Hard: A Step-Brother Romance (14 page)

“Just
wishful thinking.”

He
pulled me to the end of the couch, but I stopped him before he spread my legs.
I slid to the floor and pushed him to sit instead.

“Oh,
fuck, Shay.”

He
didn’t have time to protest or ask for anything more. I hadn’t tasted his cock
in weeks. There was only so much a girl could take, especially when he teased
me with it every damn day.

His cock
throbbed in my hand. I curled my fingers over it. They couldn’t touch over his
shaft. A thin tease of arousal trickled from the tip. I greedily lapped it up,
watching as Zach collapsed against the couch, hands behind his head. His cock
twitched.

He
tasted so good.
Looked
so good. Every muscle in his body tensed as my
lips lowered over his cock. I drew him in deep, pumping with my hand to watch
the quiver of his hardened abs with the teasing tug. He groaned as I swallowed
as much of his length as I could, which wasn’t nearly enough. We both knew it.
My body superheated at the thought of stuffing every last inch of him within
me. He hardened even more.

My
lips
popped
from the head. I lazily licked the underside, feeling the
heat rushing through the most beautiful cock I had ever seen. He curled his
fingers in my hair and drew me away.

“Got
something better for you,” he said.

I believed
him. The foil packet ripped open as I settled over his lap. He hadn’t expected
me to get on top, but I didn’t trust him not to screw around. I needed him. I
needed it. My body trembled with shivers so painful I feared I’d collapse on
his chest and weep. He let me take control, repeating his profanity as I
lowered myself onto his slick cock.

The
head nudged at my entrance. I held my breath and wiggled.

Bigger
than I remembered

So
much bigger.

But
absolutely
perfect
.

I
sunk down and forced my body to take all of him in a single, deliberate,
beautiful thrust. My gasp threaded into a shocked mew. Zach’s whisper was the
same. His hands clutched at my hips, fingers digging into my skin too roughly.
I didn’t care.

Nothing
else mattered except the absolute
filling
of his cock. How I stretched.
How I made room for the only man who ever stirred me to such a quick passion.

My hips
bounced. Zach groaned.

I was
lost.

His
hard, pulsing thickness overwhelmed me. I rose up only to sink back down as quickly
and deeply as I could. I clutched at his shoulders and collapsed upon the solid
definition of his chest. He held me just as tightly. Rocked his hips to meet
mine. Moaned the same words. Breathed the same panting relief.

I
had denied him for too long, knowing full well exactly how it would end and how
wrong it was and how much heartache it could create.

But
now? Just for a moment—just for a perfect few minutes of beautiful agony,
satisfaction, and comfort—I’d take him.

I
forgot that he was my step-brother. I ignored the inheritance and will. I even remembered
the day he first approached me. He admitted to realizing who I was only once he
buried inside me, but
who in their right mind would stop
?

No
one ever desired me that much. No one ever admitted to such attraction, such
passion.

And
I never felt the same for anyone else.

All
I wanted was a quick romp, another mistake to regret in the morning.

I
ground against him. Forced him deeper. Cried out his name. This was more than a
mistake. I had no idea if I’d ever regret it.

My
motions slowed. Zach refused to stop. He stood without pulling from me,
balancing my weight against his waist and easily carrying me, completely
impaled on his length. I gripped him tighter. He grinned, moving my hips in a
feat of strength that nearly made me explode right then and there.

But
he growled. It wasn’t enough for him.

Zach
tossed me onto the couch, grabbed my ankles, and spread my legs. I hardly had
time to whimper before his thickness sliced inside me once more. He leaned over
my body, letting my hand run over the bulging muscles in his arms, chest. He
sunk against me, stealing a kiss as he thrusted as deeply as he could stuff his
cock.

Again
and again he took me, bringing me to a brink of utter intensity. His thrusts
slammed through me, and I eagerly arched to offer him more. My breath panted
his name.

“Shay…come
with me.”

The
greatest words anyone ever spoke to me. I didn’t have to nod, think, or act. I was
already there, coasting that fine line between pleasure and insanity. I gripped
him, held him, welcomed him as he jerked his hips.

One
solid pound was all he needed.

All
I needed.

We
broke together in a blended, perfect ecstasy. His kiss muffled my words, and
that was good. I had no idea what I would say if he had let me speak, let me think
the words, let me feel not only what stretched and pleasured and filled, but
what warmed deeper in me.

I
gripped his shoulders and pressed him harder against me. His cock wasn’t
enough. His tongue circled mine. I crested with him over me, holding me, inside
of me in ways only he could fill. My heart surged. My muscles rent.

And
nothing so perfect had ever layered me in such bliss.

It was
as though a gentle curtain of serenity pulled over us. Sound faded. The lights
dimmed. And everything that teased me amplified into such crippling pleasure I
nearly wept against his hardened body.

Zach
held me close, guiding me through the shivers, murmuring his own words that I couldn’t
hear even if I wanted.

Anything
we said to each other would reveal too much. Such a raw and uncompromising
passion exposed everything.

