Dick: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (15 page)

I let out a soft growl as
my tongue softly encircled her erect little nip, slowly sucking on it before
flicking it with the very tip of my tongue. I could feel her body against mine,
her legs shaking as she struggled to keep rhythm, her mind filled with the
pleasures brought on by the feeling of her fingers against her clit.

“That’s it,” I cooed, my
lips brushing slowly up from her chest and up along her collarbone. I ran my
tongue ever so slightly along the line of her neck, tasting the sweetness of
her as she let out a whimpering scream of pleasure. “That’s my good girl.”

Jessica whined out loudly,
throwing her head back, her pace becoming more and more erratic. I did my best
to breath, the pressure between my lips was growing and growing with every
movement of her hips. We were both close, and it took everything I had not to
let myself feel that sweet release I’d been longing for.

“Dick!” she whimpered,
leaning back, her body covered in a glossy sheen of sweat, her body working and
gyrating on top of my fat, thick cock. “Oh, fuck! Baby! I’m so close!”

I couldn’t speak, my brain
struck dumb as I felt the impending wave looking over my head, threatening to
overtake me at any moment. I closed my eyes, hoping to God I could hold out
until I heard her beginning to climax. I felt her pussy squeeze around my cock
ever so slightly, a spasm that told me that only a few more moments and I’d
feel my stepsister shudder in the throes of her own orgasm.

“Cum for me,” I growled
softly, taking every effort not to relent as I felt the torrential flood of my
own climax battering at the doors of my mind. I needed to feel her surrender to
me before I could reward her with what she wanted—a hot, thick load of my cum.

It was almost as though I
had flipped a switch inside of her, her back arching and her head going back as
she cried out. I could feel her relax, feel the tremble of her body letting go
as the wave of pleasure and ecstasy drowned her. Her hips bucked out of
control, her muscles tightening in no discernable pattern, only to be relaxed
once again.

I couldn’t hold back
anymore.

I let out a loud groan,
pumping my hips up against hers hard, the tightness in my balls reaching its
peak before the pressure lifted all at once. My cock exploded in a wave of
pleasure, electricity crackling through me as I felt the first gush of my cum
shooting out from the tip of my cock. I gripped the sheets, digging my nails
into them as my own hips began to buck against hers. With every pulse of my
cock another hot rope of cum shot deep inside of her body, coating the walls of
her pussy with my seed.

I relaxed back against the
headboard as Jessica leaned herself forward, resting her head on my shoulder. I
wrapped my arms right around her, my eyes closed as we both relaxed, basking in
the warm glow of our shared orgasm. I breathed deep, taking in the wonderful
perfume of her hair as I began to slowly drift farther from consciousness.

“I love you, Dick,” she
whispered against my chest.

“I love you too, Jessica.”

And soon, everyone would
know. I’d shout it from the rooftops, if need be. I no longer cared about the
stigma, about what other people might say. Jessica was the only person I needed
to understand me. She was the only person I needed in all the world.

Now
that
was something worth shouting about.

Renowned bestselling author Kat Jackson is back with another
full-length steamy romance novel!

Madison

I can’t be doing this… Not now… Not with him.

Preston Harvey is a wealthy
asshole. He’s the living symbol of everything I hate in this world. I wouldn’t
sleep with him if he were the last person on Earth.

Except… I just did.

I have a sickness… A
fixation
.

Preston

We are so fucked.

Our parents are engaged for
Christ’s sake. Somebody is going to find out we’re doing this and there will be
hell to pay...

When I gave Madison a job
as my personal assistant, this was
not
the position I had in mind for
my
soon-to-be-step
…

And
now I can’t stop. I can’t ever stop…

I
want this…
And a billionaire always gets
what he wants.

This is a
stand-alone novel with a HEA and does NOT end in a cliffhanger! I’ve also
included a VERY SPECIAL BONUS for my lovely fans!

Published by the Kat
Jackson Publishing Group

Copyright
©
2015 by Kat Jackson

This book is
a work of fiction, any names, places, and situations portrayed within are
products of the author’s imagination.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to my husband and my
wonderful children for being so patient with me as I pursue my writing dreams.
You have no idea how lucky I am to have you all.

Thanks to Nora, my tireless
editor who never fails to get the job done. Thanks to my cover artist Ethan and
my incredible publicist Devlin Rice.

A special thanks to my new
elliptical machine, for helping me lose my five pounds of “novel fat”.

