Dirty Wicked Lust: A Stepbrother Romance

by Amanda Heartley

  I nod understandingly, the slightest movement pulling the sheets away gently until I sit, back to the wall, laid bare to him save for the thin cotton nightshirt and my even thinner cotton panties, the front panel damp with desire and clinging to my pussy lips like a second skin. I wonder how much of my desire he can see in the dark, and if the shimmer of my slick, wet labia is visible in the moonlight from the window across the room. Somehow I want him to see; want him to see how wet he’s made me and wonder how much wetter I could become.

  “I’m glad you did,” I purr, heart hammering as I speak the words I’ve been wanting to for weeks. “I... I’ve been waiting for you to get the hint and pay me a late-night visit...”

  He sinks onto the edge of the bed, big hand on the mattress between my legs as he nods toward my sodden bush. “I can see that, Heather,” he murmurs, hands sliding closer on the sheet beneath my legs. “I hope I haven’t made you wait too long...”

  I shake my head, watching his hand creep closer to my pussy along the top of the mattress. I spread my legs gently, and taking the hint, he pauses, teasingly, before creeping closer, closer, then closer still. His hand is thick upon the sheet, fingers long and purposeful as, at last, they reach the mark. I suck in breath with a gaping gasp as his index finger gently brushes against the front of my panties, then presses more insistently to test the wetness of the cotton there.

  “Jesus,” he murmurs, as if surprised by the sheer volume of wetness between my legs, to say nothing of the heat. “Jesus…”

  His thick fingers slide the front panel of my panties aside, rasping along my tender, clit as they pass. Bare to his gaze and touch, Ryan wastes little time in running his fingers through my bush, caressing the fine, blonde hair that covers my mound until it glistens in the moonlight, slick and wet with desire.

  I whimper and moan, my fingers bury in the sheets as I hold on for dear life, afraid to move lest he stops what he’s doing and denies me the climax that’s been building since he walked into the room.

  Hell, since he walked into my life!

  As if bound and determined to finger me into a tizzy, he presses the fat pad of his index finger down on my aching, begging clit, making me gasp, moan, and shiver before he removes it, only to circle it, time and time again. I quiver and spread my legs, lifting my knees to give him better access to the desperate cavern just beyond my leaking lips.

  “God,” he murmurs, insanely sexy as he continues to circle and fondle my throbbing bud. “I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you right now, Heather…”

  His deep, dark, sexy voice saying my name out loud seals the deal. In seconds our lips meet, both of us leaning into a deep, dark, kiss that is as loud as it is wet, sloppy and violent. We throw ourselves at each other, body and soul, arms and legs akimbo as he tugs off my shirt almost as quickly as I yank down his boxers. His cock is long, thick, hard and slick with male juices, so tempting I seize it eagerly and stroke him to a whimpering mass as he breathes deep in my ear before bending to lick and suck at each breast.

  I groan and moan, so loud that I... I...

  I woke in a puddle of dampness, alas, all of it my own making. I sat up in bed, blinking at the vividness of the dream, my heart hammering just as it had been in Ryan’s embrace. Only... he wasn’t there. Not even close.

  My room was empty, dark and bare save for the sliver of moonlight glancing occasionally through the fluttering curtains that bordered the half-open window. I glanced down at myself, my nipples stiff and straining against my soft cotton nightshirt, my breath ragged as I heaved and whimpered and struggled to catch my breath.

  My panties were sodden, just like in the dream, so wet my thighs were slick with my own lustful juices as I sat up in bed, the sheets so wet and twisted they lay on the floor at my feet, making me wonder how long I’d been thrashing about. I imagined Ryan’s finger running along the glistening slick of my pussy, roaming through my soft blonde bush and pressing against my clit like a stranger’s doorbell.

  I chuckled to myself, a low, lusty growl. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a wet dream about a guy I knew—or any guy for that matter. If only I hadn’t woken myself up, I thought, reaching for the glass of water by my bed to quench my insatiable thirst, I might have finally come for the first time in months.