And
so we laid in a quiet peace.

Rested
in the others’ arms.

And
damned the consequences for another time.

A time
that would come all too soon.

My
vision haloed, blurred, then went black.

I
dropped the barbell. It crashed into the carpet. Didn’t shatter the cement
beneath, but I couldn’t be sure.

I couldn’t
see
. Anything. At all.

“Fuck.”
I groped for a towel. “Damn it!”

The
rough terrycloth brushed my fingers. I gripped it in a shaking fist and ground the
towel against my face. Didn’t do shit, but I pressed hard against my eye
sockets. It hurt almost as much as the fucking headache. At least my eyes were
still
there
.

Christ,
this was bad.

Fucking
bad.

“Son
of a bitch!” I pitched the towel across the room. I didn’t know where it
landed. Didn’t care.

The
migraines sucked, but this was something else. Shitty luck and shittier timing.
I blinked hard. That helped. Another rub to my eyes, and the
nothing
shifted into grainy shadows. At least I wouldn’t fall on my ass trying to get
to the bench with my stuff.

I
downed half of my water. The rest dunked over my head. I was probably
overheated or some shit. I pushed myself hard. No doubt I fucked something up
lifting too much weight. I acted like a jackass.

My
vision slowly returned. No need to bitch like a baby. At least the men in the
squad weren’t around to witness such a weak-ass moment. I’d never hear the end
of it.

Christ.

I could
bluff a guy holding a four pair with just an ace high in my own hand, but I couldn’t
fool myself. Hell, maybe it wasn’t worth fooling myself.

I
imagined that something was still fucked in my head from the accident. But I wasn’t
ready to face what happened after I confessed it to a doctor. I could either go
in for help, or I’d damn my future chances at getting back to my squad.

All
my training, the recovery, and the strengthening would mean fucking shit then. Twenty-four
years old wasn’t the time to visit the VFW and collect my pension.

Son
of a bitch.

My
vision cleared. I could see enough of the machines and barbells to make it out
of the gym. My headache disappeared the instant I hit the hall.

That
worried me more than my faded sight. I could lie to a doctor if I had double-vision.
And I’d get corrective surgery if the recurring blurriness was my body
bullshitting me into nearsightedness. A headache like that was harder to hide.

By the
time I reached the stairs, everything was normal. No pain. Not even a haze or
fog clouding my sight. It was like nothing happened. Like I was perfectly fine.
I used to argue nothing was wrong with me.  No one believed me during physical
therapy.

Fuck.
Now I didn’t believe myself.

I wasn’t
the type of man who took
easy
days. If I had it my way, all my workouts
would focus on legs. I’d exhaust myself with exercise if it meant I’d get back
to my job, where I could punish the real assholes. I’d destroy my body to
protect my friends, family, and country. That was the meaning of sacrifice, and
I’d give every part of me.

If
the SEALs would
take it.

But
if I had another episode even half that bad and they found out? I wouldn’t be
able to convince a child I was fit to serve. That’d be a problem.

A
big fucking problem.

Headaches
weren’t the worst of it. I still tried to rationalize last week, when I had a hard
time keeping my eyes open. I wasn’t tired, and it was only the left eye, but my
eyelid just…drooped.

It
went away in a few minutes, but hell if I knew what that meant. Googling my
random symptoms would only self-diagnose me with headaches
and
testicular
cancer.

The
doctors warned head injuries had a long recovery. We knew this. I expected it. Any
complication was just a bump in the road back to the service. And if they got
too big? I’d forge my own damn path. Use those parachuting skills for something
besides trapping my ass in hostile territory.

I ran
a shower, leaving the water cold. No sense overheating myself, especially when
I stripped from a sweaty shirt and pants made sweatier in the moment of
ball-clenching terror when my vision faded.

The
water felt good. Not pool good, but it was a damn paradise compared to one
minute showers of recycled rainwater in the field. The waterfall showerhead
delivered a good spray. I pressed my hands into the wall and let the shower
cascade over me until the tension rolled from my shoulders.

I knew
a much better way to de-stress. It didn’t include a shower, but it was done
naked. Again and again, just like my night with Shay in the theater. I took her
four pulse-thumping, spine-shattering, ball-draining times.

But,
by morning, she was gone.

I
expected nothing less, but I hoped for something more. The words she said, the
way she looked at me? Damn. Our cupid didn’t use arrows. He packed shotgun
shells, and they stung a fuck-ton more than pixy dust when fired point blank.

Shay
had a rough day, one she hadn’t planned on sharing with me. But she’d let me
hold her. She dropped her guard and talked to me, revealed her innermost fears
and dreams. I wasn’t used to being the emotional support for anyone—especially
a woman. I’d firebomb the asshole professor who was given the power to crush
her so completely, but that would get her a warrant, not a degree.

Shay
needed someone to talk to. Even though she lived in a mansion and inherited
more money than she could spend, her ambition in life was to help others. She wanted
to work with kids, hold their hands when times got tough.

And
they fucked her over.

