LOGIN“Say it. Tell me you want me to fill you up,” Julian muttered darkly, his hand tightening over my mouth as his thick cock stretched me to my absolute limit. “Please... fill me up,” I cried, helpless against the intense pleasure. For years, my toxic ex made me feel suffocated by shame over my high sex drive. But when my mother married a ruthless billionaire, I intentionally took a job at his company just to be near Julian Cross my cold, arrogant stepbrother and secret obsession. I wasn't prepared for how far he’d push me. After secretly watching me through a two way smart glass wall, the tension snapped past midnight over a spreadsheet mistake. Julian pinned me to the executive conference table, taking me ruthlessly. Then, an anonymous text flashed on my screen with a photo of us, threatening to destroy everything. With corporate spies and a blackmailer closing in, can our explosive, taboo secret survive the danger or will it tear us both apart? *Warning* This book contains explicit sexual content, taboo themes, and mature language. Intended for adult readers only.
View More"Tamara."
Julian’s voice was rough. His hand left the gear shift and clamped onto my knee. My breath caught hard.
He looked at me, desire burning through his blue eyes. "Ive been watching you all week, you little slut. I saw you walking up and down this house in those little shorts showing me your tight ass, pretending to bend over so that I could see that amazing body of yours teasing my cock, you know what your doing dont you Tam?” Walking past my room with your nipples poking through your top, knowing your step-brother is stroking his cock thinking about ruining you.”
“No.” I'm not… I stammered.
“Bullshit.” His hand pull up my thigh, rough and greedy, His fingers digging into my soft flesh. “You want this. You’ve been dripping for your stepbro cock all week, right?”
He put his fingers into my waistband and ripped my shorts down in one yank. My soaked pussy was exposed, my juices dripping down my thighs already. He didn’t wait. Two thick fingers slammed into me, digging deep, stretching my tight cunt open.
“Fuuuuck,” I moaned, My hips jerking like a bitch in heat, grinding down on his hand shamelessly.
Julian groaned low, pumping them in and out. “Look at this greedy little pussy. Soaked and clenching on my fingers like it’s addicted. You’ve been craving this, haven’t you? Your own step-brother finger fucking you in the car like a cheap whore.”
He pushed deeper, curling hard, scissoring my walls while his thumb mashed my swollen clit. My juices coated his hand, dripping down his wrist onto the leather seat. I was making wet sounds with every thrust of his fingers.
“Julian… please… more…”
“Begging already? Such a nasty little stepsister.” He added a third finger, stretching me painfully wide, digging relentlessly into my dripping cunt. The burn mixed with pleasure until I was shaking. He leaned in, biting my neck hard. “This pussy is mine now. Say it.”
“It’s yours…fuck, my pussy belongs to my step brother!”
I was dripping everywhere, my swollen pussy lips spread around his thick fingers, clit throbbing hard. “Touch my clit harder…fuck, please.”
He rubbed it rough, fast circles, and my whole body spasmed. “Oh my Julian…fuck! I’m gonna…”
“Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out, dripping with my cream, and shoved them into my mouth. “Suck. Taste how much your step brother turns you on.”
I sucked greedily, moaning around his fingers while he freed his cock. It sprang out, hard as steel, veins bulging, the fat head dripping precum and curving slightly.
“You’re taking every inch of this cock, Tam. Gonna ruin that tight little pussy until you can’t walk straight.”
He tore my tank top off, latched onto my tit and sucked hard enough to bruise, teeth digging in while he slapped my soaked pussy with his heavy cock. Then he shoved me back. My ass slapped against the leather as he lined up and drove in, slow at first, forcing my pussy to stretch around his thick cock.
“Uhhhhh, fuck… it’s too big.” I gasped, but my cunt was sucking him deeper anyway, greedy and sinful.
He bottomed out, balls deep, and groaned like an animal. “So fucking tight. This pussy was made for your step brother’s cock. Feel how it’s gripping me? Like it never wants to let go.”
Then he snapped.
He fucked me like he wanted to ruin me. The car dancing with every savage thrust, his heavy balls slapping my soaked ass.
My tits bounced wildly. I screamed, My nails digging bloody lines into his back, My pussy gushing around his cock.
“Harder…fuck me harder, you madarchod!” I cried, My legs locked around him. “Destroy my pussy! Ruin me for anyone else!”
“Yeah? You love it, don't you?” He pounded deeper, grinding against my cervix with every brutal stroke. “Filthy little randi. Say it louder.”
“I’m your filthy randi…ahhh fuck, don’t you dare stop! I’m addicted to your cock! I need it deeper, please fuck your stepsister’s cunt harder!”
His cock dug into me relentlessly, hitting that spot over and over until I was shaking, soaking the seat, drooling, lost in the sin of it. The wet squelching of my dripping pussy filled the car as he railed me without mercy.
