Burned: A Stepbrother Romance (10 page)

Hernandez holds his belt. “Looking for something?”

Think.
“I left some clothes in here.”

Hernandez nods. I can’t tell whether he’s taken the bait. He looks around. “Took me a while to find this place. He’s real on the down-low about his personal details, that brother of yours.”

Hernandez takes a step closer. My piece is inside. I’m naked out here if he tries something.

The balls. He makes for me and I’m going to hammer his balls so hard he’ll be burping them out for weeks.

He sees me shift harder against the body of the car. “Hey, there’s nothing to be scared of. I’m not who you think I am. All that stuff with the bikers, and Birdie, it’s been taken care of. One of the other guys was running again, but we got to the bottom of it.” Lie. “Your brother’s clean.” Lie?

“And you,” I ask, “are you clean?”

“When I want to be. At all other times I like to be dirty—
real
dirty.”

The filthy shit thinks I’m actually going to fall for a line like that. “You’re not running?”

“Of course not.”

“Those bikers seemed pretty sure of it.”

He takes another step closer. He smells of cheap tobacco. “You’re the cop. You tell me.”

“I don’t deal with that stuff.”

“No, you’re too busy running the beat, huh? Real police work.”

“Yeah.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just sayin’. People who get mixed up in what we do, what we
did
,” he corrects, “sooner or later they get burned.” His eyes drop down by body in an ‘S’, lingering on my crotch. “And I would hate to see a body like yours damaged in any way.”

I push past him. “I’ve got to go. Brock’s in the flat if you want to see him.”

Back in the safety of Champers, I take a deep breath.
Stick to the plan.

*

I drive down to see Alice again before she leaves to head back to Rosie.

“You okay?” she says, buttering up a mud scone while we watch the gym junkies at the beach oiling themselves and pumping iron. It’s like a crazy kind of body circus here—freaks galore. “You seem a little, I don’t know, tense.”

I snort into my coffee. “You could say that.”

“Work?”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I know we only just got in touch together again, but if you need help, even just an open ear, you let me know, okay? You could Skype me. We do have that kind of technology in Rosie now.”

“Oh, I thought you were still using cans and wires?”

She laughs, warm and friendly, the kind of laugh only country people seem to be able to produce. “You’d be surprised by how forward-thinking Rosie has become since you and your folks left.”

“It’s just, that guy I’m seeing, the one I told you about? I’m not sure I can trust him.”

Alice watches me carefully. “Everybody has trust issues, Maddy. That’s universal. I know I had them when I met my guy. He was, how shall I put it, kind of a criminal.”

“He wasn’t into cars, was he?”

“Matter of fact…”

“You not sure we’re seeing the same guy?”

Alice laughs. “No chance, but I do know where you’re coming from. I don’t know. I just had to trust my gut.”

“Funny, that’s the exact
opposite
of the
advice I’ve been getting.”

“Well, take it or leave it, but it worked out well for me, why not for you? You deserve it, right?”

“Like Donald Trump deserves a kick to the head.”

We both laugh at that, some of the former tension I’ve been keeping slipping away again in this dip into the old and comfortable.

*

Brock’s waiting for me when I come into the granny flat. He’s got two glasses of lemonade waiting, mint and all.

I close the door. “Where’d you get the mint?”

“Your neighbor’s garden.”

“Charming.”

He pushes a glass closer. “A peace offering. Come on, take it.”

“We’re not kids again. Lemonade isn’t going to make it all better. It’s not going to make this all go away.”

“Try it and see.”

I pick up the glass and take a sip. It’s actually fucking good, but I don’t let on. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? I’ve been squeezing lemons for the last half-hour.”

“I thought you were having a big pow-wow with Hernandez.”

“He stopped by, wanted to talk, but I told him where I stand. I got back into the club because I thought it was clean—just cars, racing. If they’re running for the cartel again I’m just going to have to find a new hobby.”

“Knitting?”

