Stepbrother Untouchable

by Masters, Colleen

  The expression in his eyes arrests me, and I still for a moment, then slowly begin to move my foot to the left. There. I feel my sneaker knock against it, and move my foot up and onto it.

  “OK, now just push off and I'll pull you up. One, two, three!” I shove my foot down and he kneels and pulls me up and back onto him. I land squarely on top of him, shaking with fear and adrenaline. I feel his arms reach around me and squeeze, almost pressing the last of the air out of me.

  “Fuck, Brynn,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Are you OK?” I reply, realizing he's landed on his back.

  “Am I OK? Are you?” he says, sounding shocked.

  “Um, I think so, though it's hard to tell right now.”

  “Oh, sorry. Here, stand up,” he says, and I lean to the side of him. He jumps up then offers me both hands. I take them and stand, wincing as I put weight on my right foot. “What's wrong?”

  “My ankle, I think.”

  “Let's get back on the trail where I can look at it.” He takes my arm and wraps it around his shoulder. I feel his arm around my waist and I'm practically lifted off my feet as he walks me back onto the trail. He guides me down to a seated position and I lean back on my hands as he gently picks up my right foot. “It's a little swollen,” he observes, “but I don't think it's broken—probably a bad sprain. Think you're OK to walk back if I help you?”

  “Yeah, I'll be fine,” I assure him. He helps me stand up and puts my arm around his shoulders. I take a deep breath as we take our awkward first steps back toward the boathouse, and I realize I'm in for a full hour of being pressed up against him. “You're really sweaty, you know that?” I say with a smile.

  “Hey, you better be careful or I might lose my grip,” he replies.

  “How high up was I?”

  “Probably best not to think about it.”

  “That's pretty high.”

  “Well, I'm glad you're alright…mostly.”

  I don't know if it's the scare from almost falling, or if we're both just tired, but the slow walk back takes place in almost silence. I wish I could think of something to say to break the tension, but having his shirtless body pressed up against me is too much. I can feel our sweat mingling together and our breath syncing along with the rhythm of our footsteps. As we finally sight the parking lot, he stops and moves in front of me, then bends over, looking back at me expectantly. I laugh and lift my bad leg up onto him, and then jump up as he hoists me the rest of the way. He walks with me on his back until we reach the car, then deposits me right next to the passenger side door.

  As he jogs around to the driver's side, I turn to look around the parking lot. There are still only a few cars here, and in the corner is a blue sedan with a woman wearing sunglasses behind the wheel. I stare at her for a moment, because with her blonde hair, I thought for a moment that she was my mom. As we make eye contact she quickly looks away, and I hear the car start after a moment. Maybe she was just staring at Nate like the other women we encountered today. Or maybe she's a reporter…Pierce warned the family that there could still be a few hanging around.

  “Are you OK to get in by yourself?” Nate asks, rolling down the window.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” I reply, snapping back to attention. I open the door and use my left leg to hop into the elevated seat.

  “Everything alright?” he asks.

  “Yeah, it's fine.”

  When we arrive back at the house, Nate basket-carries me straight from the car into the kitchen, gently setting me down on a chair in the breakfast nook. He kneels in front of me and unlaces my shoe, then slips it off and peels my sock off.

  “Can you wiggle your toes?” I move them back and forth. “And now really slowly move your whole foot around.” I wince as I circle it and pain shoots up through my leg. “I broke my ankle playing lacrosse my junior year, and I don't think that's what this is. Let's ice and wrap it and see how it is tomorrow, or Monday. If it's still bad, I'll take you to the doctor.”

  “You know how to wrap it?”

  “Hey, when it's not my own hand, I'm pretty good at it.” I watch him take down that same first aid kit from the cabinet and set it down on the floor as he kneels in front of me again. He carefully wraps athletic tape around my ankle and then around the middle of my foot, hooking it around and around until my ankle is firmly stabilized. “OK, let's get you into the den so we can ice it.”

