2. Jones #3
The word fuck from her prim little mouth sends me over. My balls draw up tight. Pleasure barrels down my spine like a freight train. I bury myself as deep as I can go and let go.
The first pulse of my come shoots into her with enough force that I feel it. Then another, and another. I keep rubbing her clit through it, determined to take her with me. Her pussy convulses hard around my cock, milking every drop as she comes with a silent scream, mouth open against my shoulder.
We ride it out together, hips stuttering, bodies locked tight. Her inner muscles flutter and squeeze in waves that seem to pull my orgasm out longer than I thought possible. I keep coming, filling her until I feel it start to leak out around my cock with every shallow thrust.
The intensity leaves us both shaking. I stay buried inside her, unwilling to pull out yet. My forehead rests against her collarbone. Her fingers thread through my hair, gentler now, almost soothing.
The office smells like sex and her arousal and the faint trace of ink from the scattered papers. My cock gives one last twitch inside her. A small aftershock makes her walls flutter around me again.
She lets out a soft, surprised sound.
I lift my head enough to look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed deep pink. Her lips look bee-stung. Those blue eyes meet mine without flinching, even though I can feel her pulse racing under my palm where it rests on her ribs.
Neither of us speaks for several long seconds. The silence stretches, heavy with everything we just did and everything we still haven’t said.
My thumb strokes across her bottom lip. She nips at it lightly, the small defiance so perfectly her that something warm unfurls in my chest.
I don’t pull out. Not yet. The thought of my come staying deep inside her, the possibility of what we just started, keeps me exactly where I am.
Her legs stay locked around my hips. One of her hands slides down to rest against the back of my neck, fingers playing with the short hairs there.
The desk beneath her is a mess. Papers crumpled under her back.
Her hair fans out across the dark wood like spilled gold.
My shirt is still buttoned. My pants hang open around my thighs.
The contrast between how put-together I look and how thoroughly I just ruined her makes fresh heat stir low in my gut.
I could take her again. Right now. My cock is still hard inside her. The knowledge that she’s full of my come, that I’m the only man who’s ever been here, sends a possessive thrill through me that surprises even me.
Instead I lean down and kiss her slowly. Less teeth and hunger this time. More deliberate exploration. She sighs into my mouth, body softening under mine in a way that feels dangerously close to surrender.
When I finally break the kiss, I rest my forehead against hers again. Our breaths mingle. Her blue eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
I don’t say anything profound. Words feel too big for this moment. Instead I shift my hips in a slow circle, reminding her that I’m still inside her, that we’re still connected.
She gasps softly at the movement. Her fingers tighten on my neck.
The sound goes straight to my cock. It twitches inside her. Her pussy clenches in response, like her body already knows what it wants from me.
I smile against her mouth. Not a full smile—those are rare—but enough that she feels it.
“Three months is going to be a very long time if this is how you plan to prove your responsibility, sweet stepsister.”
Her eyes flash with familiar fire even as her body remains soft and open beneath me. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t tell me to stop. She simply looks at me with that stubborn tilt to her chin that started all of this.
I rock into her again, slower this time, drawing out the sensation. Her breath catches.
We’re nowhere near done. Not with each other. Not with whatever complicated thing we just started on top of my desk in the middle of the Ashford Wing.
Her hand slides from my neck to my jaw, fingers brushing through my beard. The touch feels intimate in a way the fucking didn’t. I turn my head and press a kiss to her palm.
The gesture seems to surprise her. Her lips part. Whatever she’s about to say gets lost when I thrust again, deliberate and deep, and her eyes flutter half-closed.
I watch her face, cataloging every micro-expression, every tiny reaction. This is only the beginning. I have two more brothers who will want their turn with her. The thought should complicate everything. Instead it settles into my bones like something inevitable.
For now, though, she’s mine. Spread out on my desk, full of my come, looking up at me with those defiant blue eyes that have owned me since the moment I saw them at our parents’ wedding.
I lean down and capture her mouth again. The kiss tastes like the start of something neither of us can take back.
Her legs tighten around me once more. She kisses me back like she has no intention of letting go either.
The night stretches ahead of us, the clinic empty except for the two of us, and I intend to make full use of every minute.