ROUGHNECK: A DARK MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE

by Nikki Wild

  Imagine the headlines: Matchmaker Beds Playboy Stepbrother.

  It was not something I aimed to let slander my good name.

  8

  I hardly had the chance to knock once before Gwendolyn grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me inside with strength I’d never expected from her. She looked like she’s only just stepped out of the shower moments before, her hair wrapped up in a loose towel fashioned into a turban. How she’d managed to shower in the short time since I’d called boggled my mind, though the distinct scent of alcohol on her breath made me wonder as to why she’d felt the need for a shower so necessary.

  “Are you feeling alright?” I asked, one eyebrow cocked.

  “Am I feeling alright?” she asked, barely holding herself back from screaming at me from the top of her lungs. “You do realize that she was a client of mine, yes? Meaning that she holds me responsible for her date going so poorly?”

  “It isn’t that big of a deal,” I said, trying to wave it off. “Plenty of fish in the sea, and all that, yes?”

  “No! Tristan you can’t do this! You came to me so that I could help you get yourself married, and yet the first woman I set you up with you practically brush off when she offers to blow you? You of all people refused sex from a willing woman?”

  “We’ve been over this, Gwennie. I just wasn’t feeling into it, that’s all,” I said, glaring at her as I sauntered over to her kitchen. “I have every right not to want to have sex with anyone I choose for any reason I choose.”

  I couldn’t deny that Gwendolyn had done well for herself, her apartment was enormous, and impeccably decorated in a fashionable modern style. I’d hardly had the time to find myself a proper place to live that was truly my own, instead invading one of our family’s less used properties in London.

  “You don’t get to make that excuse when you’re the one who wants to find himself a wife!” she said, raising her voice.

  I could already feel myself stirring.

  “You’re going to apologize to Patricia and hope to God she gives you a second chance,” Gwen said, her face red.

  “I don’t think that I am,” I said, opening up her fridge to see what she might have that I could drink. After what I’d just gone through, I knew I needed something to dull my thoughts. Sadly, the wine bottle my stepsister had been happily drinking before my arrival was all but empty. “I didn’t fancy Patricia, and I don’t think that she’s what I want in a wife.”

  “Oh? And what exactly are you looking for that Patricia doesn’t have?”

  “She’s not you, for one,” I said as I shut the refrigerator door.

  I shouldn’t have said it. It was a stupid, insensitive thing to say, not just because it was inflammatory, but because I hadn’t thought the consequences fully through. I hadn’t spared a moment to imagine what that confession might be like on Gwen’s ears, or on her heart. Sure, I’d known for a while now that I wanted my stepsister, that I craved her in ways that were entirely unsuitable, but she didn’t know that.

  Or did she? She blinked at me, hard, clearly surprised. But not shocked. Not staggered. The look on her face almost seemed to say, “You too?”

  We stood in silence for a few moments, one that was weightier than I could handle. I had to say something to break it. I was never one for emotionally charged moments, especially not where the promise of sex was concerned.

  “Well, I suppose this puts us at an impasse,” I chuckled.

  But Gwennie didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. In fact, she looked downright pissed at me, like sharing a joke with me was the last thing on her mind. Like wringing my neck was the first.

  “Don’t even joke about that,” she hissed, stalking away from me, eyes wild. “Jesus, Tristan. If anyone were to hear you…”

  I snorted. “What, is your flat bugged?”

  “With you here, it might as well be,” she answered, casting a furtive glance out the windows. “No doubt a fair few paparazzi followed you here tonight. And you never know what lengths they’ll go to.”

  “Oh, yes, what a scoop,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Duke’s Son Once Again Cocks Up a Date, Goes to His Sister’s to Have a Whinge. I’m sure it’ll sell out nationwide.”

  “Stepsister,” she reminded me, and I narrowed my eyes.

  “Who are you reminding here, Gwennie? You, or me?”

  Gwendolyn didn’t answer that. She pursed her lips and turned away from me. Thanks to the towel turban holding her hair back, I could see that the tips of her ears were turning red. Her chest was flushing the same color. I wondered where else the blood in her body was rushing. I knew my own pulse had culminated in some very intimate places.

  “Look,” I said, trying to sound more gentle than I was feeling, “we need to talk about this. We never discussed—”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Gwendolyn put in, but I went on.

  “—what happened before I joined the Royal Army. What happened between us.”

  I remembered it well. And no matter how much Gwennie tried to hand wave it away, I knew she remembered, too. The way her eyes glazed over when I brought it up made me certain of that fact.

  Absently, she touched her lips, as if she could still feel the way my breath had been upon them in that cramped, hot pantry. Dear Lord, I’d wanted to devour her in there, hold up her tiny body against the shelves and just dive face-first into her virgin cunt. Maybe if we’d had a few moments more, that’s exactly what I would have done. I’d been a stupid boy back then, though, and I’d strutted out of there before she could give in, certain she’d follow me. I’d underestimated how stubborn my Gwennie could be. It seemed she’d only grown more obstinate with age.

  My Gwennie. Shit, did I really think of her that way? Or could I chalk it up to an errant imagining, one I wasn’t totally responsible for? I knew which one I’d like to do, but what would be the truth? It’s easier to lie to yourself if you can at least suss that out.

  “That was a long time ago,” she said, though the way she stared at me I could have sworn we were right back there, the both of us so ready to take one another that we could taste it. I could still recall the way she felt against my lips, how her skin had turned to goose flesh beneath my soft and caressing touches. “We were still kids.”

  “Like hell we were,” I said, shaking my head as I recalled just how adult the two of us had felt back in that pantry. I could tell by the way Gwennie’s body fit against me that we had been by no means children. “We were most certain not behaving like any children I’d ever met… though I always did love playing doctor.”

  “You’re such a bastard,” Gwendolyn spat, though the look on her face told me that she immediately regretted it. It was cute how much she cared for my feelings, cared about how I felt about my place in the world. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what I am, Gwen,” I said, leaning against the door of her refrigerator. “I’m not ashamed it, not like my father is. I’ve been told so many times that the word has lost all meaning to me.”

  “Still, I was insensitive,” she tried to reason. “I shouldn’t have called you that.”

  “And just how do you plan to make it up to me?” I asked, smiling down at her as I took a step closer. Our young bodies pressed together. I summoned the memory of her hand down my pants, holding on to my pierced cock. I could almost feel the sensation—her firm, but timid grip.

  “You always know how to turn something innocent into some disgusting innuendo,” she said, shaking her head, though I spotted her lips turning up at the corners and knew that she was enjoying herself.

  “It’s a special talent of mine, actually,” I laughed, drawing nearer to her once again. “One of many that I’ve already offered to show you.”

  Her face flushed with color, turning it away to hide what I knew was a smile from me. Though as I pressed my body against hers, it was a gasp that escaped her lips, short and high-pitched like a mouse. I adored that gasp more than she could understand. I
t brought back all the memories I had of my playful, lusty games that all led up to that night.

  “That offer’s still open,” I whispered into her ear. “The one I made to you all those years ago. All you have to do is take it.”

  “We can’t,” she whimpered. God, we really were replaying that night, weren’t we?

  Only this time, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake. I wasn’t going to let her use our reputations as an excuse. I wasn’t going to take “we can’t” for an answer—not when everything she did, from the way she looked at me to the way her body sang in my arms, told me she wanted to. That we could.

  Hell, that we ought to.

  “Come on, Gwennie. We’re alone. No one’s going to see. Your mum isn’t going to walk in at any moment and ruin the fun, and she never has to know. Nor does my father. We’re not teenagers anymore.”

  “I thought you said we were adults back then, Tristan,” Gwendolyn murmured, squirming as I slid my prick up against her, forcing her to understand the weight of what she did to me. Her body grinding against it, however involuntarily, wrested a low groan from my throat.

  “We were. Just inexperienced ones. Even me.” I chuckled, thinking of how I’d been convinced I was some kind of Don Juan who knew everything there was to know about sex and women. Growing up a bit had taught me I was wrong, that I had so much to learn. And I’d been a good student. Now it was time for me to ace the ultimate test: bedding my stepsister once and for all.

  “Are you still a virgin?” I asked her.

  Gwendolyn flushed so red I was sure she’d say yes. But she surprised me. “N-not exactly…”

  I grinned. “No need to be embarrassed, love. That just means I don’t have to take it slow.”

  I reached over, giving her plenty of time to stop me. But she didn’t, and so I pulled away the neckline of her robe, exposing the tops of her incredible tits.

  She sucked in a breath, making them jump. “Tristan… what are you doing?”

  I pushed the fabric down over her shoulders. Still, she didn’t stop me. Her breasts shuddered. Her flesh pricked with goosebumps. “Tristan, I… We’ve been over this before… What if someone hears? Or sees?”

  It was an excuse. A stupid, flimsy excuse. She didn’t mean it. I could tell.

  I undid the belt on her robe. Then I pushed it away, down onto the floor. Gwendolyn was naked in front of me except for that silly towel turban in her hair, and I yanked it away, letting her red locks spill over her neck and shoulders.

  Before she could say my name again I kissed her, covering her mouth with mine, engulfing it, consuming it. I drew her against me, against the hardness straining against my slacks. When she moaned, I knew what I had to do.

  I had to take her.

  With one sweep of my arm, I cleared one end of her kitchen island, letting the plates she’d let gather there crash to the floor. Fuck it, I didn’t care if I destroyed her entire flat. I wanted Gwendolyn. I needed her. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I would’ve destroyed the entire city if it meant I’d get to finally have her.

  I grabbed her tiny waist and plopped her down on the edge of the island, sinking my teeth into her lip until she gasped. I needed to hear her moan again. I needed to hear those breath-stealing sounds she made, the ones that urged my cock into a frenzy. I needed to feel her shudder.

  “I’m hungry,” I said, shoving her down on her back so I could spread her legs wide for me. She blushed and put her hand on mine as if to stop me, but one sharp look made her bite her lip and settle back, her entire body quaking.

  “Don’t be shy,” I told her, pushing her thighs apart. “Not with me, Gwennie. You don’t ever have to hide from me.” Then I bent my head and puffed a hot breath over her labia, making her squeal. Now that was a sound I just had to hear again. I opened the lips of her pussy and dove in with my tongue.

  “Fuck!” Gwendolyn breathed, as if this entire time she’d thought I’d pull away, like maybe this moment wouldn’t happen, after all. She dug her manicured nails into my hair. “Tristan!”

  Oh, God, Gwendolyn’s pussy was incredible. It was pure ambrosia, even sweeter than I had imagined it being. I lapped up her lust and musk, thrashing my tongue against her nub, making her beg and cry and arch up off the kitchen island while I thrust my fingers inside of her.

  Fuck. She was tight. Her muscles squeezed me, beckoned me in deeper, and I gladly accepted their invitation. I managed to fit in three and piston them against her spot, making her buck her hips into my face over and over. She squeezed my head between her thighs, and with all her squirming, it was a wonder she didn’t break my damn neck.

  She could have. I wouldn’t have cared. All that mattered was pleasuring her, eating her, licking her. All that mattered was her delicious, ripe pussy.

  “I’m gonna come!” Gwennie whimpered, riding my tongue. “Oh, you sweet bastard—I’m gonna come!”

  I dug the fingers of my free hand into her hip, holding her as still as I could while I drew out the process. Little licks. Light taps. Gwennie was screaming and whining and cursing my name by the time I was done.

  And when she exploded, when I finally drove her to release, she came all over my face. I was covered in her juices. My chin was dripping with them. Yet still, I hungered for more.

  I chuckled softly and kissed in the insides of her quivering thighs. “Bastard, huh?” She blushed and opened her mouth to explain. “No, no, Gwennie. No need for that. I’ve just got to wonder where my good girl has gone. The one who couldn’t even bring herself to look at my cock, when she had the chance.” I grinned at her. “Do you want to see it now?”

  Gwendolyn’s nipples stiffened at the very thought.

  “Say it, Gwennie. Tell me what you want.”

  “You know what I want,” she said, eyelids half-lowered.

  “Is it this?” I asked her, pulling her ass to the edge of the kitchen island. Her wet quim was pressed to my slacks now, leaving a trail of lust that soaked right through. Gwendolyn moaned. “Tell me, or I’m just going to grind against you here until you’re ready to come again. And then I won’t let you.”

  “Goddamn you,” Gwendolyn moaned. Music to my ears. “Yes. I want your cock. I want to see it. I want it…” She blushed even deeper. “…inside me.”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice.

  I pulled away and undid my belt, opened my slacks, and hauled my throbbing cock out. Gwendolyn looked at it and licked her lips like she wanted nothing more than to taste it, to pull me into her mouth and gag on the length. Maybe later, I’d let her. Right now, that pussy was just too good to resist.

  I sawed my shaft against her slit, my piercing toying with her sensitive folds. “I kept the piercing,” I told her, as if she couldn’t feel it. “I kept it just for you. I remembered how wide your eyes got…” I reached up, cupping her tits in my hands. “What do you think, Gwennie? Should I get rid of it now?”

  “No,” she said, squirming against me. “Oh, Christ, Tristan. Don’t stop.”

  I growled, giving her tits a squeeze. I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to have Gwendolyn, stepsister or not. “I wanna see these bounce,” I said, tweaking her nipples, and she purred her consent.

  I breached her opening with the head of my dick, sucking in air through my teeth as I did. Fuck, this was good. Too good. Better than any woman I’d ever had; tighter and warmer, with soft, plush walls that seemed to mold to my cock as I plunged in up to my nuts. The thrill of victory, of conquest, rolled down my spine and I moaned for her. I knew I wouldn’t last long inside of her, especially unsheathed like this.

  Her cunt was so warm, so wet, and with my massive dick inside it, it was filled to bursting. I grabbed her hips and pulled her against me, stretching her tiny channel, claiming her for my very own.

  My Gwennie.

  “Tristan!” she moaned, raking her nails across my abs. It forced me into action and I began to thrust. I fell into a steady rhythm as I pushed in and out of her, pressing my thumb
against her clit. She was soaking wet and wailing with every movement, linking her legs up high over my shoulders so I could penetrate her further, deeper. She was like heaven around me, squirming so much that I could feel my cum boiling in my balls. So much pressure was building inside me. It was impossible to hold back much longer.

  “I want to come inside you,” I told her through gritted teeth. “I want to fill that pussy up, Gwennie. I want to make it mine.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not on the pill…”

  “I don’t care,” I growled, and in that moment, I really didn’t. I wanted to burst inside her more than anything else I’d wanted in my whole life. I had to have her. All of her. Nothing else would do.

  She seemed to be giving this some consideration, but I couldn’t wait forever for an answer. I leaned forward to play with her tits, using my other hand to stroke her clit until she whined.

  “Yes, Tristan!” she shrieked at last. “Come inside me. Please!”

  Gwennie was a smart girl. A safe girl. But when it came to my dick, she was careless and wild.

  That thought alone drove me over the edge. Bucking rapidly, I roared and slammed my fist hard into the table as I jetted inside her, coating her womb with my lust. My cock lurched and spasmed, dumping load after load, filling her so thoroughly I could feel some of it dripping back out.

  And then Gwennie threw her head back too, clutching my arms with her nails and crying out as she came again, this time around my pulsating cock.

  I pressed one hand to her chest, breathing hard, feeling her heart beat tremulously beneath my palm. Her eyes were closed in bliss, her lips parted, and I gently brushed my own against them before I collapsed on top of her, burying my face into her shoulder.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I almost felt like I should cry. There was something about being inside Gwendolyn like this that felt more like home than I’d ever experienced, something that made me feel like I belonged. It made me so… happy. So fulfilled.