Break Me: A Stepbrother Romance (5 page)

I stood in shock. He was undressing, right here in front of me in my back alley. My gaze roamed his chest, which I now saw had another dragon on it, spreading its wings over his pecs, its tail trailing down his arm. “Your tattoos,” I said, stupid with desire. “They're dragons.”

“Dragons are fierce,” Bram said. Then he took my wrist and pulled me forward, out into the rain.

His hand was hot on my skin. The rain was cool, which was a relief, because I was starting to overheat. Bram pulled me toward him, put an arm around my waist so my breasts were crushed against his chest. “Say that again,” he rumbled. “What you said before.”

I looked up into his eyes. He was staring at me so hungrily I thought I would combust. I parted my lips and licked them. “You're wet,” I said again.

He lowered his head so my lips were next to his ear. I could feel his breath on my skin. “Again,” he said.

I ran my hands over his arms, his shoulders, like I'd been dying to do. I could feel the water on his skin, and oh my God, I wanted to lick it off every inch. “You're wet,” I breathed.

He walked me slowly, pressing me backward, out of the alley toward the wall. I still ran my hands over him, unable to stop. “Say it, Summer,” he said. “Say what I want.”

I could have played dumb, but I knew what he wanted to hear. Just for a second, I dipped my head and licked a drop of rain from the strong column of his neck. And I said it. “I'm wet.”

Bram gave a growl and thumped me back against the wall, hard. He pressed his big body into mine. “Say it again.”

“I'm wet,” I said, faster this time. I was wet—my hair, my skin soaked through the t-shirt. But my pussy was throbbing, my panties soaked. “I'm wet.”

He thrust his hips between my legs and lifted me off my feet, pinning me to the rough brick wall, grinding into me. I could feel his huge cock against the seam of my jeans. “Are you?” he said.

“Yes,” I gasped. The wall scraped my back, which added to the pleasure. His strong thighs were holding me up like I was nothing. I tilted my hips toward him, gripped him with my knees, and dug my nails into his bare shoulders.

“Say it,” he said, grinding into me again.

“I'm wet,” I said. “I'm so wet, Bram. I'm so wet.”

“For me?”

“Yes. Yes! God, I'm wet for you!”

He leaned in, still pinning me to the wall. I thought he was going to kiss me—oh God, I wanted him to kiss me—but instead he ran his tough, callused thumb along my lower lip, back and forth. He stared at his thumb's progress, as if my lip fascinated him. The friction of just his thumb on my mouth was making my pussy throb even harder. Then he drew my lip down and pushed his thumb in my mouth.

It was rude, crude. I shouldn't put up with it. No man had ever done anything remotely like this to me before. But the intrusion of his thumb, big and masculine, felt good, and I closed my lips around it and ran my tongue over it inside my mouth, sucking, tasting him.

His eyes went very dark. He pushed the thumb inside me, thrusting inside the wet darkness of my mouth. He tasted salty, and I licked the flavor from him, swallowed it. Still he watched, his gaze intent on my lips sealed around his thumb.

“Fuck, Summer,” he said, his voice choked. “Fuck. I'm only going to say this once.”

I waited. I'd tried to be good, I really had, but here I was, pinned against an alley wall with Bram Riordan's thumb fucking my mouth. And I wasn't sorry.

He withdrew the thumb and pulled my bottom lip, looking at its pink wetness. “Say it,” I breathed.

He leaned in. “I want to fuck you,” he rasped. “I'm not a boy anymore, I'm a man. And I want to fuck you in every possible way, in every possible place, that a man can fuck a woman. Do you understand?”

Oh, God. “Yes,” I said.

“I'm not a good person,” he said. He ground his hips into me again as the rain pelted down his torso and I groaned. “I'm lower than shit now. You shouldn't even come near me. I'm an animal who has been in a cage for six years. And the first woman I fuck after being in a cage for six years is going to have a very fucking hard ride.”

I raised my hand and ran it over the planes of his gorgeous face, the line of his cheekbones, the ridge of his jaw. “Bram, I've wanted a hard ride ever since you gave me the last one.”

He gasped a breath, but he didn't back down. “That was nothing. I was being nice. Summer, nothing is nice about me right now. My cock isn't nice. My mouth isn't nice. My fingers aren't nice. Every inch of me is nasty right now, you get that?”

