But she did humor him and talk, and before long, it felt like the old days. They still shared a lot of interests—from the same books and movies to the same video games—and their goals still lined up really well. It was as if nothing changed between them.
Except now he knew what he wanted from her body… and how to get it.
Standing, he asked her gently, “Are you hungry?” He wasn’t thinking of food.
“Starved,” she answered, cupping his cock there in the open.
“I have an idea,” he said.
The slots were on a large open floor, and the doors to the pool weren’t far. Off the pool, he’d spotted a gym and sauna. Near that, a hot tub with a private door. The hot tub was enclosed, thin bamboo walls separating it from the main space, so it wasn’t much for privacy.
But his girl, she didn’t particularly care for privacy.
Locking the door once they both were inside, he considered the small hot tub with interest.
“There’s no one in here,” she said looking around. “Even so, I didn’t bring my bikini.”
He smiled slowly, flipping her skirt up to reveal her ass. With a firm smack, he marked that rounded curve with his handprint. She gasped, grasping the handhold that led down to the water. “You won’t need it, my greedy little Liza.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were half lidded with awakening desire. “These walls are paper thin. I can literally hear the conversations from outside,” she said.
“And we don’t have the key, so someone could unlock the door at any time and come in…” Bending her at the waist, he placed her hands on the heavy wooden towel rack near the door. “Do you care?”
She didn’t fight him, not even a little, and held her ass up a bit higher. It was an erotic image—her skirt banded around her waist and her ass cheek still pinkened from his palm. “No, I don’t care.”
But he wasn’t in a hurry. Kneeling behind her, he parted her nether lips, sliding his tongue there as she let out a little moan. He shook his head. “You have to be quiet, Liza. Someone will hear you. If you make another noise, I’ll stop. Do you understand?”
Her ass cheeks quivered, and she adjusted her hold on the towel rack. “Yes, master.”
“Good girl, but I owe you a punishment for doubting me and making noise.”
She didn’t protest, but her breath sped. “Yes, master,” she whispered.
This smack was right across her slit, and her body jerked in response. Based on the trembling flesh before him, she loved it. She was so damn perfect.
He couldn’t resist having a taste of her for another second. Teasing her flesh, he circled her clit with his tongue before sliding in to taste the moisture of her opening. She was sweet, a salty blend of woman and something unique that was just Liza. As he replaced his tongue with his fingertip, she arched and her breathing turned to pants.
“Do you like that, my little Liza?” he asked her conversationally before sucking her clit into his mouth.
“Oh,” she moaned. “God, yes, master.”
“Remember to stay quiet, my love,” he whispered. Just having her like this had him so damn hard, he thought he’d come in his shorts. But he resisted. He wanted her orgasm—wanted her riding against his face as she shattered—and knew he could draw more than one release from her receptive little body.
In seconds, she was biting her own hand to keep from making a noise as he fucked her with his fingertips and bumped that little bundle of nerves deep inside her. Keeping pace, he suckled at her clit, thrumming the sensitive flesh with his tongue as she ground herself against his face. He could hardly breathe, but would gladly die smothered in her if it meant that she’d orgasm for him.
Then she was, legs shaking until she sagged in his arms, all boneless and quaking. “You did well, my little Liza.”
She shook her head, still panting for air. With a small smile, she considered her hand and the tooth marks in the flesh there. “I stayed quiet,” she whispered. “But can you?”
Then her hand, the one marked by her own teeth in her passion, was sliding up his shorts to fondle the tip of his dick. His cock jerked, and just the memory of what her mouth could do had him biting back a moan. “I can do anything you can do, little Liza.”
She made quick work of his shorts, but he wanted her tits. Freeing them from her blouse, he watched as her face became even more flushed. The room was humid, and tiny curls were sticking to her face as she shoved him onto his back. “I’m going to make you scream,” she threatened.
He didn’t doubt she’d make him want to, but he knew his control was better than hers. At least, he thought so, until she sucked him deeply into her gorgeous mouth. The feel of her tongue on his cock had his hips jerking toward her, needing more.
He couldn’t take her torture for long, grabbing her arms and pulling her astride his body. Her soft laughter amused him. “I didn’t make a sound,” he pointed out.
“Yet,” she whispered as she sank her heat downward to enclose his dick. Her tits bounced as she began to ride him, and he struggled to find sanity. To find his control and resist making a noise while the pleasure overwhelmed his system.
The room echoed with the slap of their skin, with the pant of their breaths, and he watched in fascination as her hands raised to capture her own nipples and tug. She was so beautiful. So his.
His release pounded through him, and he did cry out, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy groaning in her own release as she shattered above him. Her body melted down onto his, still twitching as she gasped for air, when he heard the knock at the door. Someone rattled the knob. “Hello?” they said from the other side. “Who is in there?”
Liza erupted in giggles and he smacked her ass firmly, making her moan. “You were noisy,” he pointed out.
“Not even sorry about it…master.”
5
While Paul showered, Liza sat on the balcony of their hotel room and wished for a cup of coffee. The weeklong honeymoon was coming to an end, and reality crashed around Liza’s ears. Neither of them had brought up the annulment, nor had they told their parents, but they either had to get the union ended or confess.
