by Nicole Snow
Why does it feel like he's too good for me? Like I'm barely even worthy to be surrounded by this rock hard, heavily inked flesh?
He releases my nipple with a moan, and kisses back to my mouth, pulling me in for another long round of lips and teeth. I'm losing my mind, and I'm finally okay with it.
Moving my lips off his, I push my mouth to his ear, brushing my nails on the back of his neck. “Fuck me, Chris. I'm ready for you. I'm yours for tonight.”
And I want to be for a whole lot longer than this trip in Vegas. I keep that part to myself, and it isn't hard with his jade green eyes beaming pure desire into mine.
There's heaven and hell and worlds I don't even understand in his gaze. I think I'm addicted.
He shifts, pushing my legs around him with his hands, then aims his tip straight into my wetness. He pushes into me slow and steady. There's a force between my legs, the feel of flesh giving way for the first time.
I clench my teeth and moan, feeling the pleasure already behind the small sharp pain. I never imagined being so full.
“You're so fucking tight,” he snarls, taking a new fistful of hair, holding me down. “So hot, so wet, so beautiful, and so completely mine.”
Mine.
I whimper incoherently when he says it. It's all I can manage as he pulls his hips back, one jerk, before rolling into me harder again.
My legs hook tight to his. Several strokes in, I start to grind back, my pleasure building through the discomfort. My pussy stretches tight to his cock, struggling to adjust to him, but I know I will.
He glides through me, bringing his mouth to mine as we fuck. Our tongues thrash together, matching the rhythm of our bodies. Everything beneath my skin turns molten, like a great lava wave rising up, setting every nerve on fire.
“This pussy, fucking hell,” he growls, quickening his pace. I'm not sure how he can even talk over the explosions that are imminent. “I love it, Delia. Every ripple, every inch, every time you clench. I love how goddamned perfect you feel wrapped around my dick.”
The L-word triggers something deep within my brain. For a second, I hear I love you, but I know that's not what he's saying.
This is just fucking, after all. Amazing, mind blowing, bed slapping sex. And I'm okay with that tonight.
I'm too busy clutching his skin and feeling him rampage into me to care about anything else. Just before I start to come on his cock, he shifts up, grabs my ass and starts pulling me up to meet him for deeper, harder strokes.
“Chris! Chris! Oh, fuck –“
My orgasm chokes off whatever nonsense I'm about to say. I come hard, pulling at his length, and he pounds into me harder still, slamming my ass deep into the mattress, jerking me onto every inch of him.
My pussy clenches, explodes, sends shockwaves through my entire body. At some point, I'm screaming, especially when the hard impact of his flesh on mine jerks to a stop.
There's a noise like an avalanche crumbling in his throat, explosive and wild.
I feel him swell inside me as my pussy sucks at his cock. Then, a second later, he explodes, growling like a feral animal. I swear there's heat beneath the rubber shaft ballooning inside me, filling with his come.
He comes hard, his cock jerking deep inside me, emptying his heat into mine. His hips slam mine into the bed, forcing out a few last shallow strokes, and his pubic bone grinds my clit until there's nothing but hot white lightning filling my eyes.
I wonder what he'll feel like when we're fucking skin-to-skin.
Wait, when? I barely have the energy to catch myself as my brain sizzles in a thousand directions, oozing out my ears, sated but hungry to do it all over again.
He pulls out and yanks the condom off his dick, leaning toward the small waist basket next to our bed to get rid of it. God, he's gorgeous, even when he's doing something so mundane like this.
“Just as good as you've been dreaming about, yeah?” He gives me a wink like he already knows the answer.
He's so damned cocky. But right now, I can't help it, because I smile back, and haul my exhausted body up for another long, salty kiss.
I can't keep myself away from his lips. For the next week here, that's okay. Thank God we have an entire seven days.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and that goes double for us, as long as we're step-siblings. I want to see more of the town, and forget about my traumatic first encounter with sin city in that dirty abandoned theater.
