.”

“These people are rich. They have influence. Power.”

“So what? I have absolutely no interest in politics. I merely want to be—“ I cut myself off before I said wife. I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on either of us, especially Kent. He was still in the throes of a divorce. “I just want a simple, quiet life.”

“If you stay with me that’s the opposite of what you’ll get.”

“How can you be so sure about that?”

“Because you don’t really know me. You don’t know what my life is like. My life is  anything but simple. You say you love me, but how can you love me when all you know is what you’ve seen so far?” He motioned to his nude body. “This is all you’ve seen, all you love. You love how I kiss. How I touch you. How I fuck you. But you don’t love
me
. So stop saying you do.”

His words were like a knife, slicing right through me. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

The bastard. How could he say something so mean? That was a lie. I didn’t just love the way he fucked. I swung at his face. My palm made contact with his cheek. He didn’t try to dodge the blow or block it. He took it. Even though he saw it coming. Because he had done it on purpose. He’d hurt me so I would tell him to fuck off and run away again.

Well fuck him. This time I wouldn’t let him do that to me. This time we were going to stay and battle this out. Even though Kent could be an absolute asshole, I knew there was a better man in there, a giving, generous, selfless man who loved better than any man I’d met before. That was why I loved him. Not because of his dick.

“Aren’t you going to leave now?” he asked, his voice cool, calm.

“No. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” I crossed my arms over my breasts. “I’m staying right here until you throw me out.”

He yanked on my arm, jerking me onto my back and crawled on top of me. “Then maybe we’ll go another round? Since you’re here, naked, in my bed, awake…”

“You’re trying to push me away.” I snapped, glaring into his eyes as he rubbed his thick cock against my pussy. “I know what you’re doing. It won’t work.”

“I don’t know what you mean. What won’t work? This?” The head of his cock nudged my opening and a little pulse of heat bloomed in my center.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. Good.” He reached down, fingering my clit.

Ohmygod, he was good at that. Really,
really
good. He had a point. I hated to admit it, but he did. I loved the way he touched me. I loved the bad boy hunger I saw glittering in his eyes when we were alone. I loved the way he tasted, the way he filled me, the way our bodies moved together as we made love.

But that wasn’t all. That was where he was wrong. And somehow he would see that. Eventually.

The wetness he’d teased from me eased his entrance. His cock slid deep inside, the long, slow stroke making me quiver. Prickles of pleasure danced over my skin, making me feel hot and cold at the same time.

“You’re better off hating me, Shayne. Hate fucking is a lot more fun,” he said, eyes shimmering with lust.

I raked my fingernails down his broad chest, watching red stripes bloom on his smooth skin. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, see what I mean?” he said, his voice a growl. He bent his elbows and nipped my lower lip, making me yelp.

Then I grabbed his face and pulled, unleashing all the emotions blazing through me in my kiss. Fury. Passion. Frustration. Anger. It all came tumbling out. And he responded by kissing and fucking with such feral abandon, my head was slamming against the headboard. But I didn’t care. We were telling each other, with our bodies, what we couldn’t with words. That we cared. That we were scared. That we were hurt and angry and determined.

His touches were just as rough as his kisses and thrusts. He didn’t trail a fingertip across my skin; he raked his nails down my legs. He pinched my nipples and rolled them until they were deliciously tender. He flipped me over, onto my stomach, lifted me onto all fours and smacked my ass as he fucked me hard.

And I slammed back into him, greedily taking everything he gave, including the cum when it spurted deep inside me. The heat and increased fullness touched off my orgasm and then I was gasping and quaking, wave upon wave of carnal pleasure thrashing over me.

So that was hate fucking. I liked it. A lot. But not enough to stop loving him.

I woke alone. It didn’t surprise me. Kent had to leave for work. But that still didn’t make it easier for me to accept. When I was little, my mother used to sing some old song all the time. The lyrics went something like, “I’ve grown accustomed to her face. She almost makes the day begin.” At the time, I didn’t know what that song meant. I kind of got the idea. But I didn’t
really
get it.

Not until now. Not until Kent.

Starting the day without seeing his face just didn’t work for me. And yes, that scared me. A whole hell of a lot. My heart was in his hands. He could pulverize it. I’d freely, willingly, given him that power.

I rolled onto his side of the bed, buried my face in his pillow and inhaled. I could smell him there. It made my heart feel lighter. God, I was so crazy in love it was sickening.

The doorbell rang and I jerked upright. Who would be ringing the bell on a weekday morning? Curious, I rummaged in his drawers for a t-shirt and pair of shorts and scampered down the stairs.

A man in a white uniform smiled when I answered and handed me a cardboard box that emitted a mouth-watering smell then wished me a good day and loped down to the walk.

What was this? Some kind of food delivery? Just as I was turning to head inside there my cellphone sang a song somewhere. Where? My car. Who? Was it Kent?

Dumping the package on the front porch, I sprinted to my car, where I’d left my phone. I plunged my hand through the open window and grabbed it. Kent! It was Kent. Wheezing, I hit the answer button and huffed into the phone, “Hello?” Did I miss him? “Hello, Kent?”

“Are you okay?” Kent asked.