Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3) Read online

  I shrug. "You said you were perfectly comfortable wearing bras and thongs."

  Her eyes narrow. "You know what I meant," she says. "I was making a point."

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I can't help but smile. "So was I."

  "Your point is made," she says. "You're an immature, arrogant ass and I know that now. Case closed. Point taken. Now give me back my clothes."

  "Nah," I say, shaking my head. "I don't think you got the point at all. So I don't think I will give them back."

  "You want me to just wear bras and panties? You got it." She reaches for the hem of her dress and yanks it over her head, tossing it on the floor.

  "Well, shit, Addy-girl," I say, admiring the way her breasts nearly spill out of her bra. "If I'd have known it was that easy to get you out of your clothes, I'd have taken them away earlier."

  "You're a total jackass," she says, her hand on her hip. It's honestly hard to listen to what she's saying when she's wearing a bra and thong. And heels.

  "You're no peach, either, sweet cheeks." My cock presses against my jeans, and I wonder if she's still wet, the way she was when I reached between her legs earlier.

  "So you want me to parade around here like this all the time?" she asks. Her breath comes short, her chest rising.

  I walk toward her, standing close, and tilt her chin up toward me. "I'd fucking love for you to parade around here all the time dressed like this."

  "Of course you would," she says. "You're a total caveman."

  "If I were a total caveman," I say, sliding my hand down the side of her waist until I reach the top of her thong, "I'd rip these panties right off you."

  Addy raises her eyebrows, her head tilted up toward me. "I guess you're not, after all."

  I hear it as a challenge. So I tear the fucking panties off her, and she looks at me with a mixture of amusement and irritation that makes me harder. "It would be a mistake to assume I'm anything but."

  "So you get off on, what, telling women what to do? Bossing them around? Ripping their panties?" She acts like she's pissed off about it, but the way her lower lip falls open and she inhales sharply tells me it turns her on.

  Sliding my hand around the small of her back, I draw her against me, my hardness pressing into her, and cup her ass cheek with my hand. I speak low against her ear. "I get off on bossing you around, Addy," I say. "You specifically. No one else."

  "You don't get to tell me what to do," she says. Her voice breaks, and she lets out a small moan that betrays her words.

  I bring my hand down hard on her ass cheek, and she jumps, her eyes wide with surprise. "Say you want me."

  "No," she lies, her voice breathy. "I'm not saying anything of the sort. You were the one who said we should forget what happened."

  I smack her hard on the ass again, the vibration reverberating against my cock, pressed up against her, and this time she flinches, but trails her tongue over her lower lip. I want to bite that lower lip of hers. "Have you forgotten it, Addy?"

  She sets her jaw. "It's like it never happened."

  I slap her ass again. "Liar."

  "Your words, not mine, Hendrix."

  "I didn't mean it that way," I say, squeezing the flesh of her ass.

  "You're saying you've been thinking about it?"

  "Tell me you want me," I say. "Say the words. I want to hear it."

  "You first," she says. I think she's being obstinate, but she blinks and I realize she's terrified of the risk. She doesn't want to say what I know she feels.

  I reach up and undo her bra and let it fall to the floor. "Addy Stone," I say, trailing my fingers slowly across the tops of her breasts, my eyes never leaving hers even though I desperately want to watch her nipples rise to attention the way I know they are, "I've wanted you since I was sixteen fucking years old."

  She doesn't say anything, and I trail my fingers down her taut abdomen, then down lower between her legs, and she lets out a soft moan. "Hendrix."

  "I'm not finished," I say, my fingers stroking her slowly, methodically. "There's not a day that's gone by since I was sixteen years old that I didn't think about you, that I didn't want you more than I could breathe. Now you are going to swallow your damn pride and tell me how much you've fantasized all week about feeling my cock inside you."

  Her breathing is faster now as I stroke her and I watch her toy with the idea of not telling me. She's still angry about her clothes. "I want you," she says, her voice breathy.

  She licks her lips, and I do what I've been dying to all night – I bring my mouth down over hers, kissing her with such a ferocity that I think I might hurt her. But she moans loudly into my mouth, encouraging me.

  When I take a breath, she pulls wildly at my shirt, yanking it over my head. I slip my fingers into her slick wet pussy in one swift movement, stroking her as I talk to her. "Tell me, Addison," I order.

  "Tell you what?"

  "Tell me how much you've been dying to feel my cock inside you, that this week has been killing you just as much as it's been killing me to not touch you."

  "I've touched myself thinking about you," she breathes, then she cries out in protest when I slip my fingers from her.

  I step back from her, unbuttoning my jeans as I watch her. "Show me."

  "Show you what?"

  "How you touched yourself all week when you thought about me."

  Addy slides her fingers between her legs and shows me, her fingers moving around her clit in circles. I watch the expression on her face change, watch her lips fall open, as I stroke myself. When Addy reaches for my cock, I move her hand away. "Not yet," I tell her.

  "Please, Hendrix," she begs, and the whimper she lets out makes her impossible to resist. "I need…"

  I kiss her hungrily, my appetite for her overwhelming everything else. I don't give a shit anymore what anyone might think. I don't give a shit about the insane, possibly disastrous consequences for her if anyone finds out. I don't give a shit about anything outside of us. I just want her.

  Nothing about this is slow and sensual. When we touch each other, it's fevered, frenzied, Addy's hands running over my chest, down my abdomen, then clawing at my back and scratching me. It's me grabbing her hair and yanking her head up toward me, biting her lip. We don't make it to the bed, even though it's mere feet away.

  I spin her around so that her back is toward me, her gorgeous ass facing me, on full display, and I run my hands down her body, over her curves. "Put your hands on the bed."

  Rolling a condom onto my length, I admire the view as Addy giggles. "Sir, yes, sir," she says, so I slap her hard on the ass, and she yelps.

  "Watch your mouth, sweet cheeks," I say, wrapping her length of hair around my hand and giving it a tug. She moans, and the fact that she moans in response to that makes me crazy. Sweet little Addy doesn't want missionary-style, slow and gentle sex. Sweet little Addy likes it dirty.

  She bends forward, letting out a long groan as I pull her hair again, pressing my cock against her entrance. "You want this, Addy?"

  "I want it," she moans.

  I push, just a little bit, against her, sliding inside her and then stopping. "Then say it, Addy."

  "Fuck me, Hendrix," she begs. "I want it."

  I yank her hair again, and she groans, deep in her throat. "Say yes."

  "Yes, yes, yes," she says, her voice breathy. Gripping her hips, I slide easily into her slick wet pussy. She's bent over the bed, her palms flat, ass arched up, and I fuck her with deep thrusts.

  This isn't the slow, romantic sex you read about in romance novels or see in the movies. It's all heat, Addy and I. I thrust inside her with the pent-up frustration of a man who's lusted after her for years. What happened between us a week ago has done nothing to quench my thirst.

  She makes these sounds that end up somewhere between a grunt and a moan, faster and faster as she gets closer so quickly.

  "Harder, Hendrix, harder," she begs, and I lose track of everything else, including any sense of time.