A Stepbrother for Christmas:The Hard and Dirty Holidays(8)

By: Celia Aaron



“So let me make it up to you. Let me be your fantasy.” He bent his head to my neck and nipped at my skin lightly.

I couldn’t tell if I was in a dream or a nightmare. Perhaps a mix of both.

Could I do this? When he fastened his lips to my jugular and sucked, I arched to him. Yes, I could do this. That seemed to be all the answer he needed. He got to his knees and ripped my blankets away. He was shirtless, his tan skin smooth and beautiful in the low light.

Am I insane?

He grabbed my panties, fisting the material in his palm and ripping. I made a surprised sound and he was on top of me again, his hand slapped over my mouth.

“Not a sound,” he rasped in my ear.

He reached down with his other hand and before long, I felt his head at my entrance. I was so wet, from the moment I awoke to find him holding me down, to now. The sensation of his tip pushing into my innermost flesh thrilled me more deeply than I thought possible. He took a fistful of my hair in one hand and kept the other clapped over my mouth.

Even in the darkness of the room, I could see the intense look in his eyes. He was a predator and it was time to take what was his. Holy shit.

‘Scared, little slut?”

I nodded even as my pussy clenched at his dark tone.

“You don’t even know scared.” He pushed inside me, his hips surging forward.

I cried out against his hand at the quick pain and the flood of pleasure. He gave me only a second to adjust before he was pounding into me, fucking me harder than I’d ever been fucked in my life. I loved every stroke, every impact, every exhale of his breath as I moaned against his hand.

His mouth was at my earlobe, licking and biting. “I know you want this cock. Your slippery little cunt told me so.”

He punished me, making my pussy wetter and plumper with his rough treatment. I wrapped my legs around him, digging my heels into his surging back. The pain along my scalp only made everything more real, more blindingly erotic. He bit down on my neck and I shuddered beneath him, pleasure covering my senses like a net.

My hips were already seizing, getting closer and closer to the ecstasy his body promised. With each hard stroke, he jarred my clit further and further toward the edge.

“Are you going to come, slut?”

His dirty talk caused a sensory overload. My moans into his hand intensified as my throbbing pussy made it clear I was on the verge of sweet release. I had never gotten so high so fast before. He was like a shot of adrenaline, waking my body up from a long sleep.

He locked eyes with mine, owning my body, my mind. His jaw was tense, his eyes fierce.

“Fucking. Hot. Cunt.” He punctuated each word with an even harder stroke.

I froze, my body seizing as my pussy contracted and spasmed, holding onto his cock as he continued his punishing pace.

“That’s right. Come for me,” he grated into my ear. Then he grunted, low and masculine. His cock kicked inside me and he shoved as deep as he could. He gave a few more smooth strokes before pulling his hand from my mouth.

I gasped in deep gulps of air as he collapsed on top of me, his cock still embedded in my pussy.

“Holy shite, Anna.”

“Oh my god. Oh. My. God.” It was all I could say, all I could think. I was suddenly religious after his cock showed me the light.

He dropped kisses along the spots where he’d bitten me earlier. “I’m afraid I’ve left a few marks.”

His mouth was delicious on my stinging skin. He met my eyes, the predatory gaze gone. He was soft now, caring – more so than he’d ever been when we were younger.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Oh, yes. Yes, you did. In the best possible way. “No. I’m fine. Really. That was just so…”

What was it? I didn’t quite have a metaphor for what being rough fucked by your loathsome stepbrother was truly like.

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