Page 6 of Secret Baby: Billionaire Stepbrother

But now he couldn’t do that, because she’d lied to him. And it wasn’t only a simple lie that he could overlook. She’d tried to take something precious from him.

Sometimes when he tried to forgive her in his head, he’d nearly come to it, until the thought would hit him; if he hadn’t found out, would she have ever told him. That always stopped him cold.

Now he was dealing with it through lawyers, when he wanted to deal with it by having her in his bed—him on top of her. Her thighs spread and him breeding her hard, and putting another baby in her. Then he would be able to see her pregnant, feel her pregnant, and fuck her pregnant.

“Damn it,” he cussed harshly. “You fucking need to stop thinking this way.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door to his hotel suite, and he thought it was his standing morning breakfast order, so he pulled the door open. His entire body hardened when he saw Millie standing there.

His hand twitched to slam the door in her face.

“The time to talk was fourteen, fifteen months ago,” he growled at her.

Then he wondered why it didn’t give him any satisfaction to see her flinch. But she used that soft voice she used on him when she wanted to get her way with him.

“I know,” she whispered. That surprised him; her coming right out and admitting it. “Beck, can we please talk. Can you let me try to explain?”

His arm locked, holding the door open and he didn’t invite her in, which didn’t stop his wayward attention from detailing every hot inch of her. He knew his stepsister well enough to know she’d dressed to her advantage. An advantage over him.

Her full breasts were showcased in some type of clinging wrapped top, a short skirt flared over the curves of her hips, and she wore sexy high heels. Her lipstick was dark, drawing the male eye, and her blond hair was silky and hanging in waves to the tops of her breasts.

“You do the paternity test, and then we will talk,” he demanded, forcefully overriding his hunger for her. Then just to solidify his resolve away from lusting after her, he asked, “Where is Bart?”

She pursed her full lips, and there was a spark in her sexy black eyes. He’d seen that spark getting hotter when she climaxed for him.

“With a reliable babysitter, of course,” she said, with an edge. Then she loosened her shoulders and tilted her head at him. “I’d really rather not say this standing out in the hallway, but I suppose I deserve it. You don’t need a test, Beck, because I’m here to tell you Bart is your son.”

Shock reeled in his chest, and the next thing he knew he’d grasped her arm and pulled her into his hotel suite. Her three inch heels were not made for fast moves and she tottered, while he grasped both her upper arms and pressed her into the wall, as the hotel room door swished shut behind them.

Her dark eyes pleaded with him, but the injustice wouldn’t allow him to forgive her. “Mine,” he uttered. “Say it again,” he demanded.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, dropping her purse to clutch under his forearms. “Bart is your son, Beck. I-I’ve never been with anyone else.”

It amazed him again, when he’d thought nothing she could say would let him cool off, but the fact no man but him had ever touched her, started to—until that relentless thought hit him again.

“Would you have ever told me, if I hadn’t figured it out?” he asked, with an accusatory snarl.

Her eyes clenched and her soft lips pursed, while her body shuddered. Then her head started to slowly shake. She was about to add words to her treachery, when he slammed away from her, and overrode the sound of her voice.

“Fuck! That’s why you and I will never be together again,” he thundered once, then he quieted.

When he looked back, she looked in agony against the wall. “By omission the lie got so big, I didn’t know what to do with it,” she wailed.

Beck grabbed his hair and tugged. “You were a fucking coward about us, and you’re a fucking coward about this,” he said nastily. Then accusing her, he added, “My son.”

Her arms clasped her middle as if he’d punched her. “If we’d just been a regular boyfriend and girlfriend,” she started to say.

He roared over her, “Not that shit again, boo! I wanted us enough not to throw us away.”

Her head fell forward as she looked at the floor, clutching her body as if he was battering her. “I was weak, I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do,” she said with anguish. “Y-You left. You went back to work.”

Then he was there in front of her and her head lifted back against the wall to look up at him.

