Wrong: A Spoiled Stepbrother Romance

by Pfeiffer Jayst

  Any relief I felt was cut short when I pulled the car's door handle to get in but found it was locked. It clearly wasn't the mistake I had hoped it was, his wide grin confirmed that it had been intentional.

  "C'mon, please?" I pathetically begged, worried that someone I worked with might be looking on, watching me be humiliated.

  "Just say the words, sweetheart," he insisted while rolling the locked car just a tiny bit forward. Mortified, I followed alongside, trying to remain cool and calm as I attempted to get the door open.

  "Open the door!" I whisper-shouted through pursed lips. "C'mon!"

  "Just say the words..." The car rolled slightly forward again.

  It wasn't intentional not to thank him right away, I had just figured I would do so once I was in the car. He wasn't that patient.

  "Thank you!" my forced appreciation didn't even attempt to mask the contempt and anger he had made me feel. Sadly I knew full well that making me feel that way had been his intention all along, as always.

  Once he was satisfied that he had angered me enough, the locks on the door audibly released and I was finally able to get the door open.

  Typically I'm a cold body, stereotypically sensitive to the slightest hint of a chill, even when everyone else around me would be comfortable. That being said, that moment I got into the car, I found the inside was hot. Intensely, uncomfortably hot.

  "Helps sore muscles," he insisted when I complained. The windows also had to remain rolled up, he informed me, or else the cool air would disrupt his soothing warmth he needed. I silently reminded myself to just grin and bear it, I needed to appreciate the favor he was doing me and not insist on my own comfort. I made sure to not complain about the curious route he was taking to get back home either; lots of side streets and detours that would assuredly only add time to our trip. I also didn't complain when he made a habit of looking my way when he spoke, taking his eyes entirely off of the road while we continued to move forward. He had to have known he was terrifying me by not watching the road and instead staring right into my soul.

  "You know, if you're too hot, you can always take that sweater off."

  At first I scoffed but the more I thought about it, I knew it just may have to come to that. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead as I twisted around uncomfortably in my seat.

  "You promise you won't get weird if I do?" That question was more of a plea, my mind had already decided I'd be shedding the layer, no matter what response he gave. Underneath I had on a tight, kind-of small, white cami and, while it would reveal more than I had wanted it to, it would be enough to cover me until we got home.

  His hand raised, leaving the wheel absent of anything to control the car, and he professed, "Scouts honor".

  I was learning more each day. Just before I pulled that gray sweater up over my head, I attempted small talk. "Aw, you were a Boy Scout?"

  His eyes remained off of the road again in order to get a gander at my recently exposed flesh. He made me feel real dumb by answering, "Nope," before breaking into a fit of giggles. Embarrassed I had been fooled, my arms crossed and rested against my barely covered breasts, trying to prevent him from seeing too much. A scowl draped on my face as I pledged to sit still, covered and quiet for the rest of the ride.

  It took him a bit to pick up on my aggravated state. "Oh, don't be mad." Though I didn't want to validate him with a response, he was intently watching me, waiting for something. If I wanted him to watch the street he was driving on, I had to break.

  "You're such a jerk," I told him, arms pressed hard against my chest, refusing to give in to his demands of not being "mad".

  "Stop being like that," he said while giving my shoulder a playful push. The sensation of his touch on my bare skin alarmed me; an electric jolt shot through my body and awoke parts of me it really shouldn't have. My body was now craving more of his touch and that deeply disturbed me.

  Against all rational thinking, I gave him a playful push back, only lightly shoving his naked shoulder. Thankfully he kept control of the wheel and saw this as a sign that we were cool. If only he knew the battle going on inside of me.

  The best way I could keep the naughty thoughts at bay, the ones tormenting and confusing me, was to maintain a stubborn, annoyed stance. He did his best to change that.

