The Tangled Web of Desire

Chapter2

George:

Here she was, standing before me in a gauzy little number that could barely be considered sleeping attire. Those tantalizing curves bathed in the dimness, long tanned legs seeming to go on for eternity. I felt my c**k stir treacherously beneath the thin cotton of my pajamas.

Dammit George, get a grip! This is your bloody employee for Christ's sake.

"Bad day at the office?"

My words slurred together in a bourbon-laced jumble. "You could say that. Another reminder that I'm little more than a tier-one f**k up who's pissing away my family legacy with both hands."

A regretful chuckle rumbled up from my chest as I nursed the tumbler of Macallan. Probably shouldn't be airing all my dirty laundry with the hired help. But something about Martha's open, earnest features made the words spill out unchecked.

"The sad truth is, no matter how much money gets thrown at these deals, I seem to have an uncanny knack for utterly ballsing them up in spectacular fashion."

Those warm honey eyes searched mine with an understanding I didn't deserve. "We all have our setbacks, Mr. Smith. The important thing is how you bounce back."

"Is that so?" I arched a challenging brow at her simple platitude as the scotch sloshed dangerously. "And I suppose an uncaring piece of wisdom like that is enough to assuage my founderships?"

Martha bristled at my acidic tone, those lush lips pressing into a flat line. She opened her mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of it with a curt shake of her head.

"You know what, never mind. Clearly you're in no state for an actual conversation."

As she made to turn away, my hand acted on its own accord - reaching out to encircle that slender wrist in a vice-like grip. My eyes raked over the gentle swell of her cleavage shamelessly.

"Don't go just yet, pet. The night is still young, isn't it?" I gave her arm a firm tug, pulling Martha's lithe body flush against the hardened length tenting my bottoms. "Why don't you sit and keep me company for a spell? Could use a pretty little thing to take my mind off business..."

Onna:

As scandalous as Martha's renowned smut-writing skills may be, my jaw still hangs open at the sheer molten heat searing off those notebook pages. She wasn't kidding about that "juicy round of dictation"!

"Holy hell, sis! This is...wow, this is just...torridly delicious." I fan myself dramatically with the composition book after skimming her latest raunchy inner-monologue about George. "You might wanna install a fire extinguisher next to that thirsty beaver of yours!"

Martha flushes ruby yet again, snatching back the notebook with an adorable grimace. "You're disgusting, you depraved little gremlin! Can't I frolic in my modest e*****a kink zone without being judged?"

"Erotic-a?" I snort, relishing her precious discomfort. "More like straight up filthy p**n at this rate! I mean...holy motherforking shirtballs, Marty." I blow an exaggerated whistle, fanning myself once more. "If even half of that super-elite wangus-dangus is accurate, then George must be just an absolute stüd in the sac!"

"Stop it!" She swats me with the notebook, burying her smoldering face in her palms. "You know I embellish certain...aspects for creative flair! Writing about the intimacies is just...it's therapeutic for me, okay?"

I cackle delightedly at her mortification, ruffling those perfectly tousled chestnut locks. "You wild little minx, you! Don't even try denying that you're jonesing for a taste of that throbbing billion-heir salami."

Martha groans miserably into her hands. "Why must you persist in intellectually dismantling me with your vulgar yap?"

"Simply looking out for my beloved sister's best interests," I declare with a cheeky wink. "After all, with a patented snapper-craver like yourself, it's only a matter of time before you give in to those deliciously sinful urges!"

Martha:

Onna was being her usual, insufferable self - needling me about my racy writing with those playfully crass quips. Part of me wants to smother the impish little brat with a pillow, yet I can't deny the warm affection blossoming in my chest.

God, how I've missed these silly, unfiltered moments with my partner-in-chaos.

"Well as tantalizing as having my deepest fantasies dissected may be," I huff, tossing the notebook aside with faux annoyance, "I've already got quite enough on my plate these days without adding rampant lechery to the mix."

Onna cackles again, those kaleidoscope eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, but where's the fun in that? You can't expect to just white-knuckle your way through life without a tiny bit of debauchery here and there!"

"Believe me, between juggling three jobs and dealing with...well, everything at the manor, I get plenty of chaos."