“Millie, you say it like it’s a fucking bad thing. I was trying to build something,” he growled. “I was trying to build something big enough that no one could fucking touch us with their morally outraged crap!”

“You didn’t tell me,” she cried.

And then he snapped ... he just fucking lost it. In one second, he’d grabbed her and slammed her into his body, up on her toes, and then he crushed his mouth over hers. The next second Millie grabbed him and she started kissing him as violently and uncontrollably back, even through her tears dribbling over their urgently moving lips.

Before they’d been sweet lovers and nothing about this was sweet. This was hot, urgent, and wild. It was as if they couldn’t control their hunger or if they thought about it, they would stop, and they each fiercely didn’t want that.

Her mouth was like fire. It was wet heat and she bit the corner of his mouth, lashed her tongue over the spot, and then he swept his tongue deep into her mouth. She moaned a wild high sound, and she tried to crawl up his body.

His hands helped her, lifting her leg over his hip with one hand and hoisting her bottom up with his other. That was when he discovered his hot stepsister was only wearing a thong under her short skirt.

The creamy firm softness of her ass in his hands roared through him, and then he had her back against the wall where he could get both his hands on it. His groping, and her mad undulations, rubbed her heated mound against his hard erection, while her big breasts rolled across his chest, and they wildly tongued each other.

He hadn’t notice, because he was so drunk on her mouth, that her hands were at his shirt, and then she ripped it open. Her mouth tore away from his and she bit his upper pectoral with hot lips, while his teeth grazed the curve of her neck. They were both panting and grinding against each other.

Ten wild, crazy, and delirious minutes later he had her on the tip of his cock ready to plunge forward. She was pressed against the wall, wildly trying to impale herself on his bare cock, as he held her from doing so, while his mouth burned, because they were kissing so hotly. But a demon inside of him wanted her to know he was taking her bareback and going to put his seed deep inside her.

Maybe it was revenge, but it always felt this way with her. She brought out something primal in him.

He tore his mouth away from their feverish kisses, and he sharply growled, “Eyes. Let me see your fucking eyes, boo.”

She clawed the back of his neck, fighting his grip on her hips, which were holding her back from his steely thick cock arched up towards her with the head kissing her slick entrance.

“Beck,” she careened passionately, demanding him, demanding his thrust.

“You fucking want my cock, boo. You look at me and you take it. You don’t stop looking,” he said harshly, with his lust barely under control.

“Yes!” she cried, locking her gaze on his as he thrust upward.

Her black eyes spun hotter, then they blazed with the connection, while he groaned harshly and barely kept his gaze locked on hers. Her moan was needy and loud as he started fucking her up against the wall with their naked bodies gathering perspiration and sliding against each other.

Then her hand shot between them and she started frantically rubbing her clit.

“That’s it, baby, make yourself come on my cock,” he uttered roughly.

She moaned high sounds with her tightness rippling over him and their gazes showing every filling and hard thrust. Suddenly, she screamed and her inner walls clenched his thrusting cock as he rocked harder and faster up into her, while she climaxed against him.

He lived for the sound of her climaxes harsh against his ear.

***

I was still climaxing on the heavy, hard width of Beck’s cock when he took me to the bed for a new position. The one time we’d made love had not been nearly as crazy, wild, and intense, but I did remember Beck and his positions.

What woman wouldn’t, when a man did her three or four different ways before he allowed himself release. I loved him, I always had and I didn’t want to think about him only for his incredible sexual prowess, but I had to admit it made me desire the hell out of him even more.

He was so strong and powerful when he was aroused, he was like a force of nature all over me, and he seemed to think women should have multiple, multiple orgasms.

It wasn’t like I had a choice, because there was never a break in the intensity where I could try to slow things down, even if I wanted to. And this time we were like two forces of nature exploding against each other—there was no stopping us.

Beck dropped me off his cock and onto the bed, still climaxing, and then he climbed over me as I lay on my side. He reinserted himself slow, hard, and very deep. My harsh moan proved how full and deep he was.

---