Текст книги "Prince Albert"

Автор книги: Sabrina Paige

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DELANEY

 

I've fucked things up with Gaige.  We were getting along, and then he had to go and kiss me.  Or, rather, then I had to go and strip down and get into the pool with him.  What else did I think was going to happen?  I knew exactly what I wanted to happen.

But when he was telling me what he wanted to do to me, I froze.  I couldn't help but think about what would happen if I went through with it.  I won't be another notch on Gaige's bedpost.  I can't.  Not with how I felt about him before.

It's been almost two weeks since I've even seen him, which is pretty much unimaginable, given the fact that we're living in the same house.  At least I think we are.  The tent is off the guesthouse, so I suppose he could have already moved back in.  He hasn't even shown up at the office, not that I expected him to.

"Hey, Earth to Delaney," Daniel says.  "I said, are you going to go out with him?"

"Who?" I ask.

"Who?" he repeats.  "Who is that hot guy who was just talking to us, the one I was basically carrying the conversation with, by the way.  What's the point of even going to happy hour to pick up guys if you're not going to make an effort?  He left you his card."

"Sorry," I say.  "I'm just distracted."

"No shit.  Distracted by who, is the question?"

"No one," I lie.  "Maybe the card was for you."

"No, that boy – Bennet –" he says, picking up the card and reading the name.  "Is straight as an arrow.  Which is just my luck, too.  But you're in greater need than I am.  You're going to grow cobwebs down there if you don't dust that thing off and get some."

"Shut up," I protest.  "There are no cobwebs growing on my vag, thank you very much."

"When's the last time you got laid?"

"None of your business!"

"Six months ago," Daniel says.  "Derek.  Did you even have any rebound sex after you broke up with him?"  He looks at me accusingly.

I glance at the card from the guy who left it.  I can't even remember what he looked like, and it's only been a few minutes since he left.  Daniel is texting on my phone, and he sets it down, looking at me triumphantly when he's finished.  "What?" I ask.

"Done.  Tomorrow, six p.m.  Drinks here.  With Bennet."

"What?" I squeak.  "You can't do that."

"Done," he says.  "And you're too polite to cancel.  You need to get out."

"I'm leaving for Japan in a few weeks," I say.  "I don't need to date anyone."

"No," he says, sipping his cocktail.  "You need to get laid."

"You're one to talk," I say.  "How long has it been for you?"

"Last night."

"What?  No way."

"Honey, I understand the importance of the one night stand," he says.  "Something you apparently don't."

I open my mouth, the incident with Gaige in the pool on the tip of my tongue.  I want to tell him.  Daniel always knows what to do with these kinds of things.

Shit, I know what Daniel would tell me to do.  He'd tell me to ride Gaige like a cowgirl and then make sure to spill all the details later.

* * *

Bennet, my date, is talking to me over cocktails.  He's cute.  Okay, he's totally hot.  With wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, he looks like he stepped off the pages of a surfer magazine.  Except instead of "dude" coming out of his mouth, it's "y'all."  The thick Texas twang doesn't make him any less attractive, either.  Except when he calls me "darlin'," and it makes me think of Gaige.

And Bennet is nothing like Gaige.  He seems nice.  He hangs on my every word, and laughs, and brushes his hand casually on my arm.

When he touches me, I wait for something to strike – fireworks, electricity, some kind of spark – the way it does when Gaige brushes his fingers along my skin, but it doesn't.  But I tell myself that my ex-boyfriend Derek was the same way – a slow burn, no immediate spark – but it turned into something over time.  Sort of.  We never really had a lot of passion, even after a year together.  And it didn't exactly end well.  Derek wound up cheating on me with my ex-roommate, so that relationship isn't the best example, I guess.

But Bennet is sweet.  He seems kind.  Like a Labrador.

And my mind is drifting the entire time he's talking.  What's he saying, again?  He's asking me a question, and it takes me a minute to figure it out.  He's asking about my work.  Shit, I'm supposed to be talking.  "I'm sorry, I missed that," I say.

"I was asking about your trip," he says.  "You mentioned Japan."

"Oh, yeah, next week," I say.  "I'll be there for a few weeks.  I'm basically being sent to manage my stepbrother, Gaige.  He's a motorcycle racer – you know those sport bikes?  That's what he does."

"Sounds dangerous," Bennet says.

