His Plaything

His Plaything

Ava Jackson

Copyright 2015 Ava Jackson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Cover Design by Romantic Book Affairs

About the Book

Warning: If you can't handle a Navy SEAL with a filthy mouth, and a huge cock who wants to turn you into his plaything, this isn't the book for you. Carry on.

An ass you could bounce a quarter off of.

That’s the sight that greets me of my new roommate as he fucks a blonde on the kitchen table.

That’s right before I get an eyeful of his giant cock. Cue wet panties.

Oh, and did I mention he’s a Navy SEAL?

One semester. That’s as long as I have to last—and then I’m gone, graduated, off into the real world.

But can I survive that long without becoming …
his plaything
?

Chapter 1

Nixon

I had planned on enjoying my fall vacation to the fullest. As soon as I touched down at Coronado Island, I’d ordered greasy Chinese and slept like a rock. Then I went to Trader Joe's and restocked my fridge—all the best food and beer I couldn't get on active duty. Later I might meet Fox and Logan for basketball, bar-hopping, or whatever the hell we felt like doing. I would enjoy some sweet solitude, too, just kicking back in the blessed silence and privacy of my own condo. And of course, I would re-acquaint myself with all the finest pieces of ass in San Diego County. It was going to be fucking perfect.

Then my father shot everything to hell in a single phone call.

“Avery is going to live
here
? Starting today?” No way I'd heard that right. I shifted the phone to my shoulder so I could hold the frying pan handle with one hand and flip bacon with the other. “You can't be serious, Dad. I just got off a nine-month tour of duty.”

“Oh, you're on leave? Perfect. That means you can help her move in.”

I held back a growl. He knew damn well what my schedule looked like. I'd practically just gotten back from visiting him and his new wife at Wild Cliffs. And I was deploying again in two months, for fuck's sake. Was a little personal time really so much to ask?

At my long, sullen silence, Dad's tone dropped. “Nixon. You will be polite to Avery. You will take care of her. In fact, you will make sure that her last semester at UCSD is her best one. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” I tried and failed to suppress some very distracting mental images. I'd take damn good care of her, all right.

“If I hear that you haven't shown her proper hospitality…”

Dad harangued on and on, but I wasn't listening anymore. All I could picture was the princess I'd met two weeks ago, sleeping and showering and undressing just one thin wall away.

My first impression of Avery had been mouthwatering. Pure, polished sugar candy, begging to be unwrapped, melted on my tongue, and devoured whole. The high-maintenance fashionista types usually weren't worth my time—too prissy to know how to really get dirty or too stuck-up to even want to learn. But that didn't stop me from wanting to fuck Her Majesty six ways from Sunday. So what if she was technically my new stepsister? If the way her eyes had followed me around the ranch meant anything, she didn't care about that little detail, either.

A wisp of acrid smoke stung my nose.
Shit, the bacon.
I yanked the pan off the burner and started transferring the charred strips to a plate.

“Did you hear a word I just said?” Dad snapped.

“Yeah. Be nice to Avery. Gotta go, Dad. Someone's at the door,” I lied. I hung up before he could start repeating himself and sat down at the breakfast bar to eat. I loved my father as much as any grown son did, but how Ford could still live under his roof, I had no idea. At least my commanding officers let me run my private life as I saw fit.

I picked up a strip of bacon to find it already getting cold. Maybe I had cranked the AC a little too high. On the other hand, August in southern California was no joke, and I'd had enough of desert heat during my last tour. My thoughts drifted back to Miss Priss. With this weather and my luck, she'd probably show up looking like a walking felony. Tight little jean shorts hugging her tight little ass. Perky tits almost spilling out the sides of a halter-top, nipples hardening as she stepped into the cold indoor air…

Jesus Christ, it's been way too long.
My imagination was running out of control. I needed to get some pussy fast, before my new roommate pranced in here, and I drove myself insane. Fortunately, that wouldn't be hard. Women who creamed their panties over SEALs were a dime a dozen in this town … and one in particular lived in the condo right next door.

I scrolled down my Contacts menu to the “frog hog – home edition” entry and fired off a quick text:
Hey, Pam.
Long time, no fuck. You as horny as I am?

It wasn’t classy, but Pam didn’t require or appreciate finesse.

