Off Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance (25 page)

As big as he was to
start with, he grew bigger, longer, thicker. I had no idea how I’d
take him into my virgin pussy. His length and girth almost made me
gag, my eyes watering with the effort, but I wanted this, I wanted
more. I began working up and down on his cock in a rhythm, wet,
sucking. He grunted and began thrusting into my mouth. I could feel
the raw, animal lust grow in him, the need.

He brought his hand to
the back of my head and pushed me down on his shaft, but not
forceful, just testing. I moaned in response. I liked it. I wanted
him to use me, teach me how he liked it, show me how to do it right
for him.

“You suck so good,”
he groaned, guiding my head down. “Just like that, baby.”

I sucked and moaned,
taking him in deep, my sex throbbing and slick as I worked. He grew
even more excited and started pushing me, forcing my head down,
working me in a rhythm to suck his dick. I loved it. I moaned,
kneeling before him as he started to fuck my face in a harder, faster
rhythm. My panties grew soaked, my juices practically dripping down
my inner thighs. I wanted to be his little slut. I wanted him to make
me suck his huge cock, make me swallow all of his hot come.

His balls tensed. I
cupped them in my palm, stroking them as I sucked. His breathing grew
more labored, the muscles in his thighs rigid.

“Yes, suck it,” he
groaned as he forced my head down, making me take all nine inches of
him deep down my throat. I nearly gagged but I did it. I wanted all
of it.

“I’m going to
come,” he growled. I moaned, I wanted every drop. I sucked and
swirled my tongue, focusing on taking in all of his hardness. His
come rocketed out, hot and salty and perfect, deep into the back of
my throat. He made a deep, guttural sound as he exploded, overcome
with lust and pleasure and satisfaction. I nearly came, too, at the
sound of him, my pussy wet and quivering in response. I drank all of
him down, every last drop as he groaned and swore and pumped
everything down my throat.

“Fuck!” he called
out, breathing heavy, his hand pulling at his hair. “That was…holy
shit.”

Proud, licking my lips,
I smiled up at him. He dropped his head back onto the back of the
couch, spent. I’d done that. It felt so good. Reaching down, he
pulled me up and onto his lap.

“What have you done
to me?” He buried his face into the crook of my neck, nuzzling me,
scenting me. “That was…baby, that was crazy.”

I couldn’t resist
asking, shyly, “Did it feel good? I’ve never done that before.”

He groaned. “Any
better and I think my head would have exploded.” I giggled, pleased
with myself. He pulled me to him, close, rubbing my back, my legs,
running a hand up my thigh to my soaked lace panties. Drawing a
finger across my slick folds, he groaned again. “Jewel,” he
panted. “You’re wet.”

“Yes,” I sighed
into his lap, pressing my petals into his thick finger.

He licked my throat, up
to my ear, then asked in a husky whisper, “Did sucking me off make
you wet?”

“Yes,” I sighed
again, moaning slightly as he pushed my panties aside and stroked my
drenched sex.

“That’s very
naughty, Jewel.” His voice low and dark, he pet me as he spoke.
“What am I going to do about that?”

Wrapping my hands
around his neck, I kissed the hollow of his throat, pressed my
breasts to his chest, wanting him to do absolutely anything he
wanted.

“You make me want to
be naughty, Tuck,” I whispered. My nipples strained tight against
my shirt, aching for his touch.

“Is that right?” he
asked, bringing his large hands to my breasts, kneading them,
squeezing them, pinching my nipples so hard I cried out.

From the front
entryway, my mother’s voice called, “Hello! We’re back!”

“Fuck!” Tuck swore,
pulling his shorts back up and into place. I barely knew what was
happening as he leapt to his feet, took my hand and pulled me out of
the room.

“Tuck, are you home?”
Leland’s booming voice echoed through the hallway.

Oh shit. I felt like
vomiting. Our parents were home. How had that even happened? They
hadn’t seen us, had they?

“They might not be
home,” I heard my mother say from the living room. They were
probably standing right over at the couch where I’d just been going
down on my stepbrother.

“Tuck, are you here?”
Leland’s voice sounded over by the stairwell. We were just at the
top, around the corner in the hallway.

“I’ll go downstairs
and keep him there,” Tuck whispered to me. “You go to your
bedroom.”

