Free Dirty Wicked Lust: A Stepbrother Romance by Amanda Heartley

now, thanks to gallons of clear pool water, sheer boxer shorts. His cock was thick and curved against the opaque material as he pinned me against the pool deck, our lips instinctively meeting in a breathless first kiss as we gave into our deepest, darkest desires.
    I could taste the desire on his tongue, as bold and musky as the fragrance of his cologne, as hot and wet as the breath that slathered my neck as his kiss moved slowly from my lips to my throat and down, gently, until two lips cradled my right nipple as he sucked gently until I nearly came from the vacuum seal of his mouth around my tender, aching nipple.
    Despite his reluctance, his kisses were as eager and passionate as they were gentle and tender. I could feel the hum of his soft, yearning moans as they surrounded each breast, lips sucking and surrounding in turn, swollen and thick around my equally tender breasts. He alternated from one to the other, his hands on the pool deck at my back, licking and sucking until I gasped and bucked and responded in turn.
    My hands traveled down his bare chest. It was as hard as it was hairless, as slick as it was beautiful, thrilling to every bare inch until I reached the waistband of his soggy boxers. I could feel his cock, thick and tempting as it dragged the very boxers away from his body and my hand, too tempted to wait, ran down the massive length of it as he gasped, and for a quick moment, parted his lips around the tender, quivering breast he’d been sucking.
    I thought he would murmur and nod and slide back onto the quivering, taut nipple he’d left behind, or perhaps return to my mouth, gaping and open—desperate for his attention. Instead, he fled, pushing himself gently away from me as our eyes met once more before he fled from the pool, grabbing his clothes and dripping all the way into the house.
    I sank back against the pool deck, gasping for breath, wondering if perhaps I’d imagined it all. Am I drunk enough to create another sex-fueled fantasy? I thought, turning only to find my little black dress, forgotten and crumpled and neglected.
    No , smiling to myself as I reached for it. I couldn’t make up something so hot, even if I tried!

Chapter Ten
    I woke up late the next morning, totally dry, extremely naked, and very, very alone in my bed. I was hung over, for sure, but in that weird, dreamy, fragile way that skipped the headache and went straight to regret. Visions of the night before danced behind my fluttering eyelids, then swam in my vision long afterward, like echoes of regret, desire and anticipation.
    I ached for what could have been, what almost was, and what I still wanted so very, very badly. I had hoped that a real, live kiss from Ryan might bring me the closure I’d need to live under the same roof with him. That getting him out of my system, even in a drunken haze, would cure us both – but me, in particular – of the thought that this, that us, could ever work. I had hoped the embarrassment I felt at how I’d acted the night before would overshadow what we’d actually done but as more and more time went by, that clearly wasn’t the case.
    I couldn’t get the thought of Ryan out of my head. He’d wanted me, badly— as badly as I’d wanted him and yet, somehow, he had the willpower to deny us both the pleasure we so equally sought. Now I lay there, my skin alive with the ghost of his touch, realizing I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had the rest of Ryan—until I had all of him.
    I thought about getting up and seeing what he was doing, but instead, I lolled around lazily, the late morning sun filtering through half-closed blinds to dance across my naked skin, still on fire from where Ryan had pressed his entire body against me the night before.
    I could feel my nipples stiffening at the very thought of it, as my pussy got wetter and I squirmed alone in my room, but I knew to try to pleasure myself hungover was a losing cause. Besides, maybe Ryan was feeling as horny as I was, and