  As I brought the cup to my lips, I paused at a most familiar sound—someone was moaning. Loudly. No, not moaning—more like… grunting. So I hadn’t woken myself up after all! There actually was a noise other than my own wet dream fumbling in my slick wet sheets.

  I leaned forward on my bed, setting the glass of water down on the edge of my nightstand to listen more closely to the night sounds that were—Holy fuck! The moaning was louder now, intense and guttural and entirely feminine – and all too recognizable. Sex sounds, vibrant sex sounds, coming loud and clear from across the hallway!

  There were other sounds as well—a mattress squeaking, skin slapping, juices swapping and a male voice, guttural and familiar, muttering random encouragement to a clearly willing—and female—participant! I thought perhaps it might just be Ryan, watching online porn alone in his room after I’d gone to bed, but the sounds were too real, too loud, too physical, to be simulated. From my lonely bed, made even more pathetic by my vivid but unfulfilling wet dream just now—I could feel the very walls and floor shaking—from my stepbrother’s over eager one-night stand.

  That sexy fucker! I thought, not unkindly, as I tossed the sheets off and shook my head in a combination of disgust and admiration.

  I finally stood on wobbly legs, my heart pounding out of morbid curiosity and the thought of Ryan in the buff, pounding away at some random barfly in his room across the hall from mine. Each step made the sounds louder until at last I had the courage to open the door and realized why—his door was open as well! Not entirely, but halfway, as if he’d tried to kick it closed while in the enamored embrace of said floozy and only got it halfway shut.

  No wonder it was so damn loud, I thought, following a trail of clothes strewn drunkenly along the hallway between us. There were panties and one high heel, a vivid colored leopard-skin blouse and a bra hanging from the doorknob. Intermingled were Ryan’s black pants and shirt from earlier. I could easily picture my strapping stepbrother, in a drunken stupor, stripping off his clothes—and hers, apparently – as he led his nightly conquest toward and eventually, into his bedroom.

  I stood in the hallway, shaking my head motherly at his recklessness even as I was drawn, step by step, to the open doorway. The sounds grew louder with each footstep, the mattress squeaking fervently, the breaths and slapping and sweat dripping more loudly now until at last I crept close enough to see bare skin writhing on a messy double bed.

  I froze, taking in the sordid tableau before—the girl was buxom and blonde, puffy and wet as she lay, spread-eagled, beneath my stepbrother. He pounded with an agility bordering on grace, his bare ass cheeks flexing and dimpled with every long, powerful, velvet thrust, powerful arms outstretched with a hand on either side of the blonde’s blushing shoulders. He was on his knees, thrusting merrily, sweat drizzling down the tableau of tattoos plastered across his broad back, her thighs velvety and creamy and trembling on top of his as he pumped and thrust and grunted.

  I stood in wide wonder, imagining my own body, limp and covered in sweat, as Ryan thrust away on top of me! The dimples in his pale, bare ass flexed with each thrust as I heard the velvet glide of his cock deep, deep inside her fragrant pussy. The sound was intense and erotic though interspersed by the floozy’s incessant shouts of drunken encouragement. She had a shrill, high voice, layered with a huskiness that made me jealous.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut, head full of dyed-blonde hair half-buried beneath a crooked pillow, turning from side to side in rapt appreciation as she alternately bit her lip and urged Ryan on.

  “Faster, baby!” she cooed, breath sucking in and gushing out with each rock hard, velvet thrust from my handsome stepbrother. “Harder. Yes. YES
! Oh. God. Harder! Fuck me, baby. Fuck! Me!”

  Ryan obliged dutifully, thrusting like a jack rabbit as I watched his sinewy muscles flex and sweat drip from his flawless, bronze skin. His body was like a piston, pumping, pumping, pumping away, the drunken blonde lapsing into a writhing, whimpering, satisfied silence as I listened to the greasy wet sounds of their fucking. Oh, how I ached to be that random, drunken, squealing blonde, pinned beneath his long, languid body and legs spread wide, greedily welcoming each thrust of his velvety, satiny, veiny cock. I could almost feel him inside me, my pussy wet all over again as I stood watching them, half-in, half-out of the doorway.

