AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hear you, maybe,” I returned playfully.
“What do you—”
Before she had a chance to finish her sentence, I set her down on the ottoman and hitched up her dress, trying to restrain myself from ripping the intricate fabric to shreds. It wasn’t easy. Once it was up to my satisfaction, I let myself run my lips against her exposed thigh, evoking a gasp from Mackenzie that she quickly stifled as she realized she’d made a noise. She had to put forth all the more effort to restrain a sigh of pleasure when my mouth reached her panties.
“Cole,” she started, her face flushing red as her eyes darted to the door where one or both of the owners of the store might walk in at any moment, “we’re shopping at a boutique that’s surrounded by the media…for a dress for our own parents’ wedding.”
“Do you still want this?”
“God, yes.”
I buried my face in her, hungry to taste the parts of her that I hadn’t had a chance to the night before. My lips pressed against hers, the scruff of my unshaved face brushing into her. Hurriedly, I slid her underwear down to her ankles before tending to her now-exposed pussy. I felt Mackenzie’s abdomen quiver as my tongue began stroking past her folds, and I knew just how much she must have been anticipating this moment. I wondered if she’d wanted to fuck while we were getting me fitted for my suit, but been too shy to make the suggestion. All the better this way, I figured, I want her to feel as special as she looks.
As my tongue explored her wetted cunt, Mackenzie gripped the sides of the ottoman, and her brow creased as she tilted her head back, mouth open. I could hear her breaths, so eager to let out a cry of pleasure as I brought her close to orgasm. The tip of my tongue played with her clit, and I wanted to be walked in on while eating out my step-sister. I didn’t care. Mackenzie was worth it. Inexperienced as she was, I helped her adjust herself as she tried to push into my face with her womanhood, now drenched in both of our fluids.
A gasp escaped her as she suddenly gripped my hair, hard, holding onto a fistful of it as her body shivered and convulsed with the orgasm that wracked her. I felt more of her fluids wash over me, wetting me from my brow to my chin. I couldn’t contain myself any longer, either. Standing up and letting her fall backwards onto the ottoman as she reveled in the rolling pleasure of her orgasm, I undid my belt and trousers with practiced ease and slipped my stiff cock into her. She had to force both her hands to her mouth to keep herself from yelping in pleasure. We really didn’t have any time to spare, now. How long had I even been working down there? I bucked my hips in rapidly, her tight cunt so wet that I slid in and out even more fluidly than I had last night.
I slipped my hands around her back and thrust in rapidly, going faster and faster with my rhythm as I felt her pussy tighten around me with another orgasm, her eyes rolling back as she let herself be utterly taken by me. She didn’t even notice that I was taking far longer than I’d planned. I wanted to show her that I wasn’t going to let some nosy seamstresses spoil the ecstasy she was in. But once she mouthed the words, I let myself spill forward, my motions becoming more and more erratic until a long, low groan escaped me, and I felt the tightening and release in my cock as my seed spilled into her, and she held her legs around my waist as I pumped into her, utterly spent inside her. Then there was a knock at the door. “Ms. Mason? Mr. Van der Hausen?”
The next few moments were a hurry of cleaning up with the kerchief I had in my pocket and trying to make the dress look like it hadn’t just been nearly ripped off in a moment of desire.
“Sorry,” Mackenzie called, “we were just thinking about flower arrangements—time must have gotten away!”
As we pushed the door open, Selene greeted us with a small smile and nodded. “Of course, madam. And the dress?”
“Oh, it’s delightful—I’ll take it, absolutely.”
“Got it covered,” I interjected, and Selene led me to the counter to make the transaction.
Changed back into her street clothes, Mackenzie walked out of the store behind me with a new dress and an enormous smile across her face. We had to stop ourselves from embracing as we exited, particularly since a few more cameras flashed the moment we came out, trying to catch a glimpse of the “happy siblings shopping together,” I imagined.
