Stepbrother's Kiss (5 page)

Chapter 8

Painting was my salvation.

Before my parents died, I never had any artistic inclinations. But my new school had art requirements that my old one didn’t, and from the moment I was handed a paintbrush, I was addicted.

I purchased my own easel, canvases, gesso, brushes and oil paints so I could paint at home.  And for hours every night, I’d lose myself in my work. 

I suppose that with everything that had happened with my parents and the loneliness of my new life, painting was my escape.  It was the one time I could shut off my mind and lose myself in a world of color and lines.  It also was the one thing I had complete control over.

My connection with Blaze and now my strange interactions with Raine had left me confused and insecure, feeling out of my depth.  But when I was painting, all my cares floated away, and for once I was in control of my own little world.

I was painting an abstract rendering of the sea behind our home when Blaze came up behind me.  He never came to my room and I hadn’t heard him come in, so when I heard him say my name, I jumped.

“Sorry to scare you,” he said.  “I knocked but you didn’t answer, and I saw your light on. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just distracted, I guess.  What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a guy visit his sister?”

“
Step
-sister,” I said.  “Don’t be disgusting. You know there’s nothing brotherly or sisterly about our relationship.”

He stared at me with a hooded gaze before he said, “Did Raine talk to you about college?”

My stomach dropped and blood rushed to my ears, remembering what had happened in Raine’s office. 
Does Blaze know?

“Why do you ask?” I said, returning my attention to the painting in front of me and trying to keep my tone aloof.

“Because he told me that unless I go to college, I’ll have to wait until I’m twenty-five to collect my full inheritance. I assume he told you the same thing.”

“He did,” I responded, my heart rate slowing.
Blaze doesn’t know what happened. Why is that such a relief?

“Are you going to go to college, then?” Blaze asked. 

“Doubtful,” I said. “Raine said he’d give me enough of my trust to travel next year, so that’s probably what I’ll do.  I don’t know what will come after that, but I feel like my whole life has been so limited.” 
So lonely.
“I want to see what else is out there.”

“Me too,” he said softly.  He was standing flush against my back, and when he spoke, his warm breath whooshed past my ear.  “You’re painting is beautiful. When you get back from your travels, you should go to art school.”

Blaze’s closeness was too much to bear.  I was tucked tightly between his chest and my canvas, and I suddenly felt like a trapped animal.

I quickly maneuvered away from him, putting distance between us.

“What are you doing?” I said. He looked at me with confusion, and I rolled my eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Blaze. I’m used to your games and I’m tired of them.  One minute you’re hot, and you make me hot too. Then we get close, and you disappear for months—not physically, emotionally I mean.  And that’s even worse. I honestly can’t take it anymore.  It’s hard enough to be here with no parents and no real friends, and you have a way of making me feel infinitely worse.”

“I’m sorry, Jess.  You have no idea how sorry I am…for everything.”

“Spare me your apologies.  I’m tired of them. Tired of feeling close to you, and then you pushing me away.  Take your games somewhere else.  I’m over you.” I grabbed a tube of paint and began freshening my palate.

“Well I’m not over you. Do you know how hard it is to see you everyday—at school or here at the house—and not be able to touch you?  Why do you think I drink so much?  Why do you think I fuck so much, huh Jess?  Because I’m trying to fuck you out of my system, trying to forget what you do to me.  And it isn’t goddamn working.”

My hands stilled over my palate. “You’re…attracted to me?”

“
Attracted?
” He laughed bitterly.  “Jess, I’m fucking
obsessed
with you.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me how you felt?  Did you ever consider that I might feel the same way?”

“That would be even worse.  Then I’d never be able to stay away from you.”

“What if you don’t have to?” I crossed the room, stopping within arm’s reach. I didn’t know what I was asking from him—what I was inviting him to do—but it felt impossible to stop.

“Jess, we’re family…”

“Will you please stop it with that?  We’re no more related to each other than we are to anyone at school.  We live in the same house, and we’ve known each other since middle school.  That’s it.”

“I abused you,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“I abused you.  On Christmas Eve. You were so young—just an innocent girl.  I touched you…and I’m so, so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do, and you certainly didn’t abuse me, Blaze.  It’s not like you were a grown man messing around with a high school girl—we were the same age.  We were experimenting, just like half the kids at school were doing.  It felt good when you touched me.  What didn’t feel good was the way you distanced yourself from me afterwards.”

“I didn’t know what to do, Jess.  I didn’t know what to say. And the worst part was that I couldn’t get it out of my head, what happened between us. I thought about it over and over, and I’d fuck myself with my hand every night, thinking about it. Thinking about you. And then I’d hate myself, and then I’d…I’d hate you for making me feel this way.”

“Blaze.” I closed the distance between us, smoothing my fingers through his hair and reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his face, trying to take away the misery creasing it.  “I had no idea that you were blaming yourself this way.  It’s insane.  Stop it, okay?”

He dug his fingers into my hip, pulling me closer.  “I’d like to, but I’ve been like this for so long.”

“Then let’s do this together, okay?”  I said.  “Let’s fix this thing between us.  We’re worth it.”

His gaze met mine, and there was so much hope, fear and vulnerability there, it took my breath away.

And then it hit me. For the first time, I understood that all the loneliness and confusion I’d felt since coming here, Blaze had been feeling it too. But for him, it was so much worse because of this strange, needless guilt that he’d been carrying around. 

I reached up and put my hand on his face, wanting to take it all away. 

Wanting to make him forget.

