Pseudoincest Erotica: They Only Speak French in Heaven

Those who enjoy pseudoincest, below you’ll find an excerpt from Lady Luck’s They Only Speak French in Heaven, which is currently free on Barnes & Noble. Just be aware that this is stepbrother/stepsister erotica and it’s highly explicit. Enjoy!

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The last thing I’d expected was for Hugo to actually snarl.

We were walking down the corridor towards the hotel bar, and I was being sulky, like I always was with Hugo. “Nobody asks you to come,” I told him dryly. “Stay in France where you’re famous. I would.”

With that, he spun round so furiously that I jumped, pulling myself back against the wall. He moved in close, planting his hands on either side of me, and his body all but slammed against my own. Bringing his blazing blue eyes close to mine, he let out a noise I’d never heard from a human being. A snarl—a savage one that raised his lip at the edge, showing the whites of his teeth. The noise, not to mention the closeness of his body, which always smelled so good and looked so tan, made my treacherous pussy lunge with excitement.

My own stepbrother was arousing me, yet again. Why did our fights have to be so sexy?

“I know you hate me, Midge,” he said in his gorgeous French accent, “but you’re stuck with me. Comprends?

That perfect, dominating voice of his was dampening my previously flawless underwear. I found myself quivering as he pinned me there, his espresso-scented breath mingling with mine.

“I w-was being sarcastic,” I managed. “Don’t they have…sarcasm in France?”

He brightened then, flashing me a gorgeous come-to-bed smile, but in moments, he was blazing again. “Sarcasm makes me angry,” said Hugo, thudding his hand against the wall so hard that it made me jump. “And anger makes me….” He let his gaze travel down my body before meeting my own again. “Anger makes me a very bad man.”

Fuck, I wanted him to kiss me hard, biting my upper lip, thrusting his body against my own. The cores of his eyes were dark and consumed with such passion that I felt his stare searing right through me. God, I wanted him to posses me, to punish me.

He said, “You’re not used to bad men, are you, Midge? Don’t they have them in England?” He gave a dry laugh, and I felt his breath flutter against my cheek. “Mais non! Of course not! You English are too boring to be bad.”

“Fuck you, Hugo.”

He thrust his burning stare even closer to mine. “Faites attention, chatte. I might take that as an invitation.” He touched an index finger to the corner of my mouth and slowly ran the pad down my jawline, over my throat, and along my bare shoulder. Its journey was achingly slow, and made my skin thrum and flush. By the time he was easing my shoulder strap down my arm, I was gasping for breath, and my nipples had leapt to attention. How the hell could someone this obnoxious excite me so much? And why did the only person who could turn me on like this have to be my brother?

“I’m not one of your drooling fans!” I managed. “Unlike them, I’m not on the room service menu.”

“No, you’re a thing of the wild,” he said, his voice softening again. He buried his face in my hair now, inhaling its scent. “Maybe I’ll hunt you and eat you,” he breathed, “ma soeur delicieuse.”

Christ, this was a whole new ballgame. We’d never gotten sexy like this before. We’d only ever fought, and fighting was hot enough. So what the hell was going on? Deep down, I knew. Shit! My dreams of fucking Hugo were too dangerous to become reality.

My stepbrother gave me a long, hot stare before lowering his lips to my now naked shoulder and pressing them onto my skin. I gasped as my treacherous pulse beat hard, throbbing with ecstasy between my thighs. I was quivering with lust, dripping with arousal just to feel the light dusting of his lips on my skin. Dear God, my nipples had never been so hard. If Mum saw us like this, we’d be more than dead. But the thought only made it feel hotter.

His kiss lingered there as he grasped my opposite shoulder and ran his hand down my arm as if he was about to bind it to a bedpost, or maybe take a bite of it or drag me away for a spanking. He put his lips to my ear as my pussy convulsed, already close to climax. “Mon Dieu, Midge,” he said, “you taste like heaven. I want to lick you all over. Oui, oh oui.”

Being controlled like this was my fantasy. But being controlled like this by my famous French stepbrother was a dream I longed to bury. It got me off at least once each night—and, when he was staying here at the hotel, many times more. But the shame of it! And the fear of what it would bring out in me! I could never, ever, ever fuck Hugo. If I did, I’d be dependent on him, an addict.

With my wrist in his delicious grip, I felt his lips brushing against my earlobe. “Filthy little sister,” he breathed. “I should take you over my knee and paint this pale flesh with a hundred red marks.”

At this, I mewed. I mean, actually mewed. Like a prize-winning kitten that wants the cream.

At this point, I heard Mum nearby saying, “Wait…Hailey, have you seen Miriam? She’s meant to be on reception!” She was just round the corner—she’d catch us at any moment.

I made to push Hugo off me, but he only held me tighter, his rock-hard thigh pressed onto mine, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, there was an impossibly large, hardening bulge in his trousers, too. This sudden realization all but tipped me into orgasm, especially when he brushed the tips of his fingers along the very tops of my half-exposed breasts. Oh God, his touch felt so good. I wanted to let him take me. At my ear, he said, “This could be interesting. Either you tell me you want me to stop, or we get caught. Which is it?”

“Get off me,” I hissed. And, to my surprise, he did as I asked.

How I ached to have him back!

–Lady Luck

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