2. Maxwell #2
She spins to face me. "Four billion dollars? You're worth four billion dollars?"
"Approximately." I approach slowly, predatory. "It fluctuates with the market."
She laughs, but it sounds slightly hysterical. "You let me... we had sex, and you didn't think to mention you're a billionaire?"
"Would it have changed anything?"
Millie opens her mouth, closes it. I see her genuinely consider the question.
"I don't know," she finally admits. "Maybe. Probably. I don't... I can't even conceptualize that amount of money."
I stop a few feet away, giving her space she doesn't want. "That's why I didn't mention it. You looked at me like I was just a man. Do you know how rare that is?"
She shakes her head. "At the gala, the suite... I thought you were wealthy, obviously, but this is..."
"Overwhelming?"
"Insane." She turns back to the window. "You're insane wealthy. You could buy... anything. Anyone."
My jaw tightens. "I don't want to buy you, Millie."
"Then what do you want?"
I close the distance between us, crowd her space. "Let me tell you about the women I usually meet."
I circle her slowly, watch her turn to follow my movement. "They see dollar signs before they see me. They calculate net worth before they learn my name. They're interested in what I can give them—jewelry, cars, access to exclusive circles."
"That's not?—"
"You asked me about books at the gala," I interrupt. "About what I read. You called me out for missing my father's wedding. You pushed back when I was dominating the conversation."
I stop directly in front of her, close enough to smell her perfume. "You treated me like a man you were attracted to, not a bank account you wanted access to."
"I still think you're arrogant."
The words make me smile. "I am arrogant. I've earned the right to be. But you're the first woman in years who's told me that to my face."
She lifts her chin defiantly. "So what, you want me to stroke your ego? Tell you how impressive your billions are?"
"I want you to keep being exactly who you are." I step closer, backing her against the bookshelf. "Sharp. Challenging. Real."
"We shouldn't..." Her breathing quickens. "Our parents are in the next room."
"Then you should probably keep quiet."
I capture her mouth in a dominant kiss—possessive, consuming, claiming. She makes a small sound of surprise but kisses me back, hands gripping my shirt like she's drowning.
My hand slides up her ribcage, cups her breast through her dress. The weight fits perfectly in my palm.
"Mmm—" she moans into my mouth.
I find the zipper of her dress, slide it down her back. My hand slips inside, palm closing over her breast. She's wearing a simple cotton bra, nothing fancy, and fuck if that doesn't make me harder.
I brush my thumb over her nipple, feel it stiffen under my touch.
"Maxwell—" she gasps, breaking the kiss.
My other hand grips her hip, holding her against the bookshelf. She can't escape, can't move unless I let her.
"Say it again," I command against her neck. "Say my name."
"Maxwell." She breathes it, arching into my touch.
I kiss down her neck, teeth grazing her pulse point. "You're mine, Millie. Whether you knew about the billions or not, you became mine the moment I pushed inside you."
My hand slides from her breast down her stomach, over her hip. I grip her ass through her dress, pull her against me. She can feel my cock hardening, pressing against her stomach.
"Feel that?" I growl in her ear. "That's what you do to me, stepsister."
The word makes her shudder. I move my hand between her legs, cup her pussy through her dress and the thin fabric of her panties underneath.
Heat. Dampness already seeping through.
"Already wet," I murmur. "Your pussy knows who it belongs to."
"We can't—not here—" But her hips rock forward into my hand, betraying her words.
I apply pressure, rub her pussy through the layers of fabric. She gasps, head falling back against the bookshelf. I increase the pressure, find her clit through the clothing, circle it with my thumb.
"Oh—oh god—" she moans, louder than she should.
She's so responsive, so honest in her reactions. Her pussy is soaking through her panties, her nipples hard under my touch. She can't stop herself from rocking against my hand, chasing the friction she needs.
I slide my hand under her dress, push her panties aside. My fingers glide through her bare pussy lips—she's drenched, arousal coating my fingers.
"Fuck, you're soaked."
I push two fingers inside her pussy. She's still tight, still adjusting to being fucked. Her inner walls clench around my fingers, gripping them.
