ARROGANT BRIT (A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE) (31 page)

“Then what?” she asked me again. She didn’t move. Not an
inch. I could feel blood rush through me, but it wasn’t going to my head. It
was going far, far away from it, to places that would be bad for the both of
us. “Tell me, Preston. What the hell are you going to do if I don’t stop
calling you on your bullshit?”

She was searching me again. I could feel it. The way her eyes
bored into mine prickled my skin. It seared my soul. She wanted the truth from
me, a different kind of truth from the one I was used to telling. She wanted
the kind of truth a man wasn’t likely to give, the kind that made him have to
crack his ribs and bare his own heart for scrutiny. Was this how it was
supposed to feel? Was this how being with a woman was supposed to be? Was it
supposed to hurt like this, in a way that made every ounce of that pain worth
it?

No wonder it had never worked with anyone else. If this was
how it was supposed to be, and it sure as hell felt like it was, then Madison
Hearst was the first woman in my entire life with whom things felt tragically,
undeniably right.

I didn’t have an answer for Maddy. Not the way she wanted.
Not with words and thoughts. Not with anything but a primal force that took me
by surprise as much as it took her.

I grabbed my soon-to-be stepsister, one hand tangled in the
sleek waves of her gorgeous brown hair, and I kissed her. God help me, I kissed
her with passion and fury. And I loved it...

Oh,
fuck.

Those were the only words that came to mind when Preston kissed
me, the only words I could possibly form and hold onto long enough to give them
meaning and weight. But what
did
they
mean? Was I disgusted with him, my stepbrother for all intents and purposes,
for the sweltering sweetness of his mouth on mine? Was I angry that he’d dared
to touch me like this, or angry that he hadn’t done it sooner?

I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. I didn’t know
what I wanted them to do. Or at least, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to admit it.

Preston’s lips were scorching hot on my own. His breath was
like smoke filling my lungs, only it didn’t burn. It warmed me, but in places
far below my chest, places that had begun to ache for more of Preston’s illicit
touch.

I wanted to fight it. I wanted to fight him and this dark,
forbidden desire lurking inside of me, the one that had been there since that
first day I’d run into him on the sidewalk. I wanted to forget the cerulean
flash of his eyes, his lopsided grin, the golden haze of his tawny hair. I
wanted to, but I couldn’t.

Instead, I kissed him back.

I slipped my arms up around his neck, holding onto him
tightly as he lifted me against his broad, brawny frame, clutching at my back
as if he’d always wanted to do this. My ass was in his hands, and I felt him
squeeze and dig in his fingertips all along my thighs, then back up again,
roaming my body with his fierce touch. A soft wind blew in through the open
balcony doors, carrying away the husky moan from my throat as Preston’s lips
crashed against mine again and again, promising retribution for every hateful
word I’d said.

I’d been disappointed in him. I’d thought he was different
from his father, from the money that had corrupted the rest of our family. Had
I been wrong?

I didn’t have time to think about it now—not when my stepbrother
was dropping me onto the bed on my back and pulling my casual Friday jeans down
my legs.

I whimpered, struggling up onto my hands to watch him as he
yanked my ass to the very edge of the bed, then over it. With my legs suspended
on his shoulders, he grasped my panties and pulled, ripping them off my hips
and exposing my sweet, shaven pussy to feast his eyes on.

“Preston,” I whispered. “This is… wrong. We’re family. We
can’t do this…”

I felt like I’d betrayed everything inside of me to say those
words, and Preston didn’t even hear them. He was focused. He had seen what he
wanted. And now he was going to get it.

He traced his fingers along my nether lips before spreading
them wide and revealing the pink petals between. I could feel my clit throbbing
in its hood, begging for the attention he’d already paid to my mouth and outer
lips. He bent his head forward, delivering one long lick from my chasm to my
crest, and I melted beneath him. Any resolve I’d once had to at least question
the idea of fucking my stepbrother dissolved with one touch of his tongue, and
I moaned for him again as he dove in and began to flick it against my aching
button.

I wailed, burying my fingers in Preston’s hair, pulling at it
as he lapped hungrily at the nectar flooding from between my thighs. I was
feverish, shaking, convulsing, shrieking and rolling my eyes into my skull as
he pleased me. I was sick, and Preston was the only cure.

He hauled my hips closer to his face, bringing me tight
against his mouth as he sucked gently, his tongue still undulating hard and
fast against my throbbing clit. I felt my nipples stiffen against the cups of
my bra and pulled my blouse up over my head, letting him see how hard my
breasts heaved for him.

“Preston,” I whimpered, “please…”

“That’s right,” he praised me, torturing my nubbin with his
thumb. “I’m the one in control here, Maddy. I’m your boss. You do what I say,
whether you like it or not. Is that clear?”

I squirmed uncontrollably under his touch. He laved me again,
making me arch up off of his bed.

“Is it?” he asked me.

“Yes!” I answered, wriggling once more into his face. “Oh,
fuck, Preston! Please don’t stop!”

“No,” he said. “Not until we’re clear on where you stand.”
Then he turned me over so my ass was in the air, my knees barely making it onto
the bed before he was behind me, panting, ripping his shirt off to reveal all
those delicious muscles I’d secretly been craving for weeks now.

