Chapter One 

Peter

Balls deep inside of a random chick—that’s where I was supposed to be, not microwaving pizza bites and hanging mistletoe around my dad’s office.

“I appreciate your help, Peter.” My dad gripped my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know you had plans in Vegas.”

“It’s okay.” I’d rather be gripping a ponytail and grunting, but Dad needed me.

He sighed. His caramel skin, usually smooth and youthful, was haggard and lined. Juliet did a number on him—banging the caterer in his office the night before his Christmas party.  

“You should come to Vegas with the boys and me. A few lap dances and you'll be over Juliet.”

Vegas was magic like that. For a few nights, I could pretend that I didn't want to drive my cock inside of Anna, Juliet's daughter—my stepsister for the past year. It helped that most of the girls I hooked up with had silky black hair and looked achingly familiar from behind. 

I didn't feel guilty about using them. It was a choice between pretending a stranger was my stepsister or fucking the real thing on the family couch. 

Not that she would let me. We almost hooked up once at a rehearsal dinner before we realized it was our parents getting married. I couldn't bring myself to touch her then—although eating her out in the family room while our parents ate dinner in the dining room was a fucking turn on. I couldn’t touch her because Max had always wanted a daughter, and he and Anna had bonded straight away. I wasn’t willing to fuck up my father's happiness to satisfy my dick. 

My moral compass didn't stop the fantasies, though—even when it became apparent she preferred pussy. Every date she brought home was a woman. Watching two girls make out on the sofa next to me was torture and drove my lust for my stepsister into overdrive. 

As shitty as Dad's situation was, at least his broken heart would give my aching balls a rest. Everything about Anna made it hard—her tight curves and thick black hair, to her baby blue eyes that felt like a punch to my chest whenever I caught them staring at me.

I wasn't sure how many more times I could be in the same room with my dad’s stepdaughter without begging her to drop to her knees and smear her lipstick on me. 

Ravishing-red was her signature color. I'd found it one day after sneaking into her room to sniff and stroke and do all the things I couldn't do when she was home. I'd drawn a line around the tip then grabbed a pair of her dirty panties, wrapped them around my cock and tugged. Just that memory alone was enough to fuel my nightly wank sessions.

After the wedding, our parents enforced a weekly movie night on us as a way of bonding. Anna would lay a pillow on my lap and curl up against me. The angle offered a perfect view down her shirt and left me sweating until the movie ended. I couldn’t tell you half of what we watched together in the twelve months our parents were married. The only thing I could remember from those nights was how much effort it took not to slide my hand inside of her top and touch her nipples.

My cock throbbed. I shifted from one foot to the next, trying to discreetly make room behind my zipper. Anna had been an intense distraction from the moment our parents said. "I do." I was looking forward to a distraction-free life. 

Juliet had already moved in with the caterer, so Anna wouldn’t be walking around my dad’s house in short towels anymore. An uncomfortable feeling tightened my chest at the thought of being in the house without her. I ignored it and grabbed a wreath of mistletoe before climbing up the ladder to secure it to the ceiling. Not seeing Anna every day was going to be a good thing.

The elevator dinged in the distance. Laughter filled the hallway as office workers started clocking out for the day and arriving for the festivities. 

Footsteps clicked along the vinyl flooring and stopped below me.

“Does this mean I have to kiss you?”

Anna stood in front of me—an ugly sweater curving around her breasts and thin tights cupping her thighs. Her lush lips were colored in my favorite shade and lined up with my denim-covered cock, the perfect height for a kiss.

Fuck me.

Chapter Two

Anna

Peter’s cock hung to the right beneath his jeans—a fat ridge of muscle tucked against his thigh. 

Saliva pooled inside my cheeks. I’d fantasized about tasting my stepbrother’s cock for longer than I was willing to admit. Enforced sibling movie nights didn't help. The first night—while pretending to be asleep—I watched him from beneath my lashes, noticing the way the denim of his crotch expanded as he stared at my legs instead of the screen.

I graduated to laying my head on his lap, hoping that one day he would unzip his jeans and let me suck him like a lollipop. He never did. Being stepsiblings probably didn't help, or the fact that I only brought home girls when he was around.  I loved the dark look in his eyes as he watched my tongue slide into a girl’s mouth. He probably thought I preferred girls, but I didn't—I liked sex with anyone, and now that our parents were getting divorced, I wanted sex with him.

