Dirty Wicked Lust: A Stepbrother Romance (6 page)

I’d never needed to fantasize about a guy to get off before. But then, I’d never met a guy like Ryan before! Now he was all I could see as I blinked the sweat out of my eyes and pictured him on top of me, thrusting away as I simulated the feel of his hot, fragrant flesh with both hands. I touched and squeezed myself, hard and fast, slow and soft, moaning silently as my heart pounded and the floorboards beneath me creaked with the violent motions of my late night masturbation.

There I lay, pleasuring myself with both hands as I bucked recklessly on the bare wood floor beneath me. Leaking, dripping, sweating and panting, the first orgasm swelled to a crest and washed over me with a radiant, volcanic, blossoming heat that made me freeze in place for fear of thrashing about violently and squealing out in lusty satisfaction.

Even as I froze with ecstasy, my mouth flew open, gasping for air. Fortunately, Ryan’s date for the night was coming as well, twice as loudly so that it drowned out my own gasps and moans as I continued to finger fuck myself shamelessly on my bedroom floor.

I lay there, squirming and sated, until my wrists grew sore, until my fingers dripped with sweet, tangy liquor, until my pussy throbbed and my ass grew sore from clenching and unclenching with wave after wave of unleashed desire.

At last the cries and grunts from the other room grew silent. Fearing discovery, I slid my sticky fingers away from my sated bud, wiping them clean on top of my soft, trembling belly as I lay like a deflowered prom date on my bedroom floor. It was rough and hard beneath my back, something I hadn’t noticed while I was squirming on top of it in the throes of passion. But now, the house silent in the wake of an all-night sex romp, I was worried that if I stood, the rough floor might creak and let Ryan know exactly what I’d been doing during his erotic “performance” only moments before.

Instead, I lay still and listened. Eventually, I heard the sounds of after sex through the thin wooden door at my back: a mattress creaking as bodies shifted, soft muttering and vague cooing before the first strains of drunken, post-coital snoring made me smirk. At last I stood, sticky and satisfied, leaving my T-shirt and panties twisted and damp on the floor where I’d tossed them before sliding, naked, into bed.

I knew sleep would come quickly and easily now, despite the wall shaking snores coming from Ryan’s room across the hall. If only I had a big, strong man–even stepbrother–to spoon with after my dozen or more orgasms, how much more quickly and safely it would come...

Chapter Seven

Ryan was in the pool when I came back from my run the next morning, sweatier than usual after running twice as long to burn off my jealousy, and frustration from the night before.

He was alone, thank God, no signs of the buxom blonde from the night – or early morning – before in evidence as he lingered in the shallow end, a can of Buzz iced coffee within reach as he ran his long, bronze fingers along his beard.

I sank onto the grass bordering the wide, pool deck to stretch, fuming at his flawless beauty and stamina after an all-night fuck fest. “Look at the early worm,” I muttered, glowering at his rippling muscles, wet and dripping in the dawn’s early light as he reached for, then guzzled, his can of iced coffee-slash-energy drink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbled, scratching at a day or two of sexy stubble covering his face.

I rolled my eyes. “After last night’s… acrobatics,” I teased, “I figured you’d be sleeping in this morning.”

He seemed to sense my jealousy, or at least irritability, and pounced on it like the true predator he was. “Some of us jog for exercise,” he chuckled, “some of us fuck all night.”

I rolled my eyes, silently fuming that he had the upper hand and even angrier that I’d been the one to give it to him. “Fucking?” I murmured, stretching more violently than usual as the grass glistened beneath my sweaty legs. “Is that what you call it? Sounded like two pigs killing each other to me.”

He arched one eyebrow, putting his can of coffee down to drift gently toward the side of the pool nearest me. I watched his muscles ripple with every step. That sexy crooked smile charming me even as I wanted to ring his sexy leather neck!

“Oh did it now?” he said playfully, splashing me gently with water as I arched my back to avoid it. “Sounds like someone was listening a little too closely to what her stepbrother was doing after hours.”

“Kind of hard not to when your dad buys such thin doors!” I huffed, standing abruptly, half to avoid his next splash of water and partly to flee the scene before I could say anything too incriminating about what I’d heard—and just how long I’d listened!

