Hooked: A Stepbrother Romance (19 page)

There was no one to blame but myself. Thirteen years ago, I’d been so full of self-hate that I had sabotaged anything that could’ve made me happy. I’d had feelings for her, even then, and so I’d pushed her in a way that could never fully heal.

And so, like any dream, tonight needed to be a distant memory by morning.

I just hoped that I hadn’t hurt her even more by allowing this to happen.

I stood up slowly, making my way to the kitchen to retrieve my discarded clothes. The sight of Emilia’s shorts, still lying on the floor, filled me with intense arousal. As bittersweet as it felt now, burying myself inside her had been the best moment of my life.

It was going to
stay
the best moment of my life, too. No question.

Nothing could ever top that.

“Simon?” her voice called from the distant bedroom, groggy and still half-asleep. It hit me like a ton of bricks that just a couple of hours ago, she had been mine. The woman I’d wanted for as long as I could remember. I’d had it all; her radiant smile, her lithe body, her sensual voice. Now that I had a taste, I knew that nothing else would ever compare.

Just like I knew that I needed to stay away.

I walked back to the bedroom softly, my heart aching with every step. As I entered, she flicked on her bedside lamp and squinted at me. Her eyes were watering in the sudden light. She rubbed her face with her wrist, looking unbelievably adorable, and my stomach roiled with longing.

“Where are you going?” she asked, staring at the pants in my hands.

“Back home.”

“You mean the hotel?” The confusion and hint of fear in her voice made me feel sick.

“I should go,” I explained, walking towards her automatically even as I meant to leave.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not sure this was a good idea,” I whispered, now standing next to the bed.

The hurt on her face made me regret the words as soon as they came out. She paused for a while, her face buried in her bent knees as she sat up halfway, her small body propped against the fluffy pillows in her bed.

“What part was a bad idea?” she asked finally. Before I could respond, she continued.

“Really? What part, specifically? How hard your cock was? How I came harder than ever before? How we're irrationally attracted to each other? Because I still feel that attraction, Simon. It’s not going away. After this, it’s going to get much stronger,” she said, placing her palm on my leg. I could feel her fingers trying to curl around my thigh, her small hand not quite managing to wrap around even half of it.

“None of that,” I answered softly. “And you didn’t do anything wrong, either. I did. Years ago. And I don’t think you’ll ever be able to forgive me. You deserve to be happier than I can make you.”

Emilia’s fingernails dug into me a little during the long silence that followed, but whether it was in anger or just because she didn’t want to let me go, I couldn’t say. After what felt like an eternity in purgatory, she finally looked up and pulled away.

“Put the pants down,” she said.

I looked down at her, the yellow lamp light reflecting off her gorgeous green eyes. She looked different somehow, peaceful and determined.

“
I want
you to put them down, and get back into bed. You won’t be doing me any kind of favor by leaving tonight. Understand?”

Relief and elation flooded over me as I realized that I didn’t have to leave, the urge to laugh almost overwhelming. I didn’t have to suffer to protect her. I had been so worried she would see this as a mistake, but she hadn’t. Her words had highlighted how ridiculous I was being, and for that I was eternally grateful.

I didn’t waste any time before hopping back into bed, reveling in the feeling of her warm body against mine. She stretched her arms around me, and I grabbed her like she was a lifeline.
 

I crushed my mouth onto her inviting lips, teasing her tongue with mine. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze dreamy and unfocused.

I wanted her, all of her.

Raining kisses down across her chest, I ran my hand under the curve of her perky breasts. I cupped them in my palms, feeling their delicious weight while I caressed her nipples with my thumbs. I could feel them hardening beneath my touch as she moaned softly in my ear, and my own body responded in kind.

Slowly, I let go of her breasts and made my way down her belly, reveling in the spicy scent of her body as I reached the soft patch of light brown curls just below her hips. She shivered under my mouth, and a soft cry coming from her lips as I reached between her legs and placed my hand over her most intimate part.

She was wonderfully soft, wet and receptive. My cock ached with lust as I ran my mouth down lower still, pulling my hand away and placing my tongue against the warm bundle of nerves between her legs. The room spun around me as I tasted her for the first time, a natural rush that was only heightened by the pressure of her hands digging into my shoulders.

I wanted all of her, and this was a good start.

“Simon, please…” she gasped, her moans sending a jolt of excitement from my belly to my cock. She lifted herself up, grinding her mound into my face. Taking her hips with my hands, I pushed her gently back to the bed, holding her in place and completely at my mercy.

“Please,” she whined in frustration, the dampness between her legs growing with each passing second. “Please.”

I brushed her clit between my lips, licking and teasing, dragging the experience out until she was raving incomprehensibly. Her thighs and my chin grew slick as she thrashed in pleasure, coming undone in my arms as I focused on her pleasure.

When neither of us could take it any longer, I grabbed another condom from my discarded pants, slipping it on and pushing inside of her with one amazing thrust. Her passage yielded without resistance, accepting me as if it were made for my cock alone.

Immediately, she cried out beneath me, grabbing my shoulders and frantically urging me to go harder, deeper, faster.