  It felt so strange to be standing in Ryan’s room, watching him fuck someone else and wanting him the whole time. Though his bedroom, like all the rooms in Jerry’s house, was big, Ryan had positioned his bed against the wall nearest the door so that I was close, so close, to the action. Close enough to smell the musky scent of sex in the air, to see the color of the blonde girl’s toenail polish, and the poorly inked unicorn tattoo in the fleshy part of her pale, jiggling thigh. Close enough to feel her climax as it built with each pump and thrust.

  Close enough, nearly, to come myself…

  I waited, breathlessly, for one of them to spot me. I imagined the girl opening her eyes, gasping and then laughing, either cussing me out of the room or crooking a sweaty, puffy finger and inviting me to join them. Would I have? If she’d invited me into Ryan’s bed, musky and sweaty with its twisted, striped sheets of blue, would I have joined them? And in what perverse world would Ryan let me?

  Eventually I gave up on the fantasy–lurid and foolish as it might have been–and slunk back across the hall, avoiding the crumpled ball of Ryan’s black pants and a pair of damp, sticky, leopard-skin panties until I was back in my room, my heart still pounding, my pussy wet as fuck and my skin still fiery and fierce with desire.

  Despite the drunken blonde’s irritating voice growing hoarse from squealing encouragement, the pounding and slapping from across the hallway seemed to go on forever. I waited for it to stop, fighting temptation with every ounce of willpower I had, but each lusty groan and mattress squeak broke me down until I finally gave into the temptation that had my fingers trembling and knees shaking.

  Guiltily, but inevitably, I sank to the floor, my ear to the thin wooden door at my back where I could hear them the best. Feverishly, desperately, I tugged off my T-shirt before drawing down my wet, dripping panties until they hung around my left foot, half-on, half-off in my haste to touch myself before I came at the very thought of what was going on less than a few yards from me.

  I sat, legs splayed out on the hardwood floor beneath me, juices redolent and damp as my fingers inched toward them, my left hand gently spreading my warm, eager lips as my right danced along my thickly throbbing clit. I gasped at that first touch, so overcome by desire and anticipation I nearly came on contact!

  My throbbing, pearly bud was hard, stiff and slick beneath my fingers. So sensitive to the touch I had to bite down on my lip to keep from squealing with unabashed delight.

  So greedy did I become that I slunk to the floor, lying on my back and lifting my knees, kicking my panties the rest of the way off until they landed in a wet, sticky heap, halfway across the room. I could only picture myself, long blonde hair splayed out around my bare shoulders, the soles of my feet flat against the floor, knees up, ass squirming, fingers flying, belly quivering, mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut as I pictured my older stepbrother and fingered myself accordingly.

  I’d never needed to fantasize about a guy to get off before. But then, I’d never met a guy like Ryan before! Now he was all I could see as I blinked the sweat out of my eyes and pictured him on top of me, thrusting away as I simulated the feel of his hot, fragrant flesh with both hands. I touched and squeezed myself, hard and fast, slow and soft, moaning silently as my heart pounded and the floorboards beneath me creaked with the violent motions of my late night masturbation.

  There I lay, pleasuring myself with both hands as I bucked recklessly on the bare wood floor beneath me. Leaking, dripping, sweating and panting, the first orgasm swelled to a crest and washed over me with a radiant, volcanic, blossoming heat that made me freeze in place for fear of thrashing about violently and squealing out in lusty satisfaction.

  Even as I froze with ecstasy, my mouth flew open, gasping for air. Fortunately, Ryan’s date for the night was coming as well, twice as loudly so that it drowned out my own gasps and moans as I continued to finger fuck myself shamelessly on my bedroom floor.

  I lay there, squirming and sated, until my wrists grew sore, until my fingers dripped with sweet, tangy liquor, until my pussy throbbed and my ass grew sore from clenching and unclenching with wave after wave of unleashed desire.

  At last the cries and grunts from the other room grew silent. Fearing discovery, I slid my sticky fingers away from my sated bud, wiping them clean on top of my soft, trembling belly as I lay like a deflowered prom date on my bedroom floor. It was rough and hard beneath my back, something I hadn’t noticed while I was squirming on top of it in the throes of passion. But now, the house silent in the wake of an all-night sex romp, I was worried that if I stood, the rough floor might creak and let Ryan know exactly what I’d been doing during his erotic “performance” only moments before.

