His hands climbed up my legs, gently spreading them even more as his lips moved from my belly to my bush, pressing down until they caressed, then clasped down upon my throbbing clit. The sensation was magical, instant, and overwhelming, making me buck, clench and grit my teeth, clasping the cushion above me as I turned my head from side to side, lips clenched lest I scream and wake the neighbors.
Ryan began to slowly alternate the sensation of his powerful, glorious lips with his wicked, expert tongue, rasping across the throbbing tip of my bud before sucking it tenderly, gently, the rush and thrum of alternating sensations making me buck like a live wire on top of the damp lounge chair, thighs already trembling as my ears thrilled to the sound of his licking and sucking in the dark, quiet backyard.
I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, gasping for air, panting and moaning as Ryan kicked his seduction up another notch. Sliding his hands from along my thighs to grip my buttocks, he squeezed, lifting them higher to lick and suck upon my swollen pussy as his tongue poked and prodded my eager clit, fully exposed and vulnerable to his masculine and expert loving.
It was too much, all of it, and so quickly… Ryan’s thick fingers squeezing my ass, lifting it higher as his tongue rasped across my sensitive bud, only to drag away to be quickly replaced by his tender, thick lips, melting around my clit. He sucked and savored my pearly pink nub until at last I came, loudly and violently, greedily pressing my clit against Ryan’s lips until I exploded, bucking beneath him as he gripped my ass even tighter in unity, literally squeezing another orgasm from my uncontrollable libido.
But he had only just begun. He sucked, licked, teased, kissing and squeezing until I had come at least a dozen times—maybe more—too many times to keep count before I squirmed away from his wicked mouth and fell on top of the cushion beneath him.
“No. More. Please!” I begged, literally crawling away from him as he knelt, his cock stiff and leaking with desire, at the other end of the chair.
“I promise,” he said, licking his lips free of my glossy pussy liquor as I crooked a finger and nodded toward the cushion between us.
“Your turn,” I said, licking my lips in anticipation as his cock literally leapt in response.
He smiled cockily, taking my place as he lay on his back, reaching high above him like a piece of long, tender taffy to grip the cushion above his head and settle in for the ride. “If you insist,” he chuckled as I slid in between his legs, gently stroking his cock in appreciation of its masculine beauty.
Pre-come pooled on the tip, thick and slick as I grasped it and used it to coat his rock hard prick. He murmured and moaned, his legs spreading apart to make room as I bent over to lick a fresh drop from the slit in his tip.
He gasped and flinched and I felt powerful, suddenly, to be making such a strong man melt beneath my touch. I teased him as he had me stroking and kissing his fat cock until it leaked, glistened, and throbbed and neither of us could take it any longer.
“Mmmmmm,” I murmured appreciatively as I slid it into my mouth. My passion overwhelmed my senses and I sucked him greedily, gliding up his glorious staff as my lips caressed every long, veiny inch. To enhance the sensation, I gripped his thigh with my left hand while my right slid beneath the base of his prick to gently clasp and fondle his sack. They flinched at the touch, as if alive beneath my fingers as I tugged and teased, caressed and tickled them.
Ryan squirmed, helpless beneath me as I gripped his thigh for support as I worked my lips, tightly sealed, up and down his rigid prick. I used my tongue to glide along the bottom vein, rasping where I wasn’t sucking, dragging where I wasn’t licking, until I could feel him trembling, throbbing, ready to explode at any moment.
Risking a glance on the upswing, I watched Ryan wince and murmur, his eyes squeezed shut, hands gripping the top of the lounge cushion with tense fervor and white knuckles. I left my lips loosely sealed, about halfway down his staff, letting the juices warm and mingle until I gently, so gently, slid them off of him.
“Not this way, stepbrother,” I murmured, licking his scent—his taste—off my lips. His eyes blinked open as I squeezed his balls gently for emphasis. I loved the deliciously kinky, even sinful, word on my tongue: stepbrother. This was happening. Right now. Right here. In the middle of the night, Ryan’s cock slick and swollen, my pussy engorged and on fire, his balls trembling, thick and hanging low in my grateful hand. I was going to…
Fuck.