His belt was next, his hands moving so fast they seemed like
a blur, and as I looked over my shoulder I saw the slick mast of his manhood
jutting out behind me. Its swollen tip was made even angrier by the crimson sky
outside, and the veins throbbing along the shaft looked almost purple in that
hot, violent hue.

I pushed against him, worried that if I thought about what we
were about to do for just a second more, I might lose my nerve. But Preston was
a step ahead of me. He’d already decided for us what would happen next, and
there was no way he was letting me off easy.

He seized my hips in his hands, digging his fingers in hard
enough to leave bruises where he touched, bruises I would gaze at later and
recall every detail of our tryst. They would remind me of my stepbrother’s
power, of his absolute authority in his house, and they would remind me of my
place and what running my mouth would do.

But if this was the punishment, then I would run my mouth at
every opportunity. Preston needed someone to challenge him, and I needed him to
fuck me in all the ways no man ever had.

When I felt his shaft breach me, I was sure he’d split me in
two. He was so thick and hard that I could feel him stretching me, making way
for the heft and might of his massive cock between the tight walls of my poor,
neglected cunt. I scrabbled at the sheets, clawing at the silk, but couldn’t
find purchase. I had nothing to hold onto as Preston worked his way inside of
me, nothing to ground me to reality as he filled me with his cock.

“Oh, God…!”

Every moment after that was delirium. Every thrust was sheer
ecstasy, the sort no words could possibly describe. Every touch burned me,
scorched me, turned me to ash in his skillful hands, and yet every other saw me
rise from the ashes to be filled once again by his thrumming cock. Preston was
a wildfire raging over me, surging over the acres of my skin, leaving no inch
of me unviolated. I twisted and arched, howled and writhed, pulled at my hair
and shouted his name in ways I never thought I would.

“Fuck me, Preston! Harder!
Harder!
”

He obeyed me until the only sound I could hear beyond my own
blood rushing in my ears was the steady slapping of his hips against my ass,
the symphony of our bodies colliding and parting, only to collide again with
even greater force. I was a slave to the sensations flowing through me, unable
to think or feel anything else other than what Preston inspired with the
roughness of his hands, the guttural tone of his growl, and the unrelenting
force of his cock buried to the hilt inside me.

Preston reached down between my legs, snaking an arm over my
thigh to rub my clit again with his fingers. I could barely keep up with his
frenzied pace. The wave of my orgasm was already so close to crashing over me,
and I feared that it would sweep me away into an oblivion I couldn’t possibly
fathom.

“I’m cumming,” I whined, spreading my legs even wider for
Preston’s girth. “Oh, shit—Preston! I’m cumming!”

He let out a low groan as I exploded. It was like the
universe was coming together, like the two of us alone had created the sun and
the stars. I wailed in rapture, throwing my head back and crying out Preston’s
name again and again. Everything inside of me that said I should be ashamed was
silenced in that moment. There was only me, Preston, and the undeniable passion
we shared.

My walls hitched and squeezed, drawing tight around Preston’s
cock. I felt him shudder behind me. He was close.

He pulled out of me and I turned, somehow knowing what he
wanted from me though he hadn’t spoken it. On my hands and knees I crawled to
him, watching him stroke his glistening shaft from root to crown, each jerk of
his hand more desperate than the last. I pushed his hand away, engulfing his
tip in my mouth, and felt him wind both hands through my hair to pull it away
from my face as I bobbed mercilessly on his shaft, urging him into the back of
my throat.

Preston let out a hiss through his clenched teeth. It was all
he could do not to thrust into me, to make me choke on the enormity of his
dick. I could smell his scent and mine mingling on his base, could taste my own
lust for him as I spun my tongue around his shaft. I’d never known anything
more delectable in my entire life than the way I tasted on my stepbrother’s
cock.

“Fuck,” he gritted, feeling his balls tighten against my
chin. I picked up the pace, rushing my brother toward ecstasy, pulling him into
my mouth again and again as he surged forward suddenly and the first warm gush
of his semen hit the back of my tongue.

I let my eyes flutter closed, slurping and sucking as Preston
drove himself into me, eager to let the rest of his salty sweet load fountain
down my throat. I held myself there as long as I could, forgoing even my own
breath to see my brother twist in pleasure before me, knowing no other high so
intense as seeing the look of bliss on his face.

As he settled I withdrew, the both of us panting. He fell
forward onto his hands, staring into my eyes as I sat up on his bed, naked save
for my bra. He brushed my hair from my face and kissed me, crawling over top of
me, pinning me beneath his weight in a way that made me feel so safe, so
secure, so
wanted
and
loved
.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered, his breath
swirling like a sweet melody in the labyrinth of my ear. “You have no idea,
Maddy… No earthly clue…”

We fucked again, this time face to face, this time with my
breasts crushed in his hands as he looked into my eyes while he took me. This
time, there was no mistaking that I belonged to Preston Harvey, the man who
would become my stepbrother. I wasn’t just his personal assistant… I was
all
his.