Read Online Dirty Wicked Lust: A Stepbrother Romance by Amanda Heartley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Heartley
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closer, the pregnant pause heavy and obvious in the air as he alternately ogled, studied, and beseeched me. Our eyes eventually locked and I could feel the heat, the curiosity, and the forbidden desire overwhelm us both so that he had to blink and look away from it.
I couldn’t blame him; not exactly. What we were doing, or at least what we both seemed to be thinking of doing, was wrong in so many ways. Not legally, per se, or even necessarily morally – we weren’t really brother and sister, for Pete’s sake. Just bound by family ties. But that was the rub. I would never want to hurt, or even embarrass, my mother by seducing her husband’s son – under her own roof, no less. And no doubt Ryan, despite his complicated feelings for Jerry, would want to hurt his father’s reputation if it ever got out that he fucked his stepsister. So, yes, it was wrong – and we both knew it. So why was I teasing Ryan in the middle of the night? And why was Ryan still staring at me, those hungry, aching eyes so clearly interested in what he was seeing?
But at least I had the excuse of being drunk. What girl, stepsister or otherwise, could be blamed for coming on to Ryan, particularly after nearly a dozen happy hour margaritas? Unfortunately, poor Ryan had no such excuse. He was strong, solid, older and entirely sober. And yet, here we were, both of us facing off in the middle of the dark, quiet, sultry night.
Glance away though he might, no matter where he looked, Ryan’s soft green eyes returned to mine, and I saw the desire still lingering there, hungrily. “Sure I can’t tempt you?” I oozed, shrugging my shoulder until one spaghetti strap of my dress, already loose, sagged down my shoulder. It felt delicious against my hot, feverish skin, like a soft, thin finger trailing my shoulder and bicep. He watched it hungrily, licking his lower lips as he knelt on the pool deck.
Urged on by his hungry glances, the middle of the night silent around the gently glowing pool, I shrugged my right shoulder until its strap slid down my arm as well. Wriggling both shoulders now, my hands beneath the surface of the gently rippling water, I tugged the dress gently down until I could feel the soft, wet, silken material rasp across both nipples until it passed over them, resting snugly across my waist.
The sensation was so erotic my eyelids involuntarily fluttered open and shut until, gently, I had pulled the dress partly down to beneath the water’s surface.
“Jesus,” Ryan murmured, shaking his head even as he watched me intently, eyes so wide it was clear he wanted to see more. “Jesus, Heather, we can’t—”
“Why not?” I murmured, tugging the dress the rest of the way off as I stood half-submerged in the warm, rippling water, tossing the tiny dress, sopping and damp, on top of the pool deck at my back.
My long body was pale and wet, my panties thin and sheer enough that I knew he could see the swell of my bush through the gauzy, silken front panel. Peering down briefly I saw my rough nipples stiff and erect, drawing out my small breasts to stiff, peaked points still damp from the pool water. I ached to touch them, or better yet, to have them touched, teased, fondled and caressed by rough, wet hands that shouldn’t have been upon them and yet, couldn’t resist.
“Why can’t we?” I murmured, inching closer until my pale, wet hands covered his as they rested on the pool deck. “Tell me you don’t want to, Ryan. Tell me right now and I’ll get out of this pool and walk away and forget this night ever happened—”
“Don’t you dare!” he gasped, and standing abruptly, kicked off his shoes before tugging at his tank top and jeans until they lay in a clump on top of the damp pool deck. In moments he had joined me, the water rushing around me – around us – as I marveled at his chiseled physique, bronze and hairless as he sank into the pool as effortlessly as sliding into a chair.
He wore, as always, soft, thin and
I couldn’t blame him; not exactly. What we were doing, or at least what we both seemed to be thinking of doing, was wrong in so many ways. Not legally, per se, or even necessarily morally – we weren’t really brother and sister, for Pete’s sake. Just bound by family ties. But that was the rub. I would never want to hurt, or even embarrass, my mother by seducing her husband’s son – under her own roof, no less. And no doubt Ryan, despite his complicated feelings for Jerry, would want to hurt his father’s reputation if it ever got out that he fucked his stepsister. So, yes, it was wrong – and we both knew it. So why was I teasing Ryan in the middle of the night? And why was Ryan still staring at me, those hungry, aching eyes so clearly interested in what he was seeing?
But at least I had the excuse of being drunk. What girl, stepsister or otherwise, could be blamed for coming on to Ryan, particularly after nearly a dozen happy hour margaritas? Unfortunately, poor Ryan had no such excuse. He was strong, solid, older and entirely sober. And yet, here we were, both of us facing off in the middle of the dark, quiet, sultry night.
Glance away though he might, no matter where he looked, Ryan’s soft green eyes returned to mine, and I saw the desire still lingering there, hungrily. “Sure I can’t tempt you?” I oozed, shrugging my shoulder until one spaghetti strap of my dress, already loose, sagged down my shoulder. It felt delicious against my hot, feverish skin, like a soft, thin finger trailing my shoulder and bicep. He watched it hungrily, licking his lower lips as he knelt on the pool deck.
Urged on by his hungry glances, the middle of the night silent around the gently glowing pool, I shrugged my right shoulder until its strap slid down my arm as well. Wriggling both shoulders now, my hands beneath the surface of the gently rippling water, I tugged the dress gently down until I could feel the soft, wet, silken material rasp across both nipples until it passed over them, resting snugly across my waist.
The sensation was so erotic my eyelids involuntarily fluttered open and shut until, gently, I had pulled the dress partly down to beneath the water’s surface.
“Jesus,” Ryan murmured, shaking his head even as he watched me intently, eyes so wide it was clear he wanted to see more. “Jesus, Heather, we can’t—”
“Why not?” I murmured, tugging the dress the rest of the way off as I stood half-submerged in the warm, rippling water, tossing the tiny dress, sopping and damp, on top of the pool deck at my back.
My long body was pale and wet, my panties thin and sheer enough that I knew he could see the swell of my bush through the gauzy, silken front panel. Peering down briefly I saw my rough nipples stiff and erect, drawing out my small breasts to stiff, peaked points still damp from the pool water. I ached to touch them, or better yet, to have them touched, teased, fondled and caressed by rough, wet hands that shouldn’t have been upon them and yet, couldn’t resist.
“Why can’t we?” I murmured, inching closer until my pale, wet hands covered his as they rested on the pool deck. “Tell me you don’t want to, Ryan. Tell me right now and I’ll get out of this pool and walk away and forget this night ever happened—”
“Don’t you dare!” he gasped, and standing abruptly, kicked off his shoes before tugging at his tank top and jeans until they lay in a clump on top of the damp pool deck. In moments he had joined me, the water rushing around me – around us – as I marveled at his chiseled physique, bronze and hairless as he sank into the pool as effortlessly as sliding into a chair.
He wore, as always, soft, thin and
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