Cousin - Improper (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Wilde, Delilah

  Silence.

  I tiptoed down the hallway, hoping not to hit any creaking wooden boards that would bring the wrong attention to my naked form in the hallway, and followed him into his room.

  ***

  "What the fuck was that?" she called out from behind me.

  Damn it.

  "What the fuck was what?" I asked as though nothing had just happened. My cock was swollen and throbbing against the fly of my jeans. The ache was growing ferocious. I needed release. I thought running to my bedroom would give me the opportunity for that release, and instead she followed me.

  "Don't play stupid."

  Her voice played angry but her eyes screamed lust. They were primal. Almost animalistic. A look I hadn't seen in a long time.

  "You're mad," I whispered. "But are you mad because I started or because I stopped?"

  "Shut up," she said.

  "Because I stopped." I cocked an eyebrow and walked closer to her. Tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

  She swiped my hand away from her. Not the reaction I expected but okay.

  "Shut the fuck up," she lowered her voice. "Someone might hear you."

  "Who's going to hear what?" I whispered and walked up closer. Her breath brushed against my chest as I pulled my denim vest and tee shirt off.

  "Let's get one thing straight," she said. I could sense her voice wavering. She shivered.

  I leaned in close, making sure my hot breath hit her neck as I pulled my belt free from the loops on my jeans. "What's that?"

  She placed her hands against my bare chest in a weak signal that I should stop. "I say if and I say when."

  "If and when what?" I grazed my lips against her hot skin. Her breathing grew faster. I unfastened my jeans and my cock rose to greet her. I wasn't sure if she even noticed.

  She backed away from me in a coy game of playing hard to get. "If and when we...you know what," she whispered.

  I grabbed her hand and wrapped it around my cock. Her slender fingers could barely wrap all the way around. But she pumped anyway. Moaning as her soft fingertips squeezed my engorged shaft. And Oh my God did she pump. Twisting her wrist in a way where it didn't matter that her fingers couldn't wrap all the way around me. Every inch was taken care of. Her hot little hand made sure of that.

  "Tell me," I muttered.

  She buried her lips against the flesh of my chest and continued to pump. My cock peeked through into her robe and she rubbed the end under her moist pussy. She wiped her juices up and down the length of my shaft.

  We reached the side of the bed. Her knees backed up against the edge. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and held it against the back of her head. Breathing into her mouth. "Tell me," I whispered again.

  "I don't beg," she groaned.

  I chuckled and rocked my hips against her pumping fist. "You are begging." I corrected her.

  I pulled a condom out of my back pocket and let my jeans drop to the floor. My eyes never left her gaze. I smirked and held the condom up between my fingers. "All right then. Say it."

  She held her breath and bit her lip. That was it. The moment I hungered for. The moment a woman realized she wasn't better than I was. Not too good for a one night fuck. It was sinking in.

  She grabbed the condom and ripped it out of its package. She stretched it across my cock and slowly unrolled it down my shaft. For a minute, I thought I might cum right there in her hands. Her velvety touch electrified me. I was always amazed at how these women worked.

  Sluts? Whores? Easy to see how they got good in bed. Practice does make perfect. But women like Angela? Semi-prudish with chip on their shoulder and a stick up their ass? Not so much. They were just naturally good.

  I tore the robe from her shoulders. Groping at her breasts. Her nipples hardened in my hands. I couldn't tell if she fell back onto the bed or if I pushed her, but either way she landed on the bed and pulled her knees up beside her. Granting me a full view of her throbbing pussy. I leaned in, taking one of her perfect breasts into my mouth. Suckling at the nipple as she moaned. She grabbed my hair and pulled my face in closer. Her other hand wrapped back around my cock. Pointing its end at her opening.

  I swayed my hips. Letting my cock have a peek into her pussy but not quite entering her yet. I debated about how I should finish this. Slowly pressing myself into her core? Long and slow. Or slam into her all at once fast and hard.