There was something happening to me. Something blowing open, coming awake. It was like a sense that had been closed off my entire life—as if I'd been blind or deaf and hadn't known it, and suddenly I wasn't. Suddenly I was
aware.
I didn't care that he was nasty, because deep down, I was, too. It wasn't just that I wanted him inside me. I did want that, oh God I did, but I wanted more. I wanted everything he could give me, with no limits.

“I can take it,” I said. “I want it.”

“You don't know what you're asking for,” he said. He let me go so my feet hit the ground again, but he didn't unpin me from the wall. He leaned in close, his chest pressing against me, and bit my earlobe, hard. “You think about it,” he growled. “You think about my cock, Summer. I know you remember it. You think about whether you want it. You think about
where
you want it. And if you think you can take all of me, you let me know, and I swear I'll fuck you until you scream.”

He ran his hands over my soaked t-shirt, bold and possessive. He dragged them up and cupped my breasts, pressing him like he owned them, like he owned me. Then he stepped back, picked up his t-shirt from the ground, and walked away.

It was twenty minutes before I stopped shaking. I realized I was on the knife edge of an orgasm, and if he'd ground into me one more time, I would have come. That was how easy I was. That was how desperate.

And still, I wasn't ashamed. I was free.

I walked back into the store to dry off. I had a decision to make.

B
ram

I
spent
the next five days working as hard as I could to keep my mind straight. I did long, punishing runs at the local high school track, doing laps until I nearly fell down. I installed a chin-up bar in my bedroom at Nate’s, and I’d get up early to do a round of sit-ups, push-ups, and chin-ups as my body came to life. I could have joined a gym, but I didn’t have the money, and doing the reps in my bedroom reminded me of doing the reps in my cell on my endless stretch of jail time.

It felt good to flex my muscles. I liked to feel strong, which gave me the illusion of being in control. Like I could control anything that was happening in my wreck of a life.

After the early morning workout, I’d go to Nate’s body shop and work some more. Nate had never said anything about the money missing from the safe, and I’d reluctantly decided that he must know something I didn’t. Either that or he’d taken the money himself. It was his right as the business owner, but it seemed odd, since I learned that Nate already paid himself a salary out of the business, on the books just like the rest of us, and he didn’t seem to need much money.

But something was wrong. The more I lived with Nate and worked in his garage, the more I saw it. The man I had known six years ago, the man who had religiously kept in touch with me while I did time as if he gave a shit, had changed. Something was wearing him down, and it wasn’t just the broken leg, which was healing too slowly for his liking. His mood always got worse after some twenty-year-old punk had been in the body shop, getting his car fixed. Why the kid’s car needed fixing so often, I had no idea, but his visits always made Nate short-tempered and irritable. I asked one of the other shop guys who the kid was, and was told he was the mayor’s son. I had no idea why the mayor’s son rubbed Nate the wrong way, and no one volunteered to tell me.

I started to see that Summer had been right to worry about her dad.

Summer. I couldn’t think about her right now. I couldn’t. She should have slapped me for the things I’d said to her, the filth I’d growled in her ear. She should have kicked me right in the nuts. I would have deserved it. The least she deserved was for me to stay away.

But it didn’t matter. She was inside me, like a virus. No matter how many miles or how many reps I did, she never left me. I was at some crazy fever pitch, my balls so blue they practically glowed, unable to get relief no matter how many times I jerked off, unwilling to go find another woman. It was either her, or go crazy. Maybe both.

Her lips on my thumb. She’d sucked it like she was born to it. Good God.

I found myself alone on Saturday night. Nate had gone out to play cards with a few of his buddies, the shop was closed, and I had no friends. I knocked around Nate’s house for a while, restless as a tiger in a zoo. I thought about going for a run, going out to get laid, even getting drunk. I could hit the liquor store, buy a bottle of vodka, and try to knock myself out cold. I hadn’t had a drink since going in the shitter—not a drink, not a toke, nothing. I had my reasons.

But tonight I was so crazy I was tempted. The air was hot, unmoving, waiting for a summer storm to move in. There was nothing on TV. I already knew I could get in the shower and jerk off until my dick was sore, and I wouldn’t feel any better.

I was in the kitchen, banging the cupboards uselessly open and closed even though I wasn’t hungry, when I heard my cell phone beep.

The cell phone was a new thing. Nate had set me up with it because we often drove customers to and from the shop to drop off and pick up their cars, so he needed me to be reachable during the day. He also said it was a good idea in case of emergencies. I wondered what emergencies he thought I’d get myself into, but I didn’t ask.

I rarely used the thing, especially after hours, since I had no friends, so it took me a minute to find it in my jacket by the door. It had lit up with a text message. I tapped the button and read it.