My.
Stepbrother.
Not just fuck him, but fuck him senseless. Hard, fast, slow, gentle, long, wet and sweaty, until he begged me to come, and I’d let him— hard, fast and deep, deep inside me.
He nodded, as if in silent agreement, then shook his head as if having second thoughts. “I want to come inside you,” he said, “But… but…”
“Relax, Ryan” I murmured, sliding my thighs on either side of his as I crept up toward his glistening prick, running my curious fingers along his legs as I did so. “I’m on the pill. So… come on! Fuck me hard. Nasty. Make me feel it.”
His relieved exhalation was so powerful I could feel his breath wash over my chest, heaving with delight and anticipation as I rose on top of him, gently guiding his leaking cock toward the swell of my swollen cunt. It was sensitive and quivering as it embraced Ryan’s prick, kissing it as my other lips had earlier, embracing it just as tightly and dragging it in, deeper, deeper, deeper than my mouth ever could—and tighter, too.
I felt his every inch glide along my swollen labia, glistening, pink, and wet in the moonlight as he filled me to the hilt. When at last I sank on top of his pelvis, writhing against his rock hard belly, he reached out for me just as I reached out for him. Gently, almost instinctively, our hands met above his chest and we clasped them there, tightly, as he gently began to thrust in and out of me.
I gripped his fingers tighter with each thrust, holding on for support as he gently lifted me up and down with every glide in or out. Slick and wet, the sloppy sounds of our lovemaking filled the quiet pre-dawn stillness, merging with the creaking of the lawn chair and our feverish panting as we fell into an intoxicating rhythm.
It wasn’t the ravishing I’d expected, or even fantasized about—it was a million times better. Thick, slow, persistent thrusts that gently lifted me up before letting me down, the sensation so rigid and rhythmic I couldn’t help but feel the tremors of another orgasm build intensely, as I peered down into his eyes.
His gaze was attentive, and adoring, his lips slightly parted except when he chose to bite down on his lip to fight back his urge to come deep inside me. If only I had that kind of will power!
Instead I came, suddenly, clenching and gasping, trembling and crying out, barking and braying as he did the same, one last giant thrust before the explosion filled me deep inside, warm, wet, and powerful as we quivered and quaked, connected in body and spirit.
I melted on top of him, coming once more as his thickness filled me with heat, quivering silently before our hands parted and I sank on top of him, our hearts pounding against one another’s as my breasts softly clung to his broad, wide chest.
His arms, so big and strong, wrapped around my back, tugging me close in a moment of intimacy far more passionate than our love making, or even the nearly two weeks leading up to it. More than anything he could have said or done to me, that simple act of hugging me tightly spoke volumes about how Ryan really felt about me, and as I returned it eagerly, I hoped I was saying the same back to him.
I sighed with contentment, a million fantasies fulfilled as I clung to that moment, not knowing–or caring–what might happen next. Would we ever make love again? Would it ever be this good again? Would our parents arrive early–surprise–and spoil everything? Or was it already spoiled? Would Ryan recoil as he had that first night I enticed him, doubling back over himself, and retreating to his room to smoke bags and bags of pot while I fumed quietly in my room across the hall?
I had no idea. Seriously. I only knew that Ryan fel
t the same way about me as I did about him. Alive with the knowledge that what we’d just done was as dangerous as it was delicious.
I wanted more!
Chapter Fourteen
“Morning, Sunshine.”
I blinked my eyes open, soft morning light hidden behind clusters of palm trees and an overcast sky that allowed me to open my eyes without automatically squeezing them shut again. Ryan stood, clad in black baggies that clung low to his narrow hips and hung down to his knees.