  ***

  I knew exactly what he was doing. Teasing me. Driving me crazy. Yet I couldn't stop him. Biting my lip to keep from screaming made my moans sound more like whimpers. I was whimpering beneath him and powerless to stop it.

  What the hell was wrong with me? This wasn't me. I wasn't the whore who jumped into bed with just any man. But yet here I was. Writhing. Pumping his cock against my pussy and praying for him to push it in. Arching my back as his tongue pressed my hard nipple against the roof of his mouth. What did I care about this man, anyway?

  He was a toy. A means to an end. I just needed an orgasm. Or two. Just to take my mind off Michael.

  I let go of his cock and grabbed his shoulder. This was it. I was going to take control. I grabbed his shoulder and leaned up, pulling his face up toward mine. I sank my tongue between his lips and ushered him over onto his back. I rested my opening alongside his shaft. Gently rocking my hips up and down and rubbing the folds of my pussy against him.

  I was going to enjoy this.

  Finally, I reached down and guided his cock into me. I rested at the head for a moment, giving myself the chance to adjust to his size. Then I sank onto him. Slowly and without stopping. When I reached the base of his cock I sat up and arched my back. Reveling in how full I felt. Relishing his hot cock pulsing inside.

  He pulled my hips against him, reminding me of where I was.

  I grabbed his hands and smiled. He was my toy now. I leaned forward and placed my lips next to his ear. "Shh," I whispered. Then I lifted my hips and slammed them back down against him.

  The groan he released turned me on even more, so I did it again. And again. Every time he greeted my hips with a new thrust and a new moan. I couldn't tell if his moans were making my thrusts stronger or the other way around. And I didn't care. Either way I just kept slamming his cock into me. He stiffened more inside me. His eyes clenched tight and his thrusts grew stronger and slower.

  He was getting ready to cum. And he was fighting it.

  Pleasure and ecstasy rippled through me. My pussy clamped down on his cock and my body shook. His cock shivered up inside me and I knew he lost his fight. I squeezed his hands and sank my face into the mattress next to him. Still quivering. Still grinding. Milking him for every quivering second.

  Shortly thereafter, I slipped off him and lay my worn out body down on the bed. Our breathing was out of control.

  He stood up and started pulling his clothes back on. "You sleep here," he said. "I'm going to go pick a room that doesn't smell like sex."

  I was too tired to argue with him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There was something about the morning after having great sex that made it all more invigorating. Rejuvenating, even. Sure, you were tired and weak. Knees were shaky and somehow your thighs turned to jelly. But also euphoric. Flushed. And your thoughts danced back and forth between the task at hand and the hands you tasked the night before.

  I woke up tangled in the covers of Grandma's guest bedroom feeling just this way. Somewhere between sore and refreshed. Then I remembered why I was feeling so good and sated.

  Oh crap, I yelled at myself and jumped out of the bed.

  Knock, knock.

  "Shit," I whispered. Was that him? What did he want? How was I going to face him? Did I really leave my clothes sitting on the floor in the bathroom?

  "Angela!" Marti's voice boomed in from the hallway. "Angela let me in!"

  "Ugh," I whined and straightened out my robe. "Marti, what are you doing here?"

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Well, I was sleeping."


  "I'll stay up all night if I have to. Sound familiar? I let you leave the programs believing you when you said you were just going to take a shower and come right back down to finish them. Instead I find your clothes in the bathroom with unused towels and you're sleeping?" Her screams were beginning to echo through the door.

  I clenched my eyes shut and shook my head.

  Why didn't I go back to pick up those damn clothes?

  I straightened out my robe and walked up to open the door. "Calm down, Marti. You're going to get wrinkles." I said, barely looking at her as I pushed past her.

  "Where the fuck are you going?"

