31. Montana
31
Montana
H e towers over me; my reflection in his helmet is all I can see. I look raw and unfiltered. Fearful, yet full of unresolved lust that I unfortunately harbor for this man.
My stepbrother was the guy I’d used to get to where I am today, the online entity I’d toyed with for years. Yet another lost soul I capitalized on in order to seek stability and further push my agenda. But unlike myself, I formed an unfortunate bond with K1ngK0br@—a visceral connection of two souls trapped in places they’d always hoped to escape.
Sexual explorations led to the opening of hearts as our conversation drew past the flirtatious line and got more personal than I'd ever dared. I’d exploited that weakness of his while he had exploited mine. I used his obsession to continue siphoning funds, just as I did to many men while working on CyprusX, a corner of the dark web for underage girls looking to make money. I sought to emerge from being the victim to owning my strength and making my own money while simultaneously capitalizing on the weaknesses of men. But I was never prepared for what that insatiable hunger would create.
My back rests against the prickly brick wall as his hands, calloused from riding, mold to my breasts. He dips his head, eyeing the swollen mounds that are sensitive to his touch. He’s gentle as his thumbs flicker over the tight rosy buds, sending a sizzle of sensations down to the pit of my stomach. Shane studies me in disbelief, always in wonder at the person before him. Something about that maddening infatuation brings out a ferocious need within me.
“I’d always imagined holding you in this way.” He squeezes the flesh in his large palms, kneading my heavy breasts. He’s looking at me from beneath his visor, but my eyes are the only ones I see.
Reaching up, he grazes my drenched tank top, his middle finger hooking onto the fabric resting against my breasts, dragging it down toward my navel. My chest heaves, uncontrolled breaths escaping me in clouds between us. I peer at my reflection through his helmet as he slowly peels the wet fabric off my skin, exposing my breasts.
Raindrops trickle down my chest, my nipples hard and erect from the cool rain and prickling chill of the night air. Heat travels between my thighs, and my need to be touched by him intensifies.
But he doesn’t touch me. He simply holds down my top, allowing me to see myself reflected back. Vulnerable. Weak. Wanting.
“The way I’d choke my young dick out to thoughts of touching this body,” he murmurs, sending a chill sweeping up my arms. His finger finds the divot at the base of my throat, moving it in a hauntingly slow circle. “The dreams I’d had of roping this neck…” He slowly trails down my sternum, between my breasts, carving the line of my abdomen and stopping before reaching my navel. “I wanted to own you. To claim you. To mark you as mine.”
Heavy breaths slip from my lips, and I peer up at his helmet. His hand travels lower, knuckles grazing my swollen clit, rubbing soft circles and sweeping his fingers into the fabric of my shorts.
“The way you’d play for me, doing things with your hands to satisfy yourself, subjecting your sweet cunt to whatever object I’d select, just to watch you slowly stretch around it, swallowing it whole,” he continues, his middle finger sliding between my aching lips.
My body floods with arousal at the simple touch. The way I can’t see his face and the words spewing from his obsession—it’s driving me into an erotic haze. He's familiar to me, yet a complete stranger in the same breath.
His finger finds my entrance, and a soft moan reverberates up my throat. I close my eyes tightly as he sinks his finger to the first knuckle, and I instantly tighten around him, my body drawing him deeper.
“I was fascinated by your ability to drench your toys, dripping with arousal, coating those silicone cocks, imagining you wished it was my flesh spearing you apart.” He pushes another finger into me, sliding them deeper before pulsing them in a slow stroking motion inside me. “I could never get enough of you.”
“Oh God,” I gasp, opening my eyes to see myself in his mask.
“I wanted to coat myself in it, face to dick…everything drenched in you. I wanted to drown in your come.”
He slowly removes his fingers, rubbing my arousal all over my piercing in soft, gentle circles, driving me mad. It’s too soft. He’s taunting, teasing.
“But then things changed, and my desires became darker as the cracks in my heart broke deeper. I began to crave other things,” he comments, dropping his hand from my body.
He places both palms on the brick wall behind me, his helmet tipping down to gaze at my exposed flesh before tipping to the side.
“I wanted to hurt you.”
I suck in a shaky breath, feeling that fear only he can produce.
“Hurt me?”
“Yeah,” he answers softly. “I wanted to wrap my hands around your neck and watch as the life slipped from your body, burying you as deep as you’d buried me.”
