Chapter Twenty-Five — Maya

I couldn’t speak without giving myself away. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks and into the pillow as he told me all I needed to know.

He doesn’t hate me—just like I don’t hate him.

Yet confusion rose up in my gut and took hold of my mind. There was no way in hell this could ever work.

I lay in Oliver’s arms thinking of all the reasons this was fucked up. My father was married to his mother—in society’s eyes we were family. Step siblings. Although we weren’t related by blood, we were supposed to be a family like any other.  I got that.

And then there was Larissa. Oliver’s mother really didn’t like me. Every time Daddy mentioned how much I looked like my mother, she’d glare at me through narrowed eyes. When I was fifteen I’d nearly cut my locks and bleached my hair to look more like her so that she wouldn’t see me as such a threat. But then my Quinn pointed out that it would make it worse.  I’d be a younger blonde—a younger version of herself, and she’d hate me even more.

I just couldn’t win, so I stayed who I was—it was just easier being me, although my appearance was clearly something most other people in my family abhorred. Even my grandmother had told daddy that she couldn’t look at me without seeing her daughter, and that seeing me made her sad. It sucked being me.

Oliver King was one of the only people, other than my father, who’d ever told me I was beautiful. It made my heart smile. I wanted to be beautiful to him, just like he was the most beautiful creature on the planet to me. I couldn’t look at him without my body feeling hot and bothered, my heart racing, my palms sweating. It was good to know I had the same effect on him.

But when he called me a slut, it cut deep. The irony was that all the times he’d caught me with other boys it was simply a futile attempted to get him out of my system.

Whenever Oliver was with another girl, rage and jealousy swarmed my body, driving me to the edge of insanity. It made me do crazy things to force him to see me. Things I’d never normally do. No other boy had seen me completely naked. Or watched me touch myself. I’d reserved that for Oliver only, never thinking he’d call me a slut because of it. God, I was naïve.

I wanted to curl into a ball and hide from him. Yet when he put his arms around me and pulled me to his chest, calmness washed over me. The dull ache in my heart slowly subsided. I felt safe. Wanted. At peace.

Oliver’s even breathing behind my back and the weight of his arm around me made the corners of my mouth twitch. He’d dozed off, holding me tightly against his chest.

Lifting his arm, I turned slowly so as not to wake him. This was the perfect opportunity to really study his face. Usually I could only steal glimpses when he wasn’t looking, or stare at photos of him. Having him up close and personal was an unexpected delight.

I reached up to stroke his cheek. The rough stubble under my fingertips made my pussy clench thinking of his face between my legs, the way it had burned when he’d been eating me out. Oh God, I wanted him there again. So, so badly.

The tip of my finger traced the lines etched at the corners of his eyes. I loved when he smiled and it lit up his eyes, making small crinkles on his face. I stretched to softly kiss the end of his perfect nose—straight and proud, like the man he was. He reminded me of a picture of a prince I’d seen as a kid in one of the fairy tales I loved to read.

I mused at how gorgeous his face was while he was sleeping. Gone were the frown lines I’d become accustomed to. His lips curled into a small smile and it simply delighted me that they could do something other than twist into a smirk when I was around.

Unable to stop myself, my finger moved down his torso onto forbidden territory. Oh God, how often had I wanted to bleach my eyeballs for drinking in the deep V that sat just above where his pants usually hung low on his hips? I giggled softly as he moaned when my fingertips brushed over the trail of hair running south from his belly. My eyes widened as his cock, which up until now had lain soft between us, stiffened. My mouth watered as I imagined what he would taste like. I’d only ever had one cock in my mouth, and Oliver had been too quick to put a stop to it that day on the stairwell.

Still asleep, he nudged his erection into my belly, his hardness pushing into my skin and setting me alight. If this was the only time I ever got to be with him, I simply had to taste him.

Sweet Lord, this was so wrong, yet so damn right. Rubbing my thumb gently over his tip, spreading his pre-cum around the head, he instinctively turned to lie on his back so that his stiff cock lay on his flat stomach. He was perfection.

