Stepbrother Forever: A Stepbrother Romance

by Marx, Jessica

  “Do I?” she asked me, looking up at me again. Her green eyes searched mine the same way they had back at the restaurant the day she’d lost her job. She was looking for an answer, but this time, she’d already asked the question. “Do I have any idea who you are at all?”

  “Of course you do.” I sighed. “Look, Maddy, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. Non-profit groups get funding all the time. Charitable donations are tax-deductible, for fuck’s sakes. Sure, we’re going to shut the shelter and the rec center down, but once it’s gone they can build on some other parcel, maybe something with a view out past the suburbs.”

  “You actually think the homeless give two shits about a view?” she snorted. “You can’t just shove them out of the city and forget about them. You sound like a true one-percenter.”

  “One percent? You’re the one who cried for help. I didn’t hear you complaining when I wrote you that ten thousand dollar check,” I argued. “Or when I hired you. Or when I paid you, for that matter.”

  “Don’t you dare throw that money in my face,” she hissed, launching up from the bed. “You gave me that money to help me out when I was nearly destitute. And the rest you paid me for good, honest work. I haven’t been your kept woman, Preston. I earned that money working for you!”

  “Which is why you should do what I tell you now and get in the goddamn car!” I was seething. I didn’t like this. I didn’t like the way she was challenging me, like suddenly she knew more about business than I did, like she had any idea what it was like to be me, Preston Harvey, the son of a billionaire whose first and only love had ever been cold, hard cash.

  And yet I did like it. In fact, I loved it. Maddy never looked more beautiful than when she was standing up for herself. She had a backbone stronger than most men I’d known in my lifetime, and when she had a mind to, she put up one hell of a fight.

  But I couldn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth now. There was too much momentum, too much frustration welling up inside me, rattling my bones. “You work for me, which means my decisions are your decisions. If I say ‘jump,’ you say, ‘how high?’ If I tell you that what I’m doing is the right goddamn thing for my company, then you shut up and accept that maybe the guy with the Harvard business degree knows what the fuck he’s talking about. If those are things that you can’t handle that, then…”

  “Then what, Preston?” she asked me. Jane had always had a heat in her, a passion, and a deep, ugly anger too, but Maddy was different. Her flame was brighter, stronger than any I’d ever seen before. It danced higher, more beautifully than Jane’s ever had, and I was drawn to it like an unlucky moth gazing upon its flickering shape, mesmerized by how wild and effulgent she was. “Then you’ll fire me? You’ll send me back to my shitty apartment with some savings and hope I land on my feet? Maybe if I’m lucky, you’ll throw in an excellent job reference too, as long as I don’t make a scene like Jane did when I storm out.” Her lip curled in a defiant sneer. “Is that what you do to everyone who dares to tell you like it is, or just the women?”

  I hated hearing that woman’s name leave her lips. It poisoned everything it touched, and the last thing I wanted to imagine was anything tarnishing Maddy’s sweet, soft, supple lips.

  I stared at them, unable to look away. They were set into a firm line, one that meant she wasn’t going to back down. But I needed her to. I needed her to stop, because with every word she spoke, something hungry stirred inside of me.

  “You love to flirt with poverty, don’t you?” I shot back, my muscles tense and vibrating beneath my skin. She was like a live wire sending currents through every part of my body, but I didn’t know of what. Was it anger? Disdain? Or was it something I couldn’t quite explain, something that seemed closer to lust than to fury?

  “You had your own apartment, Maddy. Maybe you had to take a bus to work, but you had a job and a roof over your head. You act like your struggle makes you better than people like me, but you haven’t had to deal with half the shit that really poor people do. You get the self-righteousness with none of the suffering, and that gets you off, make you feel special so you can look down on an entire class of people. Grow up.”

  She pursed her lips, and her eyes flared. “Is that what happened to you, Preston? You grew up to become your father—a man who would rather stuff more money in his pockets than think twice about the rest of the world trying to just get by out there? You are literally talking about destroying the only place the homeless in this city have to go! It’s evil, and if you don’t see it, then maybe you should ask yourself how long you’ve been staring into the abyss of wealth and business and politics, and whether or not it’s begun staring back into you.”

  I closed the distance between us. “Maddy, if you don’t stop…” I lost the will to finish that sentence. I didn’t know what to say. I just kept staring at the woman who would become my sister and thinking how goddamn beautiful she was.

  “Then what?” she asked me again. She didn’t move. Not an inch. I could feel blood rush through me, but it wasn’t going to my head. It was going far, far away from it, to places that would be bad for the both of us. “Tell me, Preston. What the hell are you going to do if I don’t stop calling you on your bullshit?”

  She was searching me again. I could feel it. The way her eyes bored into mine prickled my skin. It seared my soul. She wanted the truth from me, a different kind of truth from the one I was used to telling. She wanted the kind of truth a man wasn’t likely to give, the kind that made him have to crack his ribs and bare his own heart for scrutiny. Was this how it was supposed to feel? Was this how being with a woman was supposed to be? Was it supposed to hurt like this, in a way that made every ounce of that pain worth it?