  "Where is she? Where's Madelyn?" he teased, trying to get me to smile. My arms had been so intent on covering my breasts that other parts of me were left exposed, openings his boxing training had taught him to locate. He took advantage and his finger went under my arm,right on the edge of my armpit, wiggling around and making me squirm. Though I wanted him to know I was still mad at him, I couldn’t help but smile and giggle as I moved out of his way while still holding onto my tits for dear life.

  “There she is!” he mocked me when my grin wasn’t able to be contained any longer. When he noticed I was still hanging on to a sour disposition, he removed his finger and pouted himself. “C’mon, lighten up! You’re always too serious!”

  My whole life I had been told I was too uptight and it was really starting to bother me. It seemed that, without even trying, I easily gave off a ‘no-fun’ vibe. As much as I wished it wasn't the case, too many people had insisted that I was uptight to simply pass it off as a coincidence. If I truly was tired of hearing it, I was going to have to step out my comfort zone to change how I was viewed by others.

  “What do you mean, lighten up?” I asked, keeping my breasts covered and pulling them away from him, “I’m half naked over here.”

  “Oh, is that it?” he wondered out loud, “Because I can get half naked too!”

  Before I could even question his odd reasoning, he was lifting his butt off of the driver’s seat and began peeling his gym shorts off of his body, all while keeping the car moving forward. I wanted to object, there was no reason for this. Instead, once I saw the tight black boxer briefs struggling to contain his package, I momentarily lost the ability to speak. Once he sat back down and rested in his seat, it was difficult not to notice just how aroused he appeared to be. What was also difficult not to notice was just how aroused I was, my brain was on fire. There was an angel and a devil on my shoulder and each were making themselves heard.

  “Like what you see?” he boasted when he noticed me outright staring at the erection fighting against his underwear. While I again tried to voice my objection, words didn’t seem able to come out. I was speechless.

  His head cocked a bit as he looked at me. "Oh, I thought you were gonna one up me, show me how you weren't as uptight as I thought." It didn't register immediately what he was talking about, not until he swirled his finger in the air and said "Your shirt..." that I understood a bit better. With only a tight black bra on underneath, I had a decision to make. If I was really tired of my downer reputation, I'd have to do something about it.

  After a quick stern look his way, my arms crossed over my body and I peeled the tight cami off of me, my tightly secured breasts bouncing a little as I did. Though I felt naked and vulnerable, there was a rush in exposing so much of myself in front of him. These feelings again were squashed down as I attempted to remind myself that this was to prove a point, nothing more.

  "Whoa!" he called out in amazement, my barely covered tits distracting him from the road. He was practically drooling as he studied my chest, my nipples betraying me by becoming hard, pushing against the bra cups tight against my body.

  "You got something, right here," he suddenly announced and as I looked down to see what he was talking about, a sole finger from his hand came over and pressed against the black cup, pretending to remove an imaginary piece of dust. Though I knew full well it was a ruse, I couldn't help but feel excited as he made contact with my forbidden breast, only a thin barrier between us. Each time I thought about just how wrong it was, my body screamed louder for him. There was only one way I could figure to diffuse the situation; I'd need to make him just as uncomfortable.

  "Oh yeah?" I asked, "well you got something right here.
" My hand fell into his lap, cleaning up the part of his inner thigh covered by his underwear. His cock seemed to grow even bigger, leaning towards my hand like a plant reaching towards the sun. Teasing him felt great and that was where my concentration went; to make him squirm like he made me.

  "Man, whatever this is, it’s really stuck on there." His hand went to fully grasping my breast, massaging it through the thin lingerie without shame. He wasn't going to win this battle though. "Yours is stubborn too," I insisted, a wider smile grew on my face as my fingers tiptoed even closer to the hard rod that threatened to burst right out of his boxers.

