Ch.22: Book Boyfriends
Third Time's the Charm
NSFW CONTENT WARNING - SEXY TIMES AHEAD!
Liv
Ren leans farther forward and I tilt toward the sink under him. Our hands are still meshed together on the counter, his face beside mine, determined eyes holding mine in the mirror.
I’m surrounded by him, captured.
The prey to his predator as he kisses my temple.
We’re in the bathroom — the overhead light should be too harsh, the marble counter too uncomfortable.
But the world has fallen away.
There’s just his body against mine, hot and demanding. His arms on either side of me, holding me in place. His dark eyes, so intent, like I’m the only thing he sees.
His cock slides against my ass and I instinctively arch my back, biting my lip when he shifts, allowing the hard length to lodge between my thighs.
“Say yes,” he whispers, seeking consent, but there’s no demand.
No plea, either.
It’s a statement, stripped of conflict. He wants me, but this won’t happen if I don’t say yes.
And my last wall falls.
“Yes.”
My lashes flutter as he presses into me.
“Eyes on mine.” The demand is harsh.
Startled, I meet his burning gaze in the mirror. My mouth falls open as he fills me, unrelenting, until he’s finally seated, his balls pressing against my clit. Stuffing me, and I take a shuddering breath when he finishes with a soft shove.
“Remember who’s fucking you,” he orders, and I shiver as he pulls out.
“Ren—!”
“Reinard,” he growls, and I moan as he drives forward, long and slow.
“Say it.” He punctuates the order with a hard thrust, driving my hips up and into the counter.
“Reinard!” He’s filling me so completely it’s almost a sob as I rise to my tippy-toes. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, my cunt on fire from this new side of him.
So demanding.
So exacting as he slowly pulls out again, and I whine, arching my back in protest.
His hands fist, pulling mine with them as he shoves his cock all the way in, grinding against my pussy. Hoarse sounds escape me as I take him, my cunt slick as it spasms around his hard length. I’m so close to coming, so close as he continues his measured thrusts, until I’m pleading with him.
“Please! Reinard— oh!”
He doesn’t give in, each determined push ending only once he’s deep inside. And all the while his eyes hold mine, riveted as he watches me lose control.
“Who’s fucking you?” A rough whisper, and I whine when his hand leaves mine to chain my neck.
“You are.”
“And who am I?” It’s more of a demand than a question, punctuated with a forceful thrust that has me scrambling when my toes leave the floor.
“Reinard!”
“Reinard, who?”
Oh, no.
I try to look away, but he holds me in place.
“Reinard—!”
“Reinard, who?” Louder this time, and I moan when he pulls his other hand from mine, wrapping his arm around my hips as he picks up the pace.
“Reinard Vitali!”
My eyes flutter shut — I know where this is going. I know what he’s doing.
It’s not nearly as horrible because I’m not Olivia, but still.
Still.
“That’s right, Olivia Vitali.” His voice is thick with satisfaction as he cups my jaw, and our eyes meet once more.
“Don’t,” I warn him, but it’s weak — I’m weak — because he’s bending me over further, his cock sliding into my hungry cunt.
“Who’s fucking you?” He demands, his other hand drifting across my hip, toward my slick pussy.
“You are!” I shout, but it’s more of a moan as he brushes his fingers over my clit. I choke when he slaps the sensitive nub, but not because it hurt.
No, it felt great, and a part of me wonders at it — sex was never like this, before.
“Say it, Liv,” he croons, “Who am I?”
My eyes roll back as he pinches my clit.
“My stepbrother.”
The words are garbled as an avalanche of pleasure shatters through me.
Ren curses as my cunt clenches around him, his breath heavy on my shoulder as he fucks me through it. I cry out at the sting of his bite before he soothes it with kisses, his whispered words lost against my skin. A heartfelt groan accompanies his climax, and I shiver at the wet rush as he comes inside me.
His hand drops from my neck as he braces himself against the counter, and I do the same. He’s lodged inside me, and my pussy is shivering from the absolute workout he just put me through. My gasping breaths are loud in the small room, and I can’t look at myself in the mirror as reality once again intrudes.
