HER LETHAL SEDUCTION

Warning: Explicit content.

****

Miami, Florida.

Quick question. If you had to pick between a twenty-year-old woman's fresh cunt, and that of a forty-two-year-old, which would you pick?

Maria's POV.

A sharp gasp escapes my lips as my fingers tighten around the wooden headboard, nails pressing into the grain. Tobias moves behind me, drilling his fat cock in and out of my pussy, his thrust sending a deep tremor through my body. His grip on my hips is firm, possessive, guiding me to meet his every thrust.

“Ah—fuck,” I moan, arching into him, my body aching for more. His pace is relentless, and fast, but then he slows—just enough to make me whimper, the sudden shift teasing, torturous.

“Oh! Gosh!” I scream, pushing my ass into him, wanting more, wanting speed.

“Is this what you want?” he murmurs. He rotates his hips, moving painfully slow and driving me to the brink of madness.

I want more!

I push back against him, desperate, my body answering before my lips can. “Say it,” he demands, his fingers digging into my skin, holding me in place.

“Yes,” I breathe, my voice shaking, needy, but he doesn't pick up the pace, not yet.

“Ugh! Damn it, Tobias. Fuck me!” I scream.

A deep, hungry growl rumbles from his chest, and he gives me exactly what I asked for. His grip tightens as he thrusts deeper, his pace building again—faster, harder, more desperate. The headboard creaks beneath my hands, the air thick with the sounds of our bodies colliding, with ragged moans and heavy breaths.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I shout at the top of my lungs, giving little to no shit about whoever I might have woken up. I really can't give a rat ass about that. The pleasure overtakes me, shaking me to my very core.

This is all he's good for, what all men are good for—sex. And to be honest, that is all that matters to me.

My head tilts forward, my forehead pressing against the cool wood as pleasure coils tight inside me. Tobias leans over me, his lips brushing against my shoulder, his teeth grazing my skin before biting down just enough to make me gasp.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his control slipping. Of course, I feel so good. I work out every single day to keep this body hot, to keep that pussy tight as hell, so of course all of that hard work pays off. It has to.

My fingers claw at the headboard, my legs trembling as I teeter on the edge. Every muscle in my body tenses, my orgasm building, threatening to crash over me.

“Fuck—” I choke out, but the rest of my words dissolve into a cry as I shatter beneath him, pleasure ripping through me like a storm.

He follows seconds later, backing out and ejaculating on my ass, his groan vibrating against my skin. For a moment, neither of us move, caught in the aftermath, in the heat and the haze of what just happened.

Then, finally, his hands soften against my hips, sliding up my sides before wrapping around my waist, pulling me back against him. He presses a kiss to my shoulder, slow and lingering.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his breath warm against my skin. “You're incredible.”

“You're not too bad yourself,” I retort with a smile, turning to him and pressing a brief kiss to his lips. “I should get some sleep now,” I whisper, laying down in bed. I feel the bed dip behind me as he lays there, hands to himself as they should be, and I slowly doze off.

****

“What time is your flight?” Tobias asks from the bed the moment I emerge from the bathroom in my towel the next morning. I can see his evident boner from the see-through silk sheets.

“In two hours,” I reply, retrieving my panties from my drawers, and sliding them up my legs.

“That means we have time,” he mumbles, and I immediately know where his head is at. I feel my cunt burn at those words, and I bite my bottom lips, already aroused. I'm so easy.

“What do you have in mind?” I turn to him, and he smiles, gesturing to me to come over with a finger that will soon be inside me.

I walk over to the bed slowly, letting my towel drop to the floor, and his gaze washes over me in adoration. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he compliments, sucking his bottom lips.

“I know,” I say, climbing the bed and straddling him. The warmth of his body radiates through my bare skin, his cock stiff beneath me. “Now shut up, and fuck me!”

His lips curl into a sexy grin, “Yes, Ma'am.”

I lean down, brushing my lips over his, and he captures my mouth in a fierce kiss, gripping the back of my hair. His tongue explores mine, hungry, demanding, his hand tugging at my hair. A moan slips from my lips as his hands slide down to my body, our mouths moving aggressively against each other.

His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into my skin. He moves, rolling me beneath him, his mouth trailing down my neck, my chest. His tongue circles my nipple, teeth grazing, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through me. I arch into him, nails raking down his back.

“Oh!” I ease softly.

His fingers slide lower to the inner of my thighs, teasing, parting me. A gasp escapes as he strokes, slow, deliberate. “Oh!” I groan, louder. My body tightens, hips rolling into his touch. He presses inside, stretching, filling, his fingers working me open. My breath catches, a strangled moan tearing from my throat as he finds the spot that makes my legs shake.

