Hitched: A Stepbrother Honeymoon Romance (12 page)

And by the time we find our room, I almost believe that it could be that easy. Like this is something that could be resolved with a couple deep breaths and maybe a cold shower or two. But when I pull Travis into the room with me, shut the door behind us, and turn to face him, my whole body aches with desperation.

This isn’t going to be easy at all, is it?

There isn’t much in here, just a cute little couch, a shower with a totally transparent door, a couple portholes to the outside world, and of course, a bed. My eyes widen as I realize how small the bed is; it looks like it’s made for spooning, cuddling, fucking, and not much else. And with how big Travis is, there’s probably no way I can sleep on that thing without touching him. The couch barely has enough room for two people to sit down on it, so sleeping there is out of the question for either of us. Maybe I can sleep…sitting up?

Travis takes a sip of his champagne, clearly amused by how intimate everything is in here. “See what I mean? Pretty obviously designed with
one purpose
in mind.”

Very faintly, the sound of a new bride screaming in ecstasy bleeds through the wall of our room, proving Travis’ point. He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I wonder if maybe we should just take our chances out on the deck. Of course, we’d just have to come back here eventually……

While I lean against the door, unsure whether I want to leave or rip all my clothes off, Travis sets his glass down and looks at me like I’m his main course. Out on the ship, I could play it off like this was all pretend, but down here, I know there’s nothing fake about the way his eyes linger on my body. A thick, heavy silence fills the room.

“Yeah…not much to do. Maybe there’s a deck of cards or something in one of the cabinets?”

No answer. Just heavy breathing and blazing eyes. It’s like I just suggested playing cards with a hungry lion. Then, after a thorough examination of my curves, he speaks. “Strip poker, huh? Seems like I’ve got an unfair advantage, and you’d be naked before I even finished taking my tie off. But hey, whatever you want.”

Oh, right. I almost forgot. Travis Carter can make anything dirty.

“You’re right, it’s probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want me to kick your ass and find out how small your dick is, would we?”

Before I can react, Travis moves closer, pressing me up against the door. We’re about as close as we were back in my room, but this time, Travis doesn’t look like he wants to kiss me. He looks like he wants to fuck me.

“You know,” he growls, “You think an awful lot about the size of my cock for someone who just wants to be my friend. If I didn’t know any better, I’d start to wonder if you wanted to reach into my pants and feel how big it is for yourself.”

“Travis—”

“And hey, I can’t really blame you. After all, you used to have a poster of me right above your bed. You probably thought about it every night. So you know what? Why don’t we settle this once and for all?”

Travis wraps his hands around one of my wrists and guides it all the way down the front of his suit, until it reaches his belt buckle.

And instead of pulling my hand away, or calling Travis a pervert, or one of the hundred other reasonable responses to my stepbrother telling me to reach into his pants and grab his cock, I do the unthinkable. I start undoing his buckle.

I guess I could blame it on all the wine we had with dinner. Or say that we went too far pretending to be a married couple, and I’m doing this because I’m confused. Or I can say that he finally wore me down after days of trying.

I could blame what I’m about to do on any of those things. But I won’t. Because Travis is right. I can try and deny it, and I can try and suppress it, but at the end of the day…I want to know how it feels to wrap my fingers around his cock.

I open Travis’ belt and undo the button of his pants, shooting him a look to see if he’s nervous. Nope. My small dick theory is getting less and less likely by the second. Then, I unzip his pants, drawing a laugh from Travis when my wedding ring gets caught in his zipper. Then, with nothing left in between my hand and Travis’ cock but a couple layers of fabric, I close my eyes and take the plunge.

And I knew he wasn’t going to have a tiny cock. That was just me teasing him. I was pretty sure that it was going to be just totally average; the only average thing about him. But I was wrong.

The super-sized shaft that meets my hand is absolutely
huge
. It’s so thick that I briefly wonder how he can even stick it in anything, and as I trace my fingers up towards the head, I gasp as I feel its length. I figured he had to be exaggerating a little bit when he talked about having a giant cock, but now that I’m actually holding onto him, I’m a little surprised he doesn’t brag more. I thought I was calling his bluff, but now I’m just standing with my hand in his underwear, touching his cock. Oops.

“All that Natasha shit you were pulling up there? You’re holding the fucking result. Anything you want to say about my cock now?”

God, why am I still touching it? I try to pull my hand out of Travis’ pants, but my fingers don’t want to let him go.

And when you touch someone’s cock for long enough, they start to get ideas about what you want them to do with it. Where you want them to put it. For some reason, they get the impression that you might want to fuck them.

When I look up at Travis’ face, and see those ideas burning in his eyes, I can’t take it anymore. Reckless? Dangerous? Irresponsible? I don’t care. I’m so hot for him right now that I can barely think.

“Fuck it.” I lift my hand out of his pants and start unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you want to just do it?”

Travis puts a strong hand under my chin, lifting my face up to meet his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Then, his mouth comes down on mine, and my whole body ignites.

Chapter 16: Travis

Fuck it. I couldn’t have said it better myself. After three years of pretending that we’re innocent, normal stepsiblings, I can’t take it anymore.

I watched her pretend like she wasn’t pressing her legs together any time I got near her. I ignored the way she looked at me when she thought I couldn’t see her. I sat and listened like a normal stepbrother when she complained to me about loser boyfriends and bad dates, with this look in her eye like she secretly wanted me to carry her off to a dark, quiet place and claim her for myself.

And for three years, I put up with that shit. Laney said it would be too dangerous if anything happened, that it could fuck up my career and her reputation, and she wasn’t wrong.

But after she stuck her hand down my pants, wrapped her fingers around my cock, and made the most adorable surprised face I’ve ever fucking seen?