I leaned up and kissed him.  The moment our lips met, heat bloomed between my legs in such an intense rush that I nearly fell over. I moaned against his mouth, and his fingers bit into my hips even harder as he pulled me against the iron-hard erection between us.  I pressed my breasts against his chest so I could give him the same delicious torture. 

We kissed so hard our teeth clashed.

Still I wanted more, and I felt like I’d die if I didn’t get it now.

He must have felt the same way, because he pulled away long enough to strip off my shirt.  I wasn’t wearing a bra, and I marveled at the sensation of his palms smoothing over my hard nipples while his mouth came down on mine once again.  His tongue swirled in my mouth, then came down and laved my nipple while his fingers worked the other nipple, thumbing and squeezing it. 

The sensation of his fingers and tongue on my breasts, and his impossibly hard cock pressed against me was nearly my undoing.

I lifted my head back and moaned, then my hand wandered down to explore the part of him that made him profoundly different from me.

I felt the smooth head poking out from the top of his jeans.  I rubbed the flat of my hand over it, then let my palm travel down the hard column pressing against his zipper, wanting to feel more of him.

“Not yet,” he said, gently guiding my hand away.  Then in one swift move, he pulled off my yoga pants and underwear, and I was completely bared to him.

His eyes raked over me hungrily, and I didn’t feel the least bit self conscious.  Just the opposite. I felt shameless.  Wanton.  Willing to do anything to find my pleasure.

He reached down and I felt two fingers part my flesh and then glide into me.

“Your pussy is so wet,” he said. “I need to taste you.”

He guided me down on the bed and spread my thighs wide, staring at me for a moment before uttering, “Beautiful.”

Then he buried his tongue in my opening, brought it up to my clit, then glided down again. 

The only noise in the room was the wet, lapping sound of his mouth feasting on me, and then the strangled cries that tore from my throat as he stroked my pleasure higher and higher. 

He entered me with his fingers again, plunging them in and out of my opening as he tongued me at the same time.  I felt my pleasure cresting, knew I was about to come.  But somehow, I didn’t want my release this way.  I wanted more.  I wanted him inside me.

I shimmied back on the bed, and he stood up, staring at me like a predator.  He reached down and pulled down his zipper, his cock springing free.

One again I was impressed by the sheer size of it.  I reached out and wrapped my fist around it, and when I was halfway down, my fingers no longer met.  The base was impossibly thick, and I marveled at the neat nest of dark curls at his pubis.

I stroked his shaft up and down, delighting in the way it throbbed against my hand.  I leaned down and licked the head, letting his sweet-salty taste fill my mouth.  Rich, potent and deliciously male.

I took him deeper into my mouth, savoring the needy gasps he made as I bobbed lower, at the taste of his salty skin against mine.  The texture of him against my tongue, silky soft skin over a hot iron rod.

I could have spent hours exploring him, tasting him, testing his movements and reactions.  But before long, he guided me away from him. 

We both lay entwined on the bed, kissing.  His fingers parted me again, pumping in and out. 

I pulled away long enough to say, “Please fuck me, Blaze. Let me feel you inside me.”

“You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?” he asked in time with the pumping of his fingers.

I nodded, a soft mewling cry coming from my mouth of its own accord.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“So sure,” I said, spreading my legs wider for him, my hips rising off the bed.

“It’s going to hurt,” he said.  I could feel him stretching me wider by adding a third finger, as if preparing me for what was to come.

I reached down and squeezed his manhood.  “Don’t care.  I need this.  Now.  Open me up.”

He positioned himself between my knees, and I felt the blunt pressure of his tip against my opening.  He battered me with a series of slow thrusts, going inside a little deeper each time, his cock growing slicker with my juices with every push-pull. 

Just when the pressure began to sting, he pulled back and entered me with a strong stroke.  It tore and ached.  There was just too much of him.

I closed my eyes against the pain, tears seeping out of my eyes.

“Shhh,” he said, stroking the hair from my face, kissing away my tears. “It’ll be okay.  Just relax.  Relax around me.”

He didn’t move.  He just remained inside me, perfectly still.  Peppering my face and neck with tender kisses.

Slowly the pain began to recede.  Little by little at first, and then all at once.

My muscles seemed to relax, and he began to rock against me slowly.  Where pain had once been, pleasure began to bloom.

He didn’t move hard or fast.  His strokes were slow and deliberate.

His thrusting seemed to go on and on, and I began to savor the delicious sensation of him inside my body.  Rubbing my channel with the thick ridge of his cock. 

His girth stretching me in all the right ways.

Being enclosed in his powerful arms, with so much delicious male on top of me and inside me, splitting me open with infinite tenderness.

I reached up and placed my palm on his ass, reveling at the way his muscles undulated. In his face was the same pleasure-pain I’d seen there before, but now I felt it too.

Gradually his rhythm grew faster, though I could still tell by the tension in his muscles and the way his jaw ticked that he was holding back.  Trying not to hurt me.

At last he delivered one final, punishing thrust and came in a flood of molten heat.  Inside me, his cock spasmed, releasing pump after pump of his hot seed. 

Then I felt him withdraw, leaving me empty without him.

Before I could protest, his fingers were stroking up and down the seam of my sex.  Our fluids intermingled now and I was impossibly slick, which only intensified the delicious sensations his fingers were creating.

He carefully inserted a finger, and I realized I was torn and sore.  But it was a good kind of pain, because it marked me as his.

His fingers fluttered over my inner and outer lips, circled my clit, and teased my passage.  Again and again they moved over me, stoking my pleasure higher.