Step Submission (Billionaire Bareback Steamy Taboo Romance) (2 page)

He laughed. “See? I told you it wasn’t the alcohol.”

He was right, of course. But hearing it said out loud by someone without a psychology degree, someone who knew me—
really
knew me—brought some small comfort.

Or perhaps it wasn’t so small. My stomach seemed less jittery and my heart slowed. I took more mouthfuls of food than I had in months, and when we finished eating, I wasn’t sullen or tired.

But I did have a question. A dangerous one. I didn’t know how to ask, but I also knew that I must. It would come up sooner or later, and I wanted control of when. But I also didn’t want to make Kennith uncomfortable. I didn’t want to bring back the awkwardness we’d only just dismissed.

“Not that it matters,” I began, averting my eyes, “but what happened to Caleb?”

If I had asked my stepmother, she would have flown into a tizzy. She would have scolded me, practically foamed at the mouth as she told me I was never to see him again. I would have been accused of “falling into bad habits already” and my character, my judgment, my ability to think and reason—all of it would have been called into question. Ultimately, she wouldn’t have answered.

If I had asked Daddy, he would have kept reading the paper or drinking his scotch. He would have pretended not to hear me, and when I asked again, he would have told me to ask my stepmother. There would be an air of disappointment to his words, and my limbs would have grown leaden, and suddenly, I wouldn’t want to know.

But I had asked Kennith, and I expected him to tell me the truth. What I hadn’t expected was how it would affect me.

“He’s engaged.”

He’d probably wanted to get it over with, thinking that just coming out and saying it would be akin to tearing off a Band-Aid. And there was that initial sting, the shock of it, a veil ripped away so suddenly that there was hardly time for my brain to form the proper reaction. I went through a variety of options: crying, spitting, laughing uproariously, or perhaps even saying nothing at all. By the time I’d decided, I’d already gone numb, and I could only reply with:

“Oh. Good for him.”

I didn’t mean it, of course. Caleb had been the love of my life. He had been my arch nemesis, too, the greatest evil I’d ever had to overcome. But now he was someone else’s.

Did he love her? Did something in her make him change, something I never had? Did that make her better than me? Had everything that had happened been, somehow, my fault?

I tried to remember something, anything from my counseling at rehab that might have helped me, but there was nothing. With Caleb, there was only ever nothing.

“I…” Kennith began, his face pinched. “I wish I could say I’m sorry, Colette. But I’m not. Well, maybe for the girl, but not for you. It’s better this way.”

I snorted. “Everyone keeps saying that. It makes me think they don’t have a goddamn idea what it means.”

Kennith pursed his lips. “But it is, isn’t it? What would you rather, Colette? That he still be in love with you? That he picked you up instead of me?”

“I wish he were dead!” I told him. Now that I’d said it, more words came much too quickly for me to stop. “I wish he would die so that no one could have him. No one deserves him. He’s too wonderful and terrible and I wish he would go away forever and never come back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy, and I sure as hell don’t deserve to be miserable!”

Kennith looked like he was going to say something, but I couldn’t stand to hear it. I pushed my bowl away and stood, hurrying from the kitchen and up the stairs to lock myself in one of the guest rooms.

I was aware of how childish I’d been earlier. Still, it seemed that I’d retained some sense of control as opposed to hours later when I was still crying into my pillow.

Engaged. Getting
married.
Those were things he’d never spoken of with me, regardless of the years and shit we’d shared. I was never “wife material,” not the sort of girl he’d want to bring home to his folks, though I didn’t see why. I was smart, witty, strong, and maybe even beautiful, and yet none of those things mattered—or even registered with—Caleb. Why? Why hadn’t I been good enough?

I didn’t want those feelings, but they bloomed inside of me, each one reaching out like a thorny vine to wrap around some other part of me. In those hours, I thought of how blue his eyes had been, how his lazy smile had always felt like home, how spending the day drunk and in love had felt and smelled and tasted.

But I also thought about the other things. I thought about the way he barely noticed I was home, most days. I thought about how I was always wrong, always stupid in his presence, even when I was right. I thought about how often he reminded me I was good for nothing unless I was with him. The only words of praise he ever bestowed upon me were when he wanted something, and in those last months, that had become increasingly rare.

A thought hit me like a ton of bricks.
Was he with her when we were together? Is that why they’re engaged so soon?

It made sense. Caleb had been increasingly withdrawn in those days, and absent too. He hadn’t needed me whatsoever, not for company, conversation, or sex. I’d started drinking alone more and more often, and by the time the intervention rolled around, I was spending practically all my money and time on booze.