Heat coils low in my belly, tension winding tighter, higher. My hips move against him, desperate, aching. His fingers quicken, and pleasure crashes over me in a sharp, shuddering wave. My pussy clenches around him, my cries muffled against his shoulder as I bare my teeth into his skin.

He groans, but doesn't stop. He flips me, his body covering mine, heat radiating between us. His length presses against me, teasing, slipping, then pushing inside. My back arches, a ragged moan escaping as he stretches me, fills me completely. I clutch the sheets, a loud moan vibrating through my throat.

“Fuck! Fuck!” I shout, almost jumping out of my skin.

His thrusts are deep, long and hard, ripping the air from my lungs. My legs tremble, my nails dig into his back, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him faster. He groans, his movements turning urgent, relentless. Skin slaps against skin, breath mingling in gasps and growls.

Sex is my paradise, my escape.

Pressure builds again, unbearable, and overwhelming. He reaches between us, fingers finding my clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles. My body locks up, pleasure ripping through me as I cry out, shaking and pulsing around him. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Ahhhhh!”

He follows, his body tensing, a groan escaping as he pulls out of me, spilling his cum on my pussy.

Great. Now, I've gotta wash up again.

What a bother!

I shove him off me, and crawl out of bed, grabbing my towel, and wrapping it around my waist. “You should leave,” I tell him, heading to the bathroom to clean off.

His question catches me at the entrance of the bathroom. “When am I going to see you again?”

“Not anytime soon, maybe even never,” I answer without turning, pushing the door open.

I shower, and return to my bedroom, and Tobias is gone just like I expected. One of my favourite things about him, he doesn't linger, unlike Fred, my ex-hook-up buddy. Ugh! Even thinking about him irritates me. Fred has to be the worst fuck buddy that I've encountered. He's what you'll expect from a woman. He got too clingy, and just wouldn't stop trying to control me, like he could actually.

I dress up, throw my purse over my shoulder and carry my suitcase out of the room, stopping at the dining room for some breakfast. As always it's empty, even though the table is lined with food, half of which goes to waste every day.

I help myself to a few pancakes, dripping syrup on them, and stuffing my face full. Madam Candace, the cook walks in a while after. “Morning, Maria,” she mumbles, her face devoid of a smile.

It's nothing to worry about though. It's normal. Her face is always like that when the person staring back is me. She doesn't like me, which is very common around here. Nobody likes me, and I don't mind it. To her and everybody else, I'm just a slut whose moaning the neighbours are familiar with.

Like I said, I don't mind. I have no care in the world, which is the most freeing thing.

“Morning, Candace,” I reply with a smile, drinking my coffee.

“Are you leaving already?” She asks, and my gaze follows her to my red suitcase at the corner of the room.

I nod, meeting her gaze, “Yes.”

“Oh?” She mouths, and there's a brief look of satisfaction on her face or maybe I imagine it. Whatever the case, I'm pretty sure she's overjoyed about the fact that I'm leaving now. “I'll ask Dennis to drive you to the airport—”

“No worries,” I interrupt, “I'll be taking an Uber. Thank you,” I smile, and she nods.

“I'll get out of your way then,” Candace leaves, and I finish my breakfast.

My phone beeps, and I get a notification that my Uber is here. I drink some water, get to my feet, and throw my purse over my shoulder. I walk over to my suitcase, grab the handle, and drag it behind me as I exit the mansion.

Dennis is outside when I walk out, trimming the garden, and he hurries over, helping me with my suitcase. He tucks it in the trunk of the Uber while I gaze at the mansion longingly, where I've lived all my life until now.

On the terrace is my Dad or whatever is left of the man now. My eyes meet his dead pale blue eyes, staring back at me with nothing but emptiness. Our gaze lingers, and there is no goodbye, or any form of exchange between us. Just a final look, that's all he's earned from me.

I turn my back to him, and Dennis opens the door to the backseat. “Take care of yourself, Maria,” he mutters, and I flash him a genuine smile.

I always considered him my only friend in this big house. “You too, D,” I whisper, “I'd hug you, but your mom would kill you.”

I'll bet Candace is around, watching us somewhere.

He laughs, throwing his arms around me, “That's a risk I'm willing to take. I'm gonna miss you,” he squeezes me to him, and gosh he smells great.

I hope he never stops smelling great.

“Ditto.”

He releases me, looking at me in the eyes with a hint of worry. “You do what you have to do, Okay?”

“I'll be back.”

“I know you will.”

