Baller: An Interracial MMA Stepbrother Romance (9 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hannibal

“Look it’s not my fault,” Hannibal tried to sound sleepy and non-plussed, but it didn’t quite work. “Don’t make a big deal about it. It always happens.”

As he lay there, he was even more painfully aware of his impromptu erection than Kristen presumably was.

Dammit, he swore silently. Didn’t his goddamn dick have any self-control?

But it wasn’t just his dick making the decisions. Kristen was lying in his arms, and the smell of her hair and the feel of her small body lying next to his was making Hannibal’s entire being respond in ways he didn’t want it to.

Eventually – reluctantly – he rolled back, peeling his weight off Kristen and lying on the bed with the front of his boxer shorts sticking up like a circus tent.

Kristen rolled over, and gasped. And then she giggled.

“I’m sorry,” her cheeks were burning. “I’ll get my coat and go. I can come and pick you up in the morning.”

“No, no,” Hannibal struggled to sit up. It was difficult to tell because of his chocolate brown skin, but his cheeks were burning too. “I’m really sorry, Krissie. I didn’t mean that too…”

He stared down at the tent in his boxers.

“…I mean, I couldn’t help it.”

He turned to her, and looked at his stepsister in the darkness of the little dorm room.

“I guess I can’t ignore the fact that you’re not goofy little Krissie any more. You’re a beautiful young woman.” Hannibal clambered up off the bed, and his bare feet hit the cold linoleum. “Shit, are we cool? You know this doesn’t mean anything, right?”

Kristen sat up too, and stood looking up at her brother as he loomed over her in the darkness.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’m flattered.” And then her cheeks burned again. “You know, back when I first moved to town, I used to get mad that you always treated me like a little sister.” She bit her lip self consciously, before confessing: “I always kind of had a crush on you.”

Hannibal looked down at her with his burning brown eyes.

“Y-you did?”

“Aww, hell yes,” Kristen admitted, cheeks burning even hotter. “You were always so
big
, and
strong
, and you made me feel safe.” She looked away suddenly. “I guess that’s one of the reasons I got so mad when you moved to Vegas. Back then, there were times I wondered… y’know…”

“Know what?”

She looked up.

“…whether or not we’d ever get together.”

She turned away again.

“I’m being fucking stupid, I’m sorry. I was just a little girl with a crush. I’ve grown up since then.”

“You weren’t a little girl,” Hannibal breathed. “You were eighteen. And going through a world of shit and ‘growing up’ are two different things.” The big man narrowed his eyes. “Shit, if giving up your feelings is part of growing up, why would anybody be stupid enough to do it?”

Kristen looked up again.

“I-I should go,” she stammered. She tried to climb up off the bed. “I’ve got all sorts of weird feelings going on and I’m not sure if I’m in the right mental place to deal with them.” She sniffed. “Dammit, it’s so weird having you back, Baller. It’s like everything I dreamed of, and torture, all at the same time.”

Hannibal snorted.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because we’re not the same people we were when you left.” She looked up at him. “I used to fucking worship you, Hannibal. I thought you were everything. And then you fucked off to Vegas and it hurt me and Jules
so fucking much
.”

She sniffed. “Through all the shit our parents put us through, you were always the closest thing this family had to an adult.”

Hannibal reeled back when he heard that.

He’d never considered that at all. But in some ways it was true.

His mom had gone on a full-on Angry Black Woman crusade. Her dad was banging the pretty white divorced woman. And Kristen’s mom was latching onto the nearest man who’d pay her attention like he was a life jacket.

The three ‘adults’ in their lives were fucked up, out of control and wrapped up in their own selfish urges.

And Jules and Kristen had both been too young to deal with it.

For the first time since coming back, Hannibal looked down at Kristen and breathed: “I’m sorry.”

And he meant it.

Kristen reached up, and slid her slender white fingers into his big, black hand.