Barely five minutes later, my phone chimed back:
Don't start without me, Sailor Boy. ;)

I chuckled to myself. Pam was one of the most reliable fuck buddies I'd ever had. Unless she was at work, she never hesitated to come over and help me take the edge off. God bless America.

Just as I had tracked down a few condoms, someone knocked at the door. I opened it and immediately got an armful of Pam. Her full lips crashed against mine. Her hands snaked around my waist and down to squeeze my ass.

I indulged in our hungry kiss for a moment, tongue delving into her mouth, then pulled back with a smirk. “I take it you missed me, too.”

“You have no idea,” she breathed. Without further ado, she strutted over to the dining room table and bent to take off her stilettos, knowing that my eyes were glued to her toned curves. She was still in her work uniform: a tight black miniskirt and referee-stripe blouse whose neckline plunged just short of indecent exposure. It was no mystery why she made so much money from tips. There were a lot of local guys who came to Pete's Sports Bar just to ogle the waitresses, and blonde, buxom, leggy Pam was the main attraction.

I threw the front door shut behind me, not wanting to miss the way her juicy ass wiggled as she undid her shoe's straps. “Damn, you’ve got a fine ass,” I commented.

Tossing me a sultry look over her shoulder, she gave a throaty chuckle. “Thanks, babe. It's a tired ass. Just got off an all-night shift.”

“Oh? Do you want to reschedule?” I teased, already stalking toward her. “I can pencil you in for next Friday.”

“No chance in hell.” She turned and sat on the dining room table, spreading her knees to reveal a lacy black thong. “I've always got energy for my favorite SEAL. Especially after you've been gone so long.” Her hand trailed up her flat stomach to her cleavage, undoing the buttons one by one, revealing the huge, round tits barely contained by her bra.

Holy mother of God
. A luscious sight like that hadn't graced my eyes in way too many months, and it was almost enough to make me drool.
Well, two can play at that game.
I pulled off my T-shirt and didn't miss her leer of appreciation.

She licked her cherry-painted lips. “Get over here and fuck me.”

“Hey, just because I make my living taking orders doesn't mean you're in charge here.” Grinning, I stepped between her legs and pushed her flat on her back, rocking my hips to let her feel how hard I was.

She moaned and squirmed against me. “Smartass. What if I sucked your cock first?”

I drew in a harsh breath despite myself. What red-blooded man could turn down a BJ from a bombshell like Pam? Besides, it was probably for the best. After months of nothing but jerking off, my stamina wouldn't be up to par right away—and I was more than capable of getting hard for two rounds in a row.  I nodded at her. “In that case, I might let it slide. Just this once.”

She immediately wriggled down between me and the table, onto her knees. Staring up at me through her full, sooty lashes, brazen and seductive, she unzipped my jeans and pulled out my rock hard cock. She held the base with one hand and licked a slow stripe up to the tip, circling her tongue around the head. My hips stuttered. I braced myself on the table with one hand and tangled the other in her hair—just as she dove her whole mouth down.

I gave a long, loud groan. Pam always sucked my dick like she was trying to pull the life out of me. At this rate, I was going to come any second. And that was exactly what she wanted. Her cheeks hollowed and she bobbed her head faster, tightening her grip. Her tongue flickered right at the sensitive spot where the head met the shaft. She cupped my balls with her free hand, and I swore out loud.

Out of nowhere, an image of Avery popped into my head. Heat rushed through me like a bolt of lightning. My stepsister's peach-soft lips would look amazing sealed around my cock. Her lashes would flutter as she sneaked shy glances up at my face, wanting to make sure she'd pleased me, wanting so badly to taste my cum, oh fuck,
oh—

Before I knew it, I was coming hard. Pam dug her fake nails into my thighs and swallowed every drop. Then, without missing a beat, she pulled off her panties and lay back down on the table with legs spread. Two fingers slipped down to tease her clit, taunting me with my own private peepshow. “Hurry up or I'll finish the job myself,” she moaned.

I shook my head, trying to dispel that disorienting, enticing image of Avery on her knees in front of me. “No way I'll let you have all the fun,” I replied. I grabbed Pam's wrists with one hand, pushing up her blouse with the other. I licked and kneaded her firm tits until she writhed with anticipation, making wordless pleading noises that flashed straight down my spine. That familiar ache of hardness was quickly creeping into my cock again. I kicked off my pants, pulled a condom out of my pocket, and rolled it on.

