Free The Bad Boys of Summer by Sienna Valentine

can’t…”
    “We can,” he answered, the words thick like sweet molasses in his mouth. “We’ve done it before.”
    My eyelashes fluttered without my consent. “And look where that got us.”
    Slade pressed into me, his erection strong against my taut lower tummy, and I gasped. I had never quite gotten over his cock—its fullness, its length, the heavy scent of it. Suddenly I was thinking about the way I’d wake him up with secret blow jobs or how he’d drive it into me when it rained, my screams rivaling the claps of thunder outside our home. He drove me to madness with that cock once, and he could do it again. I was sure of it.
    My breasts hitched beneath my robe and Slade pulled it away, revealing my pebbled nipples peeking through the thin fabric of my cami. He said, “You always left my bed satisfied, Iris. And the couch. And the table. And anywhere else I fucked that sweet pussy.” With a barely-there touch, he dropped his hand to the silk belt shielding my lower body from his view and tugged. I should have stopped him. I should have wrenched away and fled to my room. But the truth was that I was aching to know how his fingers would feel between my legs, how the sweep of his thumb on my pussy lips would give me goosebumps.
    I was aching to give myself to Slade, the man who satisfied me in a way only he could. The man who knew the deepest, most sinful parts of me. The man who’d spoiled me with his divine cock.
    My robe fell open and Slade’s lustful gaze dipped to the creamy tops of my thighs, then higher up to my lacy boy shorts. He smirked and touched a single finger to my pussy through the fabric and came away wet.
    “This for me?” he asked.
    I nodded wordlessly. My skin was on fire, begging for his touch. Another heavy throb resounded through my body as Slade touched me there again, teasing along the patterns woven into my panties.
    “Say it,” he demanded. “Say who you’re so wet for.”
    “Slade,” I gasped as a last-ditch rebuke, but just a little more pressure from his finger and he’d found my clit. I arched so hard my head hit the wall and Slade chuckled, tapping slowly, rhythmically, driving me to a whimper.
    “Say it.”
    I knew what it would mean. I knew that giving in like this would be an invitation, but I no longer cared. I wanted Slade inside me. I wanted to be that stupid teenage girl again. I wanted to suck and fuck my stepbrother like the slut he’d trained me to be, the one no other man could handle or tame. I wanted to forget I was nice, responsible Iris Walker and give in to the desire I’d harbored for years.
    “You,” I moaned, looking into his eyes as I writhed against his hard, hot body. “I’m wet for you.”
    Slade grinned from ear to ear. In the dim light, he looked absolutely wolfish, and I knew I’d made a deal with the Devil.
    The second he thrust his hand into my panties, and then his fingers inside me, I knew I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

8
    Slade
    I t all felt like a dream .
    There had been nights where I’d pictured this happening in my head, Iris and I entwined in one another like we’d been seven years ago. It was what I had ached for ever since I’d left, a burning desire inside of me that I tried so hard to sate, sacrificing countless women on the altar of my own needs. As I held her body tightly against my own, I wondered if I hadn’t nodded off back home and slipped into one of those old fantasies.
    “Slade,” Iris whimpered as I swept my hands over her body. I pulled at what scant few clothes still remained on her, keeping me from what I’d craved for almost a decade. I was already mostly naked, my cock rigid and alert, its thick, pulsating tip yearning to fill the warm wetness of my stepsister’s womanhood.
    “We—” Iris let out a gasp, cutting herself off as I pulled at her cami. My deft fingers had her undone in a matter of seconds. She grabbed at her flesh, shyly holding her hands over her soft, perky breasts in an attempt