I did a fast tiptoe
into my room and shut the door. After I locked it, I started crying
pretty fast. What had just happened?

Hot shame engulfed me.
What was I doing? I felt like I’d woken up from sleepwalking and
found myself in my underwear at my high school. Only this was worse.
I couldn’t undo this. No alarm would go off and wake me up, leaving
me shaken but grateful for reality.

This was my reality.
I’d just gone down on my stepbrother, a hot, crazy, wild mess
nearly creaming in my panties, getting off on serving his needs. And
our parents had come home right after he’d come deep down my
throat. They’d almost caught us. Words couldn’t even begin to
describe this shitstorm.

Tuck

So fucking close.
That’s where I was right now, with Jewel, with going pro. Tension
roiled through me morning, noon and night. Almost. Not quite.

I’d dominated that
fight. No one seemed to argue with that. A couple of reps from the
smaller clubs approached me afterwards, followed up in the subsequent
days, courting me. A few agents were sniffing around. They’d like
to have me go pro with them. They’d help me grow as a fighter, hook
me up with the best competitors, get me the best venues.

The thing was, the
better you performed as an amateur fighter, the more you demonstrated
your skills, the better you’d be set up when you went pro. I could
do it now, step out and try to be the big fish in a small pond. But
that wasn’t me. I wanted the big pond, the UFC. The premier league
ran the best fights. I wanted the best manager, the top sponsors, the
most experienced badass trainer I could pull. One more win like I’d
shown I could do last weekend and I’d get it, the brass ring. I
knew I could, I just had to keep at it, keep battering down the doors
like a fucking ram.

With all the pent-up
frustration hurtling through my veins, that was no problem. I
couldn’t believe our parents had shown up Saturday night. I guessed
I should be glad they hadn’t come home ten minutes sooner. I didn’t
feel glad about it. Just a few weeks more and I’d be able to go
pro, start making my own money, get my own place. I could be my own
man for the first time in my life, away from my father, away from the
Helmsworth name.

I’d never wanted to
be further away from it than now.

Monday night we all had
dinner together as one big happy family, Leland and son, Candice and
daughter. Fucked. Up.

I played footsie with
Jewel under the table. I couldn’t resist. She’d avoided me all
Sunday, all that day Monday until we were forced to share a dinner
table together. I hadn’t seen her since she’d sucked my cock so
good I’d thought my mind had exploded. When she took her pink lips
to her water glass, all I could see was them wrapped around my dick.
All the experience in the world didn’t match up to a girl as into
it as Jewel. And she’d been into it. Those low moans in her throat,
the way she’d looked up at me as she’d kneeled between my legs,
taken me in her mouth, deep down. Shit, it made me hard every time I
thought about. I thought about it a lot.

So when I sat there at
the dinner table with my father and her mother playing house, I
couldn’t not bring my foot over to hers. She glared at me with
those outrageously sexy green eyes, her temper flaring as hot as her
red hair. I gave her an innocent, “What?” She scowled and I
brought my hand over the next time, creeping it along her knee, her
inner thigh. Her lips parted in surprise and she clasped her thighs
together, making a big show of enjoying her meal as she shoved me
away under the table. God she was fun to play with. We just needed
our own place where we could play.

“What are you
wearing?” Mid-dinner, Candice turned on Jewel. She sounded exactly
like the bitchy, rich girls from boarding school. I’d never heard
that particular question asked in a good way.

“I don’t know.”
Jewel looked down as if just noticing her own clothes. She had on a
baggy sweatshirt and athletic shorts. Only now I’d seen her naked I
didn’t even notice, just counted the seconds until I could rip it
off.

“I thought you were
cleaning yourself up, making more of an effort.”

“It’s not like I’m
not showering.” Jewel seemed to shrink into herself in front of my
eyes.

“Honestly, why you
choose to dress like a homeless person—”

“Those marine mammals
can be pretty hard on stuff,” I offered, forking a bite of grilled
steak into my mouth. Candice looked up at me like she had no idea
what I was talking about. I realized she’d probably forgotten where
her daughter was working this summer. “You know, Jewel’s
internship.” Still nothing. “At the Marine Mammal Center.”