She couldn’t imagine being without him, but being with him had endless complications—explaining it, one of the moving, telling their parents… They were running out of time and no other options had occurred to her. The sun rose, slicing down the Strip like fire, and Liza crossed her legs. She didn’t want their time together to end…but she didn’t know how she could possibly face life as a woman who married her actual stepbrother.
It didn’t seem fair. Paul was perfect—sexually, intellectually, and emotionally. But because of circumstances beyond her control, he was entirely inappropriate.
Or so society said.
He stepped onto the patio behind her, leaning on the doorframe as he smiled down at her. Offering her a cup of coffee, he said, “You look like you’re thinking way too hard for a woman who woke up with such a big smile on her face.”
As she’d been wakened by him between her legs, seconds away from a shattering orgasm, it was hard not to wake up smiling. She blushed a little and sipped the coffee. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
He looked away from her, taking in the view. “You’re mine,” he said simply.
“That would mean you’re mine,” she pointed out. Her stomach flipped a little, sure he’d say something that would make a joke of her words. He owned her body, but she doubted he would admit the same to her. She didn’t even know if she was special to him…or if he was just that damn good of a lover.
“I’ve been yours for years, little Liza. These rings, they don’t change that.”
She blinked up at him, shocked by his words. “But…”
“You’re that worried about what people will think?” he asked, kneeling in front of her. “I got you something.”
She shook her head. She’d be an idiot if she pretended what people thought didn’t matter. Of course, it mattered. This was her mothe
r’s wedding week—and she’d done what? Stolen her thunder by marrying her new stepbrother? What would her boss think if he found out? Her friends? How could anyone possibly understand?
“Liza,” he said, but she didn’t look at him, staring down the Strip. The sun was mostly up, now, the red fire blasted away by the yellow of daylight.
His fingertips grazed her cheek, and she turned into his palm. “This is impossible,” she said.
He was holding a beautiful ring—platinum with a square cut garnet surrounded by white diamonds. “I got you a better ring. Stay with me. Fuck what the world has to say. Be mine.”
She blinked fast, temptation urging her to take the ring and let the world be damned. “First, we tell our parents. If you still want to offer me a ring at that point, I’ll take it.”
Little did she know she would regret her own words.
The ambulance screamed away from the hotel, and Paul stood watching it go. He wasn’t that close with his father, not anymore, but still he hadn’t been prepared for watching the man crumple.
“It’s my fault,” he said.
“No,” Liza whispered. “We just need to get to the hospital. Mom, do you have your purse?”
He glanced back at her, shaking his head. “No, you stay here. This is about family.”
With that, he hopped in the nearest available cab, hoping to God he didn’t lose his father that day. Was he so selfish that he’d put his own happiness above his father’s life? No, it just didn’t make sense. No matter how much he loved her, it was his duty as a son to make sure his dad was okay. And if loving her was wrong…
So be it.
6
The flight home was lonely, mostly because her wretched heart refused to accept the facts her logical brain understood. Maybe Paul claimed that she was his, and maybe he was even right. But if he was hers, he’d denied her the opportunity to be by his side. To hold him when he needed her and to comfort him in a time of stress.
She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that their news was enough to give the man a heart attack—clearly, there was a heart issue to begin with, and although the raise in blood pressure surely exacerbated the situation, there was a prior condition involved.
A quick web search told her that most people in Paul’s dad’s situation recovered, but it didn’t help heal her heart any. From her mother’s texts, what happened was called stress cardiomyopathy—not a heart attack, although it was often mistaken for one. He’d recover fully, and wouldn’t suffer any long-term damage to his heart muscle, based on what her mom said.
Her newly minted stepfather would be okay. Her mom had headed to the hospital to be with him, so she’d be okay. Hell, even Paul would be okay, once he realized his father had an excellent prognosis—based on her mother’s texts since she’d left the hotel.
The only one, so far as Liza could see, who didn’t stand a good chance at recovery was her.
Dammit, she loved him. She knew better than to let herself fall for him again—had she ever fallen out of love with him, really? But she’d gone and jumped with both feet.
Too bad all she had to show for it was a gorgeous ring and paperwork to file with the court.
Once she’d made it back to her apartment, she looked around the empty space in dread. Before, this place was her solace. She’d worked hard, furnishing it with things that made her happy, yet none of the things did a thing to make her feel better now.
Probably because they were things, and she didn’t want things. She wanted Paul.
No sense sitting around and soaking in her own misery. With a sigh, she dropped her bags and sat at her desk. When all else failed, she could always get back to work.
Paul felt like a class A asshole before Liza’s mother came to sit with him in the waiting room. Somehow, having her there made him feel even worse.
He’d spoken out of hand to Liza, and he’d have to play hell to earn her forgiveness. When he made it back to the hotel, he’d have some major groveling to do. But it wasn’t until they said his dad would recover that he’d been able to see past his own fear.
