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“No, I told you I want ‘Truth,’ Richard. Now just ask your stupid question,” she said, crossing her arms tight over her chest in a huff. I settled back, looking at her right in those gorgeous eyes as I savored this precious moment before I dropped her into a whole new world of embarrassment.
You asked for it, I thought.
“Out of every single person in this room,” I began, my grin spreading from ear to ear as I spoke, “who do you want to fuck the most?”
I watched as her frown dissipated into an expression of the purest shock I’d ever seen on anyone’s face. I watched her eyes, expecting them to dart around the room, to find someone she’d been aching to go after for among the guests she’d invited, but the more I watched her, the more I realized that her eyes never wavered from me.
Chapter 3
Jessica
Who do you want to fuck the most?
“What?” I finally shouted as I sat up, fists clenched. My stepbrother had done some shitty things in the past, but this one would take the cake. He came into my party and took it over, turning my nice, quiet evening into some bacchanal. And now he had the gall to ask me who I wanted to sleep with?
The entire room was silent around my stepbrother and me. I could feel their stares boring into me as they waited for my response. Every pair of eyes was asking the same question again and again.
I could see some of the boys in the room sitting up, attentively waiting for my answer. I knew what they wanted to hear without them having to say a word. Every single man in that room was hoping I’d look into their eyes and confess my deep, unadulterated desire for their bodies, about how I’d always wanted to impale myself on their rigid members while I screamed out to the heavens how incredible they were in bed.
“You’re a real piece of shit, Richard.”
“I’ve been called worse,” he said, shrugging, that lazy smirk still plastered across his face, “but you’re the one who asked for ‘Truth,’ Jess. I mean, the easy thing to do would just be to tell everyone who you want to bone. That’s the whole point of ‘Truth’ in this game, after all—telling secrets.”
“Maybe I don’t want to tell anyone my secrets,” I said, glaring daggers at my stepbrother as he lounged back on his hands. I watched more than a few women looking at him as he sat there, biting their lips excitedly. I hated them for wanting him the same way I hated myself for wanting him. “This game is stupid.”
A resounding boo came from the people in the room, along with a few who stood in the doorway to observe. The sound came mostly from the men, who were still so eager to picture me laying prone in front of them with my ass in the air, begging for whatever they had passing for a penis.
“But those are the rules, Jess-ic-a,” my stepbrother said, accentuating every syllable of my name. “If you didn’t want to play by the rules, then you really shouldn’t have started to play.”
“I never said that I wanted to play your stupid game, Richard—”
“You sat down with everyone else,” he said, shrugging again. “Everyone’s playing, and now it’s your turn. You chose to tell a truth, and now that I’ve actually asked you one, you don’t want to play anymore. That’s not very sporting of you.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “Ask someone else that stupid question.”
I tried so hard not to look at him as he spoke, but my eyes constantly returned to the way his lips moved, so full and soft-looking—lips I’d dreamed time and time again of kissing in the heat of passion, with his cock buried inside of my body.
“It’s against the rules,” he said, his voice rising and falling as though he were singing a song. “You have to answer it.”
I hated the way Richard’s gorgeous eyes looked right through me, how they made my heart flutter and skip with just the slightest glance in my direction. I could already feel my insides beginning to squirm, my thighs clamped tight to deny the heat that was rising between them. I had butterflies, and those butterflies had butterflies.
“Ask me something else,” I said, arms crossed over my chest as I felt the scorching, concentrated glare of every man in the room on my breasts, imagining what they must really look like beneath my modest top. “Anything else.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” he asked, a laugh rising from the others in the crowd. “If it’s not embarrassing, then what’s the point?”
“I hate you,” I muttered, my fists clenched. I hated how sweaty my palms were, how nervous and excited his mere proximity made me. It was so hard to deny the wetness growing between my legs, not to mention uncomfortable.
That question rang over and over again in my mind: Who do you want to fuck the most?
And every time my mind asked the question, the answer was sitting right in front of me, his tasty-looking muscles rippling and moving whenever he shifted his weight. I licked my lips, trying my best to keep them from drying out. I wanted to hide, and at the same time, I wanted to crawl on top of my stepbrother and show him who I wanted inside of me the most.
A sound broke me away from my thoughts, one that I’d almost thought had come from my imagination. Everyone’s head turned to stare at the source of the low, deep moaning that had brought the rest of the room to complete silence. Slowly, grins began to spread across the faces of the guests, and suddenly Richard let out a chuckle before turning back to face me.
“Looks like Becky is having a fun seven minutes,” he said, grinning at me wickedly as I heard a few cheers rise up from a few of the men who sat around the room as the low, soft noises continued, one loud and clear, the other was softer and muffled with a strangely rhythmic quality to it that I didn’t quite know how to explain.
“Go Michael!” one of the other guy’s shouted, laughing uproariously.
I clenched my fists tighter, feeling my nails digging hard into the heel of my palm as I realized what was happening. I hated that Becky was in there with Michael, and the image of her mouth wrapped around his hard cock intruded into my thoughts like a train wreck. It was hard to get it out of my head.
“See, Jess?” Richard asked, motioning toward the closet door. “Becky’s having fun with the game. Maybe if you’d relax and play along, we can all have fun.”
I felt like my throat had sewn shut, and no matter how much I swallowed to try and say something back to my stepbrother, nothing came out. I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to scream and slap him across his stupid perfect face. I wanted to press my body against his and kiss those gorgeous lips until he ripped my clothes off.
I hated him and I wanted him all at the same time. My panties were soaked, my eyes barely able to turn away from him every time he prompted me to answer, prompted me to tell him the one thing that I knew that I could never let him know. I wanted to give myself to him so badly—the last few years of our lives had been torture, knowing that only a room away my sexy stepbrother lay sleeping. He was my Adonis, and I hated him for being forbidden from ever knowing how I worshiped him.
“So, Je
ssica, what’s it going to be?” Richard asked again. “Which person in this room do you want to fuck the most?”
I swallowed, feeling a bead of nervous sweat slowly make its way down the side of my face and down along my cheek. I hated the way he looked at me, the way he talked and asked me things I could never answer. Most of all I hated the way that my eyes answered him whenever he’d ask me, always looking at that gorgeous form that could have made gods weep.
“I can’t…” I whispered, my voice strangled in my throat.
I looked at Richard again, pleading with him not to ask me again, not to make me say the one secret that I’d kept from everyone save for my best friend. He was my one true desire, the thing I could never have no matter what, my forbidden love. But as I let my eyes rest on him, I noticed the way his legs parted as he shifted his weight, and there between his thighs was a bulge the likes of which I’d never seen before in my life.
I marveled at it for a moment, doing my best to contain my reaction, though inside my mind I was almost crying. If I’d been soaked before, I was drenched now, so wet that I felt like I’d just come in from a rainstorm between my thighs. I was quivering, shaking with the effort of turning away from that briefest hint of what my brother carried between his legs.
Is this turning him on? I wondered, finally able to tear my eyes away as his legs once again closed and he got himself comfortable. But as I looked away, my eyes were drawn into his, into a stare so intense that I could have sworn he’d caught me looking at him. All he did was grin, that cocky, overconfident grin that infuriated me in way that only a hand between my legs could resolve.
“How about we make a deal?” he asked, looking up toward the ceiling in thought. “If you don’t want to spill your secret crush, then just this once, I’ll let you change your option. If you don’t want to tell us who you’d rather fuck, you can do a dare instead.”
I swallowed hard, my face draining of color as I stare at him in disbelieve.
“But I have to warn you,” he continued, “I’m going to make sure that it’s a really good one.”
