Breakout Play

by Rebel Hart

  I liked that.

  I moved toward her and plucked the condom from between her fingers. She watched me tear it open with my teeth, all the while swaying her hips back and forth and grazing her pussy along the tip of my cock. She was playing a dangerous game. I rolled the condom on, abandoned the wrapper on the floor, and gripped her hips, forcing her to be still.

  “Still want me to take it easy on you?” I asked.

  She pushed back, easing me a couple inches inside her. “Only in the beginning.”

  Good answer.

  I gave her almost all of me. Her fingers tightened in the bedding and she let out a soft sound of pleasure and pain. I moved slowly at first, working myself in and out, letting her get used to my size. When she got a little more restless and started pushing against me, I discarded my caution, pulled her all the way down on my cock, and held her there.

  She cried out with delirious pleasure and collapsed on the bed.

  Then I fucked her like I meant it. Her cries were muffled by the sheet but I heard her call out one word perfectly clearly: my name.

  It pushed me over the edge. I bucked wildly against her, grinding my hips and working to bring her to her climax as I approached mine. She responded by reaching back between her legs and rubbing her clit.

  The girl was kryptonite. It was the only word for it.

  My muscles tensed. “Fuck,” I growled.

  Kim’s hand found my balls. She massaged gently and looked back at me, her face a mask of pleasure, and she whispered for me to come.

  It happened quickly. I broke and so did she, and we both fell into the heat of our orgasms, crashing against each other as we rode them out and then eventually collapsing onto the bed on our backs, gazing breathlessly at the ceiling.

  Neither of us spoke while we recovered, and then Kim snuggled into my side, rested her cheek on my chest, and gazed up at me. “What are you thinking about?”

  I grimaced and then smiled down at her. “All the ways your brother is going to murder me.”

  23

  Kimberly

  My own snoring startled me awake on Sunday morning. My eyes snapped open and I blinked at my wall as rain pattered on the window above my head.

  “Oh God,” I grumbled as I became aware of the aches and pains in my body. For once none of them were related to my knee. They were related to… other regions.

  Smiling to myself, I rolled onto my back and then turned to look for William.

  He was gone.

  Frowning, I reached out and ran my hand over the empty side of his bed. The sheets were cold. He’d been gone for awhile.

  Hopefully my obnoxious snoring hadn’t woken him. How un-sexy.

  When I caught the sound of voices down in the kitchen I sat bolt upright in my bed. One of the voices was William. The other?

  My brother.

  “Shit,” I breathed. Then I scrambled out of bed. My legs got caught up in the blanket and I pitched forward, landing on my hands and knees. I cursed my own clumsiness as my knee pulsed with sharp, fleeting pain, and then I stumbled to my feet and hurried to my dresser to put some clothes on.

  I was buck-ass naked. I glanced up at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser and paused with my hands in my panty drawer.

  I narrowed my eyes at a red mark on my right breast. And the base of my throat. And my hip. “Are those hickies?” I asked my reflection. “Oh, hell no. You have got to be kidding me!” I hurried to get dressed, opting for an oversized turtleneck to hide my hickies—God, I hated just thinking the word hickies, let alone having any—and a pair of leggings. I put my slippers on and raked my fingers through my hair in an effort to tame what I considered very obvious sex hair.

  When it was as smooth as it was going to get, I left the bedroom to wash my face and pee. Then I went downstairs and braced myself for what might be a very awkward morning with my older brother and his best friend.

  I found William and Keith in the kitchen. Keith had his back to me and was sipping coffee out of one of our dad’s mugs. William was sitting at the kitchen table nursing his own cup of coffee, and as soon as I appeared in the doorway behind Keith we locked eyes.

  Keith turned around and smiled when he saw me. “Good morning, sis. It’s not like you to rise before eight. What’s up with that?”

  “I heard the two of you talking,” I lied smoothly. “And then I smelled coffee. Is there any left?”

