Hunted:A Stepbrother Romance Novel(4)

By: Olivia Long


At this point, it was impossible to not notice how much length and girth his member had gained in the past few seconds. It went from a typical dangling participle to something more closely resembling a harpoon, though nowhere near as skinny.

I was frozen to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away, as the same hand which held my bikini bottoms traveled down to his cock and began to stroke, wrapping the fabric and his fist around the meaty erection and pumping heavily. My mouth fell open, and my chest began to rise and fall sharply.

He had to have been thinking about me, right? He had to have been.

Chase leaned forward and braced his hand on the couch for balance, falling into the thrust and going deeper. His muscles shuddered in anticipation of the final spasm, and I—don’t judge me—I knew that I was painfully wet by this time. I was throbbing, and if I didn’t touch myself, I was liable to tremble and fall to the ground anyway.

So—I snaked my hand up my own skirt, pushed past my panties, and began working feverishly at the hungry slit therein, as if I was pushing myself to catch up to him.

Soon our bodies were pumping and writhing in time, although his hand braced the couch and mine braced the closet wall.

I fantasized about his fantasy, imagining what he was imagining. Yanking my yellow bikini bottoms to one side and ramming into me while I was doing downward dog by the pool. His rigid cock driving again and again, his hands like paws digging into my hips. Or ... burrowing his face into my sex while I was sunbathing with my thighs lulled to either side. My spasms came faster and faster, less and less controlled. I thought of my fingers buried in his hair. I thought of his thumbs grinding over my nipples, thought of his cum rocketing into my sex. Forget our parents. Fuck everything. What if we did it right in the summer sun at high noon? Right next to the pool?

I focused as Chase cried out like a caveman, and it was seeing his juicy ribbons soak my bikini bottoms that brought my own orgasm trembling through my pussy and against my hand.

After that, I’d had to just stand there, wild-eyed, horrified and shocked at what I—we!—had done, until he’d departed to shower and I could finally flee.

That was two years ago, and things hadn’t been the same since. But then again, they were never really normal. There had always been something extra, something unwelcome, between me and Chase. It was like a rock in my shoe that I wasn’t allowed to shake out, no matter what. I mean, we weren’t biological or anything, but my mom would—well—she’d be so embarrassed. She’d be so disappointed. Irene Vaughn was a society woman, and she’d raised me to be one, too. And what could you say about a society woman whose daughter had hooked up with her future step-brother?

We would have been just as bad as that Klein Industries guy, caught in the hotel room with his daughter’s friend.

Mom and Harry had supposedly gotten engaged that same year, when I was nineteen and Chase was twenty-one. The same year that ... that Chase and I had that simultaneous voyeur orgasm that he still doesn’t know anything about and never will, thank God. But that had been two years ago, anyway, and no one had set a date yet, and it was starting to become some sort of running joke. I doubted I’d ever have to worry about being Chase’s legal sister.

I pursed my lips and lowered the blinds on my bedroom window, sealing the pool house from view.

That was better. Much better.





Chapter 3





Chase





The jungles of Guatemala were thick and humid. Gone were the tattered jeans which hung on my hips just so, tormenting Doable Party Planner, and replacing them were baggy green fatigues cinched at the ankles. Every inch of my body, in fact, was covered. I was back. Back on Operation Tiburon. My worst nightmare come to life...

And there, looming in the distance, was a familiar sight I’d been routinely shoving from my conscious mind for months: the remote mansion of Keenan O’Connor, a slippery drug lord parading beneath the guises of several different businesses.

“There’s no way,” I whispered to myself, gazing up at the white stone turrets. “There’s no way I’m back.”

But, while I was busy promising myself of the impossible, my men flowed around me, from tree to tree, bush to bush, closer and closer. I was making it a point to stay near to a younger man in my unit who was still a little shaky in combat—Seth—but this wasn’t supposed to be combat. That had been made clear to us ... and I was the one taking them into choppy waters.

My own superiors had told us to stay back; we didn’t have the jurisdiction to take down this kingpin on our own. But the Guatemalan forces with whom we collaborated had told me that they could not get any closer to Keenan’s home without triggering his suspicions and losing the man. If they attempted to ambush the location, they would only ever find an empty house. They didn’t have the stealth of our unit requisite to get any closer, and Keenan’s guards were difficult to pass. When I had informed them of our location, they’d subtly begged that we do what they could not, and pull this thorn from their mighty paw once and for all.