He flipped me suddenly, bending me over the seat, ass up. He slammed back in from behind, one hand fisting my hair, the other slapping my ass red.
“Take it. Take your step-brother’s cock like the addicted whore you are.”
I came hard, screaming, My pussy spasming and squirting around him. But he didn’t stop. He kept digging deeper, chasing his own release.
“Gonna cum,” he snarled. “Where do you want it, slut?”
“My mouth, please feed me with your loads!”
He pull it out, grabbed my hair and shoved his wet cock down my throat. I gagged hard, choking as his thick load exploded straight into my stomach.
He kept fucking my mouth, fucking my face, pumping more and more until his cum was spilling out the corners of my mouth, running down my chin onto my tits in sticky white creams. I coughed and gagged, tears falling with the mess, but I kept sucking, addicted to his taste.
I swallowed enough, but still got it dripping down my lashes as I looked up at him, wrecked and filthy.
“Behenchod…” I whispered, My voice hoarse.
He smirked, still hard and hungry, stroking his cum slick cock against my cheek.
I woke up gasping, my hand shoved between my thighs. My shorts were soaked my pussy still throbbing and dripping from the dream.
The clock says 3:07 AM. The fan spun lazily above me while my fingers kept rubbing my swollen clit, chasing that filthy high.
“Fuck… I’m sick,” I whispered into the dark. “Can’t believe I’m this addicted to dreaming about my own step brother’s cock… I need help.”
But even saying that, I dipped my fingers inside my soaked pussy, imagining it was his thick cock again. The footsteps in the hallway grew louder, heavy and angry stopping right outside my door.
Shit.
I stared at the name on the report until my eyes burned. Arthur Pendelton was not just a museum assistant. Years ago, long before he ever worked at the Vance Institute, he worked for my late father. After my father passed away, Arthur went to work for his old business partner, Richard Sterling my father old rival.My fingers pressed hard against the edge of the desk. The past was not just creeping back into my life. It was walking right through my studio door.I grabbed my coat, locked the door behind me, and took a taxi straight to the Vance Institute. I did not call ahead. I did not ask for an appointment. I walked past the front lobby, skipped the main elevators, and took the back stairs up to the office floor.Arthur was sitting at a glass desk outside Eleanor Vance's main office, typing on a keyboard. When the heavy stairwell door shut, his head snapped up. His face lost all its color the moment our eyes met."Miss John," Arthur said, standing up so fast his chair rolled bac
I stared at the glowing phone screen, my thumb hovering over the blocked number. A cold chill ran down my neck, but I refused to let my hands shake. Whoever sent that message wanted me to panic. They wanted me to pack up my brushes, hide the painting in fear, and run straight to Adrian for help.I turned away from the desk, walked to the closet, and pulled out a clean white sheet. I draped it over the easel, tucking it tightly around the wooden frame until every inch of The Silk Ribbon was hidden. I was not backing down.By eight o'clock the next morning, two police officers were standing in my studio. Officer Hayes, a tall woman with sharp gray eyes and a notebook, checked the lock on my front door while her partner looked at the back window."There's no sign of a break-in, Miss john," Officer Hayes said, clicking her pen. "The door frame isn't damaged and the lock works fine. Are you completely sure you locked up before you left yesterday?""I'm positive," I said, putting two
My feet stayed glued to the floor. My whole body went stiff. The silence in the room felt heavy and scary.I swallowed hard, trying to clear my dry throat, and stepped slowly into the room. A floorboard creaked under my boot. I froze and listened, looking toward the small kitchen, the bathroom door, and the dark hallway near my storage closet."Is anyone here?" my voice came out as a quiet whisper.No answer. Only the hum of the fridge and the sound of rain hitting the windows.I dropped my bag onto the couch and picked up a candle holder from the side table. Holding it tight in my right hand, I walked toward the back of the studio. I checked behind the drying racks. Empty. I threw open the bathroom door and flipped on the light. Empty. I opened the storage closet and swung the candle holder in front of me. There were only blank canvases and cans of paint.Whoever had been here was gone.I walked back to the middle of the room and stopped in front of the easel. The painting sat
The door handle felt cold in my hand. I turned around slowly, keeping my face calm while my heart beat fast.Director Dupont stood by the window. The evening light made dark shadows across his face. He didn't look like he was making friendly small talk. He looked like he was trying to find a weakness."Why do you ask, Director?" I kept my voice steady, holding my leather bag tight against my side. "No one gets into my studio without my permission. That painting hasn't left the easel.""It's just a simple question, Tamara," Dupont said softly, stepping closer to the long table. "The art world is small. People talk over dinner or inside private galleries.""These aren't just small details, are they?" I took two steps back into the room and stopped trying to leave. "That canvas is covered with a sheet. I haven't even signed it yet. The only way anyone knows what it looks like is if they stood right in front of it or if someone told them."Eleanor Vance leaned forward on the table. "






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