He offered a cup of coffee, and sitting up to reach for it, I found my nakedness covered in a long, soft beach towel. I clasped it to my breasts with one hand, as if embarrassed by my nakedness, holding the coffee with the other. It was strong and hot, with just enough cream and sugar–to say nothing of caffeine–to rouse my spirits after our early morning fuck fest, and apparently, a night’s worth of sleeping it off on the same deck chair.
“Thanks,” I said, setting the coffee down as I reached for my bikini from the deck next to my chair.
“No problem,” he said, watching as the towel dropped away and I slid my bikini on. He seemed almost disappointed as I tied the straps in the back, then sighed with resignation and drifted toward the shallow end of the pool. “Fancy a swim?”
I chuckled, nodding and joining him, cup of coffee in hand as I sank to my knees into the cool, delicious water before sitting on the middle step to enjoy the view.
“I could think of worse ways to start the morning,” I murmured contentedly, watching Ryan’s powerful muscles as he strode deeper into the pool, sun caressing his flawless wet physique. “Or spend the night.”
He turned, leaning his hip against the pool deck and eyeing me carefully. “About that,” he said, tentatively, as I braced myself for the worst. “I just want to say that—”
“Ryan, please,” I blurted, interrupting him as I set my cup down on the deck behind me with a clatter and clack on the wet pool tile. “Please don’t say you regret what we did last night, because… because… my heart just couldn’t take it.”
He shook his head, eyes wide and hurt. “Never, Heather,” he professed, scolding me with his tone as well as his wounded gaze. “I don’t regret a second of what we… did. But you have to admit, it’s… unconventional. This relationship of ours, I mean.”
I nodded. “It’s more than just unconventional, Ryan,” I insisted. “It’s… special.”
He nodded, still glistening, as he stood waist-deep in the shallow end, damp baggies clinging to his young, virile crotch. “I agree, Heather. You’re a very special person—”
“I’m not fishing for compliments, Ryan,” I insisted, swishing my feet in the pool distractedly. “I’m serious. Last night wasn’t just about… sex. You’re special, you’re very… special… to me.”
“I want to believe that,” he murmured, looking away for a moment.
“How many more ways can I show you, bro?” I chuckled humorlessly, weary at the thought of jumping through even more hoops to convince Ryan that I was for real – that this was for real.
“That’s just it,” he chuckled, equally joylessly. “If we were just two random people, I wouldn’t say a word. It’s just that…”
“We’re not actually related,” I reminded him as his voice trailed off, no doubt searching for a way to let me down diplomatically.
“Not by blood,” he murmured. “I know that. It’s just…”
“Weird?” I said. “Plenty of couples are weird. It’s no big deal.”
He winced, and I wondered if it was at the word couples. I decided to quit while I was ahead, hearing him out before digging my own grave instead.
“It’s kind of a big deal,” he insisted, pausing before continuing. “So… I want you to know that, whatever I say right now, it goes without saying that I care about you. A lot.”
My throat clenched with the admission. “Me too, Ryan,” I said, finding his eyes wide but distant a few feet away. “Last night was… more than just some kind of wicked lust for me.”
He nodded. “Me too, Heather. But I’m worried about what might happen next.”
“Next?” I teased, spreading my thighs gently, if provocatively, beneath the surface of the water. “You mean after I finish my coffee and you wriggle out of those luscious black baggies?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “You’re a piece of work, Heather.”
“You’re a piece of art, Ryan,” I mused, feeling so hot and bothered it was a miracle the pool water that covered me from the waist down wasn’t already boiling. “Seriously, if you could see what I’m looking at, you’d know why I can’t stop thinking of what we did and when we can do it again.”
“I think the same thing every time I look at you,” he confessed, making no move to actually do anything about it. “Which is more often than you think. But it’s not us I’m worried about. Our parents get home in a few days. Your mom. My dad. What… I mean… how do we keep this up?”
My heart swelled with relief that he wasn’t entirely breaking it off. More like, finding a way to keep it on the down low. “From what I experienced last night, Ryan,” I purred, just as eager to keep what we were doing from prying eyes. “You’ll never have a problem keeping it up—”
“I’m serious,” he growled, shoving a wave of water at me only half-playfully as I felt it embrace my skin. “We have to talk about this, now, before they get back from their cruise, or we’ll never find a solution.”