He chuckled, perhaps amused by my frustration—or his father’s famous cheapness. “That’s Dad all over,” he mused, eyes soft and far away as he trailed his hands through the surface of the clear, blue water. “Spends close to two million on building the house of his dreams then saves himself a few measly grand by putting in cheap doors.”

I rolled my eyes, admiring Ryan’s calm, stoic beauty even as he missed the point entirely. Even now I could hear the smack and squish of last night’s sexy times, the brazen blonde grunting and moaning as Ryan pumped and thrust away like a dog in heat on top of her.

I grew flush at the thought, glancing into Ryan’s eyes just as he peered back at mine. “Sorry about that,” he said, softer now, more earnestly. “I picked her up at the bar and was going to take her home to her place, but her roommate was there, so…”

“Lucky me,” I huffed, crossing my arms defensively as I stood gazing down at him. “So I got to be woken up at three in the morning by you banging some barfly?”

His face changed slowly, from surprise to shock to, ultimately, defensiveness. “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“What good did that do me when I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night?”

He started to say something, something smart-alecky, macho, and entirely appropriate, I was sure of it, then suddenly stopped himself. “Why?” he asked instead, inching closer to the edge of the pool as I lingered on the deck, still moments from sprinting away – but too curious and entranced not to stay a little longer. “Were you too
excited
to go back to sleep?”

I could see the leer in his eyes, hear the triumph in his voice and did everything but stomp my feet and shake my fist before groaning and growling, “Don’t flatter yourself, Ryan. Anyone can have drunken, sloppy, random, anonymous sex if they’re really
that
desperate for it.”

He shrugged, bare torso flawless in the early morning sun. His chest was hairless, nipples taut and hard against his soft, brown skin, a smattering of random tattoos gracing his taut skin. “I dunno, Heather. Your bedroom’s been pretty… quiet… lately.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me,
brother
,” I hissed, winking as I slunk away, inspired by his dare and eager to wake him up in the middle of the night with random, stupid, crazy, loud, vagina-exploding sexcapades of my own!

Now, if only I could find a willing participant to help me…

Chapter Eight

The bar was loud and so was Randy.

Or was it Rex?

“I love this song,” he was saying, swaying sexily next to the glowing neon jukebox in a smoky, rowdy dive bar called
The Deja Brew
.

Or Deja Hoo—who?

I had no idea—nor did I care. I’d landed there hours ago, when it was still light out, because of the winking neon “It’s Always Ladies Night” sign in the window and the ratio of four motorcycles to each small import car in the parking lot.

The bar had been crowded then but now, hours later –I felt like I’d been here forever – it was pretty much just me and Randy-slash-Rex. And the jukebox, of course.

He was pretty in a fuzzy kind of way—thin and boyish in faded skinny jeans and an old Ramones concert T-shirt under a battered leather jacket with zippers in all sorts of odd places. His face was scruffy and his hair was long and his eyes were a bit too close together, but there was something velvety and smooth and fuckable about the way his hips moved in time with the song.

“Don’t you?” he asked, his face flushed from dancing and lips moist from licking as he stumbled back to our cozy corner booth, reaching for his fifth or sixth– Jack and Coke of the evening. He had long, thin fingers, like the rest of him, the kind that could turn me to jelly if used the right way.

I blinked back at his face, a little blurry from my own plethora of cocktails throughout the long, drunken night. “Don’t I what?” I asked, licking my own lips and tasting a combination of creamy minty lip gloss and the tangy tartness of my fourth margarita.

I’d been drinking one – my second, I think – when Randy-Rex approached, looking confident if boyish as he offered to buy me my third. Or was it fourth? I’d played hard to get and denied him, ordering one on my own. He’d lurked around adorably until I’d finished it and then asked me once more.

I’d let him buy me one, and after sitting together at the bar for a while, we took our drink and adjourned to a cozy back booth, where we’d stayed glued to each other ever since.

Now his handsome, if blurry, face flashed a look of frustration, maybe even impatience, at my slurred response. What did he expect? I’d never been a big drinker and frankly, I was more interested in how he looked than what he said, let alone what he listened to. I would have taken him home hours ago if I’d thought Ryan would be there to hear us screwing, but I wanted to make sure it was late – real late – and he was home in bed before I made my move and invited Randy-Rex home with me.