  I begin to stand but he bends over and scoops me up again, carrying me through the hallways to the cozy den. He sets me down on the couch and then disappears. I grab a pillow and set it behind my back as I stretch my legs out, marveling at the sudden appearance of Nate's caretaker instincts. He reappears with a Ziploc bag of crushed ice and a glass of water, setting the latter down on the table next to me before lowering the ice down onto my ankle. I shiver as he places it down, and he pulls the throw down from the back of the couch. He grabs one end and unfolds it, then sits on the edge of the couch next to me to lay it over me, tucking the corners in around my body.

  I become very aware of my own breathing as he moves over me. I watch his hands as they take the edge of the blanket and tuck it around my shoulders. His right hand moves slowly from the blanket onto the exposed skin of my neck. I hold my breath as he lightly runs his fingertips up onto my jaw, then over to my chin. With his thumb and forefinger, he gently tilts my head up until I look at him. He's staring at my mouth, and only pauses for a moment before he bends down.

  “Please don't,” I whisper as he's just inches away from kissing me. “If you don't want anything more, it's just cruel.”

  “What if I do want something more?” he says, his dark blue eyes flicking up to mine.

  “More…” I repeat, rolling the word around my tongue. “What kind of more?”

  “I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I've tried fighting that feeling, I've tried reasoning with it, but it just keeps getting stronger. I have to give in—I need to. I can't tell you I know exactly what this will look like…I've never done anything like it. But I promise you that when I'm with you, I'll be with only you. And I want you to be with only me.”

  I stare up at him. That's still a lot of unknowns, but I sense that he's giving me everything he can right now. Plus my heart is about to beat out of my chest, and my resistance is giving out.

  “Only you,” I nod, before reaching around his neck and pulling him toward me. Our lips meet in an open kiss, our tongues finding each other’s and mingling with desperate passion. He presses me back against the cushion, his hands grasping my waist over the blanket and quickly moving up and over my breasts. I arch my back into him, wanting to feel him against me…feel him everywhere.

  “You guys home?” Nate jumps away as we hear my mom's voice from the foyer. He takes a deep breath and then runs his hand through his hair before responding.

  “We're in the den!” he calls back, then turns to me. “Tonight,” he murmurs, his eyes burning with promise.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Are you OK, Brynn?” my mom asks me, frowning.

  “Yeah, I'm fine,” I reply lightly as I use my napkin to try to clean the tomato sauce off my shirt where I've just spilled it. Nate's promise of an evening rendezvous has left me clumsy and distracted throughout dinner. I had just finished cleaning up the glass of water I knocked off the table when I dropped a piece of chicken off my fork and onto my shirt.

  “Sorry I couldn't make it today, guys,” Pierce says. “Looks like you could have used some more supervision. Nate shouldn't have taken you on any dangerous trails.”

  “Oh, it wasn't dangerous,” I rush to Nate's defense. “He was trying to teach me how to spot poison ivy, actually, and I walked right off the trail. I didn't realize how close I was to the edge and the ground just gave way under me. It was all my fault. He was the one who pulled me back up and taped my ankle.”

  “Well, it couldn't hurt to get it looked at by a doctor on Monday,” my mom points out.

  “I think it'
ll be fine, really,” I insist.

  “Anyone want dessert?” my mom asks.

  “No, thanks,” Nate and I both respond at the same time. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “What's so amusing?” Pierce asks, looking at his son, his voice dangerously quiet.

  “Inside joke,” I reply quickly. “I'll help you clear the table, Mom.” We both stand and grab a couple plates and head into the kitchen. As soon as the swinging door shuts behind me, I hear Pierce's voice. Even though his words are muffled, I can tell by his tone that he's berating Nate for something. I look at my mom. She turns on the water and begins rinsing off the plates before putting them into the dishwasher. “Is it OK with you that he talks to Nate like that?”

  “It's between the two of them,” my mom replies quietly without looking up at me.

  I feel anger surge inside me. “You keep trying to make us a family, but then you won't get involved in their relationship. You can't have it both ways.” Before she can reply, I spin back around and into the dining room. Pierce breaks off abruptly as I enter the room, and I quickly clear the rest of the dishes before limping upstairs to my room.