  Keith nodded at the coffee pot on the counter. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.” I helped myself to a cup and added a splash of almond milk and a teaspoon of sugar. As I sprinkled a bit of cinnamon on top, I cast William an apprehensive look. It didn’t seem like Keith knew William and I had spent the night in the same bed, but I didn’t want to take any risks.

  William gave his head a slight shake and mouthed the words He doesn’t know.

  Relief washed over me. I sipped my coffee and turned to my brother. “What are you doing here so early, anyway?”

  My brother leaned up against the counter. “Mom is spending most of the day at the hospital with Dad. He has some tests today but if all goes well they’ll release him tomorrow morning. So I’m here to handle things with the contractors. With any luck they’ll finish up the living room this morning and Dad will come home to a house that doesn’t look like a car drove through it a week ago.”

  “That’ll be nice,” I said.

  Keith nodded. Then he looked out into the backyard. I followed his gaze until my eyes landed on what he was looking at: mine and William’s picnic movie date. I swallowed.

  “What’s that about?” Keith asked, tilting his head to the side.

  “Erm,” I stammered.

  Keith looked at me. “You two have a movie night in the yard or something last night?” He laughed.

  I didn’t.

  William cleared his throat. “We needed a distraction. And the living room isn’t exactly functioning.”

  Keith frowned at us.

  “Jade and Eugene came over, too,” I said.

  His frown immediately vanished. “Ah. Of course. How are they?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  Keith laughed. “Maybe you should go back to bed, Kim. Jade and Eugene, of course. Who else would I be talking about?”

  I laughed nervously as William made wide eyes at me that very clearly said, Get your shit together or he’s going to see right through us and know that I was inside you last night.

  The thought made my sore, achy bits all warm and tingly.

  I cursed my arousal and smiled at my brother. “They’re good. Really good. You know Eugene. Always… um… talking about how hot William is.”

  William arched an eyebrow at me. “Seriously?” he muttered.

  Keith snickered. “Eugene has always had the hots for you, Will. Since high school.”

  “Can you blame him?” I joked.

  Keith’s head snapped in my direction. “What does that mean?”

  Why did I keep talking? I needed to shut my mouth and be done with it. But right now Keith was looking at me expectantly and I couldn’t just stand there like a dumb mute. “Oh come on, Keith. Don’t be stupid. Everyone with eyeballs knows William is subjectively attractive.”

  William smiled at me. “Subjectively?”

  I sipped my coffee. “Mhm.”

  William rose smoothly to his feet and brought his empty coffee mug over to the sink, where he washed it and set it to dry on the mat on the counter. Then he dried his hands on the rose printed dish towel draped over the faucet. “Well, subjectively speaking of course, you’re not bad either, Kim.”

  You devilish little bastard, I thought as I proceeded to smile into my cup. I didn’t dare say a word.

  Keith made an uneasy sound in the back of his throat. “The hell is going on between you two?”

  “Nothing,” William and I said in unison.

  Keith looked back and forth between the pair of us for a moment longer before shrugging it off. Then he put his coffee cup i
n the sink. “Are you two going to be here when Dad gets home tomorrow, or do you have to work, Kim?”

  “I got my shift covered,” I said. “There’s no way I’m not going to be home. I was going to make dinner so Mom didn’t have to worry about it. I was thinking either lasagna or that veggie quiche I made for—”

  “Lasagna,” Keith said. “Easily lasagna.”

  “The quiche was good,” I said defensively.

  “Lasagna,” Keith said again.

  “Fine.” I pouted.

  “What about you, Will?” Keith asked. “You gonna be here to join us for dinner and welcome Dad home from the hospital?”

  William folded his arms across his chest. “Actually, I can’t be here tomorrow.”

  I stood up straighter. “What? Why?”

  Keith looked put out too. “Dad will want you to be here, man.”

  “I know,” William said. “The timing isn’t ideal. I actually meant to tell you guys but the timing never seemed right. I’m moving out tomorrow. The place I bought was a quick possession.”

