Stepbrother Fighter: A Love in Steps Standalone Novel

by Rachel Angel

  His hips thrust toward me, going faster and faster, filling me. As my clit was massaged by his massive cock, I found myself starting to come, and I didn’t stop until he came, too.

  Breathing heavy, he rolled over and propped up on his elbow, so close to me and looked at me with an expression that was filled with love and passion.

  “Oh Pedro,” I said. “You shouldn’t have surprised me like that.”

  “Why?” Pedro asked, kissing my hand and leaning in to nibble my earlobe. “You always like it when I take control and take you quick and fast. It excites you, which excites me.”

  I sat up and looked at him. “I know,” I said, feeling so guilty. I should have controlled myself and not allowed this to happen. Now I was completely naked and ready to tell Pedro that I couldn’t make the commitment he wanted me to yet. Maybe never, but that was something I couldn’t say, either, because I did not know.

  “Are you sure we can’t stay here instead of going out,” he said, playing with my nipple. It sent a wave of tingles through me. No, focus, I thought. I got up and reached for my clothes.

  “Why are you getting dressed so quickly? Hungry?” he asked. “Did I not satisfy you?”

  Shit, why couldn’t he sense what I was thinking? It would make this a lot easier.

  “You always satisfy me, Pedro. It was amazing as usual. You’re one of the most skilled lovers I’ve ever known.”

  That got his attention. He sat up now and looked at me concerned. I wished he would get dressed, because it would make everything a whole lot easier. “But…what are you saying, Ana?”

  “Pedro,” I said, feeling the tears and anxiety start to rise inside of me. This was so hard. I should have never let it get so out of control. “I want to love you the way a woman should love a man—passionately and with all my heart, but I can’t. There’s someone from my past that I just can’t get out of my mind. I thought I could, and I thought you would be the one that would help me move past him, but I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” he asked.

  “I don’t know how to answer that,” I began, “but I do know that it wouldn’t be fair to you if I were to marry you when I feel this way, Pedro. I’m sorry, but I have to say no.”

  Pedro slid off the bad and walked over to his clothes, his head down and not responding. I kept getting dressed, not sure how to respond or if there was anything else left that I could say.

  Only when his back was to me, did Pedro talk again. “I see,” he said softly. “I am heartbroken, you know, Ana. You are the woman I want to marry. I..I..don’t know how to process this, but I’ll need some time to get over this, to come to terms with this.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry,” I softly said.

  “Don’t!” he yelled, turning around and looking at me cautiously. Then he repeated don’t in a more quiet voice. “For now, I need to get some air and get out of here before I do something I regret.”

  I watched him as he finished getting dressed. He was silent and I was silent, too, with the only sounds coming from the air conditioning vent when it kicked on. Then he was gone, not looking back or saying goodbye. He just left and when he walked out, the sadness crept in.

  Chapter 20

  It was such a long and agonizing night. I felt horrible about what had happened, and the way it had gone down. All these emotions that I’d been in denial about for so long flowed out of my mouth when I’d talked to Pedro; only I hadn’t given them permission to do so. Where had it come from? I knew it was true and frankly, that scared the hell out of me.

  After the random bursts of tears finally subsided, I was forced to think about Pedro my friend, not Pedro the lover. Our connection as friends was strong, too, and he was so supportive of me in every way—from allowing me to pursue my career in the aggressive manner I wanted to realizing that his heart was the best thing he had to offer me, not all his money. Yet, that had proven to not be enough. I had this thing festering away inside of me, always reminding me that it was not honorable or good to pretend that someone had my heart when they didn’t. I’d seen how disastrous that formula to a happy life was with my father.

  But after all this, would Pedro stay clear of me like the plague, or would he allow me to be a friend, but nothing more? I wasn’t so sure that I’d be able to do that if I were him, but damn it, I wanted him to do it. Maybe to alleviate my guilt about the way it had all transpired. Although we hadn’t been together long, our connection had been one that was intense, honest, and made us connect faster than many people might. It didn’t matter anymore, though.

  As morning entered in through my bedroom window, I stretched my stiff body. When I’d finally fallen asleep a few hours ago, I’d had my head on my arm and elbow and they were completely numb.

  I got up and went to my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. Now that I’d come clean with Pedro about what had been lingering in my heart I was not certain that I knew what that meant in regards to Ian and I. Were we definitely a couple? I wasn’t ready to say that, but if someone were to ask me why, I wouldn’t be able to answer it. I was messed up, which sucked, because I was one of the most emotionally and intellectually organized people that I’d ever met.

  Men—they just made that go out the window. I knew that man’s second brain was in their cock, but until that moment, I hadn’t realized that women had a second brain that thrived in their vaginas.

  “What to wear,” I said out loud. The silence was too much.

  I walked over and put on the radio just to get rid of the silence and went back to my closet, staring at all the options that were there. It was definitely nice to have a wardrobe allowance from work and lots of new designer wanting to offer their clothes free of charge just so they could be seen. Today I was going to get the interview of a lifetime with The Masked Missile. What would work for such an occasion? My hands touched all the fabrics, one by one, and they stopped on a black wrap dress with some red appliqués that were by the side where it bunched together. “Perfect,” I said. It looked good and in a way, it kind of matched the image of Ian when he was playing his MMA role.

