Page 8 of Her Stepbrother Master (Master Me #7)

He popped her butt again. “Do not roll your eyes at me, young lady, or I will bend you over this motorcycle seat and spank you in front of everyone at this carnival.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He folded his arms across his chest and smirked. “Try me.”

She flushed and looked away. She didn’t want to cave in, but didn’t dare to test him.

He grasped her nape and pulled her close, so close she lost her breath when her breasts came in contact with his ribs. “Say, I promise I won’t smoke again, Daddy,” he rumbled.

Her sex contracted. She couldn’t decide if he was teasing by calling himself Daddy or if he really meant it. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

His lips were inches from hers and his slate blue eyes bored into her with an intensity that made her entire body flush with heat. “Say it, little girl, or I will punish you, right here and now.”

Another squeeze of her vaginal muscles and a slithering sensation in her belly.

“I…” She cleared her throat. “I promise I won’t smoke again... Daddy .” Her nipples tingled, tightening under her cone-shaped bra.

His lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Good girl,” he murmured and planted a kiss—darn it all—on her forehead, not her lips.

Still, she basked in his approval, which warmed her to her toes.

He didn’t break their gaze as he reached for the motorcycle helmet and slid it over her head, buckling the chin strap. He looked at the sky and his smile faded, his expression tightening. “Come on, mouse. We need to hurry.”

She settled behind him on the bike seat, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He started the motorcycle and kicked off, wasting no time getting them out of the parking lot and back on the highway.

Rain began to fall only a few miles later, first a few drops, and then a steady downpour.

She hunched her shoulders and hid her face against his back, feeling guilty that she wore his jacket and he was left unprotected.

The sky darkened. Their speed made the drops of rain bite, stinging her legs and arms and anywhere else they hit.

The thin Capri pants clung to her legs, soaked.

By the time they made it back to his apartment, her teeth were chattering with cold, her body shivering and shaking.

Brad couldn’t believe he had driven LuAnn on his motorcycle in the rain. It was utterly irresponsible of him. In addition to being unsafe, he now feared she would catch her death of cold, because her slender body trembled in paroxysmal shivers.

He parked the bike and helped her off, putting an arm around her waist and hurrying her upstairs to his apartment.

“Come on, let’s get you into a hot bath.” He led her toward the bathroom.

She made no protest, looking small beneath his helmet and leather jacket.

He turned on the hot water in the tub and took the helmet from her hands when she removed it.

He moved to unzip his jacket before she could.

Something about her, looking so cold and lost, brought out the protector in him.

He needed to take care of her now, needed to be the one who fixed this mistake he’d made.

He shucked the jacket and began to unbutton her blouse.

She looked down at his hands, her green eyes widening in surprise.

“What?” If she had protested, he probably would have stopped. But she just shook her head so he went on.

Of course it was wrong. He knew it was wrong, and yet the knowing made it all the more enticing. He opened the soaked blouse, revealing her white bra, constructed out of satin with the stiff cones that made her breasts look like twin mountain peaks. He reached behind her and released the fasteners.

She gasped and shifted, taking a side step but then stumbling back like a nervous filly.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, turning her around to face the tub and cupping her breasts from behind. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, pinching and rubbing them.

Her breath turned ragged.

“I’m going to get you warmed up,” he said, as if he acted only to keep her from catching a chill. His raging libido said otherwise.

She held still, the trembling changing from the larger shivers of cold to something more internal.

“You’re being a very good girl,” he praised her. “Daddy likes it when you let him undress you for bath time.”

One of her knees buckled and he caught her around the waist, pressing his hips against her low back, his erection straining against his wet jeans.

He leaned forward and nibbled on the shell of her ear, warming the cold flesh with his breath.

Returning to his exploration of her breasts, he squeezed one of her nipples, gradually increasing the pressure until she made a squeak of protest.

“These little breasts belong to Daddy.” He didn’t even know where the words were coming from, but they sounded so wicked, so right, a surge of lust nearly made him dizzy. He needed more now . How far would she let him go?

She kicked off her pumps. He unzipped the back of her Capri pants and peeled them down to pile in a damp heap at their feet.