What is wrong with me?
“I know you love my cock,” Ren murmurs, and I groan.
What now?
“Don’t worry, baby sister,” he continues, and I flush at the deliberate reminder. “I’ll make you fall in love with the rest of me, too.”
“Ren—” Jesus, I don’t even know what to say.
I’m not his stepsister… but being with Ren feels taboo — dirty, secret… and so hot.
But what happens if I leave and Olivia wakes up? Holy shit, I could drop out of her body at any moment — now, even! She’d wake up pinned to the bathroom counter, stuffed with her stepbrother’s dick.
Although… maybe Ren would have to sex me to death for that to happen?
God knows he’s ready to try, though.
“Get off me.”
The order is hoarse as I meet his eyes in the mirror.
Ren lifts an eyebrow in question before pulling out of me — oh, Christ, that feels good — and stepping back. His eyes drop to my ass, and I hurriedly straighten.
But when I turn to face him, I’m at a loss.
His cock is still thick and flushed, his chest red from exertion. His hands are loose at his sides, and a trickle of blood trails down his chest from the wound on his shoulder. He’s watching me carefully, his lower lip puffy from where I bit it earlier, and his hair is a tousled mess.
He looks edible.
Recently fucked and highly satisfied with it.
What kind of Twilight Zone bullshit is this?
What am I supposed to do here?
“Dry off, Liv. You need to eat some lunch.”
And with that, he leaves.
And I cannot.
I fucking cannot with this man — this situation. Growling, I throw the towel on the floor, darting to the door and slamming it shut.
Ren’s laugh comes through the flimsy barrier, and I grit my teeth when he gives a single knock on the door, “Lunch in ten. Don’t be late.”
“Fuck you!” I stomp my foot like the lamest romance heroine.
I need to get a grip.
“After lunch,” he laughs again, and I see red. Pom’s questioning ‘mow?’ is faint as I glare at the door and I give a little scream when he tells my cat, “I know, she is upset.”
Fisting my hands, I resist the urge to throw open the door and argue with him. I have a feeling that if I do — against everything I know about male anatomy — I’ll end up getting railed against the counter.
Again. Or the bedroom wall. Or on the bed itself.
Jesus, maybe all three; I have no idea what Ren might be capable of.
This is what happens when an average woman is faced with a book boyfriend. Red flag men are only okay when they’re fictional, because my traitorous body is on board with every one of those scenarios.
“Goddamned greedy whore,” I grouse, “That’s not what we need to be focusing on right now.”
Shaking my head, I turn on the shower.
Ten minutes be damned — I’m not eating with Reinard’s cum dripping down my legs.
I should have known he wouldn’t let that slide.
I’m barely surprised to find him perched on one of the kitchen stools in the bathroom doorway as I step out of the shower. He’s dressed, at least, although only in a pair of black sweatpants; his feet and everything above the low-slung waist is bare.
I try not to ogle him as I grab a towel and step back into the shower, shutting the door with a snap.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Not at all,” he answers, fortunately, without making a move to drag me out.
I don’t say anything more as I dry myself before wrapping my hair in the towel. Reaching out, I search for another one for my body, but it’s not there, and I frown.
Peeking past the glass door, I eye the empty towel rack — there were three towels there just a minute ago. Sighing, I drag the one off my head and wrap it around my body before stepping out.
Sure enough, Ren’s holding the stack of towels.
Snatching one off the pile, I dry off my hair as best I can before running a comb through it.
Finally done, I face him, nodding to the door as I point out, “You’re in my way.”
He stands, pulling the stool aside in a smooth motion, and I hold my breath as I walk past him. Our bodies brush in the doorway and I elbow him in an attempt to make some space.
It has the opposite effect as he wraps an arm around my waist, casually pulling me close as he leads me into the bedroom. The stool dangles from his other hand, and when I’m in front of the dresser, he leaves me, setting it beside the wall and taking a seat.
“Ren—”
“Get dressed,” he tells me lightly, “Lunch is getting cold.”