I didn't waste time with any more foreplay; she had been soaked from the moment she walked in here, and God knew I couldn't stand to wait another second. I just pushed her knees up to her shoulders and slammed home. “Yes! Jesus!” she screamed.

I thrust in fast and deep, fucking her in a way that guaranteed she’d still be feeling me tomorrow. Her tits bounced as she struggled to meet my thrusts. Her cunt was so hot and wet and unbelievably eager, grasping my cock like it never wanted to let go. I hadn't realized how much I'd craved this until I tasted it again. I bent my head to bite at her huge, round breasts that wobbled so enticingly in my face. Avery's tits would probably be smaller, but perkier to make up for it. Her skin would be pale instead of tanned, showing every mark I sucked into her skin.

Too late, I caught myself.
Goddammit!
Why couldn't I keep Avery out of my head? I couldn't stop imagining what she'd look like beneath me, couldn't stop superimposing her face over Pam's. Every time I pushed away one thought of her, two more popped up.

Why the fuck was Avery crashing here so suddenly, anyway? Why did she have to invade every aspect of my life?
I guess I'll have to ask her that when she arrives.
For now I just growled into Pam's mouth, our sloppy kiss smearing her bright lipstick, and tried my damnedest to chase away the fantasy of my gorgeous new stepsister.

Chapter 2

Avery

The sound of my suitcases' wheels softened suddenly as I rolled from the sidewalk into the carpeted lobby. Blinking, I looked around, trying not to gape at how opulent my stepbrother's condo complex was. Oak-paneled walls, black-and-white marble floors, potted orchids on every accent table. A crystal chandelier hung over a sunken lounge area, containing an oblong glass coffee table and several antique chairs upholstered in blue and gold.
Dang … well, I guess the Bennett family does have a shit-ton of money.

Studying abroad in London had been amazing, but the email from my dad had been the opposite of amazing
. Hey, by the way, I can't afford your rent on top of tuition anymore, so you have to go live with some guy you barely know
. At the same time, though, it felt good to be back home in California. The familiar boutiques and restaurants and tanned, daydreaming people. The gentle, warm breeze that always smelled of salt. The sun that blazed down as if it had never seen a cloud. And the white-sanded beaches and azure waves of Coronado Island, just across the bay from San Diego, with a cute little downtown where tourists rented bicycles and sipped fruity cocktails in historic cafes.

So yeah, despite how abruptly I'd been yanked into this weird situation, I felt pretty good. I was going to live in a jaw-droppingly beautiful city, in a jaw-droppingly expensive apartment, and I was going to kick my last semester's ass. Graduate early. Take the fashion world by storm. Everything would work out.

Still, I felt a lingering nervousness as I lugged my suitcases up to Nixon's sixth-floor unit. As grateful as I was for such a nice place to live, I was still a freeloader, and arriving on pretty short notice. Had that pissed him off? How did he feel about being stuck with a girl roommate?

Trying to squelch my doubts, I double-checked the unit number and knocked on the door. No answer. After a few more knocks and a lot more waiting, I tried the knob and felt it turn. Maybe he'd left his condo unlocked in case I showed up while he was out? Not wanting to wait in the hallway until he got back, I poked my head inside.

Loud female moans immediately struck my ears. My face flushed slightly. Had he left a porno playing or something? I'd probably have to get used to that kind of thing, if I was going to live with a dude. The moans grew louder—and sounded more real. Was there a real live woman here? Oh, shit, what if I had the wrong address? I crept further into the apartment … and finally saw my new stepbrother.

Naked as a jaybird. Fucking the daylights out of a blonde on the dining-room table.

I almost screamed and instead made a choked gasp. Nixon's head turned at the noise. Our eyes locked. I expected him to yell or freak out, maybe even laugh. But he just looked mildly surprised. Like I'd interrupted him while he was deep in a good book instead of a human being.

He pulled out and turned to face me. His partner sat up to see what the hell was going on. She looked like a Barbie doll, with large, fake breasts and a long bleach-blonde mane. Her heavily made-up eyes widened at the sight of me. But my eyes had zeroed in on Nixon's crotch—on his long, thick, throbbing erection, barely contained by the slick latex stretched tight around it.

