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Vulture (a Stepbrother Romance) -

By:Emilia Beaumont

1

Harvey


“Take it off,” I demanded.

“What?”

Eugh, I hated it when they talked back, asked questions. Why couldn’t they just do as they were fucking told? Was it too much to ask that they didn’t open their mouths? Unless, of course, directed to.

“Take it all off,” I repeated slowly, enunciating each word.

The five foot six bottled blonde cocked her head to the side like a dumb, untrained puppy. And if it wasn’t for her manicured hand that was already down my pants, false nails wrapped around my cock, I would’ve given up and made my way back to the awards ceremony, but I needed the release—the swift, mind-numbing bliss that came from knocking one out as I planted myself balls-deep inside a nameless stranger.

I pulled impatiently at the straps of her dress, black and hugging her tight little figure. She was a nameless waitress who’d caught my eye and who I’d managed to lure into the deserted bathroom. Her dress was plain, a regulation uniform, something demure to fit with the occasion of the night, but all I cared about was getting it off her, eager to see her tits bounce free.

“There’s a zip,” she whispered as she fumbled, trying to stroke my trapped cock.

I shook my head, frustrated. I wasn’t getting anywhere with the tight material. Either way, she should be on her knees already, worshiping me with her mouth, and yet my fly was still intact, her plastic nails painfully grazing the skin. Teeth clenched, I hissed; enough was enough.

With both hands I took hold of her straps and forced them off her shoulders. The material gave way, ripping at the seams. Cheaply made, I thought. I grinned wickedly as I noticed that she was braless, and finally, with a second yank the shelf of her dress flopped down to her waist.

“Hey!” she protested as her small peach-like breasts made a uninspired appearance, but she let me carry on, no longer concerned with her ruined dress as my fingers found her nipples, making her gasp and moan. She knew only too well that it was in her best interest not to complain, especially if she wanted my dick in her. And anyway, I’d leave her a few notes for the damaged dress; I wasn’t that heartless.

But she and I both knew what the other was after; we had a silent, unspoken understanding. I wanted pussy, a quick no-strings fuck, whilst she thought this was her chance to get in good with one of the most eligible and prominent businessmen in town—it was most likely the reason why a girl like her had taken the job tonight in the first place. She was looking for a whale, and to be fair, there were plenty to choose from out in the main event hall. But she was shit out of luck, since I’d reeled her in first and was already onto her little scheme.

I knew her kind. She probably couldn’t wait until I breached her hole, hoping desperately that I would accidentally forget the condom and fill her full with hot cum. Well, this was one lottery ticket she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning.

I pushed her against the tiled wall, heard her gasp as her bare back made contact with the cold surface. I slipped two fingers into her gaping hole, lips pulled wide, her lipstick smearing, and allowed her to suck on them. A little bit of practice for her, I thought.

“Unzip me and get on your knees,” I ordered and was surprised when she readily obeyed. My fingers popped out from her mouth, spittle running down her chin, and I watched her come face to face with my groin. Her fingers quickly pulled my cock free.

She glanced up at me as if waiting for permission, her eyelashes heavy with black mascara—she had pretty eyes if it weren’t for all the gunk, I thought. But the way she paused, wordlessly asking to suck my dick made me rock-hard. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

I nodded.

Her lips wrapped themselves around my head, her tongue lashing out at the tip. It’d been almost too good to be true, her obedience, but now she’d ruined it, trying to seduce me with her tongue, something she’d no doubt seen in some fake-ass porn video.

Enough of this tickling bullshit, I thought. I threaded my fingers through her hair and clamped my hands down on either side of her head as I slid the length of my shaft deep into her mouth. I groaned as I hit the back of her throat and heard her splutter. She controlled the reflex and braced herself against my thighs. I had to restrain myself from pushing in any farther; I wasn’t a total bastard.

I took my time fucking her mouth. Pulling back then gliding back in, enjoying watching the disappearing trick as her head bobbed back and forth.

Just as I was about to blow my load, my focus readjusted. I glanced down and spotted what looked to be a smudge on her shoulder blade.

“Is that a fucking tattoo?” I blurted angrily. If it was one thing I hated the most on women it was cheap looking ink. Especially those who didn’t even put any real thought into it and slapped on the first Chinese character they came across, ruining a perfectly good body. She was fucking tainted, and the moment was ruined.

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