"Japan?"  I ask.  "No, it's the opposite, actually.  It's really quite safe."

Bennet laughs.  "I meant the bike racing."

"Oh, yeah."  I roll my eyes.  "Especially when you like to pull dumb stunts the way Gaige does."  My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my purse.  "Excuse me for a second."

Where are you?

 

I recognize Gaige's number immediately but ignore it, setting the phone down on the table.  He's been avoiding me, yet picks now as the appropriate time to text?  Yeah, right.

"Sorry about that," I say.  "So, being an accountant sounds interesting."  I'm lying.  I take another sip of my margarita.

Bennet is saying something about his job, and when my phone buzzes again, I'm honestly grateful for the distraction.  I should be hanging on every word that comes out of Bennet's adorable mouth, except I'm not.

What are you doing right now?

 

Bennet is still talking, and I nod along, making encouraging sounds while I text back.

None of your business.  You?

 

I set the phone down.  Two seconds later, it buzzes.

Are you alone?

I text back.

Yes.

It buzzes again.  Damn it.

Liar.

 

I'm annoyed with Gaige for interrupting my date, and I know I should turn off the phone, but I don't.  Instead, I excuse myself to use the restroom, leaving Bennet watching a sports game on the row of televisions behind me, and text on my way.

You've left me alone forever now.  Why are you texting me?  Are you bored?

 

I've only made it through the bathroom door when it buzzes again.

Maybe I've just finally recovered from the worst case of blue balls known to man.

 

I feel a perverse mix of guilt and satisfaction when I read his text message.  How can I even respond to that?  Sorry about your balls?  Hope they haven't fallen off?  I wonder if they make a greeting card for that occasion.

I'm sure you found someone to assist you.

 

I'm washing my hands and fixing my hair in the mirror when he texts again.

So are you in your room?  Or are you having a happy hour date?

 

I stare at his text.  Why does Gaige seem to have this sixth sense about me?  It's so annoying.  Well, I'm not going to outright lie.  I turn the phone off and stick it in my purse without responding.

I'm weaving and winding my way back through the crowd in the bar to my table.  "Sorry, I –" I stop short when I realize Bennet is no longer sitting at my table.

Gaige is in his seat, looking at me with raised eyebrows.  "You didn't respond to my text," he says, looking up.  I turn to see the waitress behind me, with a beer in hand that Gaige accepts.

"Where's Bennet?" I demand.

Gaige takes a sip of his beer.  "Bennet decided to cut the date short," he says.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," he says, with a look of smug satisfaction.

"You were in the –" I start to say, looking around for Bennet, but not seeing him anywhere.  "Did you really just run off my – "

"Your what, Delaney?" he asks.  "Your date?"

"Fine," I say.  "I'm on a date.  I was on a date.  With a nice guy.  Before you showed up and ruined it."

"Oh yeah," he says.  "It looked like it was going really well.  You gazing off into the distance, leaving the guy to fend for himself.  Trust me, he was glad to be let off the hook."

"What did you do?"

Gaige shrugs.  "I told him you were already taken."

"You told him I was taken."  My brain refuses to process this information, so instead I just stand there staring at Gaige like he's speaking in a foreign language.

Gaige sips his beer.  "Taken."

"Taken by who, exactly?"  I ask.  Then I pause.  "No, never mind.  I don't even want to know the answer to that question.  Did you fucking follow me here?" I ask, my voice rising in pitch.  Someone looks over at me, and I lower it, aware I'm about to cause a scene.  Or I am causing a scene.  We look like a couple having an argument.  "Have you been listening to my date?  Did you bug me or something?"

Gaige laughs.  "Seriously, you think I bugged you?  Listen to yourself, Delaney."

"That's it," I say.  "I don't even care what you did.  I'm totally out of here."  I dig in my purse for cash, and slap enough down on the table to cover my bill, refusing to even make any eye contact with Gaige before I storm out the door.  He doesn't follow me out of the bar.

Back at home, I'm still furious with him, but I have no one to vent to.  I start to call Daniel, but what the hell kind of explanation can I give him for my stepbrother's ridiculousness? Daniel texts to ask me how the date with Bennet went, but I ignore him.  Instead, I turn on music and take a bath, trying to tune out everything else.  I can't believe Gaige, going in there and acting like some kind of caveman, telling Bennet to leave.

