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I can’t stand a BRO’. You know the type. Rich, hot, tan, full of himself. Well, I’ve got one under my skin and he’s driving me insane. The worst part is, he knows it.
Clayton Westfield isn’t my friend or even just a classmate. He’s something even more annoying. My mother Dana works for the Westfield’s and we live in their house. Well, above the garage really. Clayton is just a few years older so I’ve known him all my life. We even went to the same private school.
He’s rich, he’s loud, he’s full of himself. He’s a BRO’ in the worst sense of the word.
And I can’t take my eyes off of him. He knows it too. He has a lot of fun posing for me by the pool, half naked or worse. But the jokes on him because after freshman year of college, I finally grew boobs.
Now it’s summer and he’s the one who can’t keep his eyes off of me.
Turn about is fair play, doncha think?
His hands were on my hips, dragging me against his body. His lips found mine. I opened my mouth for air- out of surprise- and his tongue swooped inside my mouth.
He leaned over me, molding his body against mine. His hand slipped down, yanking my thigh up to his waist. Then he maneuvered himself between my legs so that I could feel him.
Clay was hard.
Really, really hard.
I heard a soft, needy whimpering sound and realized it was coming from me. My hands were all over his chest, shoulders and arms. I’d waited a long time to touch him, and even though I knew it was a bad idea, I couldn’t seem to help myself.
“Jesus Nev, you feel good.”
He came up for air and was staring down at me. He looked perplexed, hungry and very very horny. For me. I knew it was for me.
He dipped down a little and scooped his hips up, circling his cock against me. I felt him slide the skirt of my maids uniform upwards and grind himself into my panties. His fingers traced the edge of them.
“I can’t believe I am finding Grannie Panties this fucking hot. Promise me you’ll never wear a thong Nev. I’m not sure I would survive it.”
He kissed me again, his tongue swirling into my mouth. He had one hand on my ass, holding me in place so he could work himself against me. His other hand was moving restlessly upwards until it closed over my breast.
We moaned in unison at the contact.
Then he pulled away a little bit and reached down.
He was sliding my panties down.
That’s when it hit me. Clayton Westfield was trying to fuck me in the servants pantry. He was going to try and fuck me. Here.
Oh hell NO.
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Joanna Blake loves good old fashioned romance, men who open doors and work with their hands. Hot Blooded Heroes is a series of sizzling stories about True Blue American men and the women who love them. She’s thrilled to be collaborating with Pincushion Press on her new series! Come along for the ride!