  I take a deep breath as I close my bedroom door behind me. I don't want to have this night ruined by my anger at my mom and Pierce. I head into the bathroom and turn on my shower. I still haven't had a chance to wash off the sweat from our kayaking and hiking trip today, and I want to smell like a rose tonight.

  My body tingles in anticipation as I peel off my shirt and shorts. I glance down at my wrapped ankle, wondering if it's OK to get wet. Probably fine. I pull off my sports bra and underwear and then study myself in the mirror, running my hands over my breasts and then across my stomach. Nate's already seen me naked, I remind myself, as nerves surge up in my stomach. And I already know he likes me. It will be OK.

  I step under the hot stream of water and take my time washing my hair. As the conditioner sets, I shave my legs and my bikini line, going a little bit narrower than I would normally. I know that a lot of girls at college go completely bare, but I can't bring myself to go that far.

  I turn off the water and towel myself off, then part my hair in the middle and let it air dry. I pull a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a camisole from my bureau and put them on. I'm not sure if that's sexy or not, but I'm trying not to overthink it. I'm certainly not succeeding, but I am trying.

  I head over to my computer and sit down. I know that Nate will probably wait for our parents to go to bed before he does anything, so I've got a couple of hours to go at least. I begin to click around the internet, but I'm not able to absorb myself in anything. I keep wondering what's going to happen tonight. I don't want to get my hopes up, but I think I have an idea. Or at least, I know what I want to happen. I finally decide to play some mindless TV on Hulu, and settle back in my chair.

  “Goodnight, Brynn!” I finally hear my mom call as she heads up to the third floor. I freeze.

  “Goodnight!” I call back, and immediately begin pulling at the ends of my hair. I keep watching TV until I hear Pierce heading upstairs, too, then quickly close my computer and hurry into the bathroom, wincing as I put too much weight on my right ankle. I run my fingers through my hair and decide I should brush my teeth. Just as I'm putting my toothbrush back down, I hear a soft knock at my door. My heart jumps in my chest.

  I walk back into my bedroom just in time to see the door open and Nate stick his head in.

  “Hi,” I murmur.

  “Hi,” he replies, taking a couple more steps in and closing the door behind him. I smile at him nervously. I suddenly have no idea what to say—the usual ease of conversation between us is replaced with jittery nerves and excitement. His appearance right now isn't helping matters. He's barefoot, and wearing jeans and a V-neck white t-shirt. He looks impossibly, effortlessly sexy. “I can't remember the last time I was nervous with a woman,” he finally says.

  “Oh, well…good. I'm nervous, too, I mean.”

  He smiles and begins to walk slowly toward me. “I want to do everything with you, Brynn. The idea of being the first one to show you…everything…” He takes a deep breath. “But I'm going to go slowly. You have to tell me if I'm ever moving too quickly, alright? It's going to be hard for me not to get caught up in the moment.”

  I nod and realize that I've been holding my breath while he's been talking. He stops just in front of me and wraps his arms around my waist, then leans his head forward until his forehead rests against mine.

  “Come to bed,” he whispers. A thrill of pleasure runs through me.

  “You don't know how long I've wanted to hear you say that.” He grins widely and presses his lips against mine. In contrast to our recent urgent caresses, this one is slow and gentle. Perhaps because we know we're finally on the same page, and we have all night to spend with each other. His tongue delicately flicks against mine, and I feel his hands move under my ass and pick me up. He spins and walks to the bed, setting me down in a seated position on the edge. “Is there anything…in particular you want tonight?”

  “I just want you,” I reply with a shrug.

  “Well, that I can do.” He grabs the bottom of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head. I bite my lip. The tightness and size of his muscles always takes me aback. I lean forward and nuzzle my nose into the hair just under his belly button, then softly kiss him. I hear a low grunt from the back of his throat and lean back to look at him questioningly. He's looking down at me like he's about to devour me in one bite, but he takes a deep breath and kneels down in front of me, spreading my knees apart so he can push right up against me. He pulls me toward him and opens my lips with his.