Those perfectly arched brows shoot up. "Manor? Don't tell me little Miss Pious has been shacking up with some forbidden Hunky McDreamboat behind my back?"

I bite my lip, unable to conceal my grin as the memories come flooding back. That first day sizing up the foreboding estate, the aroma of old money and dark secrets thick in the air. And George - stoic yet disarmingly handsome with an aura of barely concealed anguish....

"Perhaps. Let's just say my new 'employment opportunity' certainly comes with its own...unique set of challenges."

Onna waggles her brows lecherously. "I'll bet it does! So tell me, oh pure and virginal one - just how big of a challenge are we talking? Like, Moby d**k sized or just a szczupak minnow desperate to get wet?"

"You're despicable!" I swat her again, reveling in the way her raucous laughter fills the cramped bedroom. Even under the crassest of circumstances, she always has a way of bringing light to the darkest corners of my life.

After our giggles subside, Onna fixes me with an unexpectedly earnest look. "For real though, sis...if you've somehow landed yourself a legit sugah' daddy, you'd best be using extreme caution. I know better than anyone what kind of vultures are out there, just waiting to take advantage."

My chest tightens at the guarded edge to her voice. Even after all this time, there are still wounds that cut deep for my beloved Onna. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You've got nothing to worry about, sis. George might be...complicated, but he's not that kind of guy. Besides, you know me - whiter than crisp linen sheets when it comes to that stuff."

Onna snorts, leaning over to brush a few stray hairs from my face with a tenderness that squeezes my heart. "Oh Marty...if only you could see yourself through my eyes. That seemingly prim and proper persona of yours is merely camouflage for the gorgeous, pent up vixen lurking underneath!"

She curls her fingers around the back of my neck, pulling me close until our foreheads are touching. The scent of her cherry blossom perfume is utterly intoxicating.

"Don't be afraid to embrace those messy, visceral urges every once in a while, sis. You'd be amazed at how freeing it can feel to let the good girl go just a little..." Her warm breath caresses my parted lips with those last few words, awakening an ache I've spent a lifetime suppressing.

My tongue darts out subconsciously to wet my suddenly dry mouth. Onna's kaleidoscope eyes flit down to track the movement, pupils dilating ever so slightly before we break apart with a nervous giggle.

"Enough with your wiles, temptress! Now get going so I can focus." I give her shoulder a playful shove, buying time for my wildly thrumming heart to settle.

Onna flashes that signature rougish grin, rising with a graceful stretch that accentuates her trim figure. "Sure thing, sis. Just remember - a life without spice is about as thrilling as a saltine cracker! I simply wish for you to stop depriving yourself of life's full flavors..."

George:

Martha froze in my grip, those honey eyes going wide with a mixture of shock and something darker, more primal flickering beneath the surface. Slowly, her gaze drifted down to take in the obscene tenting at the front of my pajamas.

"M-Mr. Smith..." Her words came out in a strangled whisper, pupils blown wide. "I really don't think this is appropriate."

"Hush now." I gave her arm a firm tug, pulling that lithe body flush against the rigid line of my arousal. Martha sucked in a sharp breath as I leaned in close, allowing my liquor-laced exhales to ghost over the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Don't think, pet. Just feel..."

My free hand traced a molten path down the dip of her spine, cupping the plush swell of her arse possessively. Martha shivered against me, lips parting on a trembling sigh as my fingertips kneaded firmly.

"Tell me you don't crave this as badly as I do," I rasped, lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. The longing in those innocent eyes of yours..."

Another full-body shudder rippled through her as I ground my trapped length against the warmth of her core in a deliciously filthy taunt. Martha's lashes fluttered, head falling back to expose that graceful column of throat.

"Oh god..." she breathed, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.

"That's it, gorgeous. Letgo..."

My mouth found the thundering pulse point just beneath her jaw, lips and teeth working in a heated feast. Martha's breath caught, transforming into a breathy moan that lanced straight to my groin. This was madness, I knew - toying with the hired help in such a base manner. But something primal had awoken within me, and I was powerless to resist its intoxicating riptide.

"Mr. Smith, please...we...we shouldn't..." She was melting against me despite the featherlight protest, those lush curves beckoning sweetly.

With a low rumbling growl, I captured her pliant mouth in a searing kiss…

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