PASSIONATE
by
Sotia M.
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Sotia M. on Smashwords
Passionate
Copyright © 2010 by Sotia M.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination.
Thank you Kysira, Lauriel, Mari, and Tina, for all you’ve done for me and this story.
Thank you Andrei… for everything. I love you!
Chapter 1 – Played
“Thought
I told you I don’t want you bringing her
over when your Ma isn’t home,” James growled, taking a
swig from what his gait betrayed was far from the first beer of the
evening.
“Thought I told you
I don’t give a fuck what you say, Jimmy-boy,” his stepson
replied, flipping him the finger, before pushing his girlfriend
inside the house and closing the door behind them. “You’re
not my father.” Taking hold of the girl’s upper arm, he
led her toward the stairs. “Let’s go to my room,”
he said in a stage whisper. “We won’t be bothered
there.”
It was all James could do not to smash the
bottle on Michael’s head when the bloody brat turned to throw a
wink at him before letting go of Beth’s arm to squeeze her
ass.
“Michael!” She swatted his hand away and
skipped up the rest of the stairs, her boyfriend after her.
“Come
on, baby, you know you love it,” he said, catching up with her
on the top of the staircase and throwing her over his shoulder,
uncaring of how that gave his stepfather a perfect view of the girl’s
virginal cotton white panties.
James wanted to go
upstairs, barge into the boy’s bedroom, toss him on his ass and
then shag Michael’s fucking girlfriend on Michael’s
fucking bed. Sadly, that was wrong.
What
was also wrong was that he hadn’t stopped wanting several
variations of that since he’d first seen her, all prim and
proper, coming over to tutor Michael in Math at the beginning of the
school year. She’d been like a breeze of fresh air. Chatty,
bubbly, bouncy, with innocent green eyes and rosy cheeks. And that
golden hair…
He wanted to touch that hair, feel it
caress his face, tickle his sternum as she rode him. He wanted to
fist his hands in it as he fucked her mouth, wanted to use it as
reins while he took her from behind.
He’d never felt
so much like a pervert until he’d met her, and hadn’t
stopped feeling like one since. He kept fantasizing about ripping her
clothes off and taking her against the dining room table in front of
his wife and stepson, of sneaking up into the bathroom after her and
pounding her against the wall, of following her home and making her
suck his cock in a dark alley…
Patricia had no
clue—of course Patricia would have no clue—that the only
reason her husband had started wanting her on a nightly basis was a
just-turned-eighteen-year-old high
school senior.
She didn’t know that the man who had exchanged vows of eternal
devotion with her thought of a juicy, barely legal, cunt every time
he sunk his fingers or cock inside her. Patricia was just happy in
her perfect little family dream, ignorant of how it could all burst
if one Beth Knowles bent down to tie her shoelaces in front of James
just one. More. Time.
And his stupid, cocksure pillock of
a stepson kept bringing her home even after
James had told him that he didn’t want the two of them shagging
while he was around. When James had said it was disrespectful,
Michael had replied he owed him no respect, so James had had Patricia
talk to the boy. In the end they’d all agreed that Michael
wouldn’t… entertain
when his mom wasn’t around. James hadn’t found it wise to
mention that the reason he insisted on that was that when Michael
made Beth scream, he
could pound Patricia into the mattress with a hand over her mouth,
and imagine the girl’s screams were for him.
As if
on cue, Beth’s giggle came from upstairs, followed by a meek,
we
shouldn’t; your step-dad is here.
Michael said something, gaining himself another giggle,
and soon her protests were replaced by soft moans and the creaking of
bedsprings.
Cursing the lack of sound-proofing in the
house, James took another beer out of the fridge, popped it open and
planted himself on the couch in front of the television. Even the
volume set at maximum level didn’t manage to drown out the
distinctly Beth
mewls. They echoed in his brain, they were burned inside his mind,
together with visuals of how her face would look contorted in
ecstasy.
He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed at them with
the heels of his hands. He was twenty two years her senior, for
fuck’s sake. He was the big, round, four-oh, when she’d
just entered adulthood—at least in paper—three months
earlier. James remembered her birthday. Patricia had told him to give
Michael his allowance early so he could take his little girlfriend
somewhere… special. The following morning, things had gotten
immensely worse for James’ peace of mind, as his stepson had
unsolicitedly informed him he’d scored.
Using James’ money to pay for the hotel room.
While James had turned in early, and spent half an hour
bemoaning not having brushed his teeth.
Maybe it was
midlife crisis.