Hell, he’d never been so scared before. It was all well and good to know he was a grown man and didn’t need his father anymore, but it was another entirely to have to accept and own the fact that he might lose his dad forever.
Life was short, as proved by this little incident. He and Liza wasted too much of theirs already, worrying about what other people thought. It was time to start living for themselves.
“You’re being awful quiet,” Liza’s mother pointed out.
“Thinking,” he said, honestly.
“You’ve always loved her, haven’t you?” she asked.
Glancing at her, it was easy to see that her daughter would look a lot like her one day. Their family aged gracefully, and Liza’s mom was still beautiful in a wise-woman sort of way. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You didn’t seem nearly as shocked as Dad when we announced that we’d gotten hitched.”
Liza’s mom—his new stepmother—leaned back in her seat with a smile. “The way you two look at each other? I’m just happy it’s more than lust. For a long time, I thought that was it. It has only been in this past week that I believed there was something more.”
He blinked at her, surprised. “What made you think that?”
“I’ve loved your dad, even when we didn’t get along, most of my life. I’ve seen the way he looks at me, the love in his eyes, for more years than I can count. How hard is it to recognize that same emotion on the face of his son? Not very, my boy. Rather easy, to be honest. You love my Liza, and now you’ve gone and pushed her away. Not your smartest move, and if she’s anything like me, she’ll run.” The older woman closed her eyes, resting her head on the wall behind the row of seats.
He said, “I’ll just talk to her. Tell her Dad is doing better and—”
“Her flight left an hour ago,” Liza’s mother pointed out.
“Flight?” he asked, feeling stupid and panicked all in one breath.
“Yes, Paul. She went home. After all, you told her this was a family affair and to basically fuck off, didn’t you?” Liza’s mother blinked at him, waiting until he acknowledged the truth.
“I can’t go after her,” he said, thinking through the situation as quickly as he could. “I can’t leave my dad.”
“Stay here. Be with your father until he recovers…then go after our girl.”
“You’re not worried about the stigma?” Paul asked her.
“Pfft,” Liza’s mother said with a wave of her elegant hand. Her new wedding band flashed angrily in the light. “You live in one state, we live in another. Who in the hell will know you’re stepsiblings by marriage if you don’t tell them?”
He swallowed hard. “You make a good point,” he admitted.
Just then, the doctor came in and Paul stood with her to listen to the results.
She was right, though. He’d stay with his dad, but once he was sure he’d be okay…
He was going after his girl. And he wasn’t wasting another moment on worrying about what people might think.
7
The doorbell rang, and Liza opened it to see a stranger in a tux. Blinking at the man, she felt horribly scruffy in comparison—hair in a wad on top of her head, hole in her tank top, scruffy pajama pants and bare feet—but she was even more surprised when he handed her a large bouquet of long stem red roses. “I’m sorry,” she explained to Mr. Penguin Suit, “I think you have the wrong apartment.”
“Liza Dirkwood?” the man asked.
She blinked at him, stunned into silence. She hadn’t told anyone about her hasty marriage—hell, the ring was in the candy dish on her coffee table—and she surely didn’t tell them about the new last name. “Yes?” she said after a moment, since she technically was a Dirkwood now…at least until she managed to divorce Paul.
“Would you allow me to escort you downstairs?”
One part of her said, hell no. Whatever this was, it was clearly planned by P
aul. Did she want to see him again, after the way he’d basically claimed she was his and then dumped her like yesterday’s garbage when things went a little sideways?
Truthfully…yes, she wanted to see him again.
Lifting her chin, she silently reminded herself that she wanted to see him again to give him a piece of her mind, not a piece of her ass, before nodding to the stranger. “Yeah, you can totally escort me.”
The man glanced at her attire and lifted a brow in askance. “I can give you a moment to change, if you’d like, Mrs. Dirkwood.”
“Liza,” she informed him. Damned if she’d go by his name, not even for a moment. “It’s Liza and no thank you. I’m good as is.”
Following him, she kept her head high. A few rubbernecking neighbors glanced out to see her parading after the man in the tux—no doubt they made an interesting procession, with her in her pajamas, him in a suit, and with her carrying roses like a queen. She ignored them. Let Paul have his great moment—his grand gesture. Let’s just see how romantic he can be when I’m barefoot and scruffy, she thought with a smirk.
Inside the limo—did he go all stereotypical with his idea of romance or what?—there were champagne and strawberries, which she munched and sipped as was appropriate. Hell, she wasn’t the kinda gal to waste bubbly, and it didn’t soften her up. Not one iota.
But when they arrived at their destination and the driver held the door for her, she did stop.
Shocked. Dammit, she even misted up a little.
Her bare foot landed on soft green grass, and before her was a replica of their old tree house. Down to the sign he’d painted on the side, reading No Girlz Allowed, the little structure was perfect. She blinked fast in the dappled sunshine, and considered the house for a long moment before finally lowering her gaze to the man sitting cross-legged on a checkered picnic blanket below the tree.
“This is sweet, but you can save the romantic gestures for your second wife,” she snarked, rubbing her nose furiously to keep from sniffling.
Married to My Stepbrother Page 3