Free Stepbrother Demanding (His Wicked Plan, Book 1) by Lucy Scott

STEPBROTHER DEMANDING
    (HIS WICKED PLAN, BOOK #1)
     
    By Lucy Scott
     
    © 2015 Lucy Scott.
     
     
    All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
     
     
     
    DYLAN
     
    One spark was all it took.
    Then everything that had been building between us for so many years exploded into flames that neither one of us had any chance of containing.
    What could I do? She was my everything, hands down the most beautiful girl I'd ever laid eyes on, and I don't just mean physically. Although she’d always done things to my insides that no girl had ever done before, and I was pretty sure I'd always had the same effect on her.
    But we kept it contained. We had no choice. We kept it all under lock and key.
    Until that night…
    Could've been some bizarre twist of fate, or maybe just a coincidence. Either way, the spark had been set that night and the flames that followed were beyond anything either one of could even come close to controlling.
    So let me begin with that night- the night that turned what was supposed to be forever upside down.
    Strip club, VIP room, downtown. Frequenting this sort of place was part of my gig- it came with the territory in my line of work.  I didn't need to meet women that way, far from it. I had a endless list of women, ready and willing to serve me. Just a one or two syllable text was all it ever took to send them knocking on the door of my high-rise condo.
    Besides, rules were rules in these VIP rooms. Sure, there could be some light touching from the clients- maybe a quick graze on the back of some stripper’s thighs. Or even a little dirty talk from time to time. And of course the women in these rooms were known to show off their tits to lure the guests’ wallets out of their pockets. But that was it. No club owner wanted to risk losing his operating license just to get a guy off for a little extra cash. So the idea of actually going beyond just gawking in of one of these rooms was pretty much urban legend. Trust me.
    But then everything changed.
    She walked through that door and all bets suddenly seemed off.
    Her face was covered in darkness, as was mine. I liked it that way, mainly because once some of the dancers realized who I was, or once anyone around these parts realized who I was for that matter, they freaked out, and then they always started telling me their life story hoping I'd scoop them up and rescue them from the rest of the world. I wasn't there to do that though, I was there to show my face, then punch in and punch out.
    I knew instantly she wasn't like the rest of the “talent.” Just the way she moved those creamy legs and sexy hips was enough to send blood rushing to my cock. She definitely was not a natural in this sort of setting, and that was a good thing in her case.
    I never got turned on in these situations, but right off the bat she made me feel things that didn't make sense. The club music made the walls shake around us, even the red velvet couch I was sitting on seemed to vibrate at a much higher frequency than usual. The darkness cast just enough shadows over most of her facial features, but the neon sign with an outline of a flashing wine bottle that hung on the darkened window showed a good enough portion of her full, pink lips. Oh fuck, those lips were something special. Yup, definitely a new girl, some chick that probably didn't know what she was getting herself into in the first place when she took this job.
    I'd be flat out full of shit if I didn't admit that I wanted to feel those warm lips of hers smothering the tip of my cock, and that I wanted nothing more than to watch in awe as she lowered them down and swallowed the girth of my shaft.
    But that would be like taking candy from a baby. One mention of who I was,