Page 37 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)

“There’s nothing to admit,” she murmurs, her chin held high. “I tolerate you, that’s it, but it’s cute that you think so highly of yourself.” If it weren’t for the glint in her eye, I might believe her.

“Oh, you tolerate me?” I snort. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Raising her brows, she nods, the smirk she’s been trying to hide finally breaking through, and fuck , does it turn me on.

Breathing out a chuckle, I bring my hand up and stroke a finger across her jaw.

“Looked like you did a hell of a lot more than tolerate me last week, when my cock was buried deep inside you.” Georgia’s lips part as she sucks in a breath, the sound causing my dick to thicken behind my shorts.

Leaning in, my lips to her ear, I say, “In fact, I seem to remember your pussy being absolutely fucking drenched for me, Peach.” Flicking my tongue against the lobe, I ask, “Does that sound like tolerating me to you?”

“Doesn’t count,” she rasps. “I was drunk.”

“No, the fuck you weren’t.” Bringing my hand down to her throat, I force her to look me in the eye. “You were tipsy, at best. You even said so yourself the morning after.”

Fire spreads through my veins as I feel her body shiver against mine. “Doesn’t mean I want it to happen again.”

“Is that right?” Cocking my head to the side, I smirk, staring down my nose at her. “Then why’d it look like you wanted to kiss me back there at the park?”

“The sun must’ve been in your eyes,” she muses, eyes lit up with mirth as she shrugs. “That definitely was not the case.”

“I call bullshit, Peach.” Fingers flexing around her throat, I dip my head down, bringing my mouth a hair’s breadth from hers, her breath sweet and hot as it fans my face.

“It drives you fucking nuts, doesn’t it?

How wrong you were about me, how much you do want me.

And I’m not sure if you know this, but the world won’t come crashing down around you if you give up a little bit of that control you insist on holding so close to your chest. It won’t crumble if you admit you’re into me, despite it not being what you saw happening. ”

Georgia doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to, and I wonder if she has any idea how often her eyes give her away.

Like right now, they give away how right I am.

I gently brush my lips over hers, and I think she just might give in to me, but then she catches me off guard when she presses her palms flat on my chest and shoves me back.

For a moment, I think I read the situation wrong, that Georgia’s putting a stop to it, but one look at her tells me it’s the opposite.

Her heavy-lidded gaze darkens as she steps toward me, her hand coming back to my chest, but instead of shoving me away again, her touch slowly glides up until her fingers close around my throat, effectively turning the tables.

Georgia’s grip is firm, the corner of her mouth ticking up as my eyes widen and my lips part as she walks us back.

“You’ve got it wrong, baby boy.”

My blood turns to lava at her calling me that. Bringing her body flush with mine as my back hits the wall in the hallway, Georgia’s fingers tighten around my neck, making my head swim.

“You’re not the boss between you and me. I’m in charge here. It’s me calling the shots. Any situation where you think you’ve gained the upper hand against me, just know…” Her voice drops, low and throaty, as she adds, “It’s because I let you .”

Then she kisses me, but it’s not slow, or soft, or gentle.

It’s hungry.

It’s carnal.

It’s her showing me how right she is.

Georgia’s hot, wet tongue parts my lips, licking against mine and invading every corner of my mouth.

Her fingers press into the side of my throat, cutting off my air, as she tugs my lower lip between her teeth and bites down.

A groan rips from my throat as her grip lets up, and a dark, breathy chuckle falls from her as she takes a step back.

Pupils blown, and her cheeks a deep crimson, Georgia watches me with a sultry gaze and spit-slick lips.

“Go to my room,” she instructs me, tone leaving no room for discussion.

Moving of their own volition, my legs carry me down the hall, heart beating violently.

Not even five minutes ago, I was aching for Georgia to give in to me, to give up control, and now, I’m standing in the center of her room, waiting for my next order, like some fucking puppy.

It’s enough to give me whiplash, yet my dick is throbbing.

It’s never been harder, which seems to be a reoccurring theme when it comes to her.

Georgia doesn’t say anything as she saunters past me.

In fact, she doesn’t even look at me until she’s on the bed, sitting with her back pressed against the headboard.

“Now be a good boy and take off your clothes.” Georgia is a queen sitting on her throne, looking at me like I’m nothing more than an undeserving peasant. It’s degrading, and it should turn me off…but it doesn’t. Her lip curls into a smirk as she adds, “And do it slowly.”

My entire body is on fire as I reach behind my head and tug off my shirt, letting it fall to the ground beside me.

I’m too turned on to even feel any of the discomfort coming from the sting on my wrist. Georgia’s gaze drops, shamelessly drinking in all the newly exposed skin before coming back up to my face.

Holding her heated gaze, my pulse races as I tuck my thumbs underneath the waistband of my shorts, slowly shoving them down my legs until the material pools around my ankles.

Stepping out of them, I’m now standing before her in nothing more than a tight, black pair of briefs.

Swallowing thickly, I work them down, my stiff cock springing free.

I’m dying to wrap a hand around myself and relieve the ache, but somehow, I know that’s not what Georgia wants me to do.

And standing completely nude and fully at attention in front of her, I can admit to myself that all I want is to give her exactly what she wants, whatever that may be.

I want to be her good boy. Make her proud.

So, even though my dick is so hard it has its own heartbeat, I don’t touch myself.

“Somebody’s excited,” she murmurs with a sexy little giggle.

A groan sounds in her throat as her thighs spread open and she rubs her fingers over her pussy.

She’s wearing entirely too many clothes, and I’ve never hated a pair of leggings more than I do right now.

I want her bare . A mischievous glint in her eye, Georgia then says, “Crawl to me.”

A bolt of heat shoots down my spine as I raise an eyebrow and huff out a breath. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Lifting her hips, she slides her pants off, tossing them onto the floor.

Her gaze is taunting, lips twisted into a seductive grin as she lets her legs fall open.

I nearly forget how to breathe as she hooks two fingers under her panties, pulling them to the side and giving me a fucking glorious view of her pussy.

Using her other hand, she licks her fingers, and I watch as she circles her clit. Moaning, she says, “Go on, crawl.”

I drop to my knees and press my palms flat against the carpeted floor before I even realize what I’m doing. Never taking my eyes off the slow, steady way Georgia is touching herself, I literally crawl toward her, feeling nothing but voracious hunger and an aching need to get to her. To touch her.

There’s no shame.

No disgust.

Reaching the side of the bed, I sit back on my calves, mouth watering as the aroma of Georgia’s arousal fills my senses.

Her heavy-lidded gaze meets mine, and she smirks.

“You like being my good boy, don’t you?” she asks, voice full of gravel.

I nod, heart thrashing against my ribs and my dick leaking like a faucet.

Tipping her head toward the nightstand in front of me, Georgia says, “Grab the little black bag in there, would you?”

The speed in which I do what she asked would probably be embarrassing if I wasn’t so drunk on lust and the scent of my stepsister’s pussy, but I’m too fucking gone to care.

“Good boy,” she purrs. I nearly come from that alone. “Now, show me what’s inside.”

With shaky hands, I tug open the cinched drawstring on the velvet bag that’s no larger than the palm of my hand, and a burst of heat shoots down my spine, settling deep in my nuts, as I pull out a butt plug.

It’s all silver, save for the red jewel at the top, and the metal is cool against the palm of my hand as I flick my gaze over to Georgia.

A smirk tugs on my lips. “You want me to use this on you, Peach?”

“Oh, that’s not for me,” she says, before biting down on her bottom lip and sitting up. I know where this is going before the words even leave her mouth, yet I’m no more prepared as she giggles and says, “It’s for you .”

Oh shit.