But if he keeps me chained to this bed. I won't complain.
We have to do a lifetime worth of fucking, passion, and love in this bed because it's all we'll ever get.
It has to end here, even if it'll be a hundred times more painful when it does. We can't keep this going when we get back to California. I have to get him out of my system, and I'll run my body ragged doing it, and deal with the bitter memories later.
I rub my eyes when I wake up the next morning. There's something hot and huge wrapped around me, more comfortable than anything I've experienced.
I roll toward him and reach for his arm, giving it a squeeze to make sure this isn't just a dream. Chris grunts in his sleep.
It's real. All of it. I'm not a virgin anymore.
The full realization that I actually fucked my stepbrother doesn't hurt as much as it should. Maybe it's because he saved me last night, or maybe it's just because this feels so fucking right.
And that's what worries me. Deep in the pit of my stomach, I know our paradise is temporary.
It can't last. It won't. Las Vegas is our break from reality, and in six more days, we'll be heading back into the numbing gray sands of our ordinary lives again.
As if on cue, Chris wakes up, opening his eyes. The jade green color turns teal when his irises catch the sunlight streaming in through the blinds.
There's something hardening against my thigh. I brush my hand beneath the sheets, feeling his cock, and he grinds it against me.
“My, my. Can't you say good morning?” I smile, feeling a delightful new wetness between my legs.
“No, I save that shit for virgins, and you're not one of them anymore.” With a wicked grin, he kisses me, bringing one hand between my legs.
All it takes is a few strokes with his fingers to open me up, make me aching wet, ready to surrender every inch of me.
“We need to wake up,” I moan, suddenly excited to see the city again.
Remembering how the dead men threatened me, ran their vile hands all over my body, doesn't sap my excitement. I'm going to be a lot smarter today, and hang close to Chris. It's surreal how far away it seems, like it was all a bad dream.
I wonder if that's shock setting into my brain, or if his cock has some kind of magical memory altering powers.
Chris ignores me. He rubs his cock against my clit, dangerously close to fucking me right here. I need to stop him before he goes in bare. I've been on the pill since I turned nineteen, but I don't know if he's clean after all the women he's had, a world of experience that dwarfs my one brief night with him.
Sex is happening before we do anything, and I'm not going to protest. It makes me smile that he hasn't gotten bored yet. I guess he really meant everything he said last night, and it's good to know it still stands, here in the full white light of a summer day in Vegas.
“Fuck the coffee,” he growls, breaking our latest kiss. “It can wait. You wanna get up, babe? Then come with me.”
He pulls me up from the bed and leads me by the hand, stopping only to grab his pants. Probably for more condoms.
A minute later, we're naked behind the luxurious glass, feeling cool water splashing our backs. He eyes the rivulets running down my body like a thirsty animal, and he leans into my neck, trailing the biggest droplets down to my breasts with his tongue.
Being so exposed, so wanted, makes me feel more self-conscious than last night. I still can't believe this sex crazed badass actually wants me.
But I'm starting to believe it.
He pulls at my nipples an
d sucks each one soft, growling into my chest, sending his vibrations deep underneath my skin. The sensation joins my blood and I moan. Our bodies sing, attuned to taste and touch, scent and sight.
Every sense I've ever had, plus several I didn't know about, come alive like never before.
“Put your hands against the wall, babe. Bend your hips. I'll do the rest.”
I let out a little whine, but I'm not protesting. I'm struggling to imagine his mouth all over my slit again, or his dick mounting me from behind, slapping my ass with those forceful thrusts.
He sinks down on his knees, and he spreads my ass cheeks. His mouth finds my pussy from a whole new angle, and I jerk my hips from the sensation. Good thing I'm boxed in by the slippery wall after all.
I lean into it as he starts to tongue my clit. His licks alternate this time, moving from my clit to push deep inside my opening. He licks and sucks and even uses his teeth until I'm almost on the brink.