“Fuck,” I gasped, turned on beyond comprehension. My body clicked into autopilot, pushing in and sliding out. I’d always considered myself an experienced lover, but right at that moment, with Emilia, it felt like my first time all over again. She felt so incredibly good, so satisfying, that I couldn’t hold on for long. Already my body was tightening, my breath coming in short gasps.

I buried my face in her neck, and it took me a second to realize that the deep, guttural growl reverberating through the bedroom was coming from my own throat. Emilia was clenching all around my cock, taking me to the very edge as she came beneath me.

She arched her back in full oblivion, her cries joining mine. The look of ecstasy on her face, the blissful sounds from her throat, the massaging spasms around my cock, it was too much for me to withstand. I spilled myself inside of her, my whole world turning upside down and imploding in a wave of relief and tension.

I stayed inside of her for as long as I could, our hearts beating against each other’s chests in glorious unison. I could feel her soft folds all around me as I reached down, withdrawing just enough to remove the condom.

She groaned in disapproval as I moved, but not for long. Taking her into my arms, I rolled her on top of me, her hair tickling my face as I basked in the sensation of her chest pressing into mine.

She purred contentedly as I kissed her, sleepiness creeping back into her gorgeous green eyes. I moved her one last time, so we were each lying on our side facing the other, before I began to run my fingers along her back.

“We could do that a million times, and you would still be the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning,” I whispered into her ear, feeling both satiated and starved.

I could feel her heartbeat returning to normal, though I wasn’t sure if mine ever would. Her soft smile as she drifted back to sleep was all the reassurance I needed, though.

Whatever came next, this was worth every moment.

Another win, another night of meaningless sex with a stranger.

Each one of them is different, but yet they’re all the same.

Not her.

When I woke up in Simon’s hotel room last week, it had been the best night of sleep I’d had in years.

When I woke up in his arms this morning, naked and just a little sore from where he’d filled me, it was the best night I’d had in my life.

His strong hands lavishing attention on my breasts, feeling his penis growing impossibly large beneath my touch—it had all been an eye opener about what sexual satisfaction really meant.

The long, warm shower that followed in the morning had turned into the most playful foreplay I’d ever experienced, leading to another round in bed with him, leading then to another shower to rinse the sweat we’d worked up.

Today was the fourth of July, but I knew the fireworks in the sky tonight wouldn’t hold a candle to the fireworks we’d had in bed last night.

The fireworks we’d hopefully have again.

Even so, none of it could compare to the feeling of
elation
that I’d felt when we walked into Johnnie’s together. Securing the most remote booth we could find, I plunged my eyes into his and reveled in Simon’s presence. The smug smile on his face that, for once, I was sharing.

He was by far the most striking man I’d ever met. He was by far the most striking man I’d ever met. His jet-black, full mane of shiny hair was a stark contrast to his striking blue eyes. His body was so ripped that it made women stop and stare when he passed them on the street.

Of course, it wasn’t his physical appearance that was making my heart race this morning. As he sat across from me, radiating contentment whenever he looked my way, he seemed like a completely changed man. No longer the teenage asshole who’d set out to destroy my reputation and life, he now possessed a confidence and emotional maturity that many people never achieved.

From hard, bitter soil, Simon had grown a beautiful soul.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as I studied the way his eyes crinkled from grinning so wide.

“You,” I said.

“What about me?”

“You’ve changed,” I observed, making the understatement of the decade.

“I had to,” he shrugged.

“No, you didn’t. You could’ve stayed the same old bastard and made a fortune, enough to buy yourself an army of sycophants who would’ve thanked you for spitting in their oatmeal,” I teased, reveling in how much of a difference a single night could make. Suddenly, our past no longer felt taboo. We could talk about it, we could
laugh
about it.

“Trust me, I
did
have to. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Besides, I made the fortune anyway,” he chuckled, grabbing my hand and stroking my wrist with his calloused fingers.

His eyes lit up even more as Johnnie walked over to our booth. I scrambled to untangle my hands before he reached our table, knowing that the eagle-eyed restaurateur wouldn’t miss a beat of the interaction between Simon and I.

“Happy Fourth! What can I do for you two this morning?” Johnnie called, smiling like the cat who’d got the cream as he looked us over and began taking our orders. He was humming a song to himself by the time he returned with our coffee, explaining that his French mother had always sung it to him when he was a kid.

“A
love
song,” he said with a wink before darting off to make our food. Simon and I stifled a laugh, half mortified and half thrilled that we’d been caught so quickly.

“We’ll have to be more careful at the center. We’d lose too much credibility if word got around,” I said between giggles, absent-mindedly playing with the napkin holder as I spoke.

“What, ashamed of me already?” Simon asked, making my heart jump.

“It’s not that,” I insisted quickly, my eyes darting back to his face only to find that he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Relax, it was a joke,” he said with a laugh. “Yes, we need to be more careful.”

Johnnie came back with a tray full of delicious treats, much faster than we’d hoped or expected. Simon had sausage and egg, while I got one of the diner’s locally famous summer zucchini soups.

Both dishes were adorned with little flags, and Johnnie seemed to be in quite the patriotic spirit as he went on and on about wishing us a happy
quatre juillet
in an accent that even I could tell was awful. Johnnie had always been quite proud of his heritage, despite being the prototypical American diner owner.