“I can’t do this,” I told her. “I can’t pretend like last night never
happened. I need you, Madison, and not in the way that a brother needs his
stepsister.”

 
I began lifting up the
hem, revealing the creamy white tops of her thighs inch by inch until finally,
I caught a glimpse of her underwear. I pulled my cock out and nestled it
against her crotch. I felt my balls seize and I snarled in her ear. “I could
blow my load right here, Maddy. I could soak these panties before dinner, and
your mother and my father wouldn’t know a thing. You’d spend the whole night
with my cum staining your panties... That’s what you do to me. You make me want
to do the nastiest fucking things to you.”

Maddy shivered and looked up at me with hooded eyes. “Preston…
Jesus, we can’t. What we did last night was wrong. I wanted it… We wanted it…
But you know it can’t happen again.”

I pulled her panties open, letting the tip of my dick violate the
space between them and her sweet, soaking wet lips. I thrust, overwhelmed by
the sensation of being so near to her, of feeling my bulging head slip around in
her honeyed nectar. “It has to,” I whispered. “Every time I look at you, all I
want to do is get inside you again.”

I was so close. But Madison gently, yet firmly took me by the
wrist. I could see lust in her eyes, but there was something else too. Maybe it
was self-restraint…

“We can’t,” she repeated, and this time there was no “maybe” in
her tone. I withdrew and she let her fingers brush mine. “I’m sorry, Preston,
but think of what could happen if we got caught…”

I nodded. As frustrated as I was, she made sense. But dammit, I
didn’t want her to make sense! All I wanted was to throw caution to the wind
and bury myself in my darling little stepsister.

She fixed her skirt and helped tuck my cock back inside my pants,
her hand lingering on its straining girth longer than she needed to.

“Let’s hope there’s wine tonight,” I said as her fingertips left
me, her graceful body moving around the car and sliding into the passenger
seat.

“I think I’m going to need it,” Maddy replied, trying to avoid my
gaze as I sat down beside her. We didn’t say another word as her hand found its
way to my thigh, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

A drink was definitely going to be required. Maybe a little buzz
would help me forget, but as we drove, all I could do was try to ignore the
heat radiating from her fingertips. My mind drifted, traveling back to the day
she ran into me on the street with those big beautiful tears in her eyes… So
perfect… So broken…

One month
earlier…

“Madison
,
lunch was over two minutes ago.”

I looked up from microwavable
meal. It was a small plastic bowl of steamed rice and veggies, but the shitty
microwave in the break room had only heated things up on one side, leaving me
with broccoli stalks with freezer burn still clinging to them.

My gaze fixed on Miguel Herrera,
the general manager of the small rental company I worked for. He reminded me of
a man who had once done greater things, but had since been exiled to the
dredges of monotony that corporate life entailed. Maybe he’d been military, or
maybe he’d once been a little higher up the food chain where commands weren’t
questioned and his iron fist ruled all. Either way, it was painfully clear that
a man like Miguel was never meant for a company like ExecuSpace.

ExecuSpace itself was an
interesting animal. Instead of renting tangible things like cars, homes, or
office buildings, they rented out
virtual
office space. I sat behind a desk answering a multi-line phone system where
each line represented a different suite supposedly housed in the six-story building
I worked in. A prompt would pop up on my computer with each call, reminding me
to answer for “Lindsey’s Lawn Service” or “Jack Vogler, Esquire.” Then I’d
place the caller on hold and transfer them to the client’s voice mailbox, their
cell phone, or even their home phone where they
really
worked.

Basically, ExecuSpace rented
nothing at all—nothing but the illusion that their clients were more important
than they really were. It was brilliantly deceptive, and it worked like a
charm.

That meant the phones were busy.
That meant that sometimes I didn’t get to take a lunch break, and when I did,
running sixty seconds past the mark would earn me a visit from Miguel’s dark,
scowling face.

“You left your desk at half past
noon, didn’t you?” he asked, raising one of his charcoal eyebrows. I shuffled
the food in her bowl and nodded, taking another bite.

“I did, but I got stopped in the
hall by Mr. Franklin, who wanted me to run back to my desk and put a parcel
into the outgoing mail. Then when I got back there, Lacy got a phone call from
her ex and ran outside to take it, so I had to wait for her to get back before
I could leave again. After that, Ms. Harris asked for a physical list of the
calls she’d received today, even though they’re all logged on her voicemail,
and ten minutes later I finally got to heat up my lunch and sit down here.