Pushing my hair back from my face, I leaned over, licking just the tip of his erection to taste him. Just as I thought—amazing. My lips curled around his dick, my tongue swirling around the rim, feeling, tasting, learning every inch of him.

Oliver moaned, stretching his limbs, opening his body completely. I smiled as I cupped his balls in my hand, kneading gently. “Jesus, little bee, what have I done to deserve this? For a moment I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

His raspy voice was sexy as hell, spurring me on to become braver in my actions. I took his girth in my palm, stroking up and down as I sucked the tip. His hand came down on my head, holding me down as he flexed his hips upwards.

“Fuck that’s good,” he groaned. “Take me deeper.”

Smiling, I obeyed, opening my throat until I had all of him in my mouth. I thought I’d gag at the sheer size of his erection, but somehow he slid down with ease as my head bobbed up and down. He hissed through his teeth, then reached for me and pulled me over him. 

“Need to come inside your pussy, baby.”

He rolled us over until he was pressing me into the mattress, my breasts flattened under his weight. My fingers found their way into his messy hair as I held my breath, waiting for him to possess me. His face was soft with sleep and sex, his eyes deep pools that bore into mine. For the first time I saw something there I’d never seen before. It stole my breath away. But before I could put a name to it, he spoiled it all by talking.

Grinning down at me, he said in a hoarse voice, “You are a slut. My fucking slut. And I fucking love it.”

His mouth came crushing down on mine—warm, possessive. I sighed into his mouth, letting him ravage me while my pussy ached for his cock. After a while, he let go of my lips and moved his mouth down my neck, sucking and licking as he went.

“Baby, you fucking ruin me,” he grunted as his mouth latched on to a nipple, sucking hard. My back arched off the bed as I unashamedly pushed more of my breast into his mouth.

Once he’d had enough of my breasts, he spread my legs open wide. Jesus. Fuck. The way he grinned as he stared at my wet pussy made me cringe and want to beg at the same time.

“Oliver,” I moaned, closing my eyes as heat clawed its way over my chest and face.

“This is the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen. Christ, I’ve waited so fucking long.” He sounded breathless, his heavy eyelashes hooding his eyes so that I couldn’t see them.

Reverently he kissed the insides of my thighs, driving me to the edge. My need for him was escalating by the second. God, I hated being so damn needy.

Long, languid strokes licked over my quivering pussy. My legs trembled so much I had to hold on to them. His tongue circled my clit with such finesse that my back lifted completely off the mattress and I screamed his name.

Now I understood why all those girls were so noisy. Oliver was an expert at making a woman come hard. I never wanted him to taste another pussy as long as I lived. I only wanted him to crave mine.

Chuckling softly, he crept up the bed till his rock hard dick lay flat on my stomach. My eyes fluttered open and I watched as it throbbed and jerked a few times, precum spilling from the tip.

Fuck me! Please, please fuck me! I wanted to scream, but I just lay there unable to utter a word, eyes wide, licking my lips, remembering his taste. Oliver King could fuck me all day long. Any way he wanted, whenever he wanted, however he wanted. And I’d be begging for more.

Craving him inside me.

Craving him.

Eyes squeezed shut, shame washed over me for wanting this man so much that it hurt. My illicit desire was burning through me like a wildfire and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Nothing I wanted to do to stop it.

My heart beat so loudly in my ears I was sure it would explode at any moment.

He moved against me, pushing his cock into me as if I would break. I never expected tenderness from my stepbrother. Never expected him to be so damn gentle. It undid me in ways I couldn’t fathom.

“Open your eyes, little bee, I want to see you when you come.”

See me? All these years I believed I was invisible to him and now he wanted to see me—every bit of me, from my dripping wet pussy to inside the depths of my soul. He was unraveling me, slowly, surely, ruining me for anyone else. There was no way I could ever be satisfied by another man. No way I could let another man touch me or fuck me like he did.

Yes, I was my stepbrother’s slut. And that’s exactly the way I wanted it to be.

For now.