Dirty Wicked Lust: A Stepbrother Romance

by Amanda Heartley

  He looked at me then, really looked at me, and smirked knowingly as he tugged, gently, at the string that held his clingy black baggies up. It gave just as easily as my bikini strap, and just as quickly, his bathing suit slithered down his narrow hips, releasing his fat, curved cock as we both looked down, admiring it.

  “Well then,” he said, stroking his cock with a sexiness that nearly made me come just watching him. “What the fuck are we waiting for, Sis?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I have to say,” Mom said a few days later, watching Ryan hand me a glass of orange juice across the kitchen table, the very picture of a perfect gentleman. “You two must have really bonded while we were away.”

  I nearly spit out my juice. If Mom only knew the only real bond we’d formed was at the joint of our crotches, night, day and every moment in between, she might not be so quick to compliment her new stepson.

  “I knew they would,” Jerry said knowingly, looking dignified, if claustrophobic, in his favorite blue three-piece suit— the one at least a size too small for him. “I think us going away for those two weeks was the best thing we could have done to secure this union as a real, honest to goodness family.”

  I risked a glance at Ryan, peering back at me cautiously beneath a faded red ball cap that hid his eyes – even when he rolled them. He was playing it cool, but I could see the beginnings of that charming crooked smile play across his thick lips.

  “Ryan?” his father asked, freezing the beginning of the smile in place. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Ryan nodded. “I suppose it’s only natural for step siblings to take a little time to get used to each other, Dad.”

  “I’ve never had a brother before,” I chimed in, watching Jerry peer at me momentarily. I got the sense from Ryan’s millionaire father that he only respected power, and from the way he treated the rest of us, he was the only one at the breakfast table who had–or even deserved–any of it. “I guess I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “Now you do?” Jerry asked, never one to settle for the easy answer.

  I shrugged, wondering how cocky and superior he’d be acting if he knew what his son had done to me on top of the very breakfast table we were sitting at only hours before he arrived home.

  “I’m getting a better idea of what it’s like, yes,” I said, peering back at him defiantly. Jerry nodded begrudgingly before returning to butter his toast, a task I’m sure he’d prefer my mother do for him –which I’m surprised she didn’t.

  “Well,” Jerry huffed before shoving half a slice of buttered toast in his mouth. “Don’t get too familiar. A little sibling rivalry can be good from time to time. Keeps things interesting they say.”

  I nodded, nudging Ryan’s toe under the table.

  “Yup,” I murmured around a mouthful of frosted mini wheat-ums. “Things sure have been interesting around here while you two were away…”

  Jerry ignored me, Mom fake smiled, and Ryan nearly broke my shin bone tapping my leg under the table. “What?” I mouthed when neither one of our parents were looking. He merely scowled, peering down at his uneaten slice of grapefruit.

  Mom and Jerry had been home for forty-eight hours and ever since that fateful morning I’d gone skinny-dipping, it was the longest my stepbrother and I had gone without fucking like rabbits. While I’d had dry spells before–and certainly far longer than two short days–that much time without Ryan’s naked body writhing on top of mine had seemed like an eternity.

  “What did you two do while we were away?” Mom asked after polishing off her egg white omelet and single slice of whole wheat toast with vegan butter. I struggled not to choke on another spoonful of cereal as Ryan answered for me. “Nothing much,” he said. “Hung around, mostly.”

  Mom looked disappointed, mostly in me. “No movies or dinners out?” she asked in a tone that made it clear I’d let her down.

  Ryan peered back at her with a warm, crooked grin. “Time just… got away from us… I guess,” he said.

  “Well,” Jerry harrumphed, peering over his morning paper to scowl at us judgmentally. “You certainly didn’t use it to clean your rooms. They’re both pig sties. Both of them.”

  God, I thought, pushing my empty cereal bowl away from my place. Could Ryan’s dad sound any more childish by making us feel like… children? “Well—” I started to huff before Mom, sensing blood in the water, interrupted me.

  “Now, dear,” she said, sliding a hand on top of Jerry’s arm. “Maybe we could make it a contest, you know? See which one of our children can clean up their rooms first?”