Why are you pissed?  He did what you yourself wanted to do to Bennet – he told him to get lost.  I know the nagging little voice in my head is absolutely true.  But even so, he had no right to do it.

I'm not even relaxed after a hot bath.  I'm still irritated.  And Gaige isn't next door, or if he is, he's been super stealthy about sneaking into his room.  I slip into a pair of comfy pants and a tank top and grab my novel to head up to the roof, to the sunroom.

My father's estate is a sprawling, Texas-sized mansion on twenty acres.  I told my father it was ridiculous when he bought it.  The house itself is a monstrosity with too many rooms to count – I think thirty or something – and he bought it the year before he and Anja got married.  My mother had custody of me since she split with my father, and we lived in New York after that, with me spending summers with my father, in the less ostentatious house he had before this one.

All that changed my sophomore year of high school when he bought this place.  I hate everything about the house.

Except for the sunroom.  Anja calls it the solarium, because sunroom is apparently not the correct fancy word for it.  It's enclosed in glass on the rooftop, like a greenhouse, filled with tropical leafy plants and lots of chairs for sitting.  Anja says it makes her allergies crazy.  But I love it.

I pop into the kitchen on the way, startling the cook, Deborah, who insists on making me a cup of tea, even though I insist I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself.  She also insists on preparing dinner for me, finally acquiescing to leave something in the refrigerator, since there's no one else in the house. My father and Anja are gone tonight, some business thing with foreign investors my father is entertaining, Saudi contacts, I think.  Deborah tries to protest when I send her and the housekeeper home, but if at this point in my life I can't fend for myself, that'd be pretty messed up.

I set my tea down on this little table beside one of the lounges and stretch out on my stomach, my novel in front of me.  No cell phone and no one around.  Now hopefully, Gaige will stay gone.

My luck in the Gaige department lasts for all of thirty minutes before he's standing right in the doorway in front of me.  "Getting rid of my date wasn't enough screwing around with my life earlier?" I ask.  "You came back for more?"

"I came back for more."  The way he looks at me, like he's hungry, makes that statement drip with innuendo.  Damn it, why does Gaige have to look so irresistible?

I sit up and cross my arms over my chest.  "So you're no longer just fucking around with me?  You're screwing around with my dating life too?"

"Oh, please," he says.  "You should be thanking me."

"I should be thanking you?"  I can already feel myself getting more irritated, my voice rising.  At least I don't have to keep it down now, since no one is here but us.  "For acting like a total Neanderthal and sending my date home?"

"You weren't into him anyway, so don't act like I didn't do you a favor by getting rid of the guy," he says.  "You could have at least stayed and finished your drink with me like a civilized person."

I jump to my feet. "Civilized, huh?"

Gaige nods, the edges of his mouth curved up in a smile.  "There's no excuse for poor manners, Delaney."

I think I might have to clock him across the head with a vase.  I can see the headline now: Gaige O'Neal, Murdered by Stepsister in Completely Reasonable act of Aggression.  I'm almost positive the cops would understand.

Gaige's stupid voice interrupts my fantasy.  "What, you're tongue-tied now?"

"I'm thinking of ways to dispose of your body."

"You should be more grateful," he says.  "I got you out of a boring situation with a boring guy – come on, Delaney, he's a fucking accountant – and I don't even get a simple thank you."

"He was nice." I say.  Why is he suddenly so close to me?  I put my hands on his chest, and shove him back.

Gaige reaches for me, his hands wrapped around both of my wrists.  "And I'm not nice.  You don't want someone nice," he says, his voice guttural, like a growl.

"Let go of me," I say through gritted teeth.  "You have no idea what I need."

He pulls me against him, hands tight on my wrists.  "You're a damn liar, Delaney."

"Screw you."  My blood is thumping in my ears, adrenaline coursing through my body.  He's so close to me, lips near mine, that I can practically taste him.

"You want someone who's going to tell you exactly what he wants to do to you.  Someone who will tell you exactly what he wants you to do to him.  That's what you need."

"No."  I shake my head, but his grip on me loosens, and then he lets go of my wrists.  I could step back and walk away, but I don't.  I just stand there, my feet rooted to the ground.

Gaige doesn't touch me.  He steps close to me, his body nearly touching mine, and whispers in my ear, his warm breath against my skin.  "I keep thinking about that night by the pool."

