Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
My pulse pounded as I rose in the glass elevator — my nervousness and the aching heat inside of me rising with each floor. At last, it opened to the law firm's floor, and I stepped out, still blushing as I stepped towards the receptionist’s desk. Back at the school, when I’d been ditching, the feeling of being bare under my skirt had been thrilling and exciting. Here though? In my dad’s freaking law firm? It was terrifying.
The receptionist knew me, of course, and smiled as I asked about Channing. “How cute,” she must have thought, “his step-sister coming to keep him company at work for lunch.”
If she'd known what dirty, filthy thoughts and intentions lay beneath my shy smile, or what lack of panties lay beneath my skirt, I'm sure she'd have thought a little differently.
Channing was in a meeting, she said, along with my dad. But she was sure it’d be fine if I waited for him in his office.
“Want me to let your dad know you’re here?”
“No!”
I squeaked out the words, my face flushing at her raised brow before I somehow composed myself.
“No, Channing and I are arranging something special for him.” I beamed my best good girl smile at her, which was pretty freaking good considering I’d spent my whole life working on it. That day, though, I wasn’t planning on being a good girl any longer.
“It’s a surprise,” I added hastily.
The receptionist just smiled and winked, like she was “in on it” with me. Lordy she had no idea.
In Channing’s office, I sat down with a plop in his large, leather chair, the material sending a shiver through me as it made contact with my bare ass. I twirled in the chair, letting the nervous heat rise in me as I breathed in the smell of leather and wood and his aftershave in the dark, book-lined walls of his office.
I let my legs drift apart in the opulently rich leather of my stepbrother’s chair. Now that I was alone again, the feel of the air across my bare pussy sent a thrill through me once again. A tingling, naughty chill ran up my spine, and I shivered at the forbidden and dark thought of what I was doing here.
What I should have done months ago, I thought.
I’d been stewing in my infatuation and lust for Channing for months, and that day, I was going to do something about it. I was going to go to college soon — across the country and away from him, with no plans for coming back. My “family” — apart from Channing — was toxic. I knew the kind of man my father was, and the sort of practices his law firm engaged in. I knew he was probably one of the reason’s my mother had driven off from the house that night years ago in tears and crashed. And Catherine, Channing’s mom? Well, she was just as bad. Mean, petty, and vindictive. Not to mention a raging drunk.
I was ready to get away, and stay away. I didn’t want or need my father’s money. He’d already gotten me into some prestigious school here on the east coast, all paid for by him of course. But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to owe him for my schooling, and I didn’t want him to use as leverage to get me into law later, like I knew he would.
I’d applied to the small liberal arts college on the west coast without telling him. I’d gotten Catherine, while she was drunk of course, to sign the consent papers, along with a legal document I’d had drawn up that stated my parents would be cutting me off financially after high school.
I’d gotten in, and I’d gotten the scholarship. Now, it was just waiting to go. But before I did, I had to do this. I’d dreamed about it, fantasized about it, and even freaking written about all the things I wanted with Channing. And today, I was going to do something about it.
Sitting in his chair, breathing in his scent, my mind wandered again to that day I’d seen him with my panties wrapped tight around his cock. The scene had played out in my mind on repeat ever since. I imagined every detail — every groan from his lips, every stroke of his hand, and every thick inch of his rigid cock. My lips parted at the thought, and a small gasp escaped them. Teasingly, I let my hand wander to my thigh and linger, stroking the skin there as I closed my eyes and thought of my stepbrother’s cock.
I wasn't sure exactly where the courage to do what I was doing at his office that day had come from. Maybe I just knew that if I let him get away — if I let myself flee to the other side of the country without telling him how I felt, or touching him, or kissing him like I wanted — then I’d never forgive myself. I'd stayed up late into the nights after that day I’d seen him, letting my fingers dance wet and feverishly over my pussy over and over, until I'd gasped out my orgasms into the darkness of my room.