RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE)

by Wild, Nikki

  “If that’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me,” she said, and I couldn’t help but notice a bit of a smile returning to her face. Maybe some times shopping was just what she needed to get her mind off of what happened that night. “Goodnight, Gun.”

  “Goodnight, baby,” I said, watching her walk to the spare room and shut the door, Jax in tow. Despite being a terrible guard dog, I felt a little safer knowing he’d be at her side for the night. But I wished it could be me.

  I went into my room and shut the door, turning the lock before heaving a sigh of relief. My pants were tight from my still-present erection, straining to be free of its denim prison. I had to find an outlet for this frustration—the thoughts of Tanya’s lap dance still fresh in my mind.

  I had to find some way to get the memory of her body against mine out of my head, the sensation of her pussy sliding up and down my shaft, and especially the way she’d argued with me. Fuck, that filthy mouth was so. Damn. Hot.

  I pulled off my shirt, tossing it aside before undoing my pants. I sighed in relief as I freed myself from the constraints of my clothes, my cock rock hard in the open air of my bedroom. It was begging to be appeased, to feel the relief that it so eagerly craved. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d actually jacked myself off—normally I could always pick up a girl at the bar, with just the mention of being a fireman I could get a woman wet and ready to go. What I wouldn’t give for someone to make me forget about the way my stepsister made me feel—but what kind of brother would I be if I just left her to get score some piece of ass?

  I sighed, lying down on my bed as I took my cock in my hand and closed my eyes. It throbbed in my hand, my thick girth swelling as I began to work my way up the shaft them all the way back down.

  I tried to conjure thoughts of some of the women I’d slept with before, recalling all the ways I’d driven my cock into them while they screamed for more. I loved making women beg to be plowed by their big, strong fireman. It made me feel special. Needed. The big damn hero.

  Fuck. There was Tanya’s voice in my head again. Quit it. Think of someone else. Anyone else.

  I worked my shaft slowly at first, relaxing into the sensation that rippled out from the base of my dick. I saw myself slipping my dick inside of a hot little redhead I’d bagged a few weeks ago, her arms tied above her head—just the way she liked it. I reveled in the memory of my shaft buried in her cunt, pounding into her again and again as she squirmed against her restraints.

  But the longer I let my mind replay that glorious conquest, the further I felt from cumming. I quickened my pace, working my cock faster as I tried remembering another one of my previous sexual partners.

  I saw a tight little blonde I’d met at a club only a month before. She was so petite and perfectly proportioned, and had practically jumped on my dick the moment I mentioned what I did for a living. I remembered the way she bounced up and down on me, riding my prick like she was a cowgirl at the rodeo. But still, my release stubbornly eluded me.

  In my mind’s eye, I watched myself bend that pretty blonde over against her headboard, but something changed. Instead of the barely-legal fox I’d fucked that night, I saw the one woman I was trying not to think about.

  My hot, annoying, dirty-mouthed, stripper stepsister.

  I watched as my mind conjured Tanya in the other girl’s place, my dick sheathed within her warm, wet pussy. I imagined the way she would call my name as I fucked her the way I knew that only I could, the pleasure that only I could give her. My hand worked harder and harder at my shaft as I gave in to the disgraceful fantasy that I’d been dying to fulfill from the moment I saw her coming out of the shower.

  I could feel my orgasm building, my hips growing tighter and tighter the faster I stroked myself. I gasped, opening my eyes halfway, picturing my sweet stepsister writhing on my cock and moaning my name as she teased at her clit. It felt so good, touching myself to the thought of Tanya fucking me, ready to feel my hot load gushing into her cunt.

  I threw my head back, my hips bucking against my hand as I felt the sudden and unexpected rush of my climax washing over my. My cock pulsed hard, a gush of my warm, sticky cum exploding from the tip. With every twinge of my throbbing member, another gout poured over my hand, leaving me breathless and sweating. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cum so much. Or this hard.

  My mind whirled in the heady twilight that settled over me, where the only thing that stirred around me was the sound of my own breathing. I felt like I was lying on a cloud, weightless and free of all my woes.

  But then I felt the shame.

  I’d just cum thinking about my own stepsister. What kind of person does that? I sighed, rubbing my clean hand over my face as I let the horror of my own depravity sink in.

  You pulled her out of the frying pan, Gunner. But now she’s stuck in this fire. Here. With you.

  And I was starting to think that was way more dangerous than any three-alarm fire could be. If Tanya stuck around, if we kept playing games like this, one of us was going to get burned.

  Chapter 8

  Tanya

  A grease bubble burst, nearly catching me in the face. I yelped, then immediately clamped my hand over my mouth. Shit. I hope I didn’t wake Gunner up.

  I was up at the ass-crack of dawn, cooking breakfast for my stepbrother—something I never did. The cooking part, I mean. I was a master chef only in the realm of microwaveable meals and flavor packets. But Gunner had bacon and eggs in his fridge, and I figured how the hell could that possibly go wrong?