MacKenzie
On the way back from the boutique, Cole and I tried our absolute hardest to play our roles as brother and sister appropriately and convincingly. As much as I wanted to hold his hand, to kiss him, to lean into him and feel the height and muscle of this gorgeous man against mine, it wasn’t safe. The photographers were out in full force today, and surprisingly they seemed more interested in me than in Cole. Despite the fact that Cole did most of the terse, dismissive talking, they focused their lenses on my face, angling for some kind of picture-worthy reaction from me. One especially dogged paparazzi actually reached out and clawed at my shoulder, sliding my tank-top sleeve down my arm and nearly exposing my breast. As he did so, he yelled, “Let’s see if Julie Junior has her mother’s body!”
The next moment, a pale blur shot rapidly in front of my eyes as Cole threw a heavy punch at the photographer’s jaw. It connected with a loud crunch, and the guy crumpled to the ground, his camera clattering across the asphalt. The volume of shouts and camera flashes ratcheted to a near-deafening pitch as the horde of photogs rushed even closer, unfazed by the fate of one of their own. Cole’s arms curled around me protectively as we pushed through the crowd toward the eight-seater town car.
“I’m gonna sue the shit out of you!” wailed the fallen paparazzo. “Assault and property damage! You’re goin’ down, man!”
“You’re welcome,” Cole muttered. “Hope you all make a fortune off that photo.”
“Cole, I can’t breathe,” I gasped, overwhelmed by the action. He elbowed and kicked men out of the way, pushing past them all to tug open the door of the car and all but cradle me into the middle row of seats. Sliding in next to me, he slammed the door shut, narrowly missing the fingers of several photographers, who then began to beat on the windows and attempt to open the door. The driver quickly locked all the doors and began to pull out of the parallel parking space, taking off down the
road. The paparazzi ran behind, snapping photos of what they would almost certainly describe to reporters as “the getaway car.”
“It’s okay. We’re safe now,” Cole assured me softly.
After about ten minutes of driving, I realized that I was still clutching the boutique bag to my chest, my knuckles white. Cole stroked my hair and pressed a chaste kiss into the top of my head comfortingly. For a split second, I caught the driver’s eye as he watched us in the rearview mirror. He swiftly returned his focus to the road without a word. It’s only a familial kiss, I tried to tell him via miraculous telepathy, just a brother-sister kiss, no big deal. Cole was apparently oblivious, tugging me closer to nuzzle at my ear. I shivered at the sensation of his hot breath tickling my skin. I glanced up to see the driver looking at us again and I cleared my throat loudly.
“You alright?” Cole asked, genuinely concerned. I met his eyes and flicked my gaze toward the front seat emphatically. He seemed to get the message and immediately gulped. I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face and the ridiculousness of the situation. He grinned and swiped a big hand through his hair. God, I thought longingly, he’s just so fucking hot. Realizing that my sleeve was still halfway down my arm, I moved it back up and tried to subtly adjust my shirt to fully hide my chest, inadvertently cupping my breasts in the process. When I looked back up, I saw that a slack-jawed expression had taken Cole’s face. He stared at me like I was a glass of ice-cold water and he’d been wandering in the desert for weeks. His hand moved slowly to his groin and began to lightly rub himself through his tight jeans. I felt a tingling in my pussy and I licked my lips. We had only had sex less than a half hour ago, but I already wanted him again. I wondered if it was possible to be addicted to someone.
Even if it was, even if it destroyed me, I didn’t care. I remembered his words: “it would ruin you.” The fact that he cared so much, that he wanted so badly to protect me, even from himself—it backfired. It only made me want him more. He was so beautiful like this, his cheeks going a deep ruddy red as he rocked ever so slightly back and forth against the pressure of his own hand. I wanted to help him, to relieve him. I wanted to touch him.
Leaning forward in between the driver and passenger seats, I politely asked, “Sir, is it possible to raise the screen? It’s just that we want to make some calls and, um, discuss wedding plans and stuff like that. Nothing personal—it’s just some secret surprise stuff for our parents. I’m sure you understand.”
The chauffeur turned for a moment to look at me and nod. I bit my lip and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, sir,” I said. “And, uh, if you could just take us the long way home, that would be great. Wanna make sure that we shake off all those photographers, you know? We’ll pay you extra, obviously.”
I could swear that the driver’s mouth twitched as though he were about to smile, but he simply nodded and replied curtly, “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you need.”