  He wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  Why hadn’t he told me this last night before we hooked up? Him moving out so soon was kind of a big deal. At least it felt like one now. Maybe if we hadn’t hooked up I wouldn’t have had this weird tight feeling in my stomach… but we had, and it was there. He should have told me. He should have wanted to tell me.

  But what if last night hadn’t meant the same thing to him as it had to me? What if he saw it as his last chance to hook up with Keith’s baby sister before he moved out and on with his life for good?

  I set my coffee mug down so the shaking in my hand wasn’t so obvious. “That’s great,” I said. Then I moved to the hallway. “I’m going to go have a shower.”

  William’s arms fell from his chest and he made to follow me, but Keith caught him with a hand on his shoulder. “Do you think you could give me a hand clearing some of the debris on the lawn out of here today? It’s not a huge priority but I know Mom would be relieved to come home and see all that shit out of here.”

  “Yeah,” William said, catching my eye as I paused in the doorway. “Yeah. No problem.”

  I slipped out and hurried up the stairs, replaying the events of last night over and over again in my head. He’d seemed so into it. So into me. But if that was the case why would he hold such a big piece of information back?

  Perhaps he thought I was fragile and would break at the thought of him leaving. He could be an egotistical ass like that sometimes. Maybe he figured I wanted him around for a little while longer as things settled back into their normal rhythm once my dad got home. Maybe he just didn’t know how to say it.

  No. I shook my head at my own foolish wishes as I closed the bathroom door and then leaned into the shower to turn on the water. That wasn’t it.

  He hadn’t said anything because to him it didn’t matter. Plain and simple.

  24

  William

  The coach had been pushing me hard the last two weeks. Ever since I moved out of the Renwick house life had catapulted forward; Roger was home safe and sound and well on the mend. I was already settled into my new penthouse and it felt like I’d already been living there for six months. It felt right. The team had pulled me in for extra practices to get me up to speed and make up for the week I missed while Roger was in the hospital.

  For the most part the team and my coaches had been pretty supportive about the whole thing. But now that Roger was home and I was living in Chicago they weren’t giving me as much leeway. There were expectations on my shoulders that I had to meet, and as of right now, I was still falling a little short.

  I wasn’t the strongest guy on the team. Or the fastest. And I certainly didn’t have the best puck handling skills, either.

  What I could offer was brazen confidence. At least that’s what the coach called it. He sat me down when I came in for my first practice after the accident and told me he’d been reviewing all the tapes of my games over the previous years. He pointed out that I was reckless.

  It wasn’t news to me. I already knew I had a tendency to act first and think later. My instincts on the ice were what usually led to my victories. They were also responsible for my injuries ninety-nine percent of the time.

  But hey. Reckless was my style. My MO.

  On this particular Tuesday afternoon, I pushed myself to my limits. I broke a stick, took a puck to the ankle, and accidentally skated right into the net, losing my balance after taking a shot under the pressure of two teammates acting as defense against my offense. The top of the metal net struck my shoulder, and when I removed all my gear two hours later I found a nice purple welt forming.

  Some of the guys gave me shit for being a loose cannon. I grinned and told them that’s what their team needed: a little bit of chaos.

  They didn’t disagree.

  My coach, however, gave me an earful and warned me that he didn’t pay for expensive players just for them to get themselves injured during practice. On the way out a couple teammates clapped me on the shoulder and told me I wouldn’t be a newbie forever. Once the season started and I showed the coach what I could really do on the ice I’d win his favor.

  I had to hope that was true. Otherwise I’d likely find myself transferred yet again, and then I could bid farewell to Chicago—and the Renwicks—for good.

  I couldn’t let that happen. Not again. I was home and I didn’t have any intention of leaving this time around.

