Page 13 of The Wrong Brother
No one has ever touched me like this.
Owned me like this.
His other hand delves between my legs, finding my clit deftly and putting enough pressure on it to make me whimper. Not rubbing or tweaking, just pressure—just the sensation that makes my pussy throb around his cock as he continues to pound into me from behind.
“You’re going to come like this,” he says, his hand traveling from my breasts to my throat.
I take a breath, momentarily wondering if I’ll be able to take another.
This isnota smart position to be in—getting fucked by a stranger in a mansion, an expensive dress in tatters around me, no one aware of where I am.
And somehow that heightens every other sensation.
His hand squeezes just lightly enough, the other slapping my clit as his cock hits that perfect spot, and the beginning of an orgasm makes me tremble.
“That’s right, Emma. Just like that. Come on my cock—let me feel how tight and wet you are for me.”
His words bleed into nonsense as I’m overcome with waves of pleasure. They pulse from my core outward, making my vision go white, a sound so feral and unguarded coming out of me that I don’t recognize myself.
Seconds later I feel hot liquid spill down my inner thighs and realize that he’s come, too. He’s breathing hard against me, chest against my back.
“Come,” he murmurs when we’ve both caught our breath. “I’ll clean you up. And then we can sleep.”
* * *
The first thing I become aware of is warmth.
Heavy blankets. Cool air drifting through the partially open balcony doors. A massive bed, so big that when I roll over I don’t even feel where it might end.
The second thing is the muted sound of a television.
My eyes crack open slowly, head foggy from wine and too little sleep. For one blissfully blank second, I don’t remember where I am.
Then I feel the soreness between my legs; the delicious ache from last night.
Memory slams back all at once—his mouth, his hands, the way he touched me like he wanted to consume me whole.
I shift slightly, wincing at the tender feeling, and glance toward the flickering television mounted across the bedroom. He must be up already and probably wondering why I’m still here.
A news station is on. Some kind of political segment, a voice droning on. I almost look away.
Then my brain catches up. And my entire body locks.
No.
No fucking way.
The anchorwoman is smiling brightly beside a photo I know far too well.
Andrei.
Perfect hair, teeth, and that smile…
My stomach drops straight through the mattress.
“Colorado Attorney General candidate Andrei Cheney surprised supporters late last night with a personal announcement.”
A blonde woman appears beside him in the next still photo that comes up. She’s holding up a hand, showing off a massive ring.