  Jerry scowled before going back to his paper while I silently fumed. “Mom,” I murmured, wishing Ryan wasn’t there to witness this. “We’re not eleven.”

  “Then act like it, dear,” she said, winking at Ryan before turning back to me. “Use some of that good, old-fashioned sibling rivalry to fuel a cleaning marathon. Whoever wins gets to pick what we eat for dinner this Sunday night.”

  Ryan smiled ironically while I rolled my eyes.

  “Actually, speaking of sibling rivalry,” I said, finally hatching my well-laid plans now that sitting at the breakfast table a minute longer felt like sheer torture. “Ryan promised to drive me to school today and check out some of the classes for next semester.”

  “He did?” asked my mom.

  “He did?” asked Jerry.

  “I did?” asked Ryan, genuinely shocked as I saw the whites of his eyes peek out from the shadows beneath the brim of his faded ball cap.

  “Yes, silly,” I reminded him with an additional kick beneath the table. “Remember?”

  He’d said nothing of the kind, of course, but our parents didn’t need to know that. Besides, if I had to sit there and listen to another one of Mom’s hair-brained ideas of how Ryan and I could bond, I was bound to pull my hair out at one point.

  “I, for one, think that’s a great idea,” Jerry said, actually putting down the second half of his toast before devouring it in one bite.

  “You do?” Ryan and I asked at the same time, sounding like something out of a family sit-com on ABC.

  “Indeed,” Jerry said, nodding appreciatively as he put down his paper to give us both the benefit of his inevitable wisdom. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve got anything else to do today, Ryan. The GI Bill will make it easy for you to pay for classes if you find any that appeal to you.”

  Ryan peered back at his father, bewildered. I stood up, wanting to build on the momentum that was growing at the family breakfast table. (Well, that and leave it altogether!) “Guess it’s unanimous, Ryan,” I murmured, reaching for my backpack and car keys, nodding at him suggestively. “We should probably get going so we have the campus mostly to ourselves. You don’t want to get distracted by all those pretty co-eds, now do you?”

  “Hold on a sec,” he teased, winking at my mother. “Carol, what do you think about all this?”

  Mom winked at him, girlish in her enthusiasm. “You know my philosophy, Ryan,” she said innocently, making me feel guilty about what I planned to do the minute Ryan and I were alone together in my car, parked somewhere very, very private. “Any time you and Heather spend together is time well spent.”

  In the wake of Mom’s reply, Ryan looked helplessly down at the breakfast table, as if his half-eaten grapefruit might rescue him. When it didn’t, he sighed, got up, and followed me to the door.

  “Bye,” he said, waving to our parents as they sat, unconcerned, at the breakfast table. The vast foyer seemed empty and cold as he awaited their response as if hoping against hope they’d see through our little charade and call us back to grill us about our true intentions.

  They waved absently instead, already buried in deep, child-free conversation interspersed with the crisp crackling of Jerry’s morning paper. I snickered once we’d shut the front door behind us as I skipped to my car, girlishly, merrily, like someone who’d just gotten away with something.

  “Well, that was easier than I thought,” I said,
watching him slump into the passenger seat.

  “I guess they really don’t have a clue, huh?” he murmured, buckling up.

  “I don’t know how they couldn’t,” I mused, sliding my key into the ignition. “I could hardly keep a straight face at the breakfast table.”

  “Are we really going to school today?” he asked as I started up the car and backed out of the driveway slowly, not wanting the sound of my tires peeling out on Jerry’s beloved cobblestones alerting him to my true intentions.

  “Sure,” I said, making sure not to look at him as I added, “Right after I find a secluded spot and you finger bang me until I come a few dozen times.”

  He snorted, chuckling as I drove through town, no clue where we might finally wind up. Nor did I care. My first class wasn’t until eleven and it was just after nine, giving us nearly two hours of hot, finger fucking action before I sat through another one of Professor Albion’s boring Chemistry lectures.