“What are you doing here?” Peter scowled, his cock disappearing behind one metal rung after another with every step he took toward the floor.

He looked flustered and angry—not the reaction I was hoping for.

“Anna. You came.” Max waved at me from the other side of the room. He was by me an instant later, wrapping me in a fatherly bear hug I had gotten used to over the last year.

Mom was such an idiot.

“Of course. I know how much you were looking forward to the party." Guilt burned in my chest at the way Juliet had treated Max. He was loveable like a big teddy bear but with a toned body that could rival his son’s. If I hadn't spent the past year pretending every phallic-shaped object I put in my mouth was Peter’s cock, then I would have taken the time to make Max feel better.

But I was too consumed by the need for my step-brother. I had to know what he tasted like before our lives veered in different directions.

“Peter, can you show Anna what to do? I’m going to greet people.”

Peter’s lips pulled tight and his brow lined. He looked annoyed. 

Doubt prickled in my subconscious. I’d spent the last year of my life convinced that he wanted me just as much. Was I wrong? “Where do you want me, Peter?” 

Please say on my knees.

“What are you doing here, Anna? Why aren’t you eating canapés with your mother's new boyfriend?”

“That's not fair,” I snapped. “I'm here for Max.”

And his son's cock.

Peter's eyes dropped to my lips and seemed to linger there for a moment before he shoved one hand through his hair. “I’ve got it handled.”

My brow arched as I scanned the room. Boxes of decorations were waiting to be hung and there was a table full of empty snack bowls and a horde of people spilling into the room. I dumped my bag at reception and grabbed a box of baubles. “I’m staying.”

He shook his head, seemed to curse under his breath, and grabbed a second box, following me to the Christmas tree by the far wall.

We hung balls and tinsel in silence, the scowl never leaving his face.

“I didn’t know she was cheating,” I whispered, a sick feeling settling in my stomach. As much as I wanted to taste Peter's cock then move on with my life, his opinion of me mattered. I needed him to know I wasn't like my mother. 

Peter’s gaze darted to mine, his green eyes softening. “I know.”

“Then, what’s with the hostility toward me?”

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m a feeling a little…restless.”

A similar restlessness filled me. “Ah, you’re supposed to be in Vegas right now with some chick bouncing on your balls, right?”

I tried to ignore the pang of jealousy. I’d always hoped to be invited. Vegas was supposed to be a yearly Christmas tradition with his friends, but a few months into our parents’ marriage his trips became more and more frequent.

“Why didn’t you ever take me with you?”

He cleared his throat. “They were boys’ weekends.”

“There were a few times you went alone.” Usually when our parents were out of town.

“Sometimes I just needed to get away.”

“Why?” I prodded, hanging more baubles from the branches until it was almost impossible to see the pine needles. 

He shrugged, looking down at the tree and focusing intently on looping the ribbon of one ball on a particular branch. “Why did you always lay your head on my lap when we watched movies?”

He looked up and our eyes locked. Heat seemed to radiate between us—the air thick with some unspoken truth. 

I gulped, unsure how he would take my next confession, but I needed to know how he felt. “I like the smell of cock.”

Peter's cheeks reddened, and he choked, glancing around the room to make sure no one could hear me. “What?”

A nervous tension rolled down my spine, but I was past the point of return. “Cock smells better than pussy. Cum tastes better too.”

Peter gripped a bauble in two hands, his knuckles white, his voice barely registering as a squeak. “You like cock?”

Anxiety drained from my limbs as I caught a glimpse of the bulge growing between Peter’s thighs. I leaned closer to him, making sure the tips of my breasts brushed his hand as I hooked a ball into place on the tree. “I love it.”

“Kids, can you get started on the food? There are supplies in the kitchen,” Max called out.

Peter's eyes widened, and the color drained from his face, almost like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't—like wanting to fuck his stepsister. He shoved the bauble onto the tree without bothering to hang it and darted to the kitchen.

I looped the ribbon carefully over a branch and waited for the ball to fall into place.

Game on.

Chapter Three

Peter

Cold air blasted my cheeks as I shoved my head inside the open freezer. It was a relief to the blood boiling in my veins, but nothing was going to ease the raging boner cramped my jeans except a good wank—or blowing in Anna’s mouth.

Fuck. I banged my head against the refrigerator door. Since when did Anna start liking cock?

“Oh, Max got the mini corn dogs.”

