Read Step F*#k: Part Three (A Stepbrother series Book 3) for Free Online Page B

back.  
    “Good girl,” he murmurs. He starts to move, slowly. The vibrator hums inside me, and with him there behind me, fucking me in the ass, it’s as though the Holy Grail of sex has been obtained. It’s almost too much. I don’t want to come so soon but it’s going to happen now regardless of how much I relax. He claps his hand over my mouth and it’s only then that I realize how loudly I’ve been screaming.  
    “Shhhh,” he says, his voice rough right next to my ear. He moves faster, and I go rigid against him, right at the peak of my orgasm, but instead of ebbing after a few seconds, it continues. Each time he pulls his hips back, it’s like he’s stretching the sensation out, and when he thrusts back in, the sensation gets bigger, higher. It doesn’t recede, it just continues through me like rolling thunder. “You’re so fucking tight,” he says. “Your arse is so tight and so good. You’re going to make me come. Do you want that?”
    I try to say something but it seems my voice doesn’t work anymore, so I only nod, the orgasm still rollicking through me.  
    His body rigid behind me, he comes, a strangled, anguished sound escaping from his throat. He falls against me and I lean against the cold tile, the warm water spraying down on us, my orgasm finally receding to a residual tingling all over my entire body.  
    Hot. Damn.  
    Amazing.  

I hadn’t planned on the whole shower scenario, I swear. In fact, I really was going to respect what Emma wanted and lay off on the sexual advances. It was going to be difficult as fuck to do so, but if that’s what she really wanted . . .  
    Our shower experience wouldn’t have happened, either, if she hadn’t taken that vibrator in there with her, and happened to be moaning loudly enough that I was able to hear in my room, where I was simply trying to decompress after spending two and a half hours on Dad’s boat with his pals and several coolers of shitty American beer.  
    But I think of it as the universe’s way of saying that certain things are just meant to be. And even when I got up from my bed and went to investigate what these sounds were, I wasn’t actually planning on getting into the shower. I thought maybe I’d just watch for a moment and then slip away, undetected. A bit of voyeurism, if you will.  
    She looked so fucking hot, though. It was like porn, or a live webcam, but better, because she was there in person. Standing under the spray of water, eyes closed, feeling herself up with one hand, the other working that vibrator between her legs. I was rock hard in about two seconds flat. And she was more than happy to let me just come right into the shower.  
    Ah, but now. We’re dried off, my hair still damp and spiky, her own brown tendrils dripping water onto the shoulders of her t-shirt. She’s come into my room, which at first I think is a good sign, but one look at the expression on her face and I know we’re about to get back on the same merry-go-round we’ve been on since finding out our parents were going to be married.
    “Jai,” she starts, but I hold up a hand.
    “I already know what you’re going to say.”
    “You do?”
    “Yes. You’re going to tell me how you can’t believe that you let this happen again, that we shouldn’t be doing this, that we’re going to be stepsiblings and should anyone find out that we’re doing this, we’ll likely be burned at the stake . . . Am I close?”
She gives me a pouty look. “If you knew all that, then why did you come into the shower?”
    “I really wasn’t planning on that. I wasn’t.”
    “But you did.”
    “I suppose one could ask why did you let me in? But,” I say, as she starts to respond, “I’m not actually going to ask you that. Because the main problem we’re having here is that you’re over-thinking it. All of it. And this shouldn’t be an intellectual matter.”
    “I’m not interested in hearing your philosophy about it,” she says. “And I