Fuck it.

I can’t worry about that anymore, not when Laney’s moaning into my mouth like she’s been waiting for this even longer than I have. I can’t think about much of anything other than the way her perfect curves are pressing up against my body, begging to be claimed.

So instead of thinking, I kiss Laney deeper, leaning forward and pressing her against the door as my hands begin to explore her amazing fucking body.

“Travis…” Laney’s voice is dripping with arousal, but before she can say anything else, her lips move back up to mine and I kiss her again.

I always figured that Laney would be shy when this happened. That I’d have to hold back. And apparently, I was seriously fucking wrong. Judging by the insanely hot little noises she’s making and the way she’s bucking her hips up against my leg, my stepsister has a serious dirty side. And as for holding back? I couldn’t do it even if I fucking wanted. Our bodies have wanted this for too long, and now that it’s finally happening, it’s like they’re moving on their own, acting out every filthy fantasy either of us have ever had. Laney reaches up into my shirt, fingers trembling as she runs them across my tattoos, and I reach down under her dress, finally, finally getting my hands on that incredible curvy ass.

And holy shit, it’s even more amazing than I expected. Laney’s hips squirm with delight as I take her in my hands, and in response I kiss her even harder, smothering her lips with mine.

And the longer I kiss her, the more one thing becomes clear: I need to fucking taste her. Thinking about how wet she must be underneath that flimsy little dress is driving me absolutely insane. If she thinks my tongue feels good in her mouth…

But right as I’m about to break the kiss, hike that dress up over her hips, and bury my face inside her, Laney’s hand shoots down into my pants and wraps around my cock, squeezing it like she’s holding on for dear life. She shudders with disbelief as she runs her hand up its length, like she still can’t believe how thick it is, and then, with her other hand, she peels my boxers down my thighs, breaking the kiss so she can actually see it.

And if her eyes get any fucking wider, they’re going to pop right out of her head.

“Bigger than you thought it was going to be?”

Laney’s eyes dart up towards me, and she gets ready to hit me with a snappy comeback. Only, this time, I can see her sarcasm melt away into pure, desperate need the second she opens her mouth.

Then, just like that, she’s down on her knees taking every last inch of me into her mouth, sucking enthusiastically as she massages me with those full, perfect lips. The feeling is amazing, not to mention really fucking intense. Laney’s absolutely going at me with everything she’s got, even grabbing my ass so she can get herself deeper.

The sight’s so surreal it pretty much blows my mind: Laney, the girl who swore she wanted nothing to do with me even after we got married, down on her knees fulfilling what’s clearly a deep, dark fantasy of hers. And of course, I’d be lying if I said that I never thought about what this would feel like, but even in my horniest fucking moments, I couldn’t have imagined that she’d be loving it this much.

I mean, fuck, she’s making these muffled little moans against my cock, and they keep getting louder and higher as she goes, almost like she’s going to get off before I do. I put my hand against the wall of our room for balance, feeling the ship rock up and down beneath us as I close my eyes and enjoy the blowjob of the decade from my accidental wife.

But I can’t get distracted here. If Laney keeps sucking like this, it won’t be long before I come right in that sweet little mouth of hers. And while that’s a tempting thought, I’m still dying to know what
she
tastes like. So before things get completely fucking out of control, I open my eyes and look down, and that’s when I see it.

God, no wonder she’s moaning. She’s got her hand down between her thighs, and she’s touching herself to the same rhythm she’s using on my cock.

And that’s adorable and all, but there’s no way she’s getting off that easy.

Laney lets out a breathy, high-pitched whimper as I slide my cock out of her mouth, and then an even higher one as I pull her hand out from between her legs.

“It’s okay,” Laney says, looking up at me with the cutest fucking doe eyes, “We don’t have to stop. I wanted to do it.”

“Oh, I know you wanted to do it. But you know what
I
want to do?”

Laney bites her lip and shakes her head.

“Stand up,” I say.

“But do you know what I want to do?”

Laney bites her lip and shakes her head. Grinning down at her, I start to unbutton my shirt. Then, right on cue, a satisfied bride lets out a long, loud moan from the room next to ours. I look in the direction of the noise, and then back down at Laney. “I want to make you scream so fucking loud that they’ll hear it all the way back at the hotel. That okay with you,
sis
?”

I slip my open dress shirt and my blazer off my shoulders and throw them over the door to the shower. Then, I step completely out of my pants and kick them to the side, standing completely naked over Laney, who practically melts into the floor at my feet.

I’d say she seems pretty okay with it.

But I can’t make her scream if she’s sitting on the floor like that, and I definitely can’t do it if she’s wearing all those clothes. “Stand up.”

It’s not a request. It’s a fucking command, and it’s also a test. I want to see how Laney reacts to me taking control. See, I have a sneaking suspicion that hiding under all that snark, Laney’s got a little thing for aggressive guys. Alpha males. After all, she had me on her wall, with my jeans, muscles, and tattoos, and she thinks Jason Hayward’s “not her type.” Call it an educated guess.

Laney looks surprised at my aggressive order, but I can tell that it turned her on to the core. She stands up as quickly as she can on her quivering legs and looks up at me obediently.

Looks like somebody’s a fast learner.

“Good. Now take this off.” I pull at her dress. Laney gulps, her fingers hesitating at the bottom of her dress. I shoot her an expectant look, and just like that, she closes her eyes and whips her dress over her head with one sharp pull and tosses it to the side.

And sure, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. After all, this is what she was wearing when we woke up in Vegas. But fuck, the way she’s breathing, those incredible tits rising and falling on her chest, and the pink little flush glowing beneath her skin…it’s totally different now. I’ve never been on a real honeymoon, but I have to think it’d feel just like this.