  After a shower and carefully applying my make-up, taking more time to primp than I ever did getting ready for a prom, I went over to my cellphone and picked it up, putting Ian’s number into my speed dial, and then I pressed send. “You ready to be interviewed?” I asked when he answered.

  Ian’s voice sounded surprise but amused.

  “I don’t grant interviews to just anyone. If you’re going to be an exclusive and my first, I hope you’re ready to make the most of it.”

  “Don’t worry, you may be a virgin, but I’m not,” I said, laughing. Then I realized that didn’t come out quite right.

  “Well, I’m not quite a virgin, but I didn’t know you were so experienced,” Ian said.

  “Oh shut up,” I said, not sure what else to say.

  “Now or during the interview?” he asked with playful sarcasm.

  “Just for now. I want you to save all your words for when we’re face to face.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s almost 10:00, isn’t it?”

  “See you soon with my camera man.”

  “No, alone. You’re on the list, come on up.” Then Ian hung up, which made me feel strangely lonely and isolated. I couldn’t wait to get there. I put on my black pumps, grabbed my messenger bag, and took off. Fifteen minutes later, I was parking in the garage of the casino and making my way to the elevators.

  “Ana Cartier,” I said, smiling at the guard by the elevator.

  He looked me up and down and nodded in approval. Awkward! Then he gestured toward the elevator doors as they opened and I got on.

  Quickly and smoothly, the elevator ascended to its destination and the doors slid open, revealing Ian’s swanky penthouse. It really was an amazing place.

  I walked into the living room and didn’t see Ian at first so I called out.

  He came from down the hall and I looked at him and was instantly turn
ed on. Thoughts of interviewing once again left my head as I took in the sight of him. So damn gorgeous. He was bare-chested, only wearing tight ass-hugging jeans that showed every detail of his muscular body. His bare chest was shiny with sweat and he smelled so masculine that it made every sexual nerve inside of me tingle with desire.

  Ian walked over to me and I could barely move, just appreciating his physical being for the masterpiece it was. “Ana, I’m so glad you’re here.” His voice was so sexy and I had no idea if it was intentional or just the way it was. We had this indescribable chemistry that demanded to be noticed and made us both look at each other like two wild animals that were in heat, ready to consume each other without any human thoughts or emotions getting in the way.

  “Did you have doubts?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “Some,” Ian replied, “but…” He took my hand and guided me to the left, pressing me against a wall and leaned in close, his chest pressed against mine.

  “But what?” I asked. My voice barely sounded like my own.

  “But, I know you, and I know how you feel about me…”

  “You do, do you? Are you going to hold that against me?” I teased.

  “Yes,” he said, but he sounded quite serious.

  Ian brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen on my face and I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. “I know you want that interview more than anything. Probably even more than you care about me…so we’ll see which one you want more.”

  “One question,” I said.

  “And so it begins,” Ian said, taking my wrist and starting to guide me somewhere. “What is it?”

  “Why can’t I have a cameraman here? It’s really necessary for a complete interview. I’m not a journalist—I don’t write the story.”

  “I know a bit about media and I have just what we need for this interview, Ana. So, are you ready?”

  Why did I have the feeling that he wasn’t asking if I was ready for the interview? Probably because I couldn’t even hide how turned on I was. I was fairly certain that my cheeks were flushed and I was on pheromone overload, trying to give Ian the message of what I had on my mind.

  I didn’t say another word as Ian led me down the hallway. He opened up a door to the right and I saw a room that was lit by candles and had all these deep, rich textures and this Goth feel to it, which was also very romantic. Really, I did feel like I was entering Dracula’s lair, which was really pretty hot.

  In the center of the room was a California king sized four poster bed with a plush, velvet cover over it. “This is where we’re interviewing?” I asked, trying to process it all. He was so direct, not holding back and I was hoping that I could hold back until the interview was done. I was having my doubts that I’d be successful.

  Ian pushed me down on the bed and straddled me, staring down at me as I stared up at him, my eyes widened. “Do you want this or do you want the story?”

  “Ian!” I exclaimed, feeling all this energy rush through me. I felt a bit put out that he might be jerking my chain about the interview and also a bit put out that I did want to literally put out and have sex with this man again. We were children last time, for the most part, and the paths that we’d taken in our lives might make for a sexual tryst that was unlike anything we’d ever experienced before. Gritty. Emotional. Urgent.

  “I’m very protective about my privacy, Ana. I love you, but I also know you…you’re dedicated to your work, Ana, and you’re ambitious, you’re willing to do anything to get the story...and I just want to make sure it’s me that you want and not the story…”

  “But you said I’ll get an interview…” My words trailed off, not sure where they were headed or where I might be going at this moment.

  “You will, but my way,” he said.

  Then Ian pressed his body down over mine and cupped my chin before delving his tongue into mine with a take what he wants aggression. It was all it took for me to be gone. My hands wrapped around his back, making sure he didn’t stop pressing against me. I wanted more. I wanted all of him.