“Why do we have to ‘solve’ anything?” I asked, perhaps naively. “I mean why can’t we just keep doing what we’re doing?”
“Oh, sure,” he snorted. “We should keep fucking on deck chairs at four AM? Or flirting around the breakfast table? Or shopping for squeak free mattresses for our rooms? Or skulking around in the hallway every morning, trying to race back to our rooms before our parents get up?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because it’s rude, that’s why.”
“But if we’re doing it anyway,” I reasoned, letting it lie there just like that.
“I just,” he said, struggling to find the words. “Either we do it right or we shouldn’t be doing it at all. I think we both know we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”
“Quit complaining!” I snorted, splashing water his way. “Are we doing this or not?”
He sighed, deflated, sagging against the pool deck at his side. “I can’t see a scenario where I’m not fucking you, Heather.”
I nodded, brightening, but still couldn’t understand why he was so persistent. “Why do you care what our parents think anyway, Ryan? You barely talk to your father, and you’ve only known my mom for a few days.”
He shrugged. “In the Marines we were taught to respect our elders, even if we don’t necessarily agree with them. Do you want to shove it in your mom’s face that I’m fucking her daughter?”
“No,” I said, blushing slightly at the thought of what my mom might think if she’d caught Ryan and I last night, or even caught wind of our illicit relationship. “But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, will it?”
“But is it right if we have to sneak around to do it?” Ryan asked, waving his hands dramatically. “I mean, if this was normal, would we even be having this conversation?”
“I dunno, dude,” I murmured. “My mom’s weird about who I date to begin with. I mean, you’re twenty-five. Even if you weren’t my stepbrother, she might not want me to date you because of our age difference. You have tattoos. She might not want me to date you because of that. Look at me. I smoke, I drink, I curse, I sleep around. Would your father want you do date me?”
Ryan shrugged. “Probably not,” he confessed.
“So,” I countered, “is us being related because our parents fell in love any different than you and I having all those other differences?”
He bit his lip and shook his head. “Maybe I’m over thinking all this.”
“Ya think?” I blurted, the clouds overhead parting and the sun coming out, warming my belly as I
lay stretched out on top of the pool stairs and making Ryan’s hairless torso way too sexy for my own good.
“Maybe,” he began, swirling one large, tender hand in the water beside his waist absently. “Maybe we should tell them, huh?”
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “Bad. Fucking. Idea. Bro,” I intoned, dead serious as I realized that if this was going to work at all, I was going to have to take the lead and find the right words to make Ryan realize that, yes, he was over thinking all of this—by a long shot. “Just, trust me on this. We’ll figure out a way to work this out so that we get what we want without hurting our parents’ feelings, okay?”
He nodded, seeming unconvinced. “Jeez! Don’t worry about it, okay? We’re two smart, motivated people who obviously care for our parents. Whatever happens, whenever it happens, we’ll find a way so that nobody gets hurt. That way, we’re all happy.”
Ryan inched closer, his cock thick in the water as he rose from it with every step. “Heather, you don’t understand. If I can’t keep my hands off you while our parents are away—I won’t be able to when they’re back, either.”
“You think it’s gonna be easy for me, hot shot?” I asked, my eyes roving intently over his muscular, masculine physique and wanting nothing more than to cover his mouth so he’d quit talking and start doing what he did best. “But we’ve got to find a way to make ourselves happy without freaking our parents out.”
He sighed, pausing just long enough in his mental gymnastics to scope me out. I figured it was now or never if I was ever going to make the most of my overactive vagina —or Ryan’s fat cock.
“Besides,” I sighed, reaching up to deftly tug at the back of my bikini top so that it slid from my shoulders and across my breasts, to fall into the pool with a dramatic plop. “We’ve got three whole days of nonstop fucking to figure it out.”
Dirty Wicked Lust: A Stepbrother Romance Page 9