“Don’t you love this song?” he enthused, snapping his fingers – or trying to, at least. After three tries he gave up, looking confused and a little lost. Randy-Rex was a little worse for the wear himself, making me think I better get him home quick if we were going to make mad, passionate love with my bedroom door half-open—or maybe just a little more—to make sure Ryan heard every groan, moan, sigh, suck and fuck as I proved to him that I could be as drunk, desperate and horny as any former fucking Marine.

I’d heard of sibling rivalry, of course, and this was certainly taking it to extremes. I mean, who could fuck the loudest? Come on, Heather! But there was something else at stake here – my pride. Ryan had made it clear that he fancied me – at least, in a bikini. And in the same vulnerable moment, I’d made it clear I fancied him fancying me. Then that very same night, there he was, banging some bottle blonde in the next room!

Was he toying with me?
I couldn’t help wonder as Randy-Rex struggled for a fourth time to snap those long, thin, sensual fingers.
Trying to get my goat? Make me jealous?
If so, what was good for the goose was good for the gander, and the only way to make my sordid fantasies a reality was to turn the tables on Ryan and let him know how it feels to hear someone you care about fuck someone else.

“So,” my future one-night stand pressed, waving his hands dramatically. “The song?”

I shrugged, making Randy-Rex’s nostrils flare all the more as I reeled him in with a long, deep, breathy sigh. “It’s fine, I guess,” I purred, leaning in closer to make sure he saw the swell of my breasts, pressing provocatively against the fabric of my most daring little black dress – no bra to restrict them as I went full “commando” for this mission. I waited until he took the bait, licking his lips instinctively as he eyed my small but perky tits with reckless abandon – or was he just struggling to focus? Either way, he was staring, and I let him; encouraged him even, sliding my arms tighter across my sides to increase the swell of bosom pressing provocatively against my skin tight dress.

When he was good and ripe and ready I murmured, “I have a lot of great music on my playlist… back… home.”

“Yeah?” he asked, finally glancing up from my rack to peer blurrily into my own out of focus eyes. “Home?” he pressed, licking his lips sloppily so that I could imagine them, thick and wet with my pussy liquor. “You mean, where you live?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, making sure to glance my lips, rosy and warm, against the bud of his ear as I murmured, “Where I live. In fact, I’ve got a great playlist I fuck to. All. Night. Long.”

He blinked, eyes widening in response to my provocative statement. As if he hadn’t heard it, or was perhaps waiting for the punch line, he remained silent; a first.

“So,” I pressed, inching my hand on top of his and feeling it flinch, then clench, with desire – and more. “You wanna hear it while we, you know… fuck all night long?”

“Why wait?” he said, going me one better as he stood, abruptly, knocking over his drink and tossing a wad of crumpled, greasy bills on the table to cover our ginormous tab.

“Well, we have to, sugar,” I murmured, sliding my arm through his as we wound through the deserted bar, stools already up on the bar, chairs already up on the handful of tables that surrounded the empty dance floor. “I don’t live far, but… it’ll take a few minutes to get there.”

“Fuck that,” he growled, voice bordering on a snarl as his long, wiry body tensed next to mine. “I’ve got a great one all queued up in my car.”

I wrinkled my nose, following him out of the deserted bar and into the warm, sultry night as the door shut with finality behind us. “Your
car
?” I snorted, finding myself unsteady on my feet as we stood – or tried to, anyway – just outside the cheesy dive nightclub. “No, baby,” I cooed, clinging to his arm more to steady myself than show affection. “Let’s do it right. My folks are away and I’ve got the whole place to myself and don’t forget that playlist—”

“You’re so hot and juicy, baby,” he grumbled, grabbing me there on the curb in front of the club and pawing me relentlessly. It was at that moment I realized how little my little black dress left to the imagination, or in the way of obstacle for an over-eager suitor like the one currently squeezing my tits and grabbing my ass. “You think I can wait to get you home before I tap that ass, sugar?”

Somehow I managed to push him away, breathing heavily from the effort. “I want you, too,” I gushed, swiping a stray lock of blonde hair back behind one ear. “But if you think I’m fucking you in the parking lot of some dive bar, you’ve got another thing—”