She stood in nothing but her panties. He dropped to a crouch at her feet and kissed her calf, then her inner thigh, wrapping his hands around her sweet little backside.

Leaning forward, he pressed his face against her panty-clad pussy and bit at her nether lips with his teeth.

She swayed against his hold, her hands coming to grasp his hair. He nipped again, then peeled the panties down and planted a kiss at the apex of her sex.

“Brad?” The uncertainty in her voice tugged at his heart.

His vulnerable little girl. So unsure of herself, so unaware of her own perfection and beauty. Of course he was making a bad girl out of her. He really should stop.

“Shh,” he said. “Daddy wants to take care of you.” He stood up, turning off the water and taking her hand. “Climb in, baby girl.”

She obeyed, stepping into the hot water and sitting, leaning her back against the tub and slumping down so the water covered most of her delectable body.

He stood and looked down at her, drinking in the sight.

His eyes roamed from her flushed face and dilated eyes, down to her peach-tipped breasts, which seemed to float on the water, nipples puckered and beaded up from his touch.

Further down, her soft belly and the thatch of silky brown curls beckoned to him.

A devious thought crossed his mind. He opened the cabinet and took out his razor and shaving cream. “Little girls should be bare for their daddies,” he said softly.

Her eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

“When you’re all warmed up, I want you to sit up on the edge of the tub so Daddy can shave you.”

Her cheeks turned a dark shade of pink, which traveled down her neck and across her chest. “I-you can’t.” She shook her head.

“Do you need a spanking on your bare, wet bottom to remind you who’s in charge around here?”

Her chin dropped and she gaped at him.

He knelt beside the tub and dipped his hand in the water, stroking her calf, up the outside of her leg to settle on her hip. “You’re my little girl, and I want to shave you.”

“But why?”

He gave her a devilish grin. “It’s what Daddy wants. And daddies always get what they want.”

He knew he had crossed the line of what was appropriate the moment he began undressing her, and yet touching her felt so right, and the words he spoke seemed to excite her as much as they did him, even if she seemed confused. Of course she was bewildered, poor little pet.

“My darling mouse. I won’t hurt you. Can you believe that?”

Her head wobbled on her neck, but it appeared to be a nod.

“And I promise if you’re a good girl, I will make you feel wonderful after your bath.”

Her eyes searched his for meaning, but he said no more, continuing to stroke her wet body.

She swallowed, locking her gaze with his, and climbed out of the tub, sitting on the edge with her knees pressed together.

He crouched in front of her and pried them apart. “Open for Daddy.”

She blushed again, her hands fluttering to her face and covering it.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “You don’t have to look. Just keep your knees wide open.” He pulled them out as wide as she could handle.

He picked up the shaving cream and brush and painted it all over her mons, coating her thatch of curls.

Using his straight razor, he took his time to shave her mound bare.

He pulled her labia closed to protect her delicate bits as he shaved the surrounding area.

A tell-tale slickness met his fingers, and he made a point of brushing his fingers lightly over the length of her slit several times as he worked.

LuAnn remained perfectly silent, holding still for him, but hiding behind her hands.

“There,” he said when he’d finished. “Climb back in the tub to rinse off the shaving cream.”

She dropped her hands, cheeks still pink, and climbed into the tub.

He reached in to run his fingers across her mons, pleased with the smoothness he found there. “Mmm,” he said. “What a sweet little pussy.” He stood up and held out a towel. “Pull the plug, sweetheart, it’s time for bed.”

She obeyed and climbed out, allowing him to wrap her into the towel and dry her off. When he finished, he wound it around her head, and took her hand, leading her, naked, into his bedroom.

She hadn’t spoken. He supposed she was as shocked as he was with his behavior. Yet if she wanted him to stop, she would have said something. No, her body told him everything—her nipples were beaded up and pointed, her skin flushed.

“Lie down.” He pulled the covers back.

She sat on the bed, twisting her fingers in her lap.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “This is the part where I make you feel good, baby girl. I’m not going to have sex with you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Was that disappointment on her face? Embarrassment and confusion, certainly, but he thought he saw something else there.