  “You think I’m kidding?” I asked, finally risking a glance over at Ryan’s handsome, smirking face as I steered through unfamiliar parts of my newly adopted hometown.

  “Jesus,” he chuckled, beaming as he sat up, eyes instantly scouting the road for a private spot as if he, too, had tired of our two-day dry spell and was as eager as I was to end it on a high note. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “What, with our folks at the table?”

  He nodded. “It has been messed up to get some private time alone with you,” he said, voice low as if we were still back at the breakfast table. “Harder than I thought, in fact.”

  “If your dad wasn’t such an insomniac,” I grunted, turning right along a main thoroughfare because it looked like most of the other traffic was turning left.

  “Yeah, I forgot to warn you,” he said. “As long as I can remember, Dad’s had insomnia. It used to drive me crazy as a kid, trying to sneak in or out. Hell, part of the reason I joined the Marines was just to get the freak away from it.”

  “Every time I thought I had a chance to sneak into your room last night—or the night before—I heard him pacing the halls at all hours. I finally just fell asleep.”

  “He has a lot of anxieties,” Ryan explained. “The pacing helps him sleep… eventually.”

  “What… at like four AM?”

  “Usually later,” he murmured as I turned into an old industrial area, a neighborhood dotted with abandoned warehouses and big, wide, empty parking lots. Graffiti, most of it dated and faded, lined the mostly brick walls, and from time to time, I saw broken glass in the windows—a good sign.

  “Every time Dad finally gets to sleep and I think it’s safe to creep into your room and slide under the covers for a quickie, your mom’s alarm clock goes off!”

  I chuckled, joining him in our mutual frustration as we circled the neighborhood looking for an open gate to one of the abandoned warehouses in the downtrodden street I’d found. “I dunno,” I said, driving past a “For Sale” sign and inching around the back of an abandoned factory that looked ripe for the picking. “It’s kind of exciting making out in a car.”

  “Kind of like high school,” he said, voice low and vaguely ominous as he peered at the factory I was currently circling. “Which I dropped out of to join the Marines, a fact my father never lets me forget.”

  “I… I’m sorry he does that to you,” I said, finding a space beneath an old Elm tree and pulling in over the crackle of chipped concrete and old, rusty beer cans. “I was serious about you taking classes, you know? There’s plenty of cool ones at Chestnut Community College. Your father’s right about one thing: the GI Bill will help.”

  He chuckled, waving his hands dramatically as if fighting me off. “Not you, too!”

  I chuckled. “No, I just mean… I want you to be happy.”

  He smirked, the small import car intimate as his warmth filled the air. “Yeah well, fucking your brains out until you scream my name makes me happy.”

  “Right?”

  I turned the car off, the engine ticking quietly as we both peered around the deserted parking lot. There were rusty beer cans scattered everywhere, each looking older than the next, as if no one had been here in years. As I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to face Ryan, I hoped so.

  “So,” I said, sliding a hand on top of his thigh and following it up to his crotch where he was thick and hardening beneath my touch. “I feel bad about luring you out of the house that way this morning. I should probably… make it up to you, huh?”

  I squeezed his cock, thickening even as we spoke. He chuckled and gently brushed my hand away, reaching for my skirt. “Oh no,” he said, pressing me back against my chair with one hand while he tugged my skirt up with the other, teasing me with the way the khaki fabric slid up my lily white thighs. “I’m curious about this thing I’m supposed to do until you come. What are the kids calling it these days?”

  He’d leaned in for a kiss, salty and fresh as I reclined my seat back, and he angled himself closer for a better look. My skirt was up above my waist, panties already moist with eagerness as I murmured, “Finger banging. You know, find the G-spot and stroke it like a mad-man!”

  “Mmmmmmm,” he said, sliding first one, then two, fingers on top of the front panel of my favorite pair of silky gray panties. His touch was immediate and powerful, making me realize just how much I’d missed him over the last forty-eight hours–and why I was so eager to concoct a clever ruse to get him out of the house and all to myself. I writhed against his thick, prowling fingertips, eager to feel them deeper inside of me.