  Instead, I lay still and listened. Eventually, I heard the sounds of after sex through the thin wooden door at my back: a mattress creaking as bodies shifted, soft muttering and vague cooing before the first strains of drunken, post-coital snoring made me smirk. At last I stood, sticky and satisfied, leaving my T-shirt and panties twisted and damp on the floor where I’d tossed them before sliding, naked, into bed.

  I knew sleep would come quickly and easily now, despite the wall shaking snores coming from Ryan’s room across the hall. If only I had a big, strong man–even stepbrother–to spoon with after my dozen or more orgasms, how much more quickly and safely it would come...

  Chapter Seven

  Ryan was in the pool when I came back from my run the next morning, sweatier than usual after running twice as long to burn off my jealousy, and frustration from the night before.

  He was alone, thank God, no signs of the buxom blonde from the night – or early morning – before in evidence as he lingered in the shallow end, a can of Buzz iced coffee within reach as he ran his long, bronze fingers along his beard.

  I sank onto the grass bordering the wide, pool deck to stretch, fuming at his flawless beauty and stamina after an all-night fuck fest. “Look at the early worm,” I muttered, glowering at his rippling muscles, wet and dripping in the dawn’s early light as he reached for, then guzzled, his can of iced coffee-slash-energy drink.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he grumbled, scratching at a day or two of sexy stubble covering his face.

  I rolled my eyes. “After last night’s… acrobatics,” I teased, “I figured you’d be sleeping in this morning.”

  He seemed to sense my jealousy, or at least irritability, and pounced on it like the true predator he was. “Some of us jog for exercise,” he chuckled, “some of us fuck all night.”

  I rolled my eyes, silently fuming that he had the upper hand and even angrier that I’d been the one to give it to him. “Fucking?” I murmured, stretching more violently than usual as the grass glistened beneath my sweaty legs. “Is that what you call it? Sounded like two pigs killing each other to me.”

  He arched one eyebrow, putting his can of coffee down to drift gently toward the side of the pool nearest me. I watched his muscles ripple with every step. That sexy crooked smile charming me even as I wanted to ring his sexy leather neck!

  “Oh did it now?” he said playfully, splashing me gently with water as I arched my back to avoid it. “Sounds like someone was listening a little too closely to what her stepbrother was doing after hours.”

  “Kind of hard not to when your dad buys such thin doors!” I huffed, standing abruptly, half to avoid his next splash
of water and partly to flee the scene before I could say anything too incriminating about what I’d heard—and just how long I’d listened!

  He chuckled, perhaps amused by my frustration—or his father’s famous cheapness. “That’s Dad all over,” he mused, eyes soft and far away as he trailed his hands through the surface of the clear, blue water. “Spends close to two million on building the house of his dreams then saves himself a few measly grand by putting in cheap doors.”

  I rolled my eyes, admiring Ryan’s calm, stoic beauty even as he missed the point entirely. Even now I could hear the smack and squish of last night’s sexy times, the brazen blonde grunting and moaning as Ryan pumped and thrust away like a dog in heat on top of her.

  I grew flush at the thought, glancing into Ryan’s eyes just as he peered back at mine. “Sorry about that,” he said, softer now, more earnestly. “I picked her up at the bar and was going to take her home to her place, but her roommate was there, so…”

  “Lucky me,” I huffed, crossing my arms defensively as I stood gazing down at him. “So I got to be woken up at three in the morning by you banging some barfly?”

  His face changed slowly, from surprise to shock to, ultimately, defensiveness. “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

  “What good did that do me when I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night?”

  He started to say something, something smart-alecky, macho, and entirely appropriate, I was sure of it, then suddenly stopped himself. “Why?” he asked instead, inching closer to the edge of the pool as I lingered on the deck, still moments from sprinting away – but too curious and entranced not to stay a little longer. “Were you too excited to go back to sleep?”