"Don't, Gaige," I warn, but my voice falters.  All I can think about is the practically magnetic pull of my body toward his.  But I don't move.

He walks, slowly, his movement languid, behind me, and then pauses.  He still doesn't touch me, but I can feel his warm breath on my neck, and it makes me shiver.  "Do you know what I keep thinking about, more than anything?" he asks.

"No," I whisper.  I should step away, walk out the door.  I should do the smart thing.  The reasonable thing.  The safe thing.

"I keep thinking about how I wanted to lift you out of the pool and set you on the edge, then put my face between those thighs and bury it in that sweet pussy of yours."

"Gaige –" I pause, nothing to say.  I don't know why I'm constantly being surprised by the shit that comes out of his mouth.

"And you want me to," he says.  Then I feel his finger on the back of my neck, slowly tracing down the middle of my back, and I shudder.  Every part of my body feels sensitive, as if Gaige has flipped some kind of switch inside me, putting everything on hyper-alert.  He walks around to the front of me, his face close to mine.  "Say you want me, Delaney."

"No."  I don't know why I tell him no, when I'm standing here and my body is screaming yes.

"No?" he asks.  His gaze falls lower, down to my chest, and I know he can see my nipples hard against the fabric of my shirt.  If he were to reach between my legs – oh God, I want him to reach between my legs – he'd know I'm wet.  "So if I got down on my knees and touched my tongue to you, you wouldn't be the least bit wet?"

I don't answer, and Gaige keeps his eyes trained on mine as he trails his finger down the front of my shirt, between my breasts, then across the satiny fabric until he reaches my nipple, rolling his fingers around it, and sending arousal coursing through my body.  "I don't – someone could see us."

That isn't true, and we both know it – my father's estate is huge, and there are no neighbors watching.  And thanks to me, no more staff at the house tonight.  Of course, it's not like our parents couldn't come home at any time.

"It's you and me, darlin'," he says.  "Say yes."  He slides his finger down the front of my shirt, taking away his glorious touch from my nipples.  I want to tell him to put his hand back there, but I don't.

He traces his finger along my abdomen, inches it down the waistband of my pants, where they're slung low on my hips, until he reaches the top of my bikini line.  "No panties, either?"

I shake my head, suddenly mute.  My head is clouded by arousal.  "No panties."

Gaige curses under his breath, and takes my hand, placing it on the front of his jeans.  "Just so you know," he says.  "That's the fucking effect you have on me."

His cock is hard underneath the fabric, and I can't take it anymore.  I can't think clearly about the consequences of whatever is happening with us, and I just don't want to.  I yank his shirt up over his head, and then r reach for his belt, unbuckling it as I look him in the eye.  "This doesn't mean we're friends," I say.

"Trust me, darlin'," he says.  "The last thing on this damn earth I want to be is your friend."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

GAIGE

 

Delaney doesn't take her eyes off mine, and I watch as something changes in her expression.  A look of resolve, I think.  She reaches inside my pants and wraps her hand around my cock.  "Then what do you want?" she asks.  Her voice is low, breathy, and she looks up at me, her eyes wide.

"I want whatever the hell makes you keep doing what you're doing," I say as she slides her hand up my shaft, her touch light as a feather.  When she reaches the tip, she stops, her thumb rolling over the surface of the head, finding the tiny drop of pre-cum that beads at the tip.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Gaige" she whispers.  "I don't know what we're doing."

"You're always too much in your head, darlin'," I say, kicking off my shoes and sliding my jeans down over my ass.  "So just stop thinking.  Take off those fucking clothes before I tear them off you."

Delaney's eyes get big again.  "Do you just order women around like that?" she asks.  "Is that your thing?"

"My thing?  Fuck.  I'm naked and you're still standing there talking," I say.  "I will rip your clothes off.  Try me.  It's not an idle threat."

"So girls just do what you tell them to do?" she asks.  But both of her hands are on the hem of that silky-as-hell shirt of hers, paused as if she's deciding whether or not to strip.  I'm going to make that decision real fucking easy, because I'm not playing any more.

"Stop talking," I say, my hand on the base of my cock.  "Take.  Off.  Your.  Goddamn.  Clothes.  Now."  I punctuate each word for emphasis, and I swear to all that is holy, I am very close to tearing open her clothes like a wild animal.  I've waited long enough for her.  Four years.  Four years and three months.  Four years and three months and nine days.