  As our tongues meet, I feel his fingertips gliding softly over the top of my camisole, barely touching my right breast. I press forward into his hand, but he pulls back. I quickly learn my lesson and stay still as his fingers return, teasingly running just under the fabric. Finally I feel him reach up with both hands and pull the cotton down and hook it under my breasts so it stays put.

  He dips his head and pulls my breasts together, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking on it, then quickly moving over to the other. I moan and tilt my head back as my hands grip the comforter beside me. He backs off and takes the bottom hem of my shirt, pulling it off over my head.

  “You have the most gorgeous breasts,” he breathes, palming them as though he's sculpting clay.

  “Really? I've always been self-conscious of them.”

  “Why?” He looks at me in shock. “They're perfect.” He leans forward to kiss me softly, then begins to unbutton his jeans.

  “Wait, um, can I?” I stop him. He smiles at me and stands. I slowly reach forward and finish unbuttoning them, then move the zipper down. I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep my gaze on what I know is waiting for me underneath his denim. The arch of his cock is pressing against his boxer-briefs as I push his jeans past his knees. I pause and then take the sides of his waistband and pull them out and around. His thick mushroom tip springs out as soon I pull the boxers down. He's so big that I can't begin to imagine how he's going to fit inside me.

  My worry must read on my face, because he says, “We'll take it slow.” I nod and push the boxers down to his jeans, holding them as he steps out of them. I gulp as I'm face-to-face again with his manhood. “Have you ever…?” he asks leadingly, nodding down at himself.

  “Never,” I reply.

  “Give me your hands.” I obey, reaching up to place mine in his large outstretched palms. He places one on his thigh, and brings the other to his shaft. He wraps it around the base, and then moves it up to his tip, then back down. “Just like that. Nice and easy at first.” He removes his hand and I keep going, feeling the soft, veiny skin of his cock ripple slightly at my touch. He takes my other hand and places it on his balls, massaging them with me. His hands then drop by his sides, and I look up to see his eyes closing and his lips parting.

  Instinctively, I lean forward and, tucking my lips over my teeth, I tak
e him inside my mouth. I hear him gasp and I smile inwardly. He doesn't know that I've read my fair share of dirty books, even if I've never actually put anything into practice. I keep moving my mouth down his length, seeing how far in I can take him. I stop when he hits the back wall of my mouth, though I'm still not at his base, and then begin to slide back out.

  “Oh, fuck, Brynn. You sure you've never done this before?” he asks me, eyes wide as I swirl my tongue around his tip and then pull him back inside my mouth. I move my hand back to his balls and massage him again as I move up and down his dick. I hear him moan and feel his hand move to the back of my head, his fingers grasping my hair. “Enough,” he grunts, pulling his hips back. “Stand up.”

  Normally when Nate takes that tone with me or orders me around, it really gets under my skin. But right now, it's turning me the hell on. I jump to my feet. He abruptly takes the elastic waist of my pants and yanks them to the ground. We stand facing each other naked, the air between us charged. Without taking his eyes off mine, he reaches forward and between my legs. I cry out softly as he slips one finger over my wet clit, and then inside me. I almost fall forward at the strength of my reaction to his touch, and have to grab onto his shoulders to support myself. He pulls me into him so that I'm curled against his chest, my head resting just under his chin.

  His finger moves in and out of me, and his thumb flicks over my clit. I reach down and begin to run my hand up and down his cock like he showed me, though I'm so turned on that I'm hardly aware of what I'm doing.

  “You're almost ready,” he whispers. He pulls his hand out of me and picks me up under the armpits and tosses me onto the bed. In a second he's pushing my legs apart and kneeling between them. His head ducks down and I buck wildly as his tongue takes a long lick of my clit. I feel him slip two fingers inside me, and can feel him pressing them all around, stretching me out. His tongue circles and flicks against me the whole time, until I begin to unravel.