I
saw enough of that in my line of work. Good men, innocent people, got punished.
I enlisted to stop those injustices. If I could help when I was overseas then nothing
would stop me from protecting her at home.

Except
she didn’t believe I was sincere. Shay shared her desires, but she didn’t stay
long enough to figure out what happened next.

I
didn’t want it to be another one night mistake. None of that bullshit where we
fooled around in the dark to avoid our gazes in the light.

I
told her I wanted a chance.

I
proved I could take care of her body. Next up was her heart. I’d get that too.
I wasn’t about to lose a girl that damned special.

And
beautiful.

Sexy.

Passionate.

The
things that girl could do with her lips, her body, her tightness. I salivated at
the memory—too raunchy to waste during peacetime. Those memories were best saved
for those
oh-shit
moments in the field when I needed a reason to stay
alive and return to the sexy piece of ass waiting at home.

I
ran my hand over my abs and lower. The water warmed me enough. I gripped my
cock and pumped.

Nothing.

Another
tug.

Nothing.

“Jesus,
what the fuck?” I stared between my legs.

There
it was. My namesake. A constant source of pride. Still impressive but lacking
that certain spark that made it godly.

Fuck.
I winced.

The headache
was back.

What
the hell was wrong with me?

I
shut off the water and wrapped a towel over my waist. The mirror had no
answers. Everything looked normal. Bags under my eyes, but that was expected
after a night of sex and the swelling headache.

I
had woken up with a headache the past three nights in a row. Hadn’t let myself think
about it. Bottom line. It was happening more often.

I
had two options. Ignore it and lay down until it went away…or I could take a
chance and find Shay.

I was
tempted to ask what she thought. I needed to explain this shit to her anyway.

She
deserved to know that my military leave wasn’t as temporary as I let her believe.

Except
that would piss her off.  I’d replace the headache with her foot up my ass as
she kicked me from the house.

Lay
down and suffer alone or suffer in the arms of a beautiful woman?

Well,
one of us had to make the first move after our night. I tugged on a pair of
pants and searched for her in the usual spaces—kitchen, theater, library. She wasn’t
hiding where I could find her easily, which meant she holed up in her room, the
sanctuary where I promised I wouldn’t encroach.

But
I spent the night buried to the hilt in the most beautiful woman in the world.
That much pleasure earned a momentary right to trespass. But I was still a
gentleman. I knocked before twisting the knob.

Shay
wore a pretty little camisole, but she pulled her blouse over her shoulders and
buttoned it before I got close enough to see anything good.

She
tried not to look at me, but she loved my muscles as much as I loved her
curves. Helpless to resist, stupid to refuse. The motto served me well for
years.

“Hey,”
I said.

“Hey.”

Shay
busied herself with her makeup and applied a layer of lip gloss over her full lips—lips
which had tugged over my cock, parted with pleasure, and softened with my kiss.

It was
idiotic to envy a tube of lipstick, but the girl had me hard up for anything. A
smile. A sigh. Any sign she wasn’t going to ignore what happened between us.

“Going
out?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“With
who?”

She
shrugged. “A couple girlfriends. Nothing important. Need a chance to get out of
the house.”

And
away from me. I crossed my arms. The headache faded in her presence, and her
touch was the sort of balm I’d apply directly to the forehead—and everywhere
else.

If
she’d just look at me.

If
she’d take the fucking chance to think about what might have started.

Sure,
I fucked it up in the beginning—built the inferno before we gathered the
kindling. But stepping backwards was harder than getting her into the sheets.

“You
okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,
why wouldn’t I be?”

“Lost
your job. Douche-bag advisor. Graduation delays?” Listing her insecurities was
probably a bad idea. Too bad I was her biggest one. “Fucking me.”

Her
compact snapped shut. She closed her eyes. “Zach.”

“You
enjoyed yourself.”

“That’s
not the point.”

“What
is?”

“That
I need
time
to process what happened,” she said. “I need to…figure
things out.”

“Why
don’t we do it together?”

“Because
I’m not sure if there is a
together
, Zach. Don’t you get it?” She tried
to stare at my forehead instead of in my eyes. I wasn’t having it. I snapped
her focus to me, and her voice softened. Progress, at least. “This is all so
complicated.”

“It
doesn’t have to be.”

“But
it
is
.” She stood only to grab her purse. “I came to you for comfort.
Twice. And you pulled me from my problems in the best way a girl could ask. I’m
grateful, Zach.”

Grateful
.

That
wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t fuck her so she could feel better about herself.
I fucked her because I couldn’t imagine a world where I wasn’t inside of her, feeling
her, experiencing her.

This
woman was rapidly becoming the center of my goddamned universe and she didn’t
even realize it. Worse, telling her would only ruin every chance I had.

But
what if
I
needed to be fucking comforted?

My
expression twisted. Shay backpedaled, but my disgust didn’t aim for her.

What
the hell was wrong with me? So I got a fucking
headache
. Since when did I
whine about it to the one woman I was trying to impress?