  "I am going to finish taking that shower I meant to take last night. Obviously I was exhausted when I started and I fell asleep. Contrary to what you might think, I'm not out to get you, Marti. I really do want to help. So I am just going to hop in the shower real quick and then I will finish those programs. Okay"

  I didn't give her the chance to argue with me.

  Not today.

  Not while I was still reeling from the sex last night.

  The bus of a saw drifted in from outside. I glanced out to see Tim toiling away at the branches of the tree. His muscles rippled and shiny from sweat and his tee shirt tucked into this back pocket.

  And just like that. I was wet again.

  I pulled myself away from the window and turned on the water. Letting the steam fill the bathroom as I rinsed my hair. My skin pinked up under the heat. Still my thoughts centered on everything that happened last night.

  What was he thinking about?

  What was I thinking?

  What if he wanted to do that again? Should I let him? What if everyone found out about us?

  Oh God. That last thought was probably the worst. What would they think?

  The family about lost their lids when they found out about Tim and Marti 15 years ago. It was awful. And did I really want to be with a man who could literally look at me and say that's not how your older sister did it.

  "Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew," I whispered out loud as the hot water dripped down my face,

  Mud washed away from my legs, carrying away with it my dignity.

  I was going to have to talk to him. To make sure that he had no further expectations. No plans for continuing on with this.

  It had to be the one and only time.

  It could never happen again.

  And no one could ever find out.

  ***

  "Get my car out yet?" Marti walked up to me.

  I wasn't sure what kind of game she thought she was playing. But whatever it was, she wasn't going to let me work without making sure I knew what I was missing.

  Her long legs made her shorts seem even shorter than they were intended. And her tank top clung to her body. Showing off every curve.

  I shook my head and grabbed my shirt from my back pocket to wipe the sweat from my forehead. "I'm working on it Marti," I said.

  She walked up closer and leaned against the tree. Hoisting her leg up and propping her foot up on the bumper.

  I glanced down.

  No panties.

  I chuckled and tucked my shirt back into my pocket. "I have to get back to work," I said.

  "I just thought that I would come out here and check on your progress," she said as she bent over to pretend to check the laces of her shoes.

  "My progress is that I'm working on it. I'll let you know once I've finished."

  "Right," she said. Disappointment loomed in her voice. I couldn't tell if she was disappointed that she couldn't ride in her car, or disappointed that she couldn't ride me. Though I guess it was more the latter.

  I went back to cutting away the branches blocking her car without giving her a second glance. She stood still. Glaring at me with her mouth dropped open as she adjusted her shorts. Finally, she stormed off back into the house.

  A few minutes later, Grams came outside to check on me.

  "Hi Timmy," she said with a smile.

  I stopped working and wiped my forehead again before leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. "Hi Grams."

  "I just wanted to cheek on you and see if Marti was giving you a hard time?"

  "Nah, Grams. It's fine."

  "Are you sure?" She asked again.

  I smiled and nodded. "Yea I'm sure."

  "Would you tell me if you weren't sure?"

  "Probably not," I admitted. "How are you feeling?"

  "Oh I'm fine. You know me. No cancer bastard is going to knock me down."

  I nodded again and tucked my shirt into my back pocket. "So,Grams. Can I ask you something? Why haven't you told anyone else yet?"

  "Because everyone else would start treating me like some damned piece of china. Breakable. Fragile. They'd tie me to the bed and hire some God awful nurse to wet me down for a sponge bath every day. Then the vultures would start checking into my will. No. I won't have it. Those bastards can all find out what I'm giving them at the funeral like everyone else."

  I chuckled. "If you hate them so much, why leave them anything?"

  "Bite your tongue. I don't hate them. They're family and I love them."

  I laughed out right and shook my head. "Of course, Grams. So why tell me? I mean, I can't do anything. I can't even take you to the hospital if something goes wrong and you have to go--."