He flicked through channels until he found
Animal Planet. The mating rituals of cabbage worms or some such
should take care of his hard on.
Still hard half an hour
later, he dared turn down the volume to check if the sounds had
stopped. Blissful silence met his ears, and he sighed in relief. If
things went as usual, in about another twenty minutes the teens
should be asleep and he’d be able to go to his room and jerk
off until his dick was chaffed.
Things didn’t go as
usual.
The floor behind him creaked, and he turned his
head to see Beth, fully dressed and as perfectly coiffed as
before—not even a hair loose from her ponytail—tiptoeing
towards the living room.
Startled, she jumped back a
little. “Thought you were asleep.”
“Just
watching the telly.” He turned toward the screen again.
“Thought you were busy.”
“We
were. Then Michael finished… being
busy
before I did, and is now snoring.” She laughed and circled the
couch to sit next to him. “Anything good on?” she asked,
indicating the television with a tilt of her head.
Her
perfume was saturating his senses, pulling him to her, drowning out
all reason. Her arms were crossed, pushing her breasts upwards,
making the fabric of her top taut against their swell and causing
James’s mouth to water. He had to get away from that perfume
with the undertones of sex, had to get far away from those breasts.
Jumping up, he carelessly tossed her the remote. “See
for yourself.”
Leaving the remote on the coffee
table, she got up after him. “Where are you going?”
“To get a beer.” Or several. Anything to make
him pass out before he decided to screw it all, screw the seven years
of marriage, screw Patricia, screw staying out of trouble, and
replace Michael’s sweat on her skin with his own.
“Can
I have one?” She followed him to the kitchen, standing too
close for comfort when he opened the fridge. He could brush her
thighs with his fingers if he wanted to. He could pretend to look at
the lower shelves and take another sneak peek under her skirt. Her
panties would be wet now, he bet. She’d be wet from fucking his
stepson,
and still he wouldn’t mind eating her out. He wouldn’t
mind at all lifting her up and laying her on the kitchen table,
spread-eagled, and eating her pussy, widening her hole with his
fingers before sticking his cock inside her and giving her the
hardest fuck of her life.
He slammed the refrigerator
door shut. “No. Not for another three years.” Ignoring
her pout took up every ounce of strength he had, but he managed to
walk past her and back towards the living room.
She was
just two steps behind him.
“Now,
where are you going?” she demanded when he bypassed the couch
going for the staircase.
He refused to look at her,
knowing she’d still be pouting, hands probably on her hips. “To
my room.”
“You didn’t get your
beer.”
He could hear her coming closer. “Changed
my bloody mind.”
“Mr. Williams?” she
called out when he was half-way up.
Sighing, he stopped
his ascent to glance back at her. “What?”
She
ran upwards, stopping just one step below him and craned her neck,
pinning him with accusing eyes. “Why don’t you like
me?”
The question threw him and he turned to face
her.
“Why don’t you like me?” she asked
again. “Everyone else does, but you’re always growly, and
rude, and… why?”
She was giving him the
puppy eyed look and he felt sick to his stomach by the things he
wanted to do to someone so innocent. “You’re being
silly,” he said dismissively and made to leave, but she grabbed
his arm and climbed to the step next to him.
“What
is it about me that pisses you off?” she asked, suddenly
sounding older. “If you just give me a chance, I’m sure
you’ll see I’m really a sweethea—”
“I
don’t want to give you a chance.” His voice was
hoarse.
Narrowing her eyes, still not letting go of his
arm she asked again, “Why?”
He couldn’t
take it any longer. Couldn’t take her lips so close to his,
couldn’t stand how her fingers burned his skin, how he could
see down her cleavage.
He grabbed her by the shoulders,
making her grip on him falter. Pulling her harshly against him, he
said in a rough whisper, “Liking you would end up with me balls
deep inside you and you screaming my name. Is that what you
want?”
Her breath caught on her throat, no words
coming out of her lips, and James decided to up the stakes. He had to
make her run away, because his self restraint was worn dangerously
thin. Spinning her the other way without warning, he wrapped an arm
around her to pin her arms against her body. “Do you want me to
bend you over the railing and fuck you? ‘Cause that’s all
I can bloody think of when I see you bouncing. I think of you
bouncing on my cock.”
She tried to turn and face
him, but he tightened his grip, bringing his free hand to her lips.
“Every time you smile, I think of these lips wrapped around my
cock, Beth. I think of you gagging and me pushing in deeper.”
His hand kneaded a breast, his brain hoping she’d protest, that
she’d fight him. “I think of cumming on these breasts.