I look up at the terrace again, at my father and he's still looking at us. “Take care of him, D,” I breathe.

“You know, I will. Text me when you're there. I'll call often.”

I nod, hugging him again briefly before letting go. I slide into the backseat of the car, and Dennis closes the door behind me. As the car pulls away, I watch through the window as Dennis waves goodbye, his figure growing smaller until he disappears from view.

A small tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it off, leaning my head on the window. I have to do this. My phone vibrates a few minutes later in my purse, and I fish it out, glancing down at it and opening the message.

MOM: Hey, honey. I'm not sure if you're already on the plane yet. I just wanted to inform you that I won't be able to pick you up at the airport because of work, but don't worry. Chad offered to pick you up, so be nice to him. I love you, and I can't wait to see you.

I doubt that. I frown, exiting the message, and returning my phone to my purse.

“We are here,” the driver announces moments later. I pay him, and alight from the car, retrieving my suitcase from the trunk, and hauling it behind me. I make my way to the check-in counter, drop off my suitcase, and head through security.

After a quick pat-down and a scan of my belongings, I emerge on the other side, making my way to the gate where I wait until it's boarding time.

Three hours later, the plane touches down at JFK Airport in New York. I gather my belongings and disembark, my eyes scanning the crowded terminal for him—Chad Russell, my stepdad or should I say, the man my mom abandoned her real family for, and the real reason why I'm here.

Chad Russell, fifty and divorced from his first marriage, with one kid to show for it. Ten years ago, he married my mother, Bianca Campbell. My eyes scour the crowd for him carefully.

There, my eyes lock upon him in the crowd, and I recognize him instantly. He's hard to miss with those broad shoulders, that height and that lethal face card that must be illegal for a man his age. But that's not the only reason why I remember him. It's kinda hard not to, after staring at a thousand pictures of him for months on end, courtesy of my dad.

Not sure I blame him though, or anyone if this was their competition. Man, Mother really knows how to pick em, doesn't she?

I drink in the sight of him, my eyes tracing every detail. He's dressed in a sleek black fitted shirt, crisp white pants, and spotless white sneakers. He's clean as hell, and exudes an aura of sophistication and wealth, and yet financially, he's a fraction of my dad's empire.

Yes, I googled him.

You have to know your enemy.

My gaze darts to the photo in his right hand, which I assume is of me, because he keeps looking at it, then the crowd. I must be unrecognizable, compared to the picture at this rate.

As I approach him, his eyes land on me, and I snatch the picture out of his hand, taking a quick look at it. Tch. I see the problem. I chuckle, looking up at him, and turning the picture to him. “You realize that I'm no longer eight, right?”

His brow creases as he stares at me, then the picture, and it suddenly hits him. “Maria?”

“Jackpot!”

NEW YORK.

Maria POV.

We used to be a happy family or at least I thought so, but it turns out, it was merely a façade. I was just twelve years old when my parents' divorce went through. It was the very worst time of my life, and the beginning of a lot of unhappiness, and loneliness.

My mom and father battled over their divorce for months. My dad didn't want to let her go, but she begged him, threatening to end her life if he didn't. She wasn't happy with him anymore, she wasn't happy at all, and he had no choice.

There's hardly anything you can do when someone falls out of love with you. My father was helpless, my mother had found a new lover for herself, and without any consideration for me or her ex-husband she jumped ships. Abandoning us, and moving to New York for her new life.

And my dad? He had a heart attack when the papers were signed and ended up in the hospital multiple times afterwards. My mother never came to see him, and I called her so many times. Clearly, he survived—If you can call it that. To me, my father died after their divorce. At least everything I loved about him; his smile, his laughter, his playfulness, the life inside of him, everything I enjoyed about him was gone.

He became a shell, barely existing, and I hated him for it, for letting my mom rob me of him—for loving her too much, and me, not enough. But more than him, there was someone I hated more than anything—my mother. The woman who destroyed my childhood, abandoned me, and destroyed the man I loved the most in the world just for her own selfish interest.

I'll never let her get away with any of that. It's why I'm here now. To make her pay, to make her suffer just like my dad and I did when she left us.

I'm not here for revenge. I'm here for retribution, and it all starts with him—Chad Russell, my sweet stepdad. Capture the King, win the game.

I smack my lips, grinning. “Jackpot.”

Chad looks me over carefully, his gaze lingering just a little longer than necessary, tracing the curves of my figure with quiet admiration. There's something in his gaze—an appreciation he tries to suppress. I hold his gaze, his crazy beautiful brown eyes piercing through me, and I step closer until I can almost taste his cologne in my throat.