He stands up and cautiously places his hands on my hips, pulling me close. In the filtered sun his eyes are endless oceans. “I could think of other hobbies…
group
hobbies.”

“You think you can just charm your way out of this?”

His hand slides up under my shirt, brushing over my belly. “Yeah, I kind of think I can.”

I push him away. Time for confession. “I never told you, but I spoke to Dad. He confirmed your story about that night. You’re telling the truth.”

“And that comes as a surprise?”

I sit down on the couch, take another sip. Stuff’s damn addictive. “I just don’t know where I stand with you. It’s complicated.”

He sits next to me, plucking a strand of my hair and rolling it between his fingers. “It doesn’t have to be. Let me show you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to meet with those bikers, the threat, Birdie? Don’t you remember any of this? Or don’t you care?”

“Hernandez gave me his word he sorted it all out.”

“You actually believe him?”

“When you live on top of someone for as long as we did, you get to know them, like
really
know them. He says he fixed it, I believe him.”

I sigh. “Whatever.”

Brock heads to the counter and picks up his keys. He tosses me a jacket.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“We’re going out?”

“Why?”

“I think we both need a bit of fresh air, to relax a little. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s nothing for it then. Meet you outside in five.”

Outside, it’s getting cold, a storm moving onto the horizon fresh and hot from the desert beyond.

Brock’s Camaro is the same color as the mottled sky above as we punch through the gloom on the way out of town. It’s coming into the weekend. Everyone’s headed home to their families and roasts and perfect lives.

We don’t speak at first. Instead, I focus on the whip-whipping of the windshield wipers clearing the glass. My pussy’s wet against the leather, wet against the crotch of my panties, the seat of my jeans. I’m annoyed at him, but I still have urges. I’m still horny. I wonder whether he can smell my arousal. In a twisted way, I hope he can.

“Where are we going?”

He smiles. “My secret.”

I make a motion of zipping my mouth back up.

We approach the airport, moving past the terminal and around to the industrial area at the rear. Brock pulls up to a security box.

“Um, I don’t think we should be here,” I caution.

Brock just smiles, winding down his window. “Relax.”

A tubby guy approaches and bends down next to the window. He reaches in and takes Brock’s hand. For a second I think they’re going to arm-wrestle it out.

“Brock, my man, how the hell are you?”

“Good, good, Freddie. I want you to meet my stepsister, Maddy.”

Freddie reaches over and clutches my hand. “A pleasure. Heard a lot about you.”

“So everyone keeps saying,” I mutter, punching Brock in the arm.

Freddie places his hand on Brock’s shoulder. “You got a real good brother here, a really good guy.”

“We right to head down to the spot, Freddie?”

Freddie stands up nodding. “For sure. You know the way.”

“Thanks, Freddie, I owe you one.”

“You owe me ten,” Freddie laughs. “Have fun.”

Brock winds his window up and we drive on as the boom gate opens. It’s not long before I realize we’re driving inside the actual airport zone. There’s a booming sound above, a jumbo jet landing just ahead of us.

“Whoa!” I stammer. “Did you see that? You sure we’re supposed to be here.”

Brock smiles, glancing sideways. “Of course not, but what’s fun that’s not illegal?”

I press my thighs together. “I could think of a few things.”

We’re on the actual tarmac. Holy fuck we’re dead.

We’re running perpendicular to the actual airstrip now, glowing markers passing by.

A jumbo jet is on the strip. I’m looking right down at it, picking up speed fast and heading straight towards us.

“Ah, Brock.”

He’s focused on driving. “I see it.” He boots the accelerator and we go flying ahead, the jet taking off and lifting just over us. I’m surprised the wheels don’t peel our roof off.

“You are insane.”

“Is that a compliment?”

Brock makes for a series of concrete structures near the end of the strip. It’s a good thing his car’s black. It blends in. Anything else and we’d be done in an instant, the Feds, the cops… every man and his dog converging on this space.

Brock pulls up between two concrete huts and cuts the engine. He pops his door open, the humid air hammering in. “Come on.”