“Let yourself go, baby,” he orders, wrapping his arms around my legs for support. “I've got you, and I'll taste every fucking drop that gushes out of your hot little cunt when you come on my tongue.”
His tongue focuses on my clit again, but he adds two stiff fingers to my pussy too.
Oh, shit. Oh, damn.
Oh, oh, oh!
My whole body explodes in another tense, five minute O. The sensation of the water striking my back makes me think of a storm, and nothing else.
Hurricane Chris owns me, works me over the way only a man with too much carnal knowledge can. He's obsessed with my body, and I'm becoming addicted to him.
Dangerously addicted.
I come, bucking against his hand, his lips. A scream tries to make its way out of my mouth, but the truth is I'm too breathless, too lost in the raging pleasure ripping through me.
I don't even notice he draws away until I start to come out of it. I feel his shadow standing over me, pulling at my hips with his hands, hearing a condom packet ripping open.
He reaches behind me for my chin, twists my head, and makes me look at him before he fills me again. “Thought you deserved to know you're built to fuck, princess. I'm going to use the fuck outta you 'til I've spilled every drop of come in my balls. This week, and this week only, you're mine.”
That word. It makes everything inside me coil, build, and want. Turns me so wet and horny I want to turn around and beg him to fuck me, to own me, to make me come so many times I can't stand up.
The cruel reminder comes hidden in his need. He pulls my face to his and we lock lips. He won't stop kissing me as he pushes inside me, fucking me faster than last night.
We fuck freely. I don't need to loosen up anymore. I have a tiny inkling what to expect from his cock.
I can handle him and enjoy it without any crazy surprises.
So I think, anyway, until he starts hitting stroking that spot deep inside me that causes my knees to buckle.
“Oh. My. God.”
Chris makes a rough sound, somewhere between a gasp and a chuckle. He quickens his thrusts, swinging the full force of his body into me, making my ass ripple. His balls swing up and slam into my pussy each time he drives deep, and I'm catapulted out of my mind.
“Come for me again, beautiful. Come as hard as you fucking can.”
There's no holding back. Pleasure cascades through my veins like the steady patter of the shower all over us. Somehow, he manages to hold me up, keeps me from crashing onto the tile floor.
I'm melding with the water by the time I start coming down from my latest convulsions. And Chris won't have it, he won't let anything carry me away from him.
His hips speed up, and he throws himself into me like a jackhammer. One hand finds its way between my legs. His fingers assault my clit, hard and wild, while I'm already on overload.
I never thought I'd learn to come again only seconds apart. But Chris is full of surprises, and he's owning every inch of me right now.
My eyes pop open and I gasp, holding my breath. That wave I thought I'd lost rises up all over again, and his cock hits my depths, forcing me to leap off the edge all over again.
“Don't stop coming now, babe,” he whispers, deep and gravely. “I'll scorch you from the inside-out by the time we're done. Come with me!”
And I do. I keep coming as he swells and explodes inside me, releasing a pent up growl from the pleasure. His hips pinch me against the wall as he fills me, pulsing deep inside me, unloading the fruits of his pleasure in that damned condom.
We come together, hard and long, both of us straining for breath by the end of it. Chris pulls out and cleans up. Then his hands are all over me again, rubbing soap into my skin, exploring me in a calmer, tender way that still gives me butterflies.
Our kisses say more than words can. It's too perfect, except for one little thing.
Fucking him like this isn't enough. I need him deep inside me, bare and unsheathed, giving me those deep strokes with nothing separating his cock from my silk.
I know I'm losing my mind when I want to feel his come inside me.
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I really did lose my mind yesterday, and sex is my way of dealing with the terror.
I have to listen to reason. We can keep having fun, but we can't go too far...right? And if we do, I might not be able to stop wanting him.
Later, when we towel ourselves off and throw on our robes, heading out on the awesome balcony for our morning coffee, I realize I'm already in too deep.
