Naked Choke (A Stepbrother MMA Romance)

by Loren, Celia

  I pull over and rest my head on the top of the steering wheel. No, Cat. No, absolutely not. It’s just because Logan is forbidden, that’s it. That’s where these feelings are coming from. It’s already complicated enough, to be dating your mom’s boyfriend’s son, while living in the same house. Giving way to any kind of illicit attraction to said son’s brother? That would just be beyond the pale.

  I take a deep breath and start home. I think I’ve given Logan a sufficient head start. When I press the garage door button clipped to the passenger seat visor, I’m dismayed to see Logan just stepping out of his car. He just got back, too. He glances up, squinting against the sudden brightness, and then looks away when he sees it's me. As I pull into the last remaining space just next to him, I watch him shift his weight toward the door, then stop. I turn off my engine and step out, nervously chewing my lip.

  “I thought I was supposed to drive around so we didn’t come back at the same time,” he says, his face expressionless.

  “I thought I was,” I reply with a small shrug of my shoulders.

  He runs his hand through his hair. “Well,” he finally says, and gestures toward the door. I force myself not to look at the body of the man who just awoke such feelings in me, fixing my gaze straight ahead and walking into the kitchen.

  “Hey!” Austen says, looking up from the kitchen sink where he’s just turning off the faucet. He looks over my shoulder in confusion as Logan shuts the garage door behind us. “Oh, I thought you were with Maya.”

  “No, I was. Logan and I just happened to get home at the same time.”

  “Yeah, I just went for a trail run,” Logan adds, explaining away his sweaty appearance.

  “Good cardio,” Austen agrees.

  Logan clears his throat. “Well, I’ll be upstairs,” he says, and walks toward the stairs. Austen watches him go for a second before quietly walking up to me and sliding his arms around my waist.

  “How’s Maya?” he whispers, kissing me softly on the cheek.

  “She’s good,” I say lightly. Fuck. It’s one thing to lie to my mom, but I feel way guiltier lying to Austen. His lips move to my mouth and my already revved libido responds quickly. I grab his slightly stubbled cheeks and kiss him back hard. He seems momentarily surprised, but then I feel his arms wrap around my waist and his erection press into my thigh.

  “Let’s go downstairs,” I gasp, pulling my mouth away. He nods back with a grin. There’s something wrong about this, I think to myself as I take his hand and lead him down the basement steps. But I’m feeling too high to care.

  I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck as we reach the carpeted basement floor. We stumble toward the couch and I tug my shirt over my head and reach forward to relieve him of his. If he’s taken aback by my aggressiveness, he’s not showing it. He’s matching my every move now, tugging down his fly as I push my pants to the ground. I reach forward and wrap my hand around his cock, feeling it twitch slightly in my hand as he groans. I’ve never felt this needful before.

  I sink to my knees and take him in my mouth. I don’t bother warming him up, I’m already going fast, pulling him to the back of my throat and swirling my tongue around his tip.

  “Oh, fuck, Cat,” he moans. I move even faster, pressing my lips firmly around his girth. “Stand up, stand up,” he orders me, his voice low and harsh. I obey, and he turns me around, yanking my panties down to the tops of my thighs and bending me over the armrest of the couch. I pant as I rest for a second with my palms on the black leather. I hear the rip of a condom and his hands on my ass, spreading my cheeks apart.

  I feel his cock press into my opening and I whimper at the intense pleasure of the sensation. I walk my feet out into a wider stance and feel his hands move around to my hips, holding me in place as he drives inside me. My fingers search for a grip on the smooth cushion as his dick hits me right on my g-spot. He thrusts into me again and again and I bend my chest even further down, stretching the limits of my flexibility.

  “Harder, harder,” I beg. Maybe I want to be punished for these conflicting feelings I have, maybe they’re wrong, but I don’t care. My mind drifts unbidden to the feeling of Logan’s lips against mine, the smell of his sweat as he pressed against me. Oh, god…I feel myself unspooling around Austen’s cock, as the memory of his brother’s kiss fills my brain.

  I beat him to orgasm. I feel him still thrusting behind me and try to steady myself against the couch as guilt begins to consume me. He comes inside me with a cry and I feel him collapse forward on top of me. I close my eyes as I feel him stir, softly trailing kisses along my spine.

  “God, you’re sexy,” he whispers, his hands moving up my bare stomach and cupping my breasts as he takes a deep breath. I try to take comfort in his touch. Thoughts aren’t a crime. I didn’t do anything wrong. I pulled away when Logan kissed me.

  Austen stands up and slowly pulls out. I straighten up, feeling stiffness in my legs from being stretched over. I pull up my panties as I turn around and see him emerging from the bathroom. I find myself unable to make eye contact as he walks toward me. He reaches up, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting my head up so that I look at him.

  “You don’t have to be ashamed,” he murmurs.

  “I don’t?” I answer, my eyes widening with alarm. How does he know?

  “I like it when you’re aggressive,” he assures me. Oh, that. I bury my head in his shoulder and he wraps his arms around me. “You alright?” he whispers. I nod silently, willing myself not to think about Logan ever again. Austen is so kind, so steady, so comforting. He is what I need. “I think our parents will be home soon. They went out to a movie.”

  “OK if I come back later tonight, after they go to bed?” I ask as he steps back to find his shirt, and I do the same.

  “Of course,” he says with a grin. Good. The best way not to think about Logan is to spend more time with Austen. I won’t give my attraction to Logan any room to breathe.

  “Later, then,” I say with a smile as I button my pants and move to the stairs. He gives me a parting nod and I hurry up the stairs and then round the banister to the second floor. I glance toward Logan’s room. His door is shut. I flop down onto my bed, wondering if I should call Maya and confess to her what just happened. Would she judge me for it?

  I hear the distant sound of a door close. A couple minutes later, I recognize my mom’s footsteps coming up the stairs. I left Austen’s room just in time. Her face peers around my slightly open door, her dark hair swinging just above her shoulder.

  “Hi,” I greet her, automatically mirroring the infectious smile she’s wearing. She slips in and closes the door behind her. “You have a good time?” She sighs happily and lies down on the bed next to me. I glance at her profile, seeing how similar it is to mine.

  “I hope you meet someone who makes you this happy someday,” she murmurs. “Hey, let’s paint your room next weekend.” I nod slowly. Painting is a sign, I think. A sign that we’re here for the long haul. She brought it up when we first moved here, but I think she was waiting to actually go through with it until she was sure things were working out. And as far as she knows, they are. “What color do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply absentmindedly. “What do you think?”

  “How about peach?”

  I hate peach. “Sounds good.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Hey,” I say to Logan as I walk into the kitchen. A week since the kiss and we’ve barely interacted. I don’t think it’s my imagination that he’s been around the house less. “We’re just taking a break,” I add as he looks up from his book. He nods, smiling politely, before looking down. I almost wish he’d be rude, then I’d think that at least he cared, but he’s been perfectly polite.

  I scratch a bit of dried paint off my hand as I fill up a glass of water from the faucet. I was planning on hanging out down here for a few minutes to get away from the paint fumes in my room, but I feel too awkward. It seems to b
e all on my end, though. Logan calmly turns a page, his body perfectly relaxed.

  I walk back toward the foyer and then slowly up the stairs. Austen stands on a ladder, starting on the second coat of peach-colored paint, as my mom sits on the bed pushed into the middle of the room. I set my glass of water on the window sill and grab a paint brush, working my way around the open window so that Austen doesn’t hit the white trim with the roller.

  “So training’s going well?” my mom asks.

  “Really well,” Austen says with a confident grin. “Logan’s actually really good at imitating the style of other fighters, so it’s good preparation.”

  “That must be fun for him,” my mom remarks brightly.

  “Probably not,” I murmur, a little louder than I intend to.

  “No?” my mom replies, as she and Austen glance over at me.

  “I just mean, he’s a fighter, too. I bet he wants to be the one in contention, too,” I point out as nonchalantly as possible. A floorboard creaks on the stairs and my mom turns her head.

  “Oh, Logan! Speak of the devil,” she says, and I watch him reluctantly come to stand in the doorway. “You’ve been like a ghost! I feel like I haven’t seen you in days!” So it’s not just me.

  “Actually, I meant to tell you…I won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight.”

  “Oh, no?” my mom asks, disappointment coloring her voice. “Hanging out with friends again?”

  “Ah, no.”

  “A date?” my mom asks suggestively, as Austen snorts.

  Logan’s eyes flick toward his older brother. “Yeah.”

  “No, shit!” Austen exclaims. “Sorry, Joanne. But Logan hasn’t been on a date in forever.”

  “That you know about,” Logan murmurs with a smirk. I feel heat rise in my cheeks. Here I’ve been feeling guilty that he might have had feelings for me, but maybe I was just another conquest for him.

  “I thought you said dating distracted you too much from training,” Austen counters, raising his eyebrows.

  “Not if I don’t get too involved,” Logan replies with a shrug. “But I don’t know. This one could be different.”

  "Anyone I know?" Austen asks.

  "Sara, from high school. She was in my year. Remember her?"

  "Yeah, sure," Austen answers appreciatively.

  “Why don’t you bring her over?”

  “Sorry?”

  “For dinner. We haven’t seen you around here for a while, so bring this Sara to dinner tonight. You said you were going to see her anyway, right?”

  "Yeah…I guess I could ask," Logan hedges.

  "I know you don't want to scare her off, but if you've known her since high school, it's different, right?"

  "You're good," Logan remarks to my mom with a smile.

  "Hey, I was young once," my mom replies.

  "Well, I'll ask, but no promises," Logan says as he walks down the hallway toward his room.

  * * *

  Three and a half hours later, I examine my face in the mirror. Ugh, I look like a clown. Maybe I'm feeling a little insecure with Logan's new girlfriend coming over, and that's why I over-applied my makeup. I turn the faucet on and squirt some face wash into my hand. I scrub off the pigment, telling myself that it's no business of mine who Logan dates. I pat my face dry, reapplying some mascara with a more restrained hand.

  "You've been in there for forever," I hear a muffled voice say from outside the bathroom door. I blush.

  "Be right out!" A quick swipe of lip gloss, and I open the door to see Logan on the other side, a bored expression on his face. "I had to scrub the paint off," I explain patiently as I slip by him toward me room. I feel him grab my arm and turn around, surprised.

  "You missed a spot," he murmurs, his eyes flicking toward the back of my arm.

  "Oh. I'll get it later," I shrug, then pause. "We going to work on more self-defense stuff?"

  "I'm pretty busy with training," he replies quickly, releasing my arm.

  "OK," I nod, brushing off my disappointment with a shrug, and head back toward my bedroom.

  "But I…I could probably make some time," he adds as I reach my bedroom door.

  "Oh, great. I'll find you around the gym," I respond with a smile. He nods, then shuts the bathroom door behind him.

  In my room, I pull on a cotton summer dress. The white fabric looks dramatic with my dark hair, and it hugs my body without being overtly sexy. I study myself in the mirror for a minute, fussing with my hair, until I hear the doorbell ring. Logan leaves the bathroom, his footsteps crossing my doorway as he heads for the stairs. A moment later, the sound of voices carries upstairs, and I can hear my mom and Duke joining them.

  I take a deep breath and then open my bedroom door, walking quietly down the stairs so that I can get a look at this Sara before she sees me. She's pretty. A redhead, with a nose piercing and subtly winged eyeliner. I'm intimidated immediately, and watch as Logan's hand rests comfortingly on the small of her back. I sigh, realizing my jealousy isn't just about Logan's new relationship. I also envy the fact that he can have it in the open, while Austen and I have to sneak around.

  I reach the hardwood floor of the foyer and smile as Sara turns to me. "Hi, I'm Caitlyn," I say, reaching my hand out. She looks surprised about something for a second, but shakes it off.

  "Sara," she replies as she shakes my hand.

  "And I'm Austen," I hear from behind me, and turn to see Austen walking down the hallway toward us. My stomach clenches at the sight of him in a white collared shirt and jeans, the top couple buttons of his shirt casually undone. Why am I worrying about who Logan's seeing when I get to share a bed with this gorgeous man?

  "Cat, could you help me put dinner on the table?" my mom asks, interrupting my train of thought. I nod and follow her into the kitchen, where I help her fill up plates of spaghetti and meatballs before bringing them out to the dining room.

  "And then, once Austen gets into the AFF—" Duke is telling Sara as I walk in, giving her his standard rundown of his son's future accomplishments.

  "If, Dad, if," Austen interrupts him. I set the plates down quietly in front of Logan and Sara, who smiles at me. I keep my ears open as I head back into the kitchen to grab two more plates.

  "If!" Duke scoffs. "You can't allow yourself to think like that. I never did. Negative thinking will destroy you."

  "I'm not being negative, I'm being realistic," Austen argues. "There are going to be a lot of great fighters at this tournament."

  Duke leans back in his chair and crosses his arms as he examines his favorite son. "I've never heard you talk like this. Your training couldn't be going any better, so—"

  "Forget it," Austen says shortly as my mom walks in carrying the final plates. Duke frowns and opens his mouth to reply, but Austen smiles up at my mom. "This looks great, Joanne."

  "Thanks, Austen," my mom replies, patting his shoulder affectionately. "Well, let's dig in, everyone."

  Chapter Sixteen

  I slip down the basement stairs after my mom and Duke close their bedroom door. I hear the shower running and head for the slightly open bathroom door. I peer inside the steamy room and find Austen dropping his jeans to the floor. He looks up at me and smiles.

  "Trying to catch a glimpse?"

  "Always. You OK?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You seemed a little off or something at dinner."

  "No, I'm great," he responds, flashing me a grin, though I can catch some tension at the corners of his mouth.

  "You're full of it."

  "Wow."

  "Come on. You're not perfect. Your dad might treat you like the golden boy, but that's not actually who you are, you told me so yourself."

  "You're really not pulling any punches, huh?"

  "Well, someone told me recently I should try to be a little more…bold."

  He sighs. "Fine. Maybe it would be nice if my dad put a little less pressure on me, OK?"

  "Do you think he'd be upset if you do
n't win the tournament?"

  A short bark of laughter bursts out of his mouth. "I think his head would explode. I don't think he's ever considered that could happen. I mean, look, I know I'm a great fighter, just based on my record I can see that. But there are always unknowns."

  "Sure."

  "And I'm not blind. I know I'm the, you know, favorite son. I see that my dad expects the best of me and the worst of Logan, so maybe it's shitty of me to complain. But sometimes I envy him. If I'm anything less than perfect, my dad's disappointed. The weight of his expectations are too much sometimes."

  I watch his jaw muscles clench in frustration. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was like that for you." I walk toward him and wrap my arms around his hard torso and kiss the skin just above his chest. I feel the tension in his body begin to leak out as he relaxes against me.

  "I'm glad you're here," he murmurs in my ear. "When I'm with you, it's the only time I forget about everything else." Any lingering thoughts I have about Logan are pushed aside at Austen's words. I gasp as he kisses my ear, and then nibbles softly on my lobe. "I hate to tell you this, but you're really smelly," he whispers.

  "What?!" I gasp indignantly as I pull away. "I am not."

  He shakes his head. "You definitely are. You need a shower."

  "I don't—" I can barely suppress a shriek as he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me off my feet. "Austen, no! Seriously!" But he's not listening. He walks me straight into the shower, where he deposits me fully clothed. The hot, streaming water immediately soaks through my white dress, making it see-through and clingy. "I can't believe you just did that," I mutter, though I can't help the smile that's creeping up at the corners of my lips.

  "We'd better get these wet clothes off you," he observes, grinning wildly, as he lets his hands trail gently over my breast and down my stomach.

  "I should just leave right now."

  "I have ways of making you stay," he murmurs as he pulls my dress up and slides his hand between my thighs. I gasp as his fingers push my underwear aside and flick over my clit. I close my eyes, feeling the water stream against the back of my head. His finger moves inside me for a moment, but then I feel my panties being pulled down. I realize he's kneeling and feel him press his tongue against me as my soaking dress drapes over his head.