“Hi, sis,” he said casually.

Just those two words.
What the hell?
My brain was exploding and my stomach was imploding and all he could say was
hi, sis
?
A strangled squeak escaped me, and I fled down the hall like a terrified rabbit. Somehow I managed to hold onto my suitcases instead of flinging them at his face.

By sheer dumb luck, I found the empty guest room and slammed the door behind me. My face was on fire. I had acted disgusted with him, and for the most part, I was. But on another level—something more primal, clawing up from the pit of my belly—everything I'd witnessed was burned into my mind.

I couldn't stop replaying the scene I'd stumbled into. How could something so huge even fit inside someone? The only guy I'd ever slept with hadn't been nearly Nixon's size. But that woman's moans had been so loud, and Nixon's cock had glistened with her wetness when he turned to face me. She must have felt good. Amazing, even. His taut ass had clenched hard with the sheer force of his thrusts.
With a cock like that, you'd think he'd barely have to move to make a woman come.
I shifted from foot to foot, trying to ease the tension gathering between my legs, and my jumpsuit's sleek polyester slithered over my skin. Why was I suddenly so aware of that sensation? And when did it get so hot in here? My bare arms had goose bumps from the air conditioning and yet I felt sweaty.

My ears perked up at the sound of hushed voices in the living room. Would they pick up where they left off? Nixon sure hadn't seemed to care about my presence, and it didn't look like they were finished. A very small, very shameful part of me wanted them to keep going so I could hear everything. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with me? That guy out there—with the most perfect body and the biggest cock I'd ever seen,
no, no shut up
—was part of my extended family. But I still couldn't stop myself from listening.

The voices went on for a minute, too quietly to pick out their words. Nixon's deep voice was definitely doing most of the talking. Persuading her to get back on the table? Apologizing for the embarrassing interruption? Then some muffled footsteps and the click of a closing door. Huh. His toy for the evening must have bailed.

I startled at a knock on my bedroom door. After I'd been straining to hear the distant sounds of their conversation, such a close noise sounded so loud and accusatory.
Shit! Of course he wants to talk to me when I'm sitting here ogling him in my mind.
I hurried to fix my ponytail, brush nonexistent dust off my olive Kate Spade jumpsuit, anything to put off letting him in. “Just a second!” I called.

The door flew open. Nixon didn't storm in, didn't yell or even scowl, but the anger rolling off him was impossible to mistake. I stepped back without even realizing it, the backs of my knees bumping against the bedframe. A thrill rushed through me—the
bed
, we were in my bedroom, I was in his apartment—and I couldn't tell if it was fear or arousal or just pure adrenaline. His masculine energy completely dominated the small room.

It suddenly struck me how
huge
he was. How tall and broad and muscular. Getting fucked by Nixon must be like an amusement park ride—a screaming, overwhelming, heart-pounding rollercoaster. He still smelled of pure sex, all the sweat and musk of the moments before I interrupted. His faded jeans rode low on his jutting hips, revealing the bottom edge of his eight-pack abs and the beginnings of a dark happy trail. His short-sleeved V-neck tee clung to his bulging pecs. Across the front was printed: “The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday.” I told myself I was just reading the quote instead of staring at his muscles. As much as I appreciated a well-dressed man, I couldn't help but miss the way he looked naked.

He folded his arms across his massive chest, his ice-blue eyes boring into me. It was absurd, but in that moment, each of his bared biceps looked as wide as my head. Could I sit in the crook of his arm like a porch swing? Could he hold me up by the waist while he fucked me against the wall? Then I realized that I was staring and he had said something to me and I needed to
stop thinking with my clit already
. I blinked at him like a moron. “Sorry, what?”

“This isn't going to fucking work,” he repeated.

Right. I'd been here for ten minutes, and we were already having roommate issues. I nodded, clearing my throat in an attempt to clear my mind. “Couldn't agree more,” I replied.

He looked slightly surprised for a second, as if he'd been expecting more of a fight. But his expression set hard again when I continued, “I don't want to see that shit when I come home. If I'm going to live here, you can't be bringing home strange women and screwing their brains out all over the apartment. It's gross.” Forcing myself to look him in the eye, I folded my arms and straightened my back to match his posture. He couldn't live like a caveman anymore. And if I had to lay down the law sooner or later, it might as well be now.