Stepbrother Blood Lover by Lana Fox Read Free Book Online Page A

sweetheart,” she said, as serious as ever.
    I pressed my lips to her neck—oh God, her skin was so warm!—and ran my fingers down her arms, still drenched in her scent. My cock was hard and I knew it. Fuck , my cock was hard. And standing in my arms, she gave the tiniest moan, as if she really wanted me, as if she could feel my hard-on. When she pulled back, ready to go, I moved with her, unable to resist, but with a swish of her hair she left me there in a cloud of scent, her sublime hips lilting as the door closed behind her.
    After that, I stood on the spot for a good, long time, letting the fierceness of my arousal burn right into me. My lips felt wet, and when I touched them I realized my mouth had watered so manically, like a meat-craving animal, that my bottom lip was glossed in saliva. I’d been foaming at the mouth like some kind of beast to have my own sister’s body warm in my arms. I was a pervert, a sorry excuse for a human. My body felt thick with my need to come. I felt this arousal too deeply.
    No sooner had I returned to my bedroom than I pulled out my cock and came, spurting out over my bedclothes, groaning like a lunatic. I cried her name—not that I meant to—and my climax was so deep that I stumbled forward, catching the wall to stop myself tumbling over the bed, my cock still shooting off, my groans still filling my throat. I was lucky our parents weren’t home because they’d have heard the whole thing.
    All my cock wanted was Helene.
    After that, things grew worse. On Helene’s twentieth birthday, she moved into the bigger room next door, which had been the spare room up till then. She wanted to move out, but her job didn’t pay her enough, and I used to pray she wouldn’t ever go. I’d think of her at night, sleeping next door, her long naked limbs so ready to be clasped, her wet pussy waiting to be plundered. Had she fucked other boys? Did she touch herself? Did she ever think of me when she did?
    I started to buy porn mags, imagining the bodies were my sister’s. She had breasts like theirs, except hers were natural, but her body was curvier, paler, more voluptuous. But I’d never seen her cunt close up, so I’d watch porn stars’ cunts dreaming they were hers. Thanks to this, I’d spend whole nights jerking off, biting my hand to stop myself from yelling. Sometimes, I’d watch Helene through the keyhole as she undressed, her clothes falling from that perfect body, revealing so slowly the curve of her ass, the fullness of her breasts, her shapely thighs—so long, so pale—and the way her long, auburn hair shone in the evening light. I longed to sink my teeth into her body, run my hands over her every swell and slope.
    I’d never wanted a woman like I wanted my sister, and yet I believed I could never have her. When we passed in the hallway, I’d almost lose my mind. When we watched television on the same couch, I’d try so hard not to stare down her body, to dream of licking, biting, fucking— always fucking. I’d have come on every inch of her, believe me, if I could. If I could have fucked Helene for a night I’d have happily died the next morning. I longed to bury my cock deep inside her, to make her moan with bliss, to make her plead with me to go harder. I wanted to fuck her and never, ever stop.
    But I was her brother and it would have been wrong. That’s how I felt back then, before I was bitten. After the bite though, I coursed with such power that I could see the truth.
    I was an animal.
    And animals were hunters.
     
    Helene
     
    Before he changed, I’d always fancied Darren, but I knew it was wrong so I stayed away. The way I saw it, I deserved a real boyfriend who’d take me out for romantic meals or go on double dates with friends—not a twisted younger brother who wants to do things that brothers don’t do. Anyway, I did all right with boys because I have big tits and an accent. Being a Brit living in America makes the sexy boys pant for you. Just one