Think of spurting on them, of making you rub my cum in.” His
fingers ran a trail down her stomach, down to her sex, bunching the
material of her skirt so that his knuckles brushed her soaked
panties. He’d known she’d be wet. Wet because of Michael;
of the fucker who’d had the luxury of being inside her body.
His ire rose and he pressed his knuckles harder against the place he
longed to be buried in.
“And don’t get me
started on this.
The things I want to do to this… they’d make you run
away screaming, or come back begging for more.” His index
finger unfolded from his fist of its own volition and ran down the
length of her lower lips over the soft cotton. “Now do you see
why I shouldn’t like
you, Beth?”
No reply came. Feeling her tremble in
his arms, he guessed she was crying. That was good. Now she’d
hate him and stay away from his fucking house.
“Now
do you see why I shouldn’t like
you?” he asked again.
Shaking her head no,
she spread her legs a bit to rub her mound against his hand.
It
wasn’t reason that led his actions from that point on. His
conscious mind pulled down the shutters and went on holiday, while
instinct and repressed desire took over. Pressing his hips against
hers he led her to the railing and fisted his hand in her hair to
bend her forward. The time for talking was over. Now he needed to
act, to feel.
His free hand flipped her skirt up and
couldn’t hold back from smacking a cotton-covered buttock. She
moaned and he did it again, hissing at her that if she dared make
another fucking sound he’d make sure she couldn’t walk
for a week.
She bobbed her head yes and kept silent while
he pushed her panties aside to plunge two fingers inside her in one
stroke. She wouldn’t need preparation. Other than being already
soaking wet, she’d had another dick inside her recently.
The
thought of another man having her made him see red.
Still
holding her by the hair, he popped all the buttons of his jeans with
one hard tug to his fly, freed his cock, and buried his entire length
inside her. She bucked and tensed, but didn’t try to pull away,
pressing harder against him instead.
There was no way he’d
last if he didn’t slow down, he knew it, but he didn’t
care about lasting. He didn’t even care about her release. His
entire being had needed this
for so long that he couldn’t hold back if his life depended on
it.
Folding his body over hers, he whispered, “This
is my turn. You’ll get yours.” She strained to look at
him over her shoulder, and he met her mocking gaze seriously. “That’s
a promise.”
She nodded and started rocking against
him harder, faster. Her pussy was strangling him, the slapping sound
every time his pelvis smacked her ass was music to his ears, but what
made him adamant that this—them—would
happen again, every chance he got, was the way she whispered his
name.
His balls tightened and he knew there was no way
back. “Are you on the pill?”
Seeing her shake
her head no
almost had the effect of a cold shower. Almost.
Withdrawing
from inside her, he used his grip on her hair to make her turn and
kneel in front of him. The stairs weren’t that wide, and she
instinctively tried to pull back and find her balance, but he’d
have none of that. “Suck me.”
Doing as she was
told, she didn’t even flinch when his sperm hit the back of her
throat the moment her lips closed around his shaft. She sucked as
much of his length as she could inside her mouth, gulping down his
spendings, flicking her tongue over the underside until he was
entirely drained.
Then she looked at him with those big
green eyes, and asked with mock-innocence, “Now do you like
me?”
He wanted to laugh and cry and tell her that
not only did he like her, but he’d be her slave forever, and
he’d start with making her come so hard that she’d pass
out with ecstasy. Instead, he pulled her up and kissed her fiercely,
enjoying the taste of himself on her lips and tongue.
“I
like you,” he said when they broke apart for breath.
They
heard Michael’s door open, then slam shut, and hurriedly put
some distance between them, straightening up their clothes.
Guilt
hit James full force as he ran down the stairs two at a time to get
back to the couch before Michael wondered why the two of them were
walking upstairs together. He was a bad man who’d taken
advantage of an innocent girl, disregarding society, family and his
own self-respect.
That should never happen again. It
couldn’t.
He heard Michael ask Beth if she’d
gotten any sleep.
“Nope. I decided to utilize my
time better.”
Turning towards them, James saw
Michael’s hulking form hugging her from behind, the two
dragging their feet down the stairs.
“I had a nice
chat with your stepfather,” she explained. “We hit it off
and now I can come by anytime I feel like it.” She winked at
James. “And he apologized for acting the way he did, and now he
owes me,” she concluded with a serious nod.
James
had the distinct feeling he’d been played.
Maybe he
needed to punish her next time, after she’d had her turn.
Maybe he should make her call him daddy.