I open my door and step out, the smell of jet fuel mixing with the imminent dampness of precipitation above. A ribbon of lightning cuts across the sky to the north.

Brock swings himself up onto the bonnet of the car, lying with his back against the windscreen. He pats the bonnet beside him.

I sit up onto the bonnet and take the same position. It’s actually quite comfortable.

I see that this spot is remarkably well hidden. We’re sort of fenced in by concrete from every side.

Brock cups his ear. “Listen.”

I listen. The sound of engines coming on strong, something drawing nearer and nearer. He takes my hand. “Wait for it.”

The sound grows and builds, the body of the car vibrating below my back.

A jumbo goes screaming over our heads, my hair whipping around my face and my scream drowned out by the engines. It’s so close I could reach up and touch the wheels.

It disappears and I’m still vibrating.

“Real thrill, huh? Better than sex.”

I look to Brock wiping hair from my face. “Says you.”

I hear more planes in the distance on taxi.

I start speaking to the sky. “Let me guess, this is where you bring all the girls, right?”

“A few.”

I shake my head. “And yet you’ve never brought a single one home.”

“I’m not big on commitment.”

“You don’t say.”

“Like you are any better. Who’s the last guy you dated?”

There was a fling or two at the academy, some MMA freak a year or two ago. I had to change my phone number after that, but since? Nothing. I regularly have to dust out the cobwebs between my legs. “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Suit yourself.”

Brock squeezes my hand and another jet goes flying over us, the same rush following. I breathe in a lung of jet fuel and relax back, waiting for the noise to dissipate. “You know, Dad told me you’re not such a bad guy.”

Brock plays coy. “He did, huh?”

“I seem to be hearing that a lot lately.”

“It’s true.”

I roll onto my side, well aware of our physical proximity, the sweat building on my brow and under my clothes even though the humid air is chilling fast. “I owe you an apology. I’ve been a bitch.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

I roll back onto the glass, the moment lost. “You didn’t want to try anything when you found me like that? Most guys your age… a half-naked girl, too drunk to argue otherwise. It was dark, right? You didn’t see much.”

“Oh, I saw enough.”

I roll back onto my side, fingers hot laced together. “What does that mean?”

He’s staring at the sky, refusing to make eye contact. “You’ve got to remember I was a horny teenager. It was dark, but not
that
dark. You were really… on show.”

Even now I’m blushing. “And you weren’t the least bit excited?”

He laughs. “I went back to my room, took down my pants and pulled my dick maybe two or three times before I spooged all over that Eminem album you loved so much.”

“I was wondering where that got to. Oh, and you’re disgusting.”

“It wasn’t the first time, believe me.”

I sit up and force him to look at me, nipples growing stiff against the cotton cups of my bra, my head swimming.

I duck as another plane takes off, both of us locked together, just staring at one another.

“What do you mean? You masturbated to me before?”

“All the time.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Maddy? It’s always been about you. All these other girls, these flings… They’re not you. I even stole your panties once.”

Another mystery solved.

“Mom found me jerking off into them, threatened to send me to live with my alcoholic aunt if I didn’t leave you alone.”

“How embarrassing.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

I swallow. “And what about now? What do you think of me these days?”

The question hangs there. I wait.

“I still want to steal your panties. I still think about you every chance I get. I’m still in love with you.”

Almost on cue the skies open above us, the downpour falling heavy and hard. I watch Brock with my mouth, panting, water starting to run down my shoulders and back, snaking around my thighs.

His hands are on my face. He pulls me towards him. We kiss.

The rain’s cold, blown away as another jumbo roars over. My ears ring, his tongue hot in my mouth. I reach up and take him around the neck. I pull my feet up onto the bonnet, lifting my skirt with one hand and pulling my panties down. I untangle them from my ankle and toss them away into the downpour.

His lips are on my neck, burning against the cold, hot like the fiery fissure between my legs. I press my tongue against his, run my fingers over his Adam’s apple.

