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Caught With A Machine Fucker By My Step Brother Pt3

Author: Amanda Myles
last update publish date: 2026-01-05 20:48:55

Chapter 3

Before I could recover, I felt the slick press of his finger against my ass, teasing the tight entrance.

I whimpered, my body still sensitive from the orgasm, my muscles clenching instinctively. “Ken, I'm sorry I can’t”

“You can,” he snapped, his voice sharp. “And you will.” His finger pressed harder, breaching the resistance of my ass with a slow, insistent push.

I gasped, my nails digging into the edge of the machine’s control panel as the unfamiliar fullness sent a jolt of pleasu
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    Chapter 2The thick, salty heat floods my tongue, coating the back of my throat in rhythmic pulses. I hold him there, my lips sealed tight around the base of his shaft, feeling the frantic, final spasms of his orgasm as his hips jerk against my face. His fingers are tangled in my hair, gripping hard enough to sting, but I don't pull away until I've milked him for every last drop. I swallow, the action deliberate and loud in the confined space of the VIP bathroom, the taste of him is bitter and musky, settling heavily on my palate.Outside the heavy oak door, the pounding intensifies, the vibrations rattling the brass handle and traveling through the floorboards to my knees."Marcus! Marcus, open this door right now!" Claire’s voice is shrill, cutting through the haze of sex and steam that fills the room. It’s no longer a polite tap; it’s a demand, fueled by the kind of panic that only sets in when a woman realizes she’s lost control of her man. "I know you’re in there! I saw you co

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    Chapter 1 The champagne bubbles burst against my tongue, Claire my sister stands under the crystal chandelier of the ballroom, her hand draped possessively over Marcus’s forearm. The fabric of her white dress is crisp white, a cloud of silk that cost more than my first car. Four years ago, she wore a different dress to a different event….my wedding reception, and ended the night in a coat room with my then-husband. The memory is a physical weight, a stone lodged in my throat that no amount of expensive alcohol can dislodge. I watch her tilt her head back, laughing at something Marcus says, and I grip the stem of my glass until my knuckles turn white.Marcus shifts his weight, adjusting the cuff of his bespoke tuxedo. He looks bored, his jaw ticking so hard it’s obvious he’s performing. He’s taller than I remembered, broader in the shoulders, filling out the formal wear with an easy, masculine power. His dark hair is styled back, revealing a face that belongs on a magazine cove

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    Chapter 3The first light of dawn streams from the window, but in the room, Sophia’s skin still holds a faint, internal glow.Her weight is heavy on me and the scratches on my chest and sides sting, a dull, throbbing reminder of the night we had. Her head is on my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck. Then, she stirs. The nubs on her back, the ones I felt with my trembling fingers, seem to shift, elongating just a little. Her eyes open, and the glow in them hasn’t faded at all. If anything, it’s brighter, more focused.“Get up,” she whispers. And from her tone it's not a request.My body obeys before my mind can protest. I swing my legs off the bed, my muscles screaming in protest. Every movement is an agon, flesh is and my joints are strained. I look for my clothes, but they’re shredded ribbons on the floor. I pull on a pair of jeans that are miraculously intact, the denim rough against my raw skin. I don’t bother with a shirt; there’s no point.She’s on her feet in a singl

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