  No wonder it had never worked with anyone else. If this was how it was supposed to be, and it sure as hell felt like it was, then Madison Hearst was the first woman in my entire life with whom things felt tragically, undeniably right.

  I didn’t have an answer for Maddy. Not the way she wanted. Not with words and thoughts. Not with anything but a primal force that took me by surprise as much as it took her.

  I grabbed my soon-to-be stepsister, one hand tangled in the sleek waves of her gorgeous brown hair, and I kissed her. God help me, I kissed her with passion and fury. And I loved it...

  Oh, fuck.

  Those were the only words that came to mind when Preston kissed me, the only words I could possibly form and hold onto long enough to give them meaning and weight. But what did they mean? Was I disgusted with him, my stepbrother for all intents and purposes, for the sweltering sweetness of his mouth on mine? Was I angry that he’d dared to touch me like this, or angry that he hadn’t done it sooner?

  I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. I didn’t know what I wanted them to do. Or at least, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to admit it.

  Preston’s lips were scorching hot on my own. His breath was like smoke filling my lungs, only it didn’t burn. It warmed me, but in places far below my chest, places that had begun to ache for more of Preston’s illicit touch.

  I wanted to fight it. I wanted to fight him and this dark, forbidden desire lurking inside of me, the one that had been there since that first day I’d run into him on the sidewalk. I wanted to forget the cerulean flash of his eyes, his lopsided grin, the golden haze of his tawny hair. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.

  Instead, I kissed him back.

  I slipped my arms up around his neck, holding onto him tightly as he lifted me against his broad, brawny frame, clutching at my back as if he’d always wanted to do this. My ass was in his hands, and I felt him squeeze and dig in his fingertips all along my thighs, then back up again, roaming my body with his fierce touch. A soft wind blew in through the open balcony doors, carrying away the husky moan from my throat as Preston’s lips crashed against mine again and again, promising retribution for every hateful word I’d said.

  I’d been disappointed in him. I’d thought he was different from his fathe
r, from the money that had corrupted the rest of our family. Had I been wrong?

  I didn’t have time to think about it now—not when my stepbrother was dropping me onto the bed on my back and pulling my casual Friday jeans down my legs.

  I whimpered, struggling up onto my hands to watch him as he yanked my ass to the very edge of the bed, then over it. With my legs suspended on his shoulders, he grasped my panties and pulled, ripping them off my hips and exposing my sweet, shaven pussy to feast his eyes on.

  “Preston,” I whispered. “This is… wrong. We’re family. We can’t do this…”

  I felt like I’d betrayed everything inside of me to say those words, and Preston didn’t even hear them. He was focused. He had seen what he wanted. And now he was going to get it.

  He traced his fingers along my nether lips before spreading them wide and revealing the pink petals between. I could feel my clit throbbing in its hood, begging for the attention he’d already paid to my mouth and outer lips. He bent his head forward, delivering one long lick from my chasm to my crest, and I melted beneath him. Any resolve I’d once had to at least question the idea of fucking my stepbrother dissolved with one touch of his tongue, and I moaned for him again as he dove in and began to flick it against my aching button.

  I wailed, burying my fingers in Preston’s hair, pulling at it as he lapped hungrily at the nectar flooding from between my thighs. I was feverish, shaking, convulsing, shrieking and rolling my eyes into my skull as he pleased me. I was sick, and Preston was the only cure.

  He hauled my hips closer to his face, bringing me tight against his mouth as he sucked gently, his tongue still undulating hard and fast against my throbbing clit. I felt my nipples stiffen against the cups of my bra and pulled my blouse up over my head, letting him see how hard my breasts heaved for him.

  “Preston,” I whimpered, “please…”

  “That’s right,” he praised me, torturing my nubbin with his thumb. “I’m the one in control here, Maddy. I’m your boss. You do what I say, whether you like it or not. Is that clear?”

  I squirmed uncontrollably under his touch. He laved me again, making me arch up off of his bed.

  “Is it?” he asked me.

  “Yes!” I answered, wriggling once more into his face. “Oh, fuck, Preston! Please don’t stop!”

  “No,” he said. “Not until we’re clear on where you stand.” Then he turned me over so my ass was in the air, my knees barely making it onto the bed before he was behind me, panting, ripping his shirt off to reveal all those delicious muscles I’d secretly been craving for weeks now.

  His belt was next, his hands moving so fast they seemed like a blur, and as I looked over my shoulder I saw the slick mast of his manhood jutting out behind me. Its swollen tip was made even angrier by the crimson sky outside, and the veins throbbing along the shaft looked almost purple in that hot, violent hue.

  I pushed against him, worried that if I thought about what we were about to do for just a second more, I might lose my nerve. But Preston was a step ahead of me. He’d already decided for us what would happen next, and there was no way he was letting me off easy.

  He seized my hips in his hands, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave bruises where he touched, bruises I would gaze at later and recall every detail of our tryst. They would remind me of my stepbrother’s power, of his absolute authority in his house, and they would remind me of my place and what running my mouth would do.