“Oh, well, that.”
Candice batted it away as if annoyed by a gnat. “You can’t let
something like that get in your way.”

“You wouldn’t want
to wear something nice like you have on, for instance.” I buttered
her up. It always worked with my dad and the two of them seemed like
peas in a pod. She plumped up her feathers, looking down at her
blouse with satisfaction. It was a nice blouse, I could almost hear
her thinking. “Wouldn’t want to get sea lion vomit or dolphin
shit all over it.”

“OK now, Tuck,” my
father entered the conversation, his hand up in a “simmer down”
gesture.

Jewel giggled. That’s
all I wanted. I gave her a quick wink, then ate the rest of my steak
in silence.

In a few weeks, I’d
finally be on my own, finally gain my independence. And she’d be
back at college. I didn’t like to think about it, but it would
happen. We’d spin off into completely different worlds. With any
luck I’d head into the spotlight with brawlers, promoters and
sponsors. She’d go back to her ivy-covered tower with kids who
played harpsichord and studied physics while wearing corduroy, tweed
and glasses.

I needed her now.
Instead, I endured a long dinner, tension radiating off of everyone,
including the love birds. Had the timer already reached countdown
phase? Candice seemed to hit the cocktails pretty hard. Leland’s
blindingly-white smile seemed slightly forced. Trouble in paradise?

I didn’t want to
know, didn’t want any part of it. I just wanted Jewel.

§

By Saturday, I’d had
it. I’d kept my head down all week, my shoulder to the grindstone.
I hadn’t wanted to be around the house with my parents in town.
Plus, Jewel wasn’t around much at all. Wednesday night she’d had
her dorky little friend with her like a chaperone keeping me from
busting her chastity belt. Last night I’d done an extra session at
the gym, sparring with a couple of guys as driven as me, and when I’d
finally come home to crash at 10 p.m. I saw no sign of her. The light
was out in her room when I walked past it in the hallway.

I was a ticking time
bomb and I was about to explode.

Saturday morning I woke
up and ran ten miles. I’d brought my conditioning to the level
where ten at an easy, jogging pace felt like a warm up. It was an ice
breaker, the prelude to the real work on strategy, speed and strength
that went down with my coaches at the gym.

In the kitchen I fixed
myself one of my usual shakes with protein powders, green shit that
stank like a stagnant pond and a raw egg just for fun. My father
walked in and, of course, started in on me.

“Why don’t you eat
food like a normal person?”

“Good morning to you,
too.”

“What’s wrong with
a piece of toast and coffee?

I shrugged. I wasn’t
going to get into it with him. Three more weeks until my next
fight—my last one as an amateur if I played my cards right. I
wasn’t going to let his desire to get into a pissing contest with
me fuck that up.

“And why all the
cuts?” He gestured to my face. “Did you get in some kind of a
drunk fight at a club last night?”

Ha. Funny. “You
should see the other guy,” I played along. Let him think what he
wanted of me, it didn’t matter. I was done trying to impress this
guy.

“You don’t want the
guys around the office to think you’re some sort of a street
fighter. You’re got to look the part. The Helmsworth name opens
doors, but you’ve got to sell them on the rest of it.”

Thank you, Dad, for the
words of wisdom: use your family name, then sell people by looking
good. I needed a notepad to write this shit down and study it. He was
like a wise man on a mountaintop speaking pearls of truth.

“Is that another
tattoo you have on your back?”

“Yup.” Actually,
I’d gotten it a year ago, when I’d earned my black belt in
jujutsu.

“You do know you’re
not Chinese?”

I didn’t tell him it
was a Japanese character, and I certainly didn’t try to explain
what it meant to me, how it stood for everything I’d learned after
devoting years to practicing the martial art, both the Brazilian and
original Japanese forms.

Jewel breezed in from
the hallway, fresh and pretty with her hair pulled up into a simple
ponytail. She wore a long, flowing skirt and a soft, loose scoopneck
tee, the kind perfect for reaching right down and grabbing her tits.
The sway as she moved, the perky jiggle, I could tell she wasn’t
wearing a bra. My cock responded, hardening at her nearness. Clearing
my throat, I shifted my weight, turning slightly toward the stovetop.
Huge morning wood for my stepsister might not go over so well with my
father.