  “So I just use these?” he asked ironically, knowing full well what the hell he was doing as he rolled his expert his fingertips around the mound beneath my wet panties.

  “Oh. God. Yes.”

  I ground against his finger, enjoying the slight barrier between his flesh and mine. Most guys tore at my clothes to fuck me, but this… this was luxurious. They weren’t thick panties, and the silken nature made them glide up and down, left to right as I bit my lower lip to keep from showing Ryan just how much I was enjoying his teasing, pleasing fingers.

  The fabric rasped across my flesh, growing wetter and wetter as my pulse quickened. I spread my thighs wider, the leather bucket seat beneath me creaking with every arch of my back or squeeze of my ass cheeks.

  “Oh yeah,” I murmured, biting my lower lip as he gently slid the panties to one side and began to expertly massage my desperate, throbbing clit with his thumb. Thick fingers slithered over my lips until they grew juicy and wet with desire, then slid inside, one at a time, only to drift back out and tease me once more with an intoxicating rhythm. “Oh. Jesus. Yes!”

  “Hmmmm,” he chuckled, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “I think I’m going to like community college after all…”

  “Screw like,” I gasped, spreading my legs wider as his fingers slid in deeper, wetter and thicker, to the very hilt, the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger fitting perfectly against my eager clit as I began to come for the first, but hopefully, not the last time that morning. “I fucking love community college!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Where are you going dressed like that?” I teased as Mom descended the steps, dressed in one of her favorite red dresses. It was pretty on her; tight but not too, just the right length and showing a little more décolletage than she normally did. She’d chosen a classy – and real, thanks to Jerry – pearl necklace to enhance the top-rate ensemble.

  She blushed lightly, fiddling with her matching pocket book on top of the kitchen counter where I stood, fragrant and dewy from a late afternoon run. “It’s Jerry and I’s second anniversary,” she said, almost demurely, as if afraid to jinx it.

  I smirked, shaking my head. “Come on, Mom, you’ve only been married a few months.”

  “Not married anniversary, silly,” she said, snapping her purse shut and patting my hand patronizingly, as if I’d never understand a little thing like love. “It’s the second anniversary of our fir
st date together.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You guys will celebrate anything, won’t you?” I marveled. “First anniversary of the first time we ever ate pizza together. First time we ever saw a sunset together…”

  She snickered playfully. “It’s the little things that keep a relationship alive, dear,” she said, squeezing my hand for emphasis as our eyes met on top of the kitchen counter. Hers were alive with wonder, love, and on this day, something else–something directed at me, her daughter. The one she’d dragged halfway across the South to follow her true passion. “You’ll understand one day, when you fall in love.”

  Her words stayed with me long after she’d left the house to go surprise Jerry at his corner office in her snug red dress and simple string of pearls. I stood there, alone in the house, her words of advice echoing through my weary brain.

  Love. The word itself lingered long after Mom’s subdued perfume faded away and the sound of the door clicking shut stopped echoing through the vast foyer. I’d never thought much about love. At least, not the kind she was talking about.

  Infatuation? I’d been there plenty of times. How many notebooks did I ruin in high school by scribbling a certain boy or, in the case of Mr. Hammond, teacher’s name over and over on the front and back covers and every page inside? Dozens, it seemed to me now. I’d even thought seriously about following Dylan Chapel, the boy who took my virginity my junior year, to NYU when I found out he’d been accepted there.

  That time I’d missed my period senior year and thought I might have been pregnant with Zack Crawford’s baby, I was seriously adamant about accepting his proposal and spending the rest of my life with him. So, then, why was I so relieved when it turned out to be a false alarm? But those were just fantasies, I now realized. Flights of fancy fueled mostly by hormones and an insatiable eagerness to please the boy—whatever boy—I was currently crushing on.

  But Ryan? Ryan was different. While I realized that my sex life with my nubile older stepbrother was more than healthy (extraordinarily so, in fact), there was nothing normal, even traditional, about it. We couldn’t go out on dates like other couples, not even dinner and a movie, without arousing suspicion.