Thief:A Bad Boy Romance(113)

 

“Hunter, no—” I bite my lip through the moan as his fingers delve between my lips through my panties. “Not here, you can’t touch me here like that!”

 

“Fine,” he growls into my ear. “Then you can.”

 

I gasp as he suddenly reaches up and envelopes one of my hands in his before sliding them both down over my stomach, delving right between my legs. I moan as he pushes my fingers over my aching pussy, using his hand to move mine across my lips.

 

“Hunter—“ I manage to gasp out before he’s pushing both of our hands under the waist of my panties and sliding right over the slick heat of my pussy. I melt against him as our fingers find my clit, both of our hands there, but he’s controlling the movement. I’m limp; a rag-doll writhing against him as he uses my fingers to play with my clit.

 

It’s like something out of a forbidden fantasy; something not real, and something that could never be in reality, but here we are. I’m backstage at a press conference, with a million security eyes everywhere while my mother, the President, gives a speech on stage, with my stepbrother’s fingers buried deep in my pussy. My conservative skirt is pulled around my waist, my legs are spread, and my toes are curling inside my extremely polished pumps. I am the picture of wanton inappropriateness, and in that moment, with his fingers and mine right there, I couldn’t care less.

 

And then in the madness of my own lust, I’m reaching back around, grappling for the zipper of his pants and yanking it down. He growls as I reach inside, and I’m biting my lip as I wrap my fingers around his thick cock. The pants are too tight around my hand, so I’m pulling him out, and gasping as I feel the throbbing heat of him press against my ass. Hunter rocks against me, his breath hot in my ear, sending shivers down my back as his fingers make my legs weak.

 

He thrusts forward, the head of his cock slipping under the tiny back of the thong I wear beneath my hiked-up skirt. He rocks against me, and I whimper as I feel him nestle between the cleft of my ass and start to stroke him rapidly with my hand. There’s nothing sensual or slow about this; this is raw lust and need, and we’re barreling towards the oblivion as fast as we can. I’m stoking the pulsing hot length of him, and feeling his fingers and mine slide deep into my pussy as he grinds the palm of my hand against my aching clit.

 

I see flashing lights, and and feel the heat pooling between my legs erupt as the teasing from earlier, and the fear of being caught, and the utter wrongness of it all finally hits me like a hammer. I turn and bite his arm, hard, as I squeeze my eyes shut and go crashing over the edge. His breath is hot and stuttered in my ear, and suddenly I can feel his cock throb in my hand.

 

Oh my God, he’s coming.

 

I moan as I feel him pumping against my ass; feeling it run hot against my fingers and soaking into the back of my panties. It’s so fucking dirty and so totally wrong, and hot with both of our hands buried between my legs that I shudder as another small orgasm tears through me.

 

There’s the roar of applause again. I gasp and look up in time to see my mother walking off stage again. I hear the sudden squawk of Hunter’s ear piece, and then suddenly he’s pulling away; we’re both pulling away from each other like we’ve been shocked.

 

I’m guilty turning away from him then, red-faced and unable to even believe what just happened as I hurriedly smooth down my skirt and groan at the feel of his cum still warm against my panties.

 

I’m lost in it all, speechless and still floating as he’s suddenly putting his hand on the small of my back and growling a “we’re moving” into his mouthpiece as he guides me out from the stage, back through the mercifully empty halls of the building, and out a side-door the waiting embrace of the SUV.

 

 

 

 

 

14.

 

 

 

 

 

Maddie avoids me for the next three goddamn days after that. It’s like turning off a switch. And yeah, normally it’d be hard to avoid each other completely what with me being her shadow any time she leaves her fucking quarters. But that's the problem; this girl doesn’t leave her quarters for three fucking days.

 

It’s borderline crazy, like she’s one of those Hollywood starlets you read about in tabloids that shuts themselves away in a luxury hotel on the strip and orders room service all day. But that’s exactly what it is, and guess who the sucker is that has to sit there outside her goddamn door for all three fucking days.

 

Yeah, bingo.

 

Three days of just sitting there outside her door thinking about what happened. Three days of going over every detail of the last week or so and trying to figure out how the fuck we got to this point. Three days of rolling my eyes and knocking on her door to let her know when the service is up with her fucking meals, or when the maids are there to clean up her little hermit-sanctuary, or whenever Emma comes by to do scheduling or whatever with her.