Delaney starts to lift her shirt, but she's too slow, and I reach for the material, yanking it over her head in one swoop.  Her hair spills down her shoulders, strands tumbling down her breasts.  Taking a handful of hair at the nape of her neck, I yank her roughly against my hardness.  When she moans, it's almost my undoing.

I kiss her, and it's nothing like the other times I've put my lips against hers.  All of those kisses were just a prelude to this.  This is the real deal.  That rush I get when I'm racing is like nothing compared to my tongue in Delaney's mouth, my hand cupping her breast and feeling her melt against me.  It sends adrenaline coursing through my veins, the rush of arousal better than any other high in the world.

Delaney gasps when I finally take my mouth off hers.  "Hell, Gaige," she whispers, putting her fingers to her lips.

"Shit, you ain't seen nothing yet, darlin'," I tell her.  It's part promise and part warning.  I'm not sure what this girl is going to do to me.  I think she might fucking destroy me.

Before she can protest, I yank her pants down at the sides, and they fall loosely to the floor.  Sitting down on the chaise, I pull her toward me.

"I don't have any condoms," she says, her voice soft.

I raise my eyebrows.  "That's surprising, darlin'," I say.  "Since you bought them in bulk for your little prank.  But don't worry – I've got some.  Besides, I don't want you on my cock yet.  I want you on my face."

"Oh," she says, and she blushes.  She's standing here stark naked in front of me, but me telling her to sit on my face is what makes her blush.  That's irony.

"Get over here," I order.  "I want you on my cock, but after four years of imagining what you taste like, I want you to ride my face first.  I'm going to bury my tongue inside you."

"Gaige, you're so –"

"Don't even say it," I growl.  "I already know what you're going to say. Arrogant, cocky, such a dick?"

She blushes, and it makes me want to see if she does the same when she comes for me.  It makes me want to see if she continues to feel self-conscious, or if she loses her inhibitions and lets go.  Starting with her riding me until she comes all over my face.  "That's not what I was going to say."

"Stop fucking talking," I order.  "Now I'm going to lie back here, and you're going to climb up on top of me and put your pussy on my face.  Before I have to tell you again."

Delaney blushes, but she does exactly what I tell her, bringing her knees up on either side of my legs, and straddling me.  I slide down, leaning back on the padded arm of the chaise, and pause for a minute, her pussy directly in front of my face.  When I breathe in her scent, my cock goes so rigid I think it might explode.  I've never come just from eating a girl out, but there's a distinct possibility of that happening with Delaney.

Up close, I can see how fucking wet she is and that fact alone makes me practically lose my mind. She might pretend she's all professional and disinterested, but the shimmer of her wetness between her legs tells me otherwise.  When I touch the tip of my tongue to her pussy, she moans, the sound almost painful.

"Oh my God, Gaige," she whispers.

That pushes me over the edge.  Grasping her ass cheeks, I pull her down hard, smothering my face with her.  My tongue explores every inch of her sweet pussy, and I take my time licking her.  Fuck, I don't just lick her.  I devour her.  I eat her like a starving man, because that's what I have been until this very moment.  I didn't know how hungry I was until right now.

Delaney's breath comes in gasps, shorter and shorter, and she grinds herself against my face like she's riding a bucking bronco.  When I fuck her with my tongue, she rides me harder, her fingers gripping my hair as she grinds her pussy harder and harder against me, her rhythm becoming more erratic.  I spread her ass cheeks and press my finger against her asshole while I thrust my tongue inside her as far as I can.

"Gaige.  Gaige.  Gaige."  She's moaning my name, and I know she's about to lose control.  So I put my hands on her waist and pull her off my face and stand her up beside the chaise before she can even say another word.  Especially after the incident at the pool, she deserves to ache for me.  "Not so fast, darlin'," I tell her.

Delaney groans.  "What?"

"You think I'm going to let you come that easily?" I ask, shaking my head.  "Especially after that massive case of blue balls you left me with before?"

"I'm so…" Her voice trails off, her breath short.  Her breasts move up and down as she gasps.

"Close?" I ask.  "Good.  Now get on your knees, back up on the lounge, the same direction you were facing when you rode me."

She gives me a look.  "You're so fucking bossy."