  “Ana,” Ian said, “do you want me?”

  I couldn’t answer and I just nodded my head.

  “You and Pedro are no longer together, are you?”

  “No, but I’m sure you know that. After all, I’m here,” I said.

  “I know now, but I wanted to hear it straight from your mouth.”

  Then he began to undress me and I heard my voice saying, “Ian, the interview,” but it came from a distance, almost like it was underwater or being carried away in the wind, until it was gone and I was very aware of what his hands were doing.

  As he undressed me, starting with the latch of my wrap dress, he kissed my neck and then my shoulders, giving me goose bumps. “It’s been a long time since I kissed you like this, touched you like this, and now have to make love to you in a way to wash away all doubts, all thoughts of other men.”

  Ian sat me up and slid my bra off and the sleeves of my dress and set them aside. Then he laid me back down and his hand slid down my torso, sliding under my panties and he began to slide them off. As he did so, he began licking my thighs and his hot breath on them brought such intense excitement to me. I was anticipating what was next and as his mouth went to my most intimate spot, he began to make love to it completely. My back arched in response and I felt the intense pleasure of his touch. Through every action, I sensed Ian’s commitment to me in every way. He wanted me to feel good. He wanted me to know he cared. He wanted me to feel his emotions through his physical touch. And I wanted all of that, too.

  When his tongue entered me and his mouth sucked hard on me, ruthlessly and relentlessly, not letting go, my body began to shudder and I exploded, not able to hold back any longer. And it was only then that Ian made his way up my body and kissed me again, softly, and then he pulled away and looked at me with a satisfied smile. “I have wanted to do that for so long.” Then he licked his lips, which was completely and utterly hot.

  Again, I was at a loss for words, not able to say anything more than, “Oh Ian.”

  I slid to the side and pressed my hand down on his chest so he would have to lie on his back. I wanted to kiss him absolutely everywhere and taste him—give him the same pleasure he’d given me.

  I began to kiss his chest and stomach, pressing my pelvis into him. I could only stare at how sexy he looked licking his lips. “Oh Ian,” I found myself pleading again, grabbing him and kissing his lips, his chest, and stomach.

  “Do you want more?” he asked mischievously. “Or would you rather we start the interview now?” His hand slid down and went into me, stroking me again, moving fast and slow and making it hard for me to focus.

  I surrendered. “Do you really have to ask? Do whatever you want. I just want to feel you inside of me.” Then my body shook from the magic show his fingers were performing.

  He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down, showing that he’d gone commando—another sexy and unexpected thing—and the size of his manhood was a testament to how much he desired me, too. We were both in this together, whatever “this” was.

  “So, Ana, I’ll give you what you want—both this,” he said, staring down at his raging hard-on, “and the interview.”

  Before I could respond, his fingers began rubbing on me until I was so wet again, ready for taking in his massive size. Then he plunged into me and began thrusting, taking me to a level that I’d never experienced before. It was somewhere between the moon and infinity, and my rising orgasms were like shooting stars.

  My urgency showed in my body and escaped through my words. “Ian…oh please….”

  “So Ana,” he groaned, “what do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to focus. “Why are you The Masked Missile?”

  “Is that who you want to talk to, baby, let me bring him out,” Ian said. I opened my eyes, not sure what he meant and I saw his hand slide underneath a pillow at the end of the bed. The
familiar black mask was now in his hands and he stopped what he was doing—which made me feel like I’d been robbed of winning the lottery—and put the mask on. I was aroused by the mask and I was eager, both for his answer and for him to resume what he’d been doing.

  With him entering me again and his thrusts growing more demanding, I stared at Ian in that mask. It gave him a rebellious and darkly desirable quality, which appealed to me and the bad girl I wished to be at that moment.

  Ian spoke and his full lips were straight, his voice intense. “The Masked Missile is my alter ego, Ana. He took in all my pain when I had to fight to earn money on the streets. He was someone else who I became when I wanted to lash out. When I wanted to hurt other people because I was feeling bitter, or angry toward my mom and how she kept going after men and squandering away everything, he came out. When I lost my dream about going to med school and wanted to shed the disappointment, The Masked Missile helped. I could hide behind him and do what I needed to do to get by. He’s not Ian, Ana. He has a life of his own.”

  With Ian’s last words, I stared at him as he kept going faster and harder, his aggression transferring into my body and making me feel pain that was equal to every bit of anger he felt. I wanted to absorb it all and take it away from him. It was killing me that he felt it and had lived with it for so long.

  For a bit, he didn’t speak and I didn’t dare interrupt what was happening. It was the most extreme form of physical communication that I’d ever had and my body wanted to stay in until the very end. I was panting and clawing at his back, not minding my freshly painted red nails digging into his tanned, hard flesh. It was that animal…the one that I’d felt when I saw him earlier.

  “This room, this is where I’ve taken women always, trying to fight my demons and satisfy a hunger that’s never ceased. No one has ever been you. But everything in here is because of you—my first and only love,” Ian said.