“So,” I continued, glancing up at
the clock over my shoulder, “I’m not two minutes late. I’m actually just
sitting down to eat, so I’ve got about twenty-five minutes left.”

Normally I wouldn’t have spoken
to Miguel—or anyone at ExecuSpace—that way. That was because I desperately
needed this job, or I’d be completely screwed in the way of keeping a roof over
my head. That meant putting up with grueling twelve- to fourteen-hour shifts,
even if I had to clock out at five p.m. like everybody else, enduring the abuse
of my colleagues and the incompetence of my supposed assistant, and above all
else, not stepping away from my desk unless I needed to use the restroom or had
some other emergency.

But today was different. Today,
after four long, arduous years without so much as a pay bump or a pat on the
back, I was not in the mood.

I had bills to pay, and they were
mounting quickly. I’d been hired in at a measly ten dollars an hour and that
hadn’t changed, even though my responsibilities had. I was no longer the
receptionist answering the phones, opening mail, and sending off a few e-mails
every day—not that my job had ever
only
entailed that, despite what they’d told me during my interview. I was the
personal assistant to pretty much everyone on the floor, as well as the office
manager for when nobody else wanted to deal with the bullshit that sauntered up
to the front desk every day. I could—and had—run the entire operation by myself
on many occasions. So why was I still being treated and paid like Lacy, the
girl with no education, no computer skills, no ambition, and no desire to be
here?

Lacy also happened to be my
“assistant,” but she was an awful lot like my burden. She rarely lifted a finger
to answer a call before I got to it and yet she still had her job and half the
office tripping over themselves to take care of things for her. That usually
involved passing her work off to me while she skipped out on some obscure
“errand” or spent an hour in Miguel’s office with the door shut. She was young
and pretty and she knew it, and I supposed that was what got a woman ahead in
this place more than anything else.

Miguel appraised me, putting his
hands on his waist in a way that spread apart his blazer to reveal his paunchy
belly. I made sure to tightly cinch my legs together under the table, though
the violet pencil skirt I was wearing hugged my thighs enough that I was sure
he could use his imagination as to what was between them. I didn’t want him to
do that, of course, but there was no stopping Miguel Herrera when he decided he
wanted something.

When his gaze finally dragged
back up to meet mine, I realized what he wanted was for me to toss away my
lunch and go back to my desk. I held his stare, trying not to let my mouth
twitch or my knee shake, trying not even to blink. I didn’t want to make any
move that might be perceived as a sign of weakness, because today, after a
shitty annual review and yet another thirteen-hour shift the day before, I was
taking my goddamn lunch break.

Eight hours. That’s what I get paid for,
I reminded myself, a low heat
rising in the pit of my empty stomach.
Lunch
is supposed to be an hour. Lacy gets an hour. So do Ross and Ben. Miguel
himself takes as long as he likes. I’m entitled to sit and eat once a day,
thank you.

“Okay. You just sit there, then,
while there’s a crisis up front,” Miguel growled, waving a hand dismissively in
my direction. He looked utterly disgusted with me. “I’m sure the rest of us can
manage your job for you.”

I ignored his tantrum. It wasn’t
easy—I could feel my cheeks beginning to scald and my throat tighten. “What
sort of crisis?” I managed as I took in another deliberate mouthful of rice. I
tried not to wince as my tooth sunk into a shard of carrot.

“One of last month’s interviewees
showed up,” he answered, and I could tell by the tone in his voice exactly
which one it was. “Again.”

I finally looked away, heaving a
sigh through my nose. Last month, Miguel had wanted to hire a few more salespeople
and had put out an open call on Craigslist. We’d received hundreds of
applications, and he and Ross, our staffing manager, had decided on group
interviews being the most efficient way to separate the wheat from the chaff,
as it were. Unfortunately in their enthusiasm, they’d made promises they
couldn’t keep, and some of the prospective hires had to be told they either
weren’t good fits (mostly due to some background check revelations) or that
there simply wasn’t enough room for them on the team.

Except that Ross refused to tell
them that. He just dodged their calls, allowing each and every one to go to his
voicemail and directing me to say he wasn’t in the office. Miguel had declared
the matter was “beneath him” and that Ross would just have to deal with it.