  "Oh, Timmy. I suppose it's selfish to ask you to carry such a burden. But I know you can keep a secret. And I know you won't tell the rest of them until I tell them. Meanwhile, I might need help around the house and I was hoping to guilt you into doing some of it for me." She giggled and pushed against my shoulder.

  ***

  The further down the stairs I stepped, the lower my heart sank.

  "It's about time," Marti said and huffed across the room.

  "What are you auditioning for hair removal cream commercial or something?"

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "Who wears hoe shorts?"

  "You're such a bitch!" Marti shrieked and ran up the stairs.

  Good. Hopefully she stays up there. I smiled.

  I reclaimed my seat at the table with the rest of the programs and set everything back out as an assembly line again. Four hours until I had to be at work. That should be plenty of time to get these done.

  About halfway through assembling the programs, I happened to glance outside. Tim was still working to cut away the tree. It looked like he managed to free Marti's car. So at least that was progress. More than likely, he'd be out there the rest of the day trying to get the driveway completely cleared.

  "Oh crap," I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else.

  "What's the matter Angie?" Grams brought over some of that murky water she called coffee and set it down on the table for me.

  "Nothing. It's just, I have to go to work today and I don't know how I'm going to get there with my car flattened under a tree."

  "Well, Tim is working as fast as he can."

  "Oh I know. It's not him. I just--."

  "What if you called in sick?"

  The screen door slammed and made me jump at that moment. I whipped my head around to see Tim striding over to the kitchen. He came back out to the table with a glass of lemonade and sat down next to Grams.

  "Well, I don't think I can."

  "Can what?" Tim asked.

  "She doesn't think she can call in sick to work."

  "Why call in sick? Just go to work? They can get the wedding plans done without you for a couple hours."

  "Yea but--."

  "She doesn't have a ride. Hey Timmy, you can give her a ride to work right?"

  "Um," he stuttered.

  "No," I said, trying to let him off the hook. "No he doesn't have to do that. It's fine. I'll try to call in sick. I'm sure it'll be fine." I got up and walked back into the kitchen to grab the phone there.

  "What time do you have to be there?" Tim asked.

  "What?"

  He followed me into the kitchen. "What time do you have to be there?"

>   I glanced around the kitchen. "Two," I finally answered.

  "Okay." He checked his watch. "Go ahead and try to call in sick if you want. I need to go and take a shower. When I get out, you let me know if you still need a ride. Okay?"

  I nodded and he walked out of the kitchen without another word. I stared at the phone for a minute, dumbfounded by what just happened.

  My stomach lurched. What was going to happen if he ended up having to give me a ride to work?

  ***

  Damn it. How did I let Grams trap me into bringing Angela to work today? I wanted to sit and talk to Grams about what was happening to her. About what to expect. About doctor's reports and second opinions. The last thing I wanted to do was bring some dame to work.

  Not to mention the obligatory ride home.

  Shit.

  I was going to have to go and pick her up.

  Gah.

  I walked into the bathroom with some towels and turned on the hot water. I let the water rain down on my shoulders and flow down my chest.

  The morning after sex is always painfully uncomfortable. The girl always wants to talk about it. To chat and find out if there was a relationship coming. And if there was no relationship planned, could there be? They all want to think they're somehow special from the others.

  And this time. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking?

  I blamed Marti for this. If she hadn't thrown herself all over me in the shed last night, I never would have stopped to watch Angela. And now Angela probably thinks I'm some pervert.

  Easiest way to deal with this would be to ignore it. Just go about our day and not talk about it. As if it never happened. Shut it down. If Angela happened to bring it up, I would have to stop her and let her know that there is no future there. It was a one time relief effort. And after this wretched wedding, we wouldn't even have to see each other again.

  Oh God, and what would Grams think if she found out? Maybe it's a good thing I'm giving Angela a ride to work today. It might be the only way I could talk to her first before she opens her mouth to anyone else.

  ***

  Of course, going to work meant getting back into that horrible cheerleading uniform. Which I left in the bathroom. Again.