I stiffened and held my breath, but Anna's creamy vanilla scent swirled around me, intoxicating and overwhelming as it soaked into my skin. 

She stepped closer, peering over my shoulder and brushing her sweater against my arm.

Was that her boob?

I shoved my face farther into the freezer. Would it be weird if I crawled inside? 

“I love those ones,” she moaned, her black hair sliding across my neck like silky fingertips as she peered over my shoulder. “I like to peel the skin off with my teeth and suck the tip of the sausages. They feel so good on my tongue.”

Blood drained from every cell in my body and rushed to my crotch, doubling the size of my dick. Fuck. Was that even physically possible? 

I tried stepping from one foot to the other, but every brush of denim against the head was like the raspy flick of a tongue.

My balls curled up into tight knots, pulsing dangerously. 

“Can I grab them?”

“What?” I squeaked, automatically cupping my balls.

One slender arm stretched over my shoulder until two soft mounds crushed against my back. Anna grabbed the box of mini corn dogs and winked.

She winked. 

My stepsister had turned eating a kids’ snack into salacious adult innuendo, pushed her soft tits against me, and winked. 

I was fuckin’ done. There was no way I could watch Anna suck on a sausage without blowing a load in my jeans. “I’ll be back.”

I casually side-stepped her, trying to hide the enormous erection I was sporting and hurried out of the kitchen toward the black silhouette of a man on the wall. 

Anna liked cock. I had to stop myself from dropping to my knees and kissing the ground in thanks. But it didn't change the fact that Max found the daughter he always wanted in Anna. I couldn't screw that up for him.

But I could still jerk off to the thought of fucking his stepdaughter. 

I pushed the door to the restroom open—one stall that was occupied and a urinal. Fuck. 

I stumbled back to the main room, denim starting to cut off circulation and making walking difficult. I scanned every inch of the room for another restroom or office with a door where I could be alone for thirty seconds—because that was all it was going to take. But it was an open plan office, with only partitions and whiteboards separating the room into smaller office spaces. Some cubicles had whiteboards sitting above the grey walls offering more privacy, but someone just had to arch their neck to see behind. The potential for getting busted was high. 

Max’s office had a door. Could I flop my dick out in a room full of my photos and abstract crayon art from two decades ago?

No. Damnit.

“You’re hard,” Anna whispered.

My heart slammed against my ribs and I jumped, not realizing she had followed me. “No, I’m not.”

She chuckled, walked around to face me and pointedly arched one brow toward my crotch. “I hate to break it to you, brother, but you’re horny.”

Her blue eyes seemed to light up, and her bottom lip disappeared beneath her teeth. “Were you trying to take care of it?”

Did that turn her on, knowing that I was looking for somewhere to find relief?

I shouldn't indulge her question or the playful look in her eyes, but her lips were red and slightly parted and driving my imagination wild. “Yes, okay. Fuck. I was supposed to be in Vegas, remember. My cock hasn’t gotten the message."

Her eyes found mine, the blue lost to a saucer of black, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. What was she thinking?

“Do it.”

My heart bounced against my ribs like a ball and I gulped, filling my mouth with air but not really sure I was still breathing. “Do what?”

“Get yourself off.” 

Her response was instant, like a plan had already formed in her imagination. 

Groans rolled up my throat, one after the other—or it could have been a single sound? I couldn't tell; all the blood from my brain seemed to be pooling in my crotch, blurring reality. I had jerked off thousands of times but hearing her tell me to do it sent a shot of adrenaline through my veins, magnifying my desire and the desperate urge to spurt all over my fist.

“There’s nowhere private.”

There was no point denying it anymore. I brushed my thumb over the bulge in my crotch, the friction a form of relief, Anna's gaze an aphrodisiac.

Her lips pinched together, making me want to bite the bottom one first, then the top. Fuck they would look good around my dick.

“What’s wrong with here?”

“Here?” I spluttered. “You want me to masturbate in the middle of my father’s Christmas party?”

She nodded and waved her hand around the room. “There's plenty of hiding spots. Get creative.”

Creative! What's a creative excuse for being busted with cum on my fingers while serving mini corn dogs? 

She pulsed her eyebrows up once and pursed her plump red lips in a challenge. “Think you can’t do it?”

Liquid leaked from the slit in my cock and my balls sat heavy against my thigh, ready to explode. “Oh, I could do it, but I don’t think that’s what Max meant by ‘holiday entertainment’ on the invitation.”