“I have to admit,” I murmur, tilting my head just slightly, letting my lips curve into a knowing smile. “You're very easy on the eyes, Mr. Russell.”

His brows lift, and for a second, he looks caught off guard. “Yeah, you too,” he replies, almost too quickly, as if the words slip out before he can stop them. Realizing what he's said, he clears his throat, shifting on his feet. “I-I mean, we should get going.”

I bite back a smirk, watching the faintest hint of color rise to his cheeks. “Of course,” I say.

He reaches for the suitcase, his fingers brushing mine for the briefest moment, and our gaze meets, lingering for a second before he turns away. “Come on,” he says. “It's a long drive back.”

I take a slow, steady breath, smiling to myself as I follow him out of the airport to his car. While he puts my suitcase in his trunk, I make myself very comfortable in the passenger seat, removing my jacket to show off my bra top, and crossing my legs. It's a lot of skin, and he's just a man.

The car door swings open seconds later, and it's impossible to miss the small pause from him as he sits behind the wheel. I feel his gaze on me again just as he pulls his seatbelt into place. “Seatbelt,” he tells me, and I pull it to my side, pretending to struggle with putting it inside the slot.

“Here,” he offers, clasping his hand on mine to pull it in the slot. I raise my head when his hand touches mine, looking at him as he slips it in—the seatbelt, I mean.

“That's a lot of touching, don't you think?” I tease, thrusting my face forward so my lips are just inches from his. I catch his eyes lower to my lips, and his chest visibly heaves. I suck my bottom lips, staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.

He sucks a breath and removes his hands from mine, but I instantly grab it, returning his hand on mine. “Your hands are warm. It's cold.”

He studies me for a moment and then pulls away, turning on the heater, “That should warm you up,” he starts the car, getting on the road, and I smile to myself.

I guess it won't be that easy. Fine, I don't like it too easy anyways.

I turn up the radio, letting the pulsating music fill the car, and nod my head to the rhythm. But before I can fully get into it, Chad reaches over and turns it down. I shoot him a sideways glare. “What's wrong with you?”

“It's too loud, and distracting. I'm driving,” he says.

“How does the music affect that?”

“I can't hear the car horn behind me,” he defends and I roll my eyes. At least his age shows.

“Gosh! You're not fun,” I grumble, fishing out my phone and earpiece from my purse, plugging my ears for the rest of the drive.

We arrive at the Russell mansion almost an hour later, and I alight from the car, shitting the door behind me. I gaze up at the imposing structure, sizing up the building as Chad circles around the car. Once he appears beside me, a sly smile spreads across my face, “What a nice place you've got here,” I compliment, looking at him.

“Thanks—”

“But of course it's nothing compared to my family's estate back home.”

“Want me to drive you back to the airport? I really don't mind,” he smirks, “Your mom will be quite hurt to not meet you, but I'm sure she prioritizes your preference above everything else.”

I scoff, patting him on the arm, “Color me impressed. I'm glad to see you're not a total bore,” I grin, “This should be interesting,” I head up the flight of stairs to the door, and Chad follows, opening the door and leading me in.

He takes me upstairs. “This will be your bedroom,” he informs, unlocking the door and pushing it open to reveal a large room with a large bed, covered with pink sheets.

Yuck! I could seriously throw up right now.

I turn to him with obvious disappointment. “Whose idea was the pink sheets?”

I know whose idea it was.

I notice the corner of his lips curl a little as his eyes dart from the bed to me. He's leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded, his eyes on me. “Your mother's. She said it was your favourite color.”

“Yeah, when I was eight!” I exclaim, marching towards the bed, and yanking off the sheets to reveal a pink bedcover. Oh! Just kill me.

I swirl my head to him, and catch Chad in a full blown smile that's actually very beautiful. Damn! “You find this funny?” I fold my arms, watching him.

The smile vanishes, and he denies It with a shake of his head. “I'll have someone change the bedcover and the sheets for you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“No problem. Is that all you need?” he questions.

“No, actually,” I reply, motioning towards the entrance where he stands, looking down at me.

“What else do you need?”

I suck my lips, my eyes scanning down his frame slowly in admiration. He's so sexy, it hurts. “Depends. Can you give it to me?” I bite my bottom lip, titling my head, and batting my eyes flirtatiously at him.

“Depends. What do you want?” He flicks a brow, crossing his legs at the knee.

I bite my lips harder. “You,” I answer, reaching my hand to his chest, and sliding a finger down his shirt, and resting it on his belt. I step closer, and I can feel the heat radiating from him as I swing my tongue over my bottom lip.

“I want you,” I whisper.