He rolls over on top of me. I gasp when he takes me under the ass, lifting me and turning to place me down on the hood of his car. It buckles slightly under my weight, but he doesn’t seem to care.

His voice is husky, heavy and desperate. “Spread your legs.”

I do.

A hand is on my thigh, his fingers inside me.

I moan as he fucks me with his slim, delicate digits so at odds with his powerhouse frame.

“Wider.”

I like this demanding Brock.

I obey and blink up through the rain, water salty in my eyes.

I build, a blood-rushing orgasm sure to follow. My mouth opens to the heavens and I brace myself against the hood of the car, the back of my head on the windscreen, but he draws his finger out.

Another plane, lights blurring past, our two forms lit up momentarily, hundreds of people carried away above us to holidays and lovers.

He slides down my body and presses his head between my thighs. The moment his tongue presses into my body I melt from the inside out, running my fingers through his hair, drawing him towards my pussy.

He presses his tongue deeper, drawing it out and flicking it over my clit already sensitive and exposed. I buck off the bonnet, hair lifting behind me and the rain hammering all around us. Cold, it mixes with the warmth of his tongue, his lips as they pull at my clit.

I’m burning up already, my core clenching and drawing tight and the need to come building and growing.

I start to jerk and jam myself against his face, force him to fuck me harder with his tongue. He narrows the body of it, plunging it in and out of my hole like a little cock.

I won’t be able to take much more, but I don’t want it to end now.

I push his head away and lift.

He goes to climb on top of me, but I push him back further, sliding from the bonnet and getting to my knees in the mud.

I start to undo his belt, his buttons.

“What are you doing?”

“Let me,” I beg him.

I take his cock out, hard in my hand.

I open my mouth and he guides himself inside. He holds the sides of my head and levers into me. I suck and use my tongue, curling it around his hardness and concentrating on the indentation between his glans. His back arches and he presses forward into my throat, fucking me deeper and deeper until I’m stifled of both air and sense.

He draws his cock out hot from my mouth and holds up his balls. I suck them in turn, rolling them in my mouth while his hand pumps up and down his shaft.

When he re-enters my lips, I have to reach around and hold onto his buttocks he stuffs his cock so far down my gullet. I cough and splutter, but he holds me against him firmly.

His excitement mounts and his actions grow more and more frenzied, his hips swinging against me.

My nails dig into him. Even suffocated as I am, my arousal builds alongside his own. My hair hangs wetly against my face. I shiver and spasm but concentrate on the task desperate for the searing reward of his cum filling my mouth.

He presses himself right to the root, the soft curls of his pubis against my nose, but just when I think he is to release, he pulls away, spinning me around and thrusting me back onto the bonnet of the Camaro, my cheek pressed into the cold duco.

He gathers my hands behind my back and loops them with his belt. The mud and grit collect against my skin as he cinches the belt tight, my wrists pressed awkwardly together at the small of my back.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, panting desperately.

He doesn’t reply.

I watch my breath span out as a ghost on the paintwork while I wait.

Finally, he gathers my belted wrists and lifts them, drawing my head up from the hood and my ass towards him.

My arms buckle and strain. I cry out at the precise moment he fills me.

It can hardly be described as love-making. He takes me hard and fast, plunging himself over and over into my tight need.

I suck in air and water through my teeth, each thrust driving me against the hood.

I hiss, my breath growing short and halted, his own rising to match even as the rain dumps down from the heavens.

As I grow close, he slows and shortens his thrusts, reaching for my hair. He teases me, plays and fucks me at his leisure, laughing at my back.

I begin to beg him, a child.

His cock pops out of my cunt slick with my desire. He immediately takes hold of it, wrestling it between my ass cheeks and adding pressure to the tiny knot of my anus.

I’m lost, caught in the sudden submission and my whole body filled with strange and alien sensations. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. “Brock…”

I grunt and moan, never in my wildest dreams imagining he’d take my ass too, but he does with the same constant progress he tackles everything with.