Anna’s chest seemed to heave, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “Then, don’t get caught.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.” She stepped close enough to whisper in my ear. “I will if you will.”

She slipped one hand into the tiny space between us, pushed her sweater up and dipped her hand beneath the elastic of her tights. The outline of two knuckles appeared where her clit would be.

Holy fuck. I stared, transfixed, Anna's fingers making tiny pulsing moves as her bottom lip dropped open. I swallowed the moan punching up my throat, and tugged her to me, hiding what she was doing from the rest of the party. I pressed my nose to her hair, breathing in the sweet vanilla shampoo that I'd used as lube more than once. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Her hand shifted beneath her tights until it rubbed against me. “And you're fucking hard.”

Oh god, her fingers made tiny pulsing moves up and down my jeans. Even cloaked by her tights, the pressure was delicious. "I am."

“So, play along.” She teased me, digging a nail into denim until it felt like a gentle scrape up and down my shaft.

White dots blurred my vision. There were two layers of clothing between her fingers and my cock, but it felt as thin as air between us. It was almost too much to bear. I was like a teenager, ready to spurt in my jeans. 

The rational side of my brain tried to scream at me to stop, but I couldn't hear anything over the roar of blood in my ears. 

“Play along?” I grunted, feeling my hips arch into her touch and my nose burying further into her hair. “You want us to get ourselves off somewhere in this room without getting caught?”

“That’s the idea,” she whispered as her breathy voice caressed my ear.

My gaze lifted from her hair and darted around the room, from one familiar face to the next. Max started this company when I was a baby. I knew everyone. If I were caught with my hand shoved inside of my jeans, it would be humiliating, but technically I wouldn't be touching the woman Max thought of as a daughter. Maybe jerking off with Anna, seeing her skin flush pink and hearing the stifled moan roll off her tongue was what I needed to move on. “What are the stakes?”

The black in her eyes flared, and her fingers halted their movements. “If I come without anyone but you realizing, then I get to drive the Camero.”

She’d been trying to take it for a spin since our parents married. I wasn’t overly fond of it, but I still denied her; knowing I had something she wanted gave me some sick, perverted sense of triumph. Or maybe I was secretly waiting to see what she would be willing to do to drive it. 

“Okay.”

A spike of adrenaline kicked my pulse up a notch. It was my turn now, but my heart was pounding too hard, my mouth too dry to speak.

“What about you, Peter? Anything of mine that you want to try? Anything you want me to do?”

Her mouth curved into a smile, Ravishing-red perfectly painted on her lips and waiting to be smeared.  

Her chest stilled like she was holding her breath, and her fingers clenched, gripping the outer edges of my bulge. I wanted more. I wanted Anna on her knees, mouth open.

Say it. “Fifty dollars.” 

Fuuuck. What the fuck was wrong with me? After all the innuendos and groping, did I honestly think she would say no to a blow job, or more?

No, I could see the desire in her eyes. That's what scared me. If she sucked me even once, or let me bury myself inside of her tight, wet hole, it wouldn't be enough. I’d want more, like the long-walks-on-the-beach type of more and I couldn’t have that, not after her mother broke my dad’s heart and not while he still thought of Anna as his daughter. 

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Her hand loosened around my shaft, and her smile faltered. 

A flutter of excitement bloomed in my chest. Was she disappointed?

It didn't matter. This had to be a hands-off each other activity and a final goodbye to my fantasies. 

I nodded. Fifty bucks could buy me a blow job from an Anna doppelgänger in Vegas. 

“One thing,” I said. "It’s pretty obvious when a guy, you know...”

Her brows arched, and her lips twitched. “Comes?”

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and shoved my fingers through my hair, suddenly nervous. “How am I supposed to know if you…”

“Orgasm?” She finished, grinning. “You must really need that fifty bucks.” She was teasing, but there was a bite to her tone. I didn't need the money, and she knew it. 

“How do you normally know a girl has come?”

I closed my eyes and tried to calm the raging pulse in my cock. “I usually feel it.”

Her hand slipped out of her tights, and she lifted her fingers to her mouth—thick, creamy moisture clearly visible on the tips. My tongue rolled over the roof of my mouth, imagining her sweet taste. 

She looked from me to her fingers and flicked her tongue over the moisture, “You’ll have to feel it then, won’t you.”