But that didn’t matter to Caleb. He probably saw it as a convenient means to an end. After all, he hadn’t needed to break up with me. I’d gone away. Out of sight, out of mind. I felt worthless. How could he be so cruel?

Kennith knocked on my door for what had to be the fiftieth time. And I told him to go the fuck away for what had to have been an equal amount.

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t sleep when you’re like this, Colette. Please. Open the door so I know that you’re okay.”

I rubbed my bleary eyes, vaulting off the bed and yanking open the door. “I’m not a dramatic teenager, you know. I’m not going to slit my wrists the wrong way in honor of Caleb’s shitty memory…”

I paused, looking up at him. He was standing in front of me in nothing but pajama pants. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad, muscular chest gleamed in the golden halo of the hall light. I swallowed. Something about him seemed so comforting suddenly.

“I know that,” he said. “It doesn’t mean you’re okay, though. I’m sorry for how I told you, but… I didn’t want to lie to you, Colette. You’re my stepsister. I could never…”

He trailed off. Then he slipped his strong arms around me, drawing me to his chest in an embrace so warm, so tender that I thought I would melt at his feet.

Part of me wanted to beat on him with my fists, push him away, take out on him what I couldn’t take out on Caleb. But another part of me needed this, needed to feel my stepbrother’s strength and sheltering caress. Instead of avoiding it I surrendered, gripping his back and burying my face in the heat of his chest, inhaling the scent I’d grown up with, the one that always made me feel so safe.

“You’re always saving me,” I muttered, my throat clenching as I tried not to cry again. “You’ve always been there for me, Kennith. I’m so sorry I’ve let you down…”

Kennith cupped my face in his hands. He looked into my eyes. I’d never seen such sincerity. “I love you,” he said to me. “I mean it, Colette. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

I did. Kennith had always been there for me. He’d protected me from my stepmother’s wrath and my father’s devotion to her. He’d made me feel wanted and loved when no one else could bother. He’d always been the one I could rely on, my secret-keeper, my one speck of truth in a world full of lies.

I didn’t know why at the time, but I did the unthinkable then. I knew it wasn’t right, but I wanted it more than anything else. He had always given me such comfort. He’d always looked at me in ways that Caleb never did.

Hardly knowing I was doing it, I leaned forward and kissed my stepbrother right on the lips.

The instant our mouths collided, I expected him to pull back. I envisioned him recoiling, a look of disgust upon his handsome face. Maybe he’d send me back to rehab, or to some other facility where they treated damaged goods like me. Whatever the scenario, when I imagined Kennith’s reaction, I thought of nothing good.

I lost myself in the feeling instead, in the sweltering heat of his mouth, the delicate shape of his lips, the caress of his breath against my nose. I tried to savor that moment, tried to let it entangle me and grow in my heart, but the anxiety would not budge and I had to open my eyes and know.

I had to know what would happen now. I’d crossed a line, and I needed to know if Kennith was coming with me.

He didn’t draw back. His eyes were open too, gazing into mine, but I didn’t see rejection there. Then he hesitated and I withdrew, allowing him to say:

“Colette… are you sure? I mean, you’re…”

“Damaged,” I finished for him. “I know. But I need you, Kennith. You’re the only one who understands me, the only one who makes me feel whole and alive. I need that right now. Tonight. You’re the only one who can give it to me. Please…”

Kennith looked at me. It was not the way a brother should look at his stepsister. But then again, Kennith hadn’t looked at me in a brotherly way in a very long time.

There had always been something between us. I knew it was forbidden, something to be ashamed of, and yet I’d never thought of it that way. What Kennith and I had, or could have, seemed pure. When I looked at him, I saw the eyes of a lover, a confidant and friend. We weren’t of the same blood. Why should it matter?

Though we’d never spoken of it freely, Kennith appeared to feel the same way. Tentatively, he closed his mouth over mine again, and I stumbled backward toward the bed, leading him with me until I felt the edge of the mattress against my thighs.

“Don’t say anything,” I urged him. This was too perfect. I didn’t want anything to ruin it. “Please, just be mine tonight, Kennith.”

Though I’d bidden him not to, Kennith spoke anyway. “Always,” he said. Somehow, that made it more perfect than it already was.

He lifted me onto the bed, tugging my shirt up over my head and letting my wild hair fall down around my shoulders. He slid his hand up into it along my nape, bringing me in for another kiss against his candied lips, his free hand tracing the curve of my waist as I reached behind to unclasp my bra.

My breasts fell free and I discarded the thing, pressing against his chest skin-to-skin for the very first time. It was electrifying and soothing all at once, as though we were two puzzle pieces figuring out just how to fit together. I moaned, unable to stop myself from reaching down to see if he felt the same way.