  "Maybe if you look a little closer?" he suggested sweetly, almost pleading, tipping me off that I had him where I wanted him. Eager to up his discomfort, I slowly moved my face closer to his lap, trying my best not to show any enthusiasm. Very slowly I lowered until his covered cock was but an inch away. He moved about anxiously, dying for something I had no plan on giving him. As I moved at a glacial pace even closer, it finally happened, his cute boxer-briefs could no longer contain him and out of the hole in the front, his thick manhood burst right out. Just the sight of it so close overwhelmed my body and mind with dirty, wrong thoughts, fantasies I couldn't help but entertain. Quickly I thought of a million rationalizations as to why this wasn't so bad, why it was ok to give into my desires.

  After a brief look up at his sweaty, trembling face, I opened my mouth and my fingers wrapped around his thick, pulsating tool, slowly approaching with my wet and ready lips. As my teasing mouth hovered over his throbbing muscle, my breath danced over his cock. It was at that moment that I began to see my stepbrother in an entirely new way.

  *****

  Rorke almost jerked the car right off of the road when I had a sudden change of heart and pulled back, far away from his lap.

  “The hell?” he asked in a really angry tone. As I struggled to quickly put my clothes back on and in place, I couldn’t seem to figure out why he wasn’t as bothered by what had almost happened, what we almost did.

  “We can’t, we can’t,” was all I could manage to say. I couldn’t even look at him as he watched me, not the road, with his free hand held open in confusion, trying to get to the bottom of what was going on. It just wasn’t sinking in.

  “We are going to be brother and sister soon, you said so yourself,” I angrily reminded him. His annoying habit of calling me “sis” was now coming back to bite him on the ass. Why couldn’t he see how wrong this was? I’ll admit, for a moment I tried, really tried, to put all of that out of my head and just go with what I thought I wanted but I couldn’t. This is wrong, Madelyn, the voice in my head echoed. At the point where the very tip of his cock was just about inside of my mouth, just before my lips were about to wrap around his thickness, I couldn’t shake how wrong it was.

  Rorke said nothing more, the two of us spending the rest of the ride in silence. My arms crossed my chest and the scowl on my face remained firm as I hoped that this incident was all I needed to get dirty thoughts of Rorke out of my mind for good. My final reluctance at giving into the temptation was likely a clear sign that it wasn’t meant to be, my brain cutting through the debate to insist I not go further. Though I had been questioning my instincts ever since my life had fallen apart, I had to be firm and not do something that was so clearly wrong. Maybe this had been a test and though it came close, I passed and did the right thing.

  Rorke stomped his brakes outside the carriage house and I jumped out of the car before he even had a chance to turn it off. As I tried to make my way into the house to be left alone, he yelled out after me.

  “Hey! You’re welcome,” his words dragged out. He had moved on from what had happened in the car and it was left to me to make it extremely clear that that could never and would never happen again. I turned back around and marched myself right up to his face.

  “Listen,” I instructed him, “what happened back there was an accident, I was weak and stupid and you took advantage. You have to know that it won’t ever happen again. You hear me? Never again.”

  Rorke spoke softly through a grin, “All I’m waiting for is a thank you...sis.”

  His cocky smirk didn’t distract me. Before I could turn to walk away, I saw just how bad his bruises were. The sun illuminated a few that were incredibly concerning. One on his side made me quickly forget how aggravated I was and I became sympathetic to the pain I figured he must be in. My whole demeanor softened and I raced to his side, examining this one dark purple mark on his side that was impossible to ignore. It hurt just to look at it.

  “Oh Rorke,” I worried for him, trying to comfort this area of pain even though I didn’t know how. “Come…inside. You have to put ice on this or something,” I insisted. Rorke hesitantly followed me inside even though he was clearly annoyed with the contact he was getting versus the contact he wanted. “Sit,” I said while pointing to a chair by the kitchen. He obliged as I sought out some ice from the freezer. It was hard to watch him wince as he slowly lowered himself down on the chair, clearly in more pain than he had let on before.