  But if this was the punishment, then I would run my mouth at every opportunity. Preston needed someone to challenge him, and I needed him to fuck me in all the ways no man ever had.

  When I felt his shaft breach me, I was sure he’d split me in two. He was so thick and hard that I could feel him stretching me, making way for the heft and might of his massive cock between the tight walls of my poor, neglected cunt. I scrabbled at the sheets, clawing at the silk, but couldn’t find purchase. I had nothing to hold onto as Preston worked his way inside of me, nothing to ground me to reality as he filled me with his cock.

  “Oh, God…!”

  Every moment after that was delirium. Every thrust was sheer ecstasy, the sort no words could possibly describe. Every touch burned me, scorched me, turned me to ash in his skillful hands, and yet every other saw me rise from the ashes to be filled once again by his thrumming cock. Preston was a wildfire raging over me, surging over the acres of my skin, leaving no inch of me unviolated. I twisted and arched, howled and writhed, pulled at my hair and shouted his name in ways I never thought I would.

  “Fuck me, Preston! Harder! Harder!”

  He obeyed me until the only sound I could hear beyond my own blood rushing in my ears was the steady slapping of his hips against my ass, the symphony of our bodies colliding and parting, only to collide again with even greater force. I was a slave to the sensations flowing through me, unable to think or feel anything else other than what Preston inspired with the roughness of his hands, the guttural tone of his growl, and the unrelenting force of his cock buried to the hilt inside me.

  Preston reached down between my legs, snaking an arm over my thigh to rub my clit again with his fingers. I could barely keep up with his frenzied pace. The wave of my orgasm was already so close to crashing over me, and I feared that it would sweep me away into an oblivion I couldn’t possibly fathom.

  “I’m cumming,” I whined, spreading my legs even wider for Preston’s girth. “Oh, shit—Preston! I’m cumming!”

  He let out a low groan as I exploded. It was like the universe was coming together, like the two of us alone had created the sun and the stars. I wailed in rapture, throwing my head back and crying out Preston’s name again and again. Everything inside of me that said I should be ashamed was silenced in that moment. There was only me, Preston, and the undeniable passion we shared.

  My walls hitched and squeezed, drawing tight around Preston’s cock. I felt him shudder behind me. He was close.

  He pulled out of me and I turned, somehow knowing what he wanted from me though he hadn’t spoken it. On my hands and knees I crawled to him, watching him stroke his glistening shaft from root to crown, each jerk of his hand more desperate than the last. I pushed his hand away, engulfing his tip in my mouth, and felt him wind both hands through my hair to pull it away from my face as I bobbed mercilessly on his shaft, urging him into the back of my throat.

  Preston let out a hiss through his clenched teeth. It was all he could do not to thrust into me, to make me choke on the enormity of his dick. I could smell his scent and mine mingling on his base, could taste my own lust for him as I spun my tongue around his shaft. I’d never known anything more delectable in my entire life than the way I tasted on my stepbrother’s cock.

  “Fuck,” he gritted, feeling his balls tighten against my chin. I picked up the pace, rushing my brother toward ecstasy, pulling him into my mouth again and again as he surged forward suddenly and the first warm gush of his semen hit the back of my tongue.

  I let my eyes flutter closed, slurping and sucking as Preston drove himself into me, eager to let the rest of his salty sweet load fountain down my throat. I held myself there as long as I could, forgoing even my own breath to see my brother twist in pleasure before me, knowing no other high so intense as seeing the look of bliss on his face.

  As he settled I withdrew, the both of us panting. He fell forward onto his hands, staring into my eyes as I sat up on his bed, naked save for my bra. He brushed my hair from my face and kissed me, crawling over top of me, pinning me beneath his weight in a way that made me feel so safe, so secure, so wanted and loved.

  “You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered, his breath swirling like a sweet melody in the labyrinth of my ear. “You have no idea, Maddy… No earthly clue…”

  We fucked again, this time face to face, this time with my breasts crushed in his hands as he looked into my eyes while he took me. This time, there was no mistaking that I belonged to Preston Harvey, the man who would become my stepbrother
. I wasn’t just his personal assistant… I was all his.

  Morning was… different.

  Neither of us had expected to pass out. I could tell that much from the way we were still on top of the covers, the summer breeze licking our dried sweat. I turned over beside Preston, making sure that what I’d dreamt of had actually been real. There he was, flesh and blood and muscle beside me. It was strange, but I didn’t know how to feel.

  The passion we’d succumbed to last night had been… intense. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t enjoyed myself. But now, in the broad light of day, I couldn’t help but feel a creeping sense of shame. I was waking up in bed next to my naked, spent stepbrother. Who does that?

  Swallowing the conflict for now, I sat up and looked around, trying to find a clock that could tell me the time. I’d have to settle for Preston’s cell phone instead, but that was easier said than done when I had no idea where he’d put it.

  I crawled over his sleeping form, reached over the end of the bed, and searched the pants he’d been wearing the night before. As I looked at the crumpled heap, all I could think about was how he’d dropped them in the heat of the moment, what it had felt like to endure his twisting, tantalizing tongue…