His stiff cock greeted me, pressing through the flimsy fabric of his pajama pants. I gripped it, running my thumb along the tip and just underneath it, feeling the sensitive ridge that made him squirm and groan. I pumped him in my hand gently, letting the material caress his shaft as he pulsed and throbbed, balls tensing with each pass.

His hands dropped to my jeans. He undid the button and unzipped them, pulling them off my hips along with my modest panties. I was glad he hadn’t seen them. When he next looked at me, I wanted him to see everything. I wanted him to know me in the most intimate of ways. I wanted him to fuck all traces of Caleb out of me and fill me with the love and acceptance I truly deserved.

It made me wonder if I’d ever really needed rehab. Maybe I’d just needed Kennith this whole time. Nothing they had done or tried to do had convinced me of my worth, but when Kennith touched and kissed me, I felt rare, beautiful, and priceless.

I scooted back on the bed, lying against the pillows and letting him rest between my legs. I slid his waistband down past his narrow hips and let his cock spring free, his moist tip pressed against my taut stomach. As he kissed my neck I looked down, marveling at the size of him. He was so much larger than Caleb had been, and his dick looked so good lying against my skin.

“Please,” I whispered, raising my hips to greet his. “Take me, Kennith. I need to feel something other than pain. Please, big brother… make it stop hurting…”

Kennith lowered his lips to my breast, taking the nipple between his teeth and lightly tugging. I shivered and arched as he flicked it with his tongue, a heat burgeoning in my core and spilling out into my slit.

I shifted, arching again so that his dick slipped into my cleft. I could feel its girth parting my lips, prodding at my tight hole. I burned with an indescribable ache, my whole body singing for my stepbrother to dive in and devour me, and I wailed and whined with each moment he teased instead of doing so.

When his dick was wet and dripping with my lust, he reached down, holding his base as he gently tested me by pressing his tip in. I bucked, seizing and digging my nails into his shoulders as he asked me, “Are you sure you want more?”

I looked up at him. He was smiling, but I could tell he was nervous. I licked my lips, nodding emphatically.

“I want you,” I said. “You’re my stepbrother, and I want you. If it’s too much to ask…”

He cut me off, clenching his jaw as he sank his dick inside of me, pushing as far as it would go. It had been months since I’d had a man, but the sting soon faded and I grasped him with my legs, drawing him flush with my body and engulfing his mouth in mine.

This was what I needed. I needed to feel whole and unbroken. Kennith gave me both those things and so much more.

He began to move, thrusting steadily inside of me, rocking his hips back in forth in a way that nearly made me swoon. He was slow and gentle, his thighs shaking as he bit his lip and came to terms with fucking his own stepsister.

I held his face in my hands, brushing my fingers over his stubbled cheeks. Our relation didn’t matter. He was a man and I was a woman. We fit together perfectly, two interlocking pieces made specifically for this. I spread my legs, letting him feel me, hoping he’d understand how nothing beyond what we were doing now mattered.

Kennith groaned and pressed his forehead to mine, his rhythm picking up speed as he delved harder inside of me. The friction was divine, and I reached one hand between my legs to tease my clit, slathering his dick with even more of my desire as my toes curled into the comforter we were fucking on.

“I love you,” I breathed, whimpering as I felt my core tense. “Shit, Kennith. I’ve always loved you.”

“I know,” he replied, showering my face with soft, tiny kisses. “I love you too, Colette. More than I could… ah… ever say…”

When my orgasm ripped through me, I lost all sense of space and time. The world churned, then ceased to exist. Fireworks burst in front of my eyes and my pussy pulsed, gripping Kennith’s cock and enveloping me in a symphony of sensation. It was pure bliss unlike anything I’d ever felt, and I knew then that my stepbrother had healed me, that I was finally a person again, and that I was deserving of every burst of pleasure radiating from my core.

Kennith swelled. His harsh breath on my neck returned me to reality, and I felt him begin to pull out. I grabbed his hips just in time, dragging him in deeper, looking into his eyes as I shook my head.

“Cum,” I told him. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you, big brother. I want you to make me yours.”

As if he’d been waiting for that signal all along, Kennith shuddered and growled, pushing as far in as he could get before unloading inside of my cunt. His shaft throbbed as he poured out his seed, filling me with every drop he had to give as my walls continued to milk him for more.

He buried his face in my breasts a moment, a velvety sheen of sweat giving his body an otherworldly glow. Then, as the last remnants of his lust spilled into me, he collapsed at my side and we held each other, brother and sister, man and woman—lovers at last.