  Maxine was waiting for me at a table by the window at the newly opened hotspot downtown Chicago called Atlas. The décor matched the name. The walls were beautifully painted murals of parts of the world maps. Cities were labeled in gold and capitols in silver, and the oceans were deep shades of indigo that gave the place a moody, rich atmosphere. Candles flickered on the tables and the hushed voices of guests mingled with the music pouring from the harpist on the stage in one corner.

  I joined Maxine at our table.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said, checking the time on my wrist watch. Fifteen minutes late, to be precise. “Practice ran later than expected and the coach held me back for some… strategy discussions.”

  Maxine gave me a warm, understanding smile. Tonight her lips were red, just like the day she’d helped me sign off on my penthouse purchase. She was wearing a skin tight white dress down to her knees. It hugged every curve on her body and accented her cleavage, which became even more pinched together and full as she leaned forward, squishing her breasts between her arms as she braced her hands in her lap. “It’s perfectly all right, William. You’re a busy man. Besides, look at this view. The wait was pleasant.” She waved out at the hustle and bustle happening on the street outside our window.

  She was right. This place was in a good spot. It was a rainy evening and the street lights reflected green and red and yellow on the wet pavement. People hopped over puddles on the sidewalk and huddled under umbrellas. Across the street was an arts theater where people were filing in and out in their best evening wear. The sign above the front doors depicted the name of a ballet show I could not pronounce.

  Maxine sipped her red wine. Miraculously, her red lips did not leave a stain on the rim. “How have you been, William? How’s the new place treating you?”

  “It’s great,” I said earnestly. “Feels like home already.”

  “So quickly?” Her eyes danced in the light of the candle. “Impressive. Usually people need a bit more time than two weeks to settle in. But I suppose if you’ve spent the last few years going from city to city it makes sense that you would have an easier time settling in when you finally get into your home.”

  “Wouldn’t have happened without you.”

  She lifted her wine glass. “Cheers to that, handsome.”

  I lifted my water glass and we tapped them together.

  “You want to get yourself something a little stronger?” Maxine asked.

  “Nah, I’m good.” I set my water down. “I’m not much of a d
rinker.”

  “Me neither,” she said, laughing softly. “But on a night out like this? With a guy like you? I can’t see a reason not to treat myself to a nice glass of red. Or two.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.”

  Her red lips curled. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  We spent the next five minutes acquainting ourselves with the menu. Our server took our orders after going over the night’s special creation by the chef in excruciating detail. It turned out to be a giant waste of time, because neither Maxine nor I were interested in escargot or any of the words that followed.

  We both made safer choices: pasta and salad.

  I should’ve known Maxine would be an order-a-salad-on-a-first-date sort of girl.

  I paused with my water halfway to my lips as I processed that thought.

  First date?

  This hadn’t been a date in my eyes. This had just been plans to meet up with an old friend where I would front the bill to thank her for helping me find my penthouse. Then things between Maxine and me would be done until, perhaps, I needed to hire another realtor.

  I eyed the beautiful woman in front of me.

  Based on how she was dressed and how nicely she’d styled her hair and applied her makeup, she very clearly thought this was a date.

  William, you ass, I thought. How could I have missed this?

  Maxine leaned back in her seat and crossed one lean leg over the other. The movement sent the hem of her dress inching upward and she didn’t bother to pull it back down. “Forgive me for saying this, William. But you look a little… run down. Are you sure everything is okay?”

  “Yes,” I said quickly. “Practice just wore me out today. I have to make up for some lost time.”

  “Right,” she breathed, “because of the accident. How is Roy’s recovery going?”

  “Roger,” I corrected her.

  She gave me a gracious smile. “Oops. Yes. Roger. How is he?”

  I licked my lips. I’d spoken to Roger a handful of times on the phone since I moved out to Chicago and he’d given me an earful for keeping tabs on him, assuring me he was healing up just fine and the last thing he needed was one more person calling him up to ask if he was taking proper care of himself. Naturally, this became an ongoing joke, and I started several of my early mornings with a text message to him that said something along the lines of: Don’t push it too hard today, old man. And stay away from cars.