"Ahh—Maxwell—yes—" she cries, hips moving to meet my thrusting fingers.
I pump my fingers in and out, thumb circling her clit. Her pussy grips my fingers, inner walls fluttering with each thrust.
"You're going to come on my fingers," I command. "Right here in my father's library with our parents down the hall."
"Yes—yes—I'm—oh fuck—" She gasps, tension building in her body.
Footsteps in the hallway.
I immediately withdraw my hand, step back, put distance between us. Millie's eyes go wide, panicked. Her dress is still partially unzipped.
I reach over, zip her dress back up. My fingers move quickly, practiced.
"Maxwell? Millie? Everything alright?" Frank's voice, getting closer.
Millie tries to compose herself, smooths her dress with shaking hands. Her cheeks are flushed, breathing hard, lips swollen from kissing.
I call back, voice completely controlled. "Fine, Father. Just showing Millie your library collection."
The door handle turns. Locked.
"Why is the door locked?"
I unlock and open it in one smooth motion. "Old habit. These books are valuable—I wasn't thinking."
Frank enters, Nancy behind him. Both look concerned. Frank's eyes move between us—taking in Millie's flushed appearance, her quickened breathing.
"Millie, honey, are you feeling better?" Nancy asks.
"Yes, sorry." Millie's voice is steadier than I expected. "Just... overwhelmed. This is all very new."
Frank nods, accepting the explanation. "Of course. It's a lot to take in. Maxwell's success can be... intimidating."
"I apologize if my achievements made you uncomfortable, Millie." The formal words contrast sharply with what we were just doing—with my fingers still slick from her pussy.
Millie meets my eyes. "I'm not intimidated by money, Maxwell. Just... surprised."
The loaded statement hangs between us. Frank clears his throat.
"Well. Shall we return for dessert?"
We follow them back to the dining room. Chocolate soufflé waits at each place setting, cognac poured into appropriate glasses. I watch Millie throughout, noticing how she squirms slightly in her seat.
She's still aroused. Unfulfilled. Thinking about my fingers inside her, about how close she was to coming before we were interrupted.
Good. I want her thinking about me, wanting me, unable to focus on anything else.
Conversation remains surface-level for the rest of dessert. Frank talks about a new development project. Nancy mentions plans to redecorate one of the guest rooms. Millie stays quiet, pushing soufflé around her plate.
When it's time to leave, I say goodbye to Frank with a handshake. Hug Nancy politely.
I turn to Millie last. "It was good to see you again, stepsister."
She meets my eyes. "You too."
I lean in as if for a polite cheek kiss, whisper in her ear so only she can hear. "Next time, I won't stop. I'm going to make you come so hard you scream my name."
I pull back before she can respond, walk away without looking back.
The Bugatti roars to life when I start it. I pull out of the circular drive, take the winding road back toward the main highway. Manhattan waits—my penthouse, my empire, my carefully controlled world.
But all I can think about is Millie.
The way she tastes. The sounds she makes when I touch her. How her pussy clenches around my fingers. How she looks at me with equal parts desire and defiance.
I've never been one to deny myself what I want. I built my fortune by identifying opportunities and seizing them without hesitation. Millie Carter is an opportunity—forbidden, taboo, completely inappropriate.
And I'm going to have her.
Completely. Irrevocably. Mine.
The money complicates things, but also simplifies them. I can give her anything, remove any obstacle, eliminate any competition. I can make her life easier or harder depending on her cooperation.
Not that I'll need to threaten. She wants me as much as I want her—her body's responses make that clear. She just needs to accept it, stop fighting the inevitable.
The age gap, the stepsibling relationship, her inexperience—all of it just makes the conquest more intoxicating. She's nineteen, untouched until I claimed her. Fresh. Uncorrupted by the world I inhabit.
And anyone who tries to interfere will regret it.
I accelerate, pushing the Bugatti faster. The engine responds instantly, built for exactly this kind of power. Just like I'm built for exactly this kind of domination.
Millie Carter doesn't know it yet, but her life just changed irrevocably.
She's mine now.
And I always protect what's mine.