  The kitchen hadn’t burst into flames yet, so I guessed that was a pretty good sign. I just hadn’t expected bacon to be so damn_._._._volatile. Made me wonder how Mom could stand it.

  Shit_._._._Mom.

  Mom had been the breakfast champion since as far back as I could remember. She insisted we all eat something every morning, even if it was just a slice of toast. It was hardly ever just that, though. She’d whip up omelets, sausage, breakfast burritos from scratch, French toast—you name it, my mom could make it.

  But then she’d died, and I hadn’t had a homemade breakfast since.

  And the more I thought about that, I realized: neither had Gunner.

  So, I thought I’d do something nice. Take some steps in the right direction. He was trying to mend fences between us. No reason why I couldn’t pitch in. I just hoped I wouldn’t give myself another second-degree burn in the process.

  Though if I did, Gunner might have to save me again_._._._

  No. I needed to stop that. I needed to stop thinking about my stepbrother in_._._._the wrong way.

  That was just it, though. When I thought about Gunner, about our kiss, none of it felt wrong. It felt_._._._destined. Right. Like when he touched me, I was right where I was supposed to be.

  I sighed, closed my eyes, and clenched my spatula so hard I was sure it would snap. He’s your family. The only one you’ve got. Stop making this weird, Tanya.

  But Gunner had kissed me. That meant the feelings were mutual. Right?

  “What’s this?” I heard him ask from behind me.

  I turned around and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Shit. You weren’t supposed to be up yet_._._._”

  Gunner didn’t say anything. He just looked me up and down, scouring the curves of my body with the heat of his gaze. I hadn’t been able to salvage a damn thing from my apartment fire, so I’d found an old shirt of his in the guest room closet last night and worn that to bed. And, since I didn’t have any panties, either, I’d thrown those in the wash.

  So I was standing in my stepbrother’s kitchen, wearing a ratty button-down and no underwear. The hem of the shirt barely covered my ass. I pressed my thighs together, knowing he couldn’t see anything… Hoping, at least…

  Awkwardly, I gestured to the still-cooking food. “Surprise?”

  “I’ll say,” he murmured. That tone was back in his voice again. That thick, husky, tell-tale sound. He was horny. Probably had been sinc
e last night. And the way I was dressed was just making matters worse, maybe for the both of us.

  Because when Gunner looked at me like that, it lit a flame somewhere deep inside. This time when I pressed my thighs together, I didn’t do it to conceal myself. I did it to stop the tide of lust from dripping down my legs.

  “Sit,” I told him. “I’ll make you a plate.”

  He looked at the clock on the stove. “I don’t have much time, Tanya.”

  “It’s just bacon and eggs. Nothing fancy.” I shut off the gas to the burners and laid out the bacon onto one of his paper plates. “Give it a minute. It’s hot, and the paper should absorb some of that grease.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Gunner sat down and I put the plate in front of him. As he stared at it, I heard his stomach growl. I smiled. Well, at least what he saw gave him an appetite.

  But when his gaze flicked over my hard nipples, it made me wonder just what I’d given him an appetite for.

  “How about a fuck?” he asked.

  My jaw dropped. All the blood in my body rushed to my face. “Wh-what?”

  Gunner blinked. “Uh, well, you didn’t give me a fork, so I thought_._._._” He shrugged. “Unless you want to see a grown man eat an egg with his hands.”

  “Oh!” I laughed, shrill and hysterical. He probably thought I was insane. “Yeah. Sure. Um.” I pulled out three different drawers before I found the one with the utensils in it. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” he said, plucking the fork from my fingers. He stabbed at his eggs, then dipped his bacon into the yolk. “How are you feeling after last night?”

  I pulled my hair over my shoulder, nervously weaving a braid in it. “Well, I_._._._definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Me either,” Gunner admitted. A little stream of yolk ran down his chin, and I suddenly felt the urge to lick it off him. I pursed my lips to resist the call. “You think he’ll be back?”

  It was my turn to blink. “Uh_._._._who?”

  Gunner stared at me. “Your stalker. That’s who.”

  “Oh, jeez.” I put on my best attempt at a smile. “I thought you were talking about our kiss.”

  My stepbrother stiffened. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he also looked ashamed. My face fell as I realized that he was ashamed, even embarrassed by what we’d done.

  Maybe I should have been, too. But all night long I’d thought about that kiss. About the way his lips had felt against mine. And how right all of it had seemed, despite everything I knew to the contrary. Despite what anyone else would have said about the matter.

  “I gotta go,” Gunner said, dropping his fork onto his plate. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Your food_._._._”

  He shook his head. “Sorry sis... I’m already runnin’ late.”

  “Just_._._._” I searched for a reason—any reason—to stall. “Uh, about that brick_._._._”

  Gunner stopped. “What about it?”

  “You noticed it had burn marks all over it. Right?”