I have your sweatshirt. Come and get it.

I stared at the words, unbelieving. I didn’t even know Summer had my number. I sure as hell had never given it to her. She must have gotten it from her father somehow.

I read the words again, making sure I wasn’t deluding myself. Nope. Unless I was very much mistaken, Summer Friesen was giving me a come-fuck-me call.

I couldn’t help smiling. She wasn’t mad at me, wasn’t offended. She didn’t think I was disgusting. She’d thought over what I’d done and decided she liked it.

Well, then. I had more for her if she wanted it.

I hit Reply and typed,
Where?

My apartment,
she wrote back right away. Then she gave me the address of a small apartment building in downtown Terre Mills, about six blocks from her shop.

A private Saturday night with Summer. Fuck yes. If I were a religious man, I would be sending thanks for this heavenly gift right now. But I couldn’t look too eager, and I had to tease her a little. I typed,
Maybe.

You have twenty minutes,
she shot back.

This woman. This woman.

I got there in fifteen.

Summer’s apartment was on the fourth floor, so I skipped the elevator and pounded up the stairs. I knocked on her door and waited.

She answered it. Her blond hair was tousled, falling past her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were deep and beautiful. She didn’t wear much makeup, and she hadn’t put any on her mouth, which was naturally pink, her sexy lips parted. She was wearing my sweatshirt and, it seemed, nothing else.

My mouth went dry. So this was how she’d decided to take me up on it.

I walked into her apartment, and she took a few steps back, her eyes still on me. I closed the door behind me. I watched her shapely legs, bare beneath the hem of my shirt. She’d unzipped it a little, and I could see her collarbones, could see the swell of her incredible breasts beneath the fabric.

“That’s mine,” I growled, motioning to the sweatshirt. “Take it the fuck off.”

She tilted her chin up, and then she slowly unzipped it. I could hear each individual goddamned tooth separating. I could have ripped the shirt off her in seconds, but I watched her instead. Watched the show she was giving me. The best show I’d ever seen in my life, better than anything I’d imagined during the long, cold nights in jail. I’d have paid a million dollars that I didn’t have for a show like this, and she was giving it to me for free.

She was watching me, her gaze on me. She was taking in my reaction, and it was turning her on. She licked her lips.

She finished unzipping the shirt, and it dropped to the floor.

I had nothing to say. Nothing. She wasn’t totally naked—she’d put on a tiny, lacy pair of panties and a matching lacy bra that was just a scrap of fabric, cupping her tits, her nipples clearly visible. I’d seen her naked on the beach six years ago, but even though I’d paused to take a look, I’d always regretted that I hadn’t spent long enough at it. I’d been too eager to get inside her. That was nothing to how eager I was now, but still I made myself pause and look at her.

Summer wasn’t one of those skinny model types. She never had been. She had round hips and a round ass, but God damn, everything was in exactly the right place. Curves right where they should be, like an hourglass. She was healthy and sexy, not sloppy. And those tits—they were mounds of creamy flesh, spilling out of the skimpy bra. I knew from close observation that her tits jiggled sometimes when she moved, bounced in a way that was a living wet dream. I wanted to bury my face in them. I wanted to suck them. I wanted to watch them move as her body rode my cock into bliss.

I pulled off my t-shirt and dropped it to the floor. I kicked off my shoes and stepped toward her. Enough of this. Enough back and forth, enough indecision. Summer had decided, and so had I. This was going down, no matter what our relationship was, just like it had six years ago. It was going down. Now.

Her gaze dropped to my chest and my stomach as I came toward her, and she licked her lips again. When I got close, she reached a hand out and placed her palm on my abs, stopping me from getting closer. “Wait,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes. Summer wasn’t a girl to play games, but if she was trying something on me, I was going to explode. “What is it?”

She stroked me, her palm cool on my skin. I could see how hard her pink, ripe nipples were through the bra. “You said I could choose.”

“What?”

“You said I could choose where I want your cock,” she said. Just that dirty word on her lips made me harder than ever. It was all I could do to hold back from throwing her down and drilling into her, but I didn’t. I decided I wanted her to say more.

“Where do you want it?” I said. “Tell me.”

Her hand drifted down, hooked into my belt. She undid it, then undid the button on my jeans. When she lowered the fly, her knuckles brushed the hammer in my pants and she gave a little flutter. She licked her lips again, her gaze lowered to my cock. She rubbed her hand on it, up and down through my boxers. I was about to tell her to stop when she took the waist of both my jeans and my boxers and shoved them down.