I shudder at his claim.
“I imagined catching you with someone else, some idiot who thought he could rub away the dirt of who you were and truly make you shine again. I imagined opening the door to your hotel room, finding him dick deep in you, your whorish cunt dripping all over him as the wet sounds of your sex cut through me, slice by slice. I wanted a real reason to hate you. To end you. I wanted to see it with my own eyes as he fucked you before I killed you both.”
Unbuckling his belt, he opens his pants, pulling them down with one hand.
“Shane, what are you doing?” I whisper breathlessly.
“Imagining someone else inside you,” he replies, a maddening edge in his tone. “It drives me insane, Montana. I won’t have it. You’re not allowed to forget me.”
He grips the edge of my shorts near the hips and pulls them down.
“I've acquired a taste for you now,” he continues.
The drenched material rolls my shorts in on themselves, making them more difficult to remove. Impatient, Shane roughly rips them to my ankles, his hand finding the back of my thigh and raising my leg around his hip. My shoe slips through the shorts, leaving me fully exposed, open and awaiting.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I murmur as his warm chest presses against mine, the tip of his cock peeking from the elastic of his boxer briefs. “Shane.”
All I can think about is how insanely right this feels, even if we’re both in some form of relations with other people, even if our parents are technically married. But the thrill of doing something so taboo has the pit of my stomach hungering for more. I love being fucked by my stepbrother. Craving to feel him in the deepest parts of me, again and again…
“Shut up, Montana,” he says, sounding exacerbated. He reaches between us, lining himself up to my entrance. “Just shut the fuck up and open that cunt for me. Fuck, I need inside you.”
His words work to undo me. A sigh escapes my throat, and my body relaxes in his hold. My hands find his sculpted shoulders, balancing the best I can as his helmet drops to the top of my head. One quick swipe of his cock through my slit, and he’s coated with my arousal. He angles himself before pushing into me, the thick crown forcing its way inside me as I hang in the air with nothing but his arm holding me open.
Shane sucks in a hissed breath through his teeth as he inches inside, slowly moving deeper and deeper before withdrawing, then shoving his hips harder into mine in a steady pulse. He grips my other leg until both wrap around his lower back, and I feel myself already leaking down his length.
“Watch yourself,” he breathes, sliding out slowly before his hips collide with mine, thrusting deeper. “Since you love to put on a show, watch what I do to you.”
His stiff cock impales me, taking my breath away. One hand slides around my lower back, practically tearing through the flesh near my hip, holding so tightly, the other now bracing himself against the wall as he pins me against the rough surface, nailing me to it.
A feeling of fullness overtakes me as my body stretches to accommodate his length. My body shivers around him, held captive to his chaos. Slowly and steadily, he bucks against me, his hips crashing against mine and his breaths falling heavy and fast beneath the barrier between us. Shockwaves spark electricity through my core every time his curved cock glides deeper, hitting that spot that guarantees to end me with ease.
I cry out, moaning in pure ecstasy, my eyes rolling to the back of my head at the pure torment. I’m already close. So needy and on edge.
“Open,” he growls, and I open my eyes to find myself reflected back.
My cheeks are flushed, lips rosy, my bare breasts bouncing with every deep stroke he drives into me. I look messy, wild, unhinged, and bound so tight I can practically taste the release on my tongue.
“You’re not allowed to forget me,” he says again, and I know he’s studying me, even if I can’t see him. “I won’t have it.”
“I could never,” I whisper back, then panic, wishing I would’ve held my tongue.
I reach up further, gripping the back of his neck with both hands, my fingers finding his silver chain-linked necklace as the wet sounds of our sex echo off the walls closing in on us. I twist the necklace in my grasp, watching it tighten around the base of his neck.
“Fuck,” he curses, driving deep inside me, every ridge of his cock pulsing as I tighten around him, drawing me closer to finishing.
I choke him tightly, the sensation deriving violent behavior from within his soul, unleashing and breaking it free. His hips pin me in the air as his hands wrap around my neck, squeezing so tightly my air is taken from me.
Every time I slip down the wall, my legs drooping around his hips from numbness, he drives me back up with each rough thrust of his hips, my back surely raw from the intense friction. My eyes round, meeting themselves in my reflection, and I stare, watching fear and panic take hold of me as a blissful haze sets in. The lack of air, accompanied by the immense pleasure of every steady stroke, sets my body ablaze. Euphoria sits at the base of my spine; my stomach coiled so tightly I know I’m at the crest.