"Don't pretend like you don't like it, sweetheart," I say, slapping her hard on the ass.  I watch her ass jiggle, and her breasts sway.  I've never really been into the whole spanking thing, but shit, it's fucking hot having her like this, on her hands and knees.  Hell, it's hot telling her what to do and having her actually do it.

"Did you just spank me?" Delaney looks surprised, but she giggles.

"I'm going to do more than just spank you if you keep laughing like that."  I don't know why, but I like riling her up.

"Like what?" she asks.  She grins like she's daring me.

I slap her on the ass, so hard it leaves a handprint this time, and Delaney moans.  She actually moans.  She likes it.  Shit.  I knew this girl was going to be the death of me once I got her naked.  "You like that?"

"Yes," she whispers.  I can barely hear her, so I slap her ass again, watching her breasts move.

"Say it louder."  I do it again.

"Yes."

I run my hand over her ass cheek, and then reach between her legs, my fingers touching her wetness.  Her pussy lips are swollen, and I imagine her pussy is throbbing just about as hard as my cock is now.  When I withdraw my fingers, she whimpers.  I walk around to the arm of the chaise, where her hands are placed, and stand in front of her.

My cock is near her face, and she opens her mouth immediately, like it's a reflexive action, my cock in front of her face and she automatically opens up.

I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.  She's like a piece of fucking art, paused there for a moment with her tongue nearly touching my cock.

I watch, enraptured, as she catches the strand of pre-cum hanging from the tip of my cock, following it up until she reaches the head, where she presses her tongue to the tip.  The light touch is not nearly enough, and I grab the entire length of her hair, wrapping it around my fist as I jerk her toward me.  She moans as she takes me in, her warm mouth enveloping me, inch by inch, making these little noises with that send vibrations through my cock.

"That's right," I encourage her.  "Your mouth is so fucking hot."

She wraps one hand around the base of my shaft, pumping me while she sucks at me greedily, and I watch her, refusing to close my eyes for a moment, even when it's making me so close I think I'm going to come.  Eventually it's too much, her looking at me with those big eyes and her mouth full of my dick, and I can't take it anymore.

I rip her away from me.

"What's wrong?" she asks.  "Was that not okay?"

"Shit, are you kidding?" I ask, bending over to grab a condom from the pocket of my jeans, crumpled into a heap on the floor.  Lightning fast, I'm ripping open the condom wrapper with my teeth, and rolling it on.  I pull her up to her feet, standing so that she's facing me, and I press my cock against her skin while I run my hands along her body.  With my hand at the nape of her neck, I kiss her softly, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth.  "I was about to fill this sweet little mouth of yours up with cum."

She makes this little whimpering sound and I reach between her legs to find that she's soaked.  "Oh," she says.

"Oh?" I ask, sliding two fingers inside her.  "Is that what you wanted?  You wanted me to come in that pretty mouth?"

Delaney exhales forcefully.  "Yes," she says.  "I wanted to taste it."

Hearing that she wanted to taste my cum makes me crazy.  I slide my fingers from her, and drag her down with me on the lounge.  She kneels astride me, her forehead pressed up against mine, her hair falling down around our faces like a curtain.  I tease her entrance with the head of my cock, and she sinks down onto it, letting out this low moan.  "Shit, you're tight."

"Shit, you're…not small," she whispers.  I start to laugh, but then she's riding me, and I'm too busy wrapping my lips around her breast to think about anything except the fact that Delaney is fucking me, grinding into me as she takes me deeper and deeper, her already tight pussy swelling around me as she becomes more aroused.  I love being inside her, and all I can hear is her moaning, whimpering louder and louder as she begins to lose control.  I grip her ass cheeks as I pull her down harder on me until she's throwing her head back and calling my name.

"Oh God, Gaige, I'm so close."  When she pulls my face against her breast, I suck her nipple so hard I swear I'm going to bruise her.  And when I press my finger against her asshole, she cries out, something that sounds more like a scream.  Then she comes, her muscles clenching around my cock, in a series of spasms that sends me over the edge and milks every last drop of cum from me.

Afterward, I sink back against the back of the lounge, closing my eyes and waiting for my heart rate to come back down to normal instead of where it's at right now, which is at a beat-out-of-my-damn-chest level.  I am probably dangerously close to having some kind of cardiac event.

All because of Delaney.

Wants-to-be-professional Delaney.

Wants-me-to-come-in-her-mouth Delaney.

My stepsister Delaney.