  After finding an ice pack in the freezer, I returned to my stepbrother, wanting to help him feel better. Positioning myself behind him, my hand delicately landed on his bare shoulder to hold him steady as my other hand placed the ice pack near the affected area. He flinched again as I made contact with his pain, gritting through it instead of running away. It was a relief to feel him let go of the tension in his muscles as he adjusted to the cold pack on his bruise. Rorke placed his hand on mine holding the pack in place and interlocked our fingers. His head leaned back and pressed against my stomach, just below my breasts. The feelings for him came back, the same ones I had felt in the car and I was going to have to restrain myself much better than I had on that drive. When his other hand reached up to find my mine, we interlocked there as well with him guiding me all over his naked muscles. My knees briefly grew weak as I did my best to convince myself that this couldn’t happen, not again, not ever. It was hard to repeat that mantra in my head as my touch worked gently over his bare flesh, his naked, toned, rippling muscles enjoying my touch. When Rorke’s head tilted even further back and he looked right up at me, it took all of my strength not to bend down and kiss him. My hands continued to massage his aching muscles as I tried to remind myself that I had to get out of there quick - or else something completely wrong would happen.

  “I…can’t…” was all I managed to say before running off to my room, shutting the door quickly behind me. I pressed up against the door and listened to Rorke move about the room, knowing I was in over my head. Rorke was all I could think about.

  *****

  ROUND TWELVE

  *****

  Rorke

  The workouts at the gym were grueling but I continued to be encouraged by actually feeling progress, mistakes weren’t as common and I was becoming more comfortable in the ring. The other fighters went from actively trying to kill me to complimenting what I did right and offering me pointers if I messed up. Hubert even gave some encouragement, albeit sparingly. One particular day he was silent towards me, like he was trying to avoid me. Towards the end of the day I became a little nervous when he asked me to stay behind and join him in his office.

  "Close the door," was all he said when I arrived. Though I had walked through the door with a smile and positive attitude, fear took over as I began to believe that this wouldn't be a good conversation.

  "Listen, Rorke, son," Hubert avoided making eye contact as he spoke, "you've been impressing everyone here with the work you've been putting in. Really. You've been working like a dog."

  I knew well enough that there was a "but" coming and sure enough, it arrived almost on cue.

  "But," he said softly, finally looking into my eyes, "you're not a fighter, not yet. You're getting there but you need some time."

  Unsure of how he wanted me to respond, I didn't say anything, waiting for him to return to the praise. He didn't.

  "Let me show you somethi
ng," Hubert gestured for me to join him behind his desk, to come look at his computer monitor. I went back there hoping for the best.

  "This is who you're scheduled to fight. The guy's a beast," he told me before hitting play on the video. It was a compilation of a fighter absolutely destroying several opponents. This guy wasn't huge but he was fast, the exact opposite of my style. His punches were fast and furious, dizzying even just to watch, insanely difficult to defend against, as made evident by the opponents he lay waste to. Funny thing was, it wasn't making me scared, this video my trainer found managed only to pump me up.

  Hubert stopped the video and instructed me to go sit in the chair on the other side. "Rorke, if you get into the ring with this guy, he could very well kill you." His ominous proclamation didn't land like he had hoped it would and he appeared frustrated by my lack of concern. "You need to be smart son, understand your limits." Still no reaction from me. Hubert let loose a deep sigh and leaned over his desk to get closer to me.

  "Listen," he said softly, almost whispering, "I know we had a deal but I'm not gonna hold you to it. It's too dangerous, this guy is too dangerous. After the fights we can figure out some way for you to come back, we'll tell the guys out there you couldn't fight for some reason, it'll be fine. I just can't be responsible for you getting killed by this monster."

  I had a difficult time figuring out if this was some sort of a test but even if it was, he had really managed to piss me off.

  "So what, you expect me to just quit? All this time I'm promising you and everyone else up and down I won't quit and you want me to just walk away? That's bullshit. You gotta realize, you helped set the table for this, getting the guys all hyped by telling them I was a spoiled rich kid who would eventually give up. How would I be able to show my face anywhere again? You've called me a quitter since day one and I've promised you I wasn't. I stick by my word, you stick to yours."