Just as I’m set to fall, my eyes close, and I brace for the impactful orgasm about to hit.
Shane’s helmet crashes against the wall beside me, his body tightly flexed as he slides deep within me. Holding himself there, a low groan rumbles through him and his body shudders. I fall back from the edge as he stills, staring at the wall opposite me in complete disbelief as he pumps the rest of his come inside me.
His chest heaves and his hold on me weakens. Dropping his hands, one palm hits the brick behind me, holding him up as I sloppily catch myself on the wall, my legs slipping from his hips one by one. I feel his release slowly dripping from within me, leaking down my thigh.
Hanging his head and shaking it, Shane grunts once more, water droplets flying off his slick helmet and onto me.
I didn’t come. Twice, it was just within reach. And twice, he’s intentionally withheld orgasms from me. Only a true sadist could time it out like that. His taunting words seep into the forefront of my mind.
Pain will find you faster than pleasure, pretty girl.
My fingers grip the wall behind me, nails scratching against the rough, sand-like surface as I envision ripping the tip of his dick off, when he startles me by dropping to his knees before me.
Like an insatiable madman, Shane pulls his helmet up, exposing the lower half of his face. Clawing his way between my legs again, he places my thigh on his shoulder, fingers pressing so firmly against my upper thigh that I cry out in protest before his warm, wet tongue lashes at my swollen center.
His tongue slips inside me, and the back of my head falls against the wall, fingers finding his shoulders and holding on tight. A deep throaty moan rises from my chest while his expert tongue flicks along my sensitive and reddened clit. I feel myself building again.
“Oh, just like that,” I murmur.
He roughly drops my leg down from his shoulder, and my shoe hits the pavement, shocking me further as he rises before me again.
No, no. Not again.
Staring at me, his head tilts to the side. He holds his helmet in one hand, studying me. His free hand rises and finds my trembling lips. I’m not even sure what I’m shaking from anymore. The coldness from being naked and wet, the insatiable need he continuously siphons out of me, or the anger I’m harboring for everything he’s put me through.
His eyes are dark, his full lips shiny with arousal and parted slightly as he assesses me. Not a word is spoken between us as he presses his middle and ring finger against my lips. I open my mouth for him, confused as ever. They glide over my tongue, his thumb resting beneath my jaw and his gaze darkening like a demon in the night, never done torturing his prey. His fingers hit the back of my throat, and I gag with the urge to vomit. His warmth encapsulates me as his hungry eyes trace the length of my neck. I moan something unintelligible before his thumb tightens beneath my chin, and he tips my head to the sky.
I gaze into the stars appearing between the cloud, the last of the rain dissipating as I feel him spit across my neck and chest, warm liquid coating my skin. Withdrawing his fingers from my mouth, my saliva strings down onto my chest, and my eyes follow the trail.
White cum coats me, the combination of our arousal sliding down my neck to my breasts. He licked his own cum out of me, then spit it all over my chest. I wanted to own you. To claim you. To mark you as mine.
I swallow, catching my breath, trying to analyze what just happened—the orgasm denial, the degrading act…pure evil with zero remorse.
So akin to myself and my actions.
My gaze skirts up to his.
“He doesn’t touch you.”
My eyes dance across Shane’s face, searching for understanding.
“That’s not—”
“He doesn’t touch you, Montana,” he warns, interrupting me.
The look in his eyes is one of madness and unresolved need. He can’t seriously expect me to stop seeing Wes. I need that connection, that rope… I can’t give up everything for him. Not yet.
“Let’s go,” he says, zero care in his tone as he readjusts his jeans. “Pull up your shorts.”
With both hands, he drops the heavy helmet on top of my rain-soaked hair. He walks away, stepping over the two men still knocked out cold on the ground, and heads down the alley. When he reaches the end, he swings a leg over his bike and turns back to look at me.
“Let’s go,” he urges again, annoyed by my inability to move. When I don't, he turns to fully face me and yells again.
I hear the sirens of a police car in the distance, which rattles me enough to make my legs finally move.
As I grow closer to him, a malevolent grin flirts with his lips as he relishes the sight of me.
I get it now.
I see why he did it.
Branded as his. Marked. Owned.
He nudges his chin, persistent in his endeavors. “Get on,” he demands. “It’s time to parade my fuck toy around town.”