But when Ross didn’t deal with
it, it suddenly became my problem. Suddenly I had to let someone down regarding
a decision I hadn’t even been a part of. Suddenly I had to bear the brunt of
their anger and frustration. Me, the woman who was constantly reminded that she
was “only” an administrative assistant and
not
a manager.

“Isn’t Ross around?” I asked,
though I was sure I already knew the answer.

“He’s at lunch. And you
are
our front desk girl, so this seems
like it falls under your purview.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You know
what he’s here about, don’t you? It’s been a month, and Ross hasn’t returned
his calls. He’s probably furious.”

Miguel shrugged. “Part of your
job, Madison, is to handle customer service issues. If you can’t hack it, well,
then…”

He trailed off as he always did.
He never actually said he’d fired me or that I should look for some other job,
but the threat was always there hanging in the silence. He knew it. I knew it.
But he didn’t have the guts to utter the words out loud. He was
that
type of asshole, the one who did
everything in his power not to do his own dirty work, not to seem like the dick
that he really was. If I went to HR to complain now and said, “He made me feel
as though my job was in jeopardy,” Miguel could come right back and say, “I
never said that.” And it would be true. The bastard sure knew how to wiggle.

“I’m entitled to a lunch break,”
I reminded him, but I knew I was losing the fight. There was no point, really.
We both knew he wasn’t going to make Lacy take care of it. When it came to
reminding people about the nature of their job, I was the sole target.

“Like I said, you’re two minutes
over.” Miguel’s gaze flicked to the clock. “Five, now. You’d better get back to
your desk and take care of this before it becomes a payroll issue.”

I slammed my plastic fork down
onto my tray and stood, making sure to scrape my chair all the way back across
the floor. I tossed the tray hard into the garbage can, maybe too hard, because
as I passed Miguel he stepped directly in my way.

“And stow the attitude,” he said,
a smugness lifting the corners of his lips.

I stared at him for a moment, and
in that time, something just… snapped. I was sure this was a bad idea. I was
almost certain I would lose my job. But in that one exhausted, frustrated,
hungry moment, I lost my temper and brushed past him, thumping my shoulder into
his as I careened down the main hall.

“Hey!” he called after me. I
could hear and feel his footsteps pounding the carpet behind me. “Madison!
Don’t you
dare
walk away from me when
I’m talking to you!”

I ignored him, continuing on my
path. As I passed Ross’ office, I could hear the soft sound of his Pandora
station and see a light on from under the door. I tried the handle. It was
locked.

“Ross!” I said, banging hard enough
for one of our clients to poke his head out further down the hall. “Ross, you
have Mr. Davies here to see you!”

“I’m not in,” he said. I could
practically taste the cowardice in his tone.

“You’re a manager,” I said, for
once reminding my so-called betters of their positions rather than the other
way around. “And you’ve been ignoring his calls for a month. Just come out and
tell him he hasn’t been hired. It’s not that big a deal!”

Ross didn’t answer, and by now,
Miguel was catching up. I shook my head, snorted, and strode toward the front
desk again. Even in heels, I was quicker than Miguel’s fat ass.

“Maddy,” Lacy said as I came into
view around the corner. She was texting while Mr. Davies sat in one of the
reception area chairs. She brushed a dark lock of hair from her face and tried
to pretend like I hadn’t just caught her slacking off once again at work. “Mr.
Davies is here for…”

“For Mr. Culling,” I finished,
smiling at Mr. Davies. That smile felt wrong and wild, but the momentum of my
anger was thrusting me forward now. I couldn’t stop. “I’m Madison Hearst. We’ve
spoken on the phone.” I extended my hand for his.

Mr. Davies stood up and hesitated
a moment. My eyes fell to his left hand, the one that was shriveled and tucked
against his side. Some kind of accident, I’d been told. But I didn’t need that
one. I only needed his right.

After a time, he grasped my hand
in his good one. “I remember. You helped me with my application before my
interview.”

“I did,” I said. One might have
thought our very own staffing specialist would have been able to do that, but
alas, Ross wasn’t terribly familiar with the application process—nor anything
else of particular value, it seemed. “And I apologize that Mr. Culling hasn’t
returned your calls. I assume you’re here about the status of your background
check and interview?”

Mr. Davies nodded. I turned
slightly over my shoulder to see Miguel hanging back by the offices, keeping
out of sight of Mr. Davies. His face was turning redder by the second and he
had a look of unease about him, almost as if he knew what I was going to do.