My cock sprang out, ready to go. The tip was already wet with pre-come. I waited for her to tell me what she wanted so I could give it to her, but instead of speaking, she slowly got to her knees.

Oh, no. Oh, God, this was not fucking happening.

After all these years, Summer was going down on me. She was going to suck my cock.

She
wanted
to suck my cock.

She was staring at it like it was the best thing she’d ever seen. On her knees, she was just below it, so she had to tilt her head back. She licked the tip, the pre-come disappearing on her tongue. Then, putting her hands on my hips and straining up like she was starving, she sucked me into her mouth.

White heat blasted over my vision for a minute. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything but the blood roaring in my ears, couldn’t feel anything but her hot, wet mouth on me. When I blinked and came to, she was sucking me, taking me all in, her blond head bobbing. I watched in dazed amazement as her lips traveled my cock, those lips I couldn’t get enough of. Her spit glistened on me. There was no amount of porn, no amount of random screwing, that had anything on this.

I could feel my hips flexing, wanting to thrust into her. I wanted to go faster, harder. Instead I put my hand on the side of her head and pressed my fingertips into her hair.

“Fuck, that’s good,” I said to her. “That’s just right. That’s good. Now slow down a little. Take your time. Savor it.”

She did. She slowed her rhythm, taking a leisurely suck all the way to the base of my cock and back up again. She closed her eyes. She swirled her tongue with perfect patience over the tip, then sucked back down again.

I’d told her to slow down to make myself last longer, but it wasn’t working. She was working me like I was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted, her eyes closed in bliss. I wanted to close my own eyes and let the sensation of her hot, wet mouth take over, but I didn’t want to miss a second of the sight of Summer, in a lacy bra and panties, giving me head.

She moaned, her fingers sliding down to my legs and digging hard into the muscles on my thighs. “You feel that?” I said to her, keeping my hand on her head as she bobbed on me. “You feel what I’m giving you right now? You need to feel it deep.”

The words seemed to egg her on. I could tell she was hot, that her pussy was wet, just doing this. It was the fact that she’d chosen it, plus the dirty things I was saying to her. It was driving her to an edge where she wanted to go.

“Take all of it,” I growled at her, cupping her head. “Take me deep. Take every inch. Fuck, yes, like that. That is fucking good. So fucking good.”

I wasn’t going to last like this. There was no way. She was going faster again, moaning, practically swallowing me. I could feel myself hitting her throat.

“You want my come, Summer?” I asked her. She made an excited sound, begging me. “You’re so fucking good you’re going to get it. You’re going to take it.”

I fisted my hand in her hair. My balls were drawn up hard into my body, ready to explode. Her nails were digging painfully into my thighs. I let out a roar of six years of pent-up frustration and came, everything exploding like a fireball in my blood, behind my eyes, through my balls and my cock. I shot jets of come down her throat, and still I fisted her hair. “Swallow,” I rasped. “Swallow.”

She did. I watched her throat work as she sucked me dry, greedily taking every last drop. Then I let her go and she drifted back, sliding down and landing on her ass on the floor.

My legs were shaking. That had been worth it, worth every day of pain I’d ever had. I’d go through it all again if it meant she’d blow me like that again. My whole body was throbbing, and I wasn’t anywhere near done. Not ever. I kicked my pants and boxers off so I was fully naked, standing over her.

I looked down at her. Her lips were parted, her eyes half closed. She was a woman in heat, turned on so hard she could barely move. She needed some relief.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, then swung her up into my arms. She squirmed halfheartedly against me as I carried her to her bedroom. “Bram, we shouldn’t…”

I had to laugh at that. “We shouldn’t? Summer, I just came in your mouth like a volcano. I think we’re past ‘we shouldn’t.’”

I dropped her on the bed. There were those curves again, those hips, those tits, inside the lacy underwear. I leaned over her, braced on my arms, and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, right through the fabric.

She arched her back. “
Oh
.”

I sucked the nipple harder. I let it go, and when the air hit the soaked lace, I could see the nipple go dark red and hard as a pebble. I lowered my head again and sucked the other one into my mouth.

She grabbed my hair. She smelled like strawberries—fucking strawberries. I was already hard again, and I wanted to fuck her, but instead I yanked down the scrap of panties and put my hand between her legs. She was wet as a rainforest down there, soaked, her bush soft and trim. I rubbed her clit as I sucked her nipple.