He had me from the very first kiss. Mine is just a highlight, an afterthought, a reminder that there's no earthly way we'll ever share the same room with a quiet heart and dry panties.
I'm scared. I don't know how I'll ever find my way back to normal.
VIII: Under the Skin (Chris)
By day five, I don't know what the fuck's happening to me.
I'm spending every waking minute deep inside Delia. My dick's been everywhere by now, but it still feels like we've barely begun to explore. I've been in her hot little lips, wedged between her tits, shoved balls deep in her slick, perfect cunt, fucking her every way I know how, plus some ways I invent.
It's ludicrous.
I've never fucked the same woman for a full week straight in my entire life. Chris Cleveland doesn't do that shit. I get my dick wet, makes my girls happy, and then forget, disappearing every time duty calls.
Except this time it's not so simple. It's like she's crawled inside my skull and hot-wired my brain. I've fucked her a couple dozen times, and I still want more. I can't get enough.
She can barely get me to leave the hotel to take her out on the town. It's not just because my dick never wants to rest. When we're out, my hands are always on her, holding her on my lap by the waist, or guiding her through the casinos and down the strip with my hand wrapped tight around hers.
She's never getting out of my sight in this city again. We have our fun, sure.
But having her like this only makes me rage even more about the men who almost took her away from me, pulled her into the darkness forever. I want to head back to that abandoned theater, douse their rotten bodies in gasoline, and torch them 'til they're ashes.
Of course, I'm not an idiot, and I won't attract attention to myself. I keep scanning the local news, but nobody's found their carcasses yet. Or if they did, it was such a non-incident there'll be nothing more than a footnote about two unidentified bodies in the Vegas police blotter.
Our last full evening out, I take her to this fancy French place. Aside from the hotel, I use all my own money. I won't take shit from her father, no matter how nice he is.
I'll never be blue blooded rich, and I'll never be able to comprehend her fancy world. But when I'm dressed up in a nice vest and she's in her hot red dress, staring up at me over the spotless table over wine, I don't fucking care.
My body reacts to hers at some caveman level I can't wrap my head around. Fuck it, I don't need to. All I know is I want her coiled around my dick twenty-four seven
, legs spread, digging her nails deep into my flesh 'til I pump every drop of come I've got into her womb.
I want to lose the rubber and sew her deep. I want to fuck her 'til she comes on command, sucking at my mouth like it's precious oxygen after she's been underwater. I want to feel her pussy clenching on my cock all fucking night, digging my fingers into her ass as she rides me, growling 'til my thunder matches her pulse, bending her to me forever.
“It's been quite a week, hasn't it?” she asks shyly, twirling the burgundy in her glass.
“Yeah, and we're damned lucky we got it too. The commander called me up last night, told me needs me back at base the day after we land. Duty calls, babe.”
“You really take it seriously, don't you? I didn't realize until I had a chance to see your tattoos. I mean, really look at them.”
Her eyes dance mischievously for me. Last night, I finally gave myself a breather after we exploded at least three times. She laid on my chest, running her fingers over each and every patch of ink on my skin.
I told her about the trident on my flesh, and even the three black triangles on my left bicep. They're the newest on my skin, one for each man on our team who died in Kirkuk. I wouldn't say how or where, but I cracked and told her it was for them, something I never thought I'd tell anybody who's not a SEAL.
Certainly not my hot, sweet, and infuriating stepsister. Yeah, the same one I need to stop fucking in about twenty-four hours, when we leave the paradise we've created here for the bland hell back in California.
“You know what I said – my ink, my life. I don't hide behind walls, Delia. You know exactly who I am.”
“Do I?” She quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head. “I saw what it means to be a SEAL the first night we were here. But there's a lot I don't know, Chris.”
I shrug, tucking into my escargot. “Just ask. Stop being so shy. You ought to know there's no need for that after the things we've done since I took your cherry.”
I say the last part under my breath, leaning in, grabbing her hand. Her fingers squeeze mine back and she blushes.