  “No, I_._._._” He turned, looking at the thing, which was still sitting on his kitchen counter. When he looked back at me, his eyes were fierce. Wild. “Hold on, baby. Are you telling me that brick came from your apartment building?”

  I swallowed hard. I’d been thinking it, sure. Hell, I knew it was true. But hearing those words spoken out loud made my stomach drop to my feet. Somehow, hearing Gunner say it made it real.

  “I think so,” I whispered.

  “Shit.” He ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. Then he kicked over the trash can, barked an apology, picked it up, and went after the chair instead.

  “Sorry,” he said again, picking that up, too. He covered his mouth with his hand, muffling another word I couldn’t understand, but was probably four letters long.

  “We gotta tell someone,” he said at last. “Gotta tell ‘em what happened. What this guy did. Shit, baby, if that fire wasn’t an accident_._._._”

  He trailed off, and I let him. I was thinking about the bars on my window. The ones that had somehow gotten sealed shut. I’d blamed it on my landlord. Figured it was just Vinnie ignoring one kind of safety to satisfy another. But what if it wasn’t that at all? What if this guy, whoever he was, had been the one to weld those bars in place?

  I didn’t realize I was shaking until Gunner came over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Tanya. Hey. Look at me.”

  His voice was so soft. So reassuring. I looked into his eyes and dammit, I just wanted to let all this pain, this worry, this terror melt away. But I had to hold onto it, because letting it go meant letting my guard drop. And I wasn’t about to be that stupid. Not ever again. Not around Gunner fucking Cole.

  I pulled away. “We can’t tell them, Gun. What if they start asking questions? What if they wanna know what we did to piss this guy off?”

  “Then we lie,” Gunner answered, reminding me that to him, lying his ass off was nothing at all. “We tell ‘em a half-truth. I came to pick you up from the club. Dude likes to watch you, got pissed I ruined his evening. Anything else, we chalk up to him being a psycho.” He frowned. “The hell’s that mean, anyway? The part about smiles_._._._”

  “He’s a lunatic,” I muttered. “Chances are even he doesn’t know what it means.”

  We stood there for a while, neither of us really looking at each other. For all his Gunner, Man of Action bravado, my stepbrother sure didn’t have a whole lot to say when it came down to it. Go to the cops. Try to get a TRO. Yeah, right. Like the police issue—or enforce—those. They don’t lift a fucking finger until some jack-off like this guy puts a girl in the fucking hospital.

  Of course, my stepbrother wouldn’t know that, being a guy. They don’t think about shit like that. Guy goes out with a girl, he worries about being laughed at or goin’ home alone. Girl goes out with a guy? She’s worried about him killing her.

  It’s true. Just turn on the fucking news.

  “What’m I supposed to do until you get back?” I asked him. “I’m practically the perfect victim.”

  Gunner fished his wallet from his back pocket. Then he pulled out a card and handed it to me. “So don’t be here. Go to the mall. Use this to get yourself some new clothes and things. Necessities, baby,” he added. “I’m not made of money. I still gotta get by a fireman’s salary, you know.”

  Slowly, I took the card from his hand. My heart sank. Guys were always paying me off somehow. Maybe it was with drinks or dinner. Or shoving dollars into my G-string. To them, my company was always transactional. Just another service they could pay for, like heat or water or cable-fucking-TV.

  So why the hell had I expected better from him?

  “Got it,” I told him, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”

  He took one long, last look at my body just barely covered by one of his shirts. Then my stepbrother turned and walked out of the room, leaving me and his credit card behind.

  “There’s a key in the outside lantern,” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to lock up.”

  I sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. My life was in shambles. I had a stalker who was hell-bent on seeing that it stayed that way—or worse, flat-out killing me. After last night, I probably didn’t have a job.

  And on top of all those very important things, the things I should have been worried about, I was way more concerned with the fact that Gunner didn’t want to talk about last night. He didn’t even want to acknowledge it had happened. He wanted to erase that memory, to let everything I’d felt, everything I was starting to feel, disappear into a void of silence.

  This was just one more secret he would keep. One more lie he’d tell. Did any of his friends know I existed? Did any of them know where he’d come from? What he’d done?

  Was our entire relationship based on a series of cold and calculating lies, plus an overwhelming desire to just forget?

  I let the bacon and eggs cool on the stovetop. Sudden
ly, I wasn’t hungry anymore.

  Chapter 9

  Gunner

  I didn’t like the thought of leaving Tanya after what had happened the night before. With that psycho on the loose, I felt like I needed to be watching over my stepsister 24/7 in case he decided to make another house call.

  But my professional life had other plans.

  The firehouse seemed a little less than boisterous when I walked in through the garage. Normally I could hear the boys from a few yards off in the dining room talking about the latest game, but not today. It almost felt like I was walking in on someone’s funeral.

  I found Stoggins up in the kitchen cleaning up what must have been a big breakfast for the rest of the firefighters.