“I didn’t take you as the kind of girl not to wear a bra,” I say. “I like it.
“The dress has built-in support.” She makes a face as if she’s thinking, did I really just say that?
She wraps her legs around my waist, hauling me back to her, and with my hand still between her legs, I slide my thumb deeper until–fuck–I feel the slick wetness coating her seam.
Her back arches and she presses herself against me, telling me she wants more. If it’s more, she wants, more she’ll get.
The memories of when we first got together all those years ago come rushing back. No girl I’ve been with has ever measured up to Taylor. Everyone else was the appetizer while she’s the main course.
It’s as if I’ve been waiting for her, craving her. I don’t recall my cock ever being this hard or ever throbbing this much. But, I remind myself, this is one night and one night only, but I’ll make it a night she’ll remember for the rest of her life. One I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
Moving away from her slightly, I work her damp panties down her thighs and step away so I can pull them off. Now she’s in front of me splayed wide. She’s like a dirty angel come down from heaven to torture me, and I need to get myself under control before I lose it in my pants like a fifteen-year-old on his first date.
“Let me see you,” she says, her voice husky. She moves her eyes towards my crotch. “Show me if you’re everything I remember.”
Wordlessly, I unbuckle my belt, unbutton, and unzip my fly. I grab my dick, pulling it out. A drop of precum already seeps from the tip.
She gives a small groan that tells me she likes what she sees.
“You said no sex. Remember? But, I have a feeling you want my cock deep inside your pussy.” To demonstrate, I move my fingers to her opening and slide two into her tight heat. Her inner muscles immediately clamp down and my cock twitches at her response.
She focuses her dilated eyes on mine. “Not going to happen. I’ll take you in my mouth. In my hand, but I won’t take you inside me.”
“You sure about that?” I twist my fingers around inside her pussy, corkscrewing them in and out. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” she says breathlessly. Beneath my movements, her hips undulate, and her fingers scramble against the rock seeking purchase.
She moves her feet to my dick and wraps them around the sides. Jesus. In all my years of having sex, no one has ever jerked me off with their feet before. I almost blow my load there and then.
In response, I slam my fingers into her and am rewarded with an aching moan. It seems the 18-year-old virgin I had two years ago has learned a few tricks. And I can’t say I mind.
“Does that feel good?” I ask, “You like my fingers fucking you?”
She bites her lip and throws her head back.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Slipping my fingers from her, I get down on my knees and kiss my way up her legs, inhaling and tasting the entire way to her pussy.
She spreads herself even wider. I like this version of Taylor. The woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to show me.
I bury my head between her thighs, and the first thing I do is take a deep breath. When I’m at home jerking off to this later, I want to remember her clean, musky scent.
Without warming her up any more, using the flat of my tongue, I lick from her pussy opening right to the top of her clit.
As if she’s been shot full of electricity, she shoots upwards and cries out. Continuing my torture, I lick her clit, tapping it every now and again with the tip of my tongue to break up the sequence.
More pre-come seeps from my cock and I wrap my free hand around it. Grabbing hard, I begin to stroke up and down.
I lift my mouth from her clit and ask, “You know what I’m going to do?”
“Tell me.”
“I’m going to jerk myself off while I eat your pussy, and then I’m going to have you suck and lick my come off my hands and dick.”
As if in a drunken stupor, she nods.
Using my thumb and pointer finger, I open her folds, which gives me better access to her puffy clit.
I latch on, securing my mouth around her taut button.
“Oh, God,” she cