Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance

by Irons, Aubrey

  “Keep thinking that, you arrogant-ooh.” The fire in her words trails off into this sexy fucking moan as I suck her earlobe between my teeth and rock my hips against her.

  My hand slides between us, and she whimpers as it finds her bare leg and starts to slide up under her skirt. I boldly move it higher, and she gasps as she looks deeply into my eyes.

  “I don’t have to ‘think’ anything, sweetheart,” I growl into her ear. “Because I know you’re soaking wet right now.”

  Her eyes flutter shut as my hand trails higher, “I am not,” she says quietly and utterly unconvincingly with the way her breath hitches and the way that flush spreads across her cheeks.

  Her lips part and quiver as my fingers slide over the front of her panties, feeling the heat of her cleft there; feeling the wetness as I press my fingers against her opening through them.

  “Liar,” I growl into her ear, and she gasps quietly. I slip my hand into the top of her panties, pushing it down until my fingers stop just shy of her wetness.

  Her eyes fly open as I stop, anxiously searching my face as I just grin at her.

  “Oh, did you want me to keep going?” I smirk at her, “Admit it, sweetheart,” I take her hand and place it over the bulge in my trousers as I lean back into her ear, “You’d love it if I just took this big cock and fucked you right here in the hallway, wouldn’t you?”

  I know I’m being crass, and crude, and all sorts of dirty right now. And I know that fuckin’ anyone we work with could come strolling back and see me with my hand up her skirt and her hand on my cock right here in the hallways.

  But this girl has me so on fire right now that I couldn’t stop what I was doing right now even if the fucking roof caved in.

  This is the moment when I need her to push me away. This is the tipping point where we’re balanced on that ledge, and I need her slap some sense into the both of us before we go toppling over that edge together.

  Except in that moment, she doesn’t do that all. Instead, her eyes flutter closed, her pouty lips part just slightly, and a single word comes tumbling from that tongue:

  “Yes.”

  It’s more orgasmic moan than it is word, and it’s possibly the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

  I growl into her ear. She whimpers, her hand stroking my cock slowly through my pants. I lean in, my lips brushing against her earlobe, “Then all you’ve gotta do is ask me nicely, luv,” I nip at her ear, my finger still lingering just shy of her clit. “Just say the words, sweetheart,” I growl, feeling her shudder against me, “‘yes chef’.”

  Her breath catches, and her hand on my cock stops as she leans up, slides her lips up to my ear, and opens her mouth, “Not a chance.”

  I pull back from her neck, my eyes locking on hers, and right there I see the same fierce hunger that’s been building inside me; I see the same roaring fire desperate for more fuel. My free hand moves to her jaw, cupping her face as our eyes sear into each other’s.

  And this time, I’m not gonna deny this to either of us.

  She whimpers as I kiss her, my lips pressed hotly and fiercely against hers, hard enough to bruise. I growl into her mouth as she opens her lips to mine, her body arching up to rock against mine as we melt into the dark shadows of the hallways.

  I mash my lips to hers, and she sucks my tongue into her mouth as I slide a finger between her soaking wet lips and find her opening. She moans loudly as I push into her, curling my finger deep inside of her. She breaks the kiss with a caught breath, gasping as she moves her mouth to my neck, her teeth and her lips nipping at my ear.

  “This is insane!” She gasps, moaning as I curl my finger against that spot just inside; “Oliver, someone- I mean, anyone could-”

  I slip my hand out of her panties and spin her around, dragging her into the single-use women’s room behind us.

  “Are you completely crazy!”

  I silence her with my mouth against hers as I reach back to lock the door behind us. She’s moaning into my kiss as I push her back up onto the edge of the sink, my hand sliding right back under her teasingly short skirt. Her hands rake at my shirt, pushing it up over my chest and running her hands over my skin and my ink.

  I hook my fingers into her panties, and with a little grin to myself, I’m ripping them right off her body as she gasps in shock against my lips.

  “You arrogant ass!”

  “You cock-teasing little tart.”

  She moans as our lips crash back together. I’m pushing her back until she’s perched on the edge of the sink, her legs spread wide for me and her feet dangling above the floor. And this time, my hand is unhindered as I slide two fingers deep inside her dripping wet pussy.

  “I’m not going to say it,” she gasps, clawing at my chest and biting at my bottom lip with the ferocity of a tigress.

  “Then I’m not going to fuck you,” I growl, kissing her back hard enough to bruise those pouty lips.

  “I guess you’re not,” she husks out, her lips trailing down to my neck and biting me there hard enough for me to groan.

  “See, the thing is, I’m going to fuck you, Chloe Caulfield,” I whisper darkly into her ear. “And I’m going to have you begging for it. You’re going to beg me to let you come on my cock.”

  “In. Your. Dreams,” she moans into my ear. I start to curl my fingers in and out of her faster and faster, my thumb rubbing over her clit again and again until I can feel her breath start to hitch in her throat. Her whimpering moans get higher and higher, filling the bathroom with her ecstasy until-

  Until I stop.

  I’m rock fucking hard inside my pants, but I grin as I slowly slide my fingers from her wetness and just smirk at her. She was close; in fact I know she was real close, which is why she’s now red-faced, flushed, and panting, her eyes wildly darting across mine.

  Like I was ever going to make it that easy for her.

  I grin as I watch her suck in a breath, her eyes narrowing at me.

  “You fucking prick,” she hisses as she slides off the sink and pushes me aside. I chuckle, feeling smug with myself as she shoves me aside and smooths down her skirt. She’s probably going out of her mind with how close I just had her to coming.

  She jumps as I move right behind her, sliding my hand up her side and pulling her hard against me. “I told you, luv,” I whisper in her ear, “when you come, it’s going to be when I let you come, and that’s not going to happen until-”

  Suddenly there’s a pounding on the bathroom door, and we both freeze. The knock comes again, shattering the moment as Chloe quickly pulls away from me and looks up at me with wide eyes.

  “Hang on, relax,” I hiss, glancing towards the door.

  “Relax?” She hisses, her eyes wide as she nervously smooths out her skirt. “What if it’s someone we know-”

  “Is someone in there?”

  FUCK. We both freeze at the sound of Delia’s whiney, drunk-girl voice on the other side of the door.

  Well, this is about to get interesting.

  “Shit!” Chloe whirls to me, her face white and her eyes wide as we’re both suddenly dragged out of whatever fantasy world we were both wrapped up in. “Oh my God, Oliver, this- this is so-”

  “Look,” I hiss, grabbing her shoulders and trying forcing myself to look calm so she doesn’t have a meltdown right here in the pub bathroom. “We’ll say you drank too much and got sick and I was helping.” I wink at her, “I’m such a helpful stepbrother, you know.”

  She wrinkles her nose at that last bit, “Why am I the one that’s too drunk?”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine, I’m the sick one, but we are in the women’s room, you know.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, “Okay, fine, whatever. Can we just get out of here?”

  “Uh, whoa?” Delia arches her eyebrows at us suspiciously with a little sneer on her face as I swing open the bathroom door with my arm around Chloe’s waist. The blonde waitress puts her hands on her hips and mak
es a face. “Ew? You two are like relatives you know.” She wrinkles her nose. “Oh my God, I think that’s like, illegal or someth-”

  “Oy!” I snap, shutting her the fuck up with the tone in my voice as she jerks her eyes to me. “She had a bit too much and wasn’t feeling it; I was helping her out.”

  It’s actually alarming to me how well I can pull off a lie sometimes.

  Delia’s whole face changes, from accusatory to suddenly looking at me with total puppy-dog eyes, “Oh my God, Oliver!” She makes this pouty, stupid looking kissy face; the kind that I hate when girls make. “That is so sweet of you to take care of your drunk sister like that!”

  Chloe’s face is dark red as she looks at the ground and mutters something under her breath. I quickly elbow her in the ribs, “Stepsister,” I say quickly with a shrug.

  Delia practically looks like she’s about to cry or something at how “sweet” she thinks I am. I’m betting her thoughts about me would be slightly different if she knew I’d just had two fingers buried to the knuckle inside Chloe’s pussy.

  “Right, well, I’m just going to help her out for some air, yeah?” I flash my most winning smile at Delia, watching her basically melt there on the floor as she nods enthusiastically at me as I whisk Chloe past her and back out through the crowded pub.

  We’ve barely made it out of the pub before I’m yanking my arm out of his and stomping away, looking for a taxi or a tube station, or literally anything to take away from Oliver as fast as humanly possible.

  I want to cringe, or just fade away somewhere; maybe melt into a puddle and disappear into the cobblestones streets. My entire face burns with embarrassment and anger and just plain humiliation at what just happened in there; what I let happen in there. And it only gets worse when I feel a gust of wind tease up my skirt, reminding me of certain undergarments that I let him-

  Ugh, I can NOT believe that just happened.

  “Oy, where are you goi-”

  “Leave me alone, Oliver!” I spit out, “Just fuck off and leave me alone.”

  “Oh calm down,” he says, rolling his eyes with that smug look on his face as he rakes his fingers through his hair.

  “‘Calm down’? You are such an asshole!” I sneer at him, shaking my head.

  “Yeah?” He squares his jaw at me, “Takes two to tango, sweetheart.”

  I don’t even trust myself to answer him without screaming at him. Instead, I whirl away with some sort of totally undignified grunting growling sound as I stomp towards the approaching headlights to see if they belong to a cab.

  “Chloe, where in the hell are you going?”

  “Home,” I growl, hugging my arms over my chest and refusing to even turn around to look at him.

  “You hungry?”

  This time I roll my eyes as I turn back to him, “What?”

  “Hungry, Chloe. Do you want food.”

  I scowl at him, hoping the angry face covers how absolutely mortified I am. “I’ll eat at home, alone.”

  “Boring,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I was actually thinking Indian food.”

  I wrinkle my nose and make a face. Oliver does a double-take before he stares at me, “Stop it.”

  “What?” I say, frowning at the smug prick shaking his head at me.

  “Curry? Late night curry?”

  I shrug, still frowning, “I dunno, it’s okay, I guess.”

  “It’s okay?” Oliver rolls his eyes, “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he swears as he grabs my hand and starts to drag me down the street. “Let’s go.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you prick?” I try and yank my hand out of his grip, “And just where do you think you're taking me?”

  “Peace offering,” he says over his shoulder, towing me down the street as he raises a hand for a taxi.

  “Oliver! Where are you taking-”

  “The best shitty curry house in London, luv, that’s where.”

  *****

  “Okay-” I’m nodding, and trying to stop myself from grinning as the flavors start to melt over my tongue, “Okay, I get it.” I lose the battle as the kind of smile that can only come from eating something absolutely delicious spreads across my face. I’m nodding, and Oliver is grinning, and so is Rajeev, the curry house guy.

  “MY curry house guy,” Oliver had said as we strolled in, “I mean shit, you eat a man’s food four times a week, you start to get to know each other, yeah?”

  I’m still pissed at him, and I’m still absolutely mortified that I let things- well, never mind. But ridiculously good coconut curry and a cold beer is certainly helping things.

  A little.

  “Okay, yeah, this is fantastic.”

  Rajeev shrugs, “I know.” He winks at me and passes us two more beers before he heads back down the counter to check on something burbling on a stovetop.

  Okay, so, this is not me. And not just because I’ve never had late night curry on Brick Lane in London before, but because I’m fairly certain I’m on a date right now.

  A date that comes after I let the man I’m on the date with tear my panties off in a divey pub bathroom and finger me almost to the point of orgasm.

  But without question, a date nevertheless.

  A date with Oliver fucking Beckett; man-whore, my boss….

  My stepbrother.

  Chloe Caulfield, what has gotten into you?

  And then of course I blush furiously as I choke on my sip of beer, thinking about exactly what just “got into me.”

  “So,” I say, trying to force those thoughts from my head as I arch an eyebrow at Oliver, “Do you bring all your girls to this curry house?”

  He snorts out a laugh as he forks a bite of spiced lamb into his mouth and rolls his eyes, “My girls?”

  I give him a look, “You know.”

  “I’m sure I don't know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh please! ‘London’s hottest young chef’? Didn’t that food blogger call you the ‘Hugh Hefner of modern English cooking’?”

  Oliver roars out a laugh, choking on his lamb. “Oh, yeah, shit; they did call me that.” He shrugs, “Right, well, buggered there I guess.”

  I crack up, almost spitting beer out through my nose, and he frowns at me, “What?”

  “Did you seriously just say ‘buggered’?”

  He cracks a grin at me. “What? Buggered, fucked, screwed.” He arches a brow at me and I can feel my cheeks go quite red all over again.

  “No, Chloe,” he says with a casual shrug, “I don’t bring anyone here.”

  I give him my closest approximation to the puppy-dog look he got from Delia at the pub and clasp my hands over my heart dramatically. “Oh, Ollie! Do you mean...you mean only I get to come to your late-night curry house?”

  “Oh shut up.”

  I snort out a laugh before I hide my smile in the last of my beer.

  Honestly though, what the heck is wrong with me? I’m sitting - pantyless, I might add - in a curry house with London’s biggest man-whore, still mad at him, and still totally and utterly turned on and on-edge from his fingers, and still absolutely confused as to what the heck I’m doing here with all of that.

  And of course on top of that, I might just be having the time of my life.

  If nothing else, this is the best date I’ve ever been on. Except, it can’t be a date. You’re not supposed to go on dates with someone like him, and you’re certainly not supposed to go on dates with your boss.

  Or your damned stepbrother.

  Well you’re probably not supposed to let him tear your panties off and have you on the verge of coming like a bomb going off either, for that matter.

  Oliver, seemingly oblivious to the rush of conflicted thoughts in my head, downs the last of his beer and gives a wave to Rajeev at the other end of the counter before he turns to me, “You ready?”

  “For?”

  He smirks at me; “Didn’t you want to see where I take all ‘my girls’?”

  I rol
l my eyes, “Oh, absolutely. So what’s next on Oliver’s grungy skank tour of the East End? A terrible club? An alleyway? Your favorite public restroom?”

  “Itching to see more bathrooms, are we?”

  My face goes bright red and I trip over the rest of my words as he grins at me.

  “C’mon, Caulfield, let’s go paint the town red, shall we?”

  *****

  We hit two more bars on the way home, to the point where it’s getting light out and we’re stumbling a little as we tumble through the front door of the townhouse.