“I love having you back here,” she breathed. “But I can’t stand looking into your eyes and not seeing the guy who left all those months ago.”

She closed her eyes, and Hannibal could only imagine she was thinking. Perhaps replaying memories of the news stories and tabloid headlines about him – the threesomes, the porn stars, and his recent fling with hip hop honey and caramel-colored sex goddess Toni Rome.

For the past year, he’d been playing a part; the ghetto-talking black MMA thug. And while some of it had been to legitimize his meteoric MMA career, he had to admit that a big aspect was simply the delicious simplicity of stepping into a ‘role’ and leaving who he
really
was behind.

Just like he’d left Kristen, and Jules, and his parents behind.

But now Kristen was looking up at him, and wondering if that ghetto-talking persona had become the
real
Hannibal Alexander.

With a sigh, Hannibal knelt down, until he was face to face with Kristen. He could see tears glistening on her cheeks in the moonlight.

He brushed them away.

“I’m sorry I left,” Hannibal breathed. And then he added: “And I’m sorry I let you down.” He looked deep into her glistening eyes. “It’s killing me knowing that when you look at me, you don’t feel about me the same way you used to.”

And that’s when Kristen sniffled.

“Actually, that’s the worst part,” she admitted. “I look into your eyes, and I
still do
.”

And that’s when Hannibal curled his big, calloused hand around the back of Kristen’s neck, and pulled her forward – to press his thick, soft lips against hers in a tender, needful kiss.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kristen

Kristen couldn’t believe it.

Three years of fantasies and daydreams suddenly came true, right then and there in that dark, dingy dorm room.

Hannibal was kissing her.

She moaned into her mouth, and eagerly kissed him back, opening her mouth to accept his questing tongue. Then her hands reached up, to circle his thick, muscular torso – marveling at the contrast of his soft skin and rock hard muscles.

“Oh, fuck,” pulling his mouth away, Hannibal gently pushed Kristen down onto the bed, and climbed on top of her. “I-I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Kristen silenced him with her mouth.

The tiny twin bed creaked under their weight, as Hannibal crushed his stepsister into the mattress and kissed her hotly.

Beneath him, Kristen curled her arms around his massive shoulders, and drank in his scent, as he moved his thick lips against hers.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, pulling her mouth away. “Oh, please… Take my top off.”

And he did.

Rearing up, Hannibal pulled Kristen’s t-shirt over her head, and threw it aside. Her sportsbra was next – leaving her round, pert breasts exposed; painted with pale triangles that contrasted against the caramel tan of her skin.

But that was nothing compared to the contrast of Hannibal’s big, dark hands as he tenderly squeezed her tits.

“Huuungh,” Kristen’s head flopped back, as her pussy throbbed at the sensation of Hannibal mauling her. Her next moan was directly into his mouth, as the huge fighter kissed her desperately once again.

It was her turn, now. Sliding her hands down his rippled torso, she finally reached Hannibal’s narrow hips and dug her thumbs into the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts.

She yanked them down – and felt a hot, meaty thwack as Hannibal’s now-exposed hard-on sprang out from its cotton confines and slapped her across the arms.

“Oh, shit,” she pulled her mouth away from his, and looked down between their bodies. Hannibal’s cock was rearing up from between his legs – as thick as her forearm, and throbbing intimidatingly.

She gasped, and simultaneously felt her panties flood with wetness.

“I-I’ve… I’ve never seen one that big before.” And, the truth be told, Kristen hadn’t exactly seen many penises at all. She’d had a boyfriend in her first year at college, and a drunken one night stand on spring break, but if you’d stacked both those cocks end-to-end they still wouldn’t have been quite as impressive as the massive black tool bobbing up and down in front of her right then.

If Hannibal was flattered, he didn’t indicate it. He just kicked off his boxer shorts, and then dug his fingers into the waistband of Kristen’s cotton shorts. A moment later he wrenched them – and her panties – half way down her tanned, thick thighs.

“Oh, God,” Kristen flopped back and stared at the ceiling, as she felt Hannibal pull off her clothes. A moment later she was naked – and the hard heat of Hannibal’s muscular body was sliding between her thighs.

They kissed again, and Hannibal squeezed her left breast with one of his massive hands. Kristen moaned wetly into her mouth, and felt her exposed pussy gush with wetness.

And then she felt it – hardness, veiled in soft skin, brushing insistently up and down her inner thighs.

“H-Hannibal…” Kristen pulled her mouth away, and cradled Hannibal’s flat face in her hands. Staring into his eyes, Kristen murmured: “D-do you have a condom?”

Hannibal’s eyes flashed. He shook his head.

“I had no idea this was going to happen tonight,” he admitted. “Especially not with you.” And as he said that, Kristen moaned, feeling the hard, insistent length of Hannibal’s big, black cock throb against her thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” she wrapped her arms around her stepbrother’s huge shoulders. “Just do it. Please, before I lose my mind.”

And Hannibal didn’t need to be told twice. Spreading her thighs, he pressed the tip of his swollen shaft between Kristen’s legs, and nuzzled the head between the glistening lips of her pussy.

With one firm thrust, he was inside her.

“Oh, God,” Kristen moaned, tightening her grip on his shoulders as Hannibal’s enormous cock stretched and filled her. “Oh, God, that feels
so fucking good
.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kristen

The tiny twin-sized bed creaked and rocked as Hannibal and Kristen writhed on it.

Kristen was crying out, as she felt herself split apart by inch after inexorable inch of Hannibal’s enormous cock.

And as he sunk inside her, the big man gazed down, keep into the eyes of his stepsister, as they widened in shock, and pleasure, and a delicious discomfort that made her pussy throb.

“Oh, God,” Kristen groaned, curling her arms around Hannibal’s shoulders. “W-why weren’t we doing this years ago?”

Hannibal stroked her cheek, and finally sunk inside her fully; so that his muscular hips were pressed hard against hers.

“I-I don’t know,” he groaned, and then he leaned forward and kissed her again.

And, as he did, Hannibal thrust. With slow, powerful movements of his hips, he pulled that thick cock of his out of Kristen’s tight, clenching depths and then thrust himself back in; eliciting a moan and a squirm from her that made his cock even harder than it already was.

The emotion of it – gazing into each other’s eyes – was like making love. But the raw lust of their writhing bodies, and the relentless, merciless way Hannibal thrust deep inside her… That was pure fucking.

“Oh, God,” Kristen moaned. The angle of Hannibal’s thrusts was grinding his hips against her clitoris. “Oh, God, I’m going to… going to…”

And then she came, loudly and wetly, shuddering beneath Hannibal as he continued to thrust inside her.

The moment Kristen’s pussy tightened, the big, dangerous MMA fighter knew that he couldn’t hold out much longer.

He grabbed a fistful of Kristen’s hair, and wrenched her head back so she was forced to look him in the eye. Then he smiled, and kissed her, and thrust himself so deeply inside her that Kristen cried out into his mouth.

His cock throbbed, and swelled, and for poor Kristen it felt like it almost doubled in size inside her.

And then he exploded deep inside her clenching depths.

“Oh, fuuuuuuck,” Kristen’s back arched, as she felt herself flooded. The gush of hot wetness triggered another orgasm of her own, and Kristen’s nails dug into the slab-like muscle of Hannibal’s shoulders, and she carved long welt into his back as she climaxed again.

And then, as his cock spurted once, twice and then a final time inside her, Hannibal came crashing down on top of his stepsister, panting and gasping.

Kristen lay crushed beneath him, her chest heaving. She stroked Hannibal’s shaved, sweaty skull and shuddered as she felt his rigid cock slowly growing softer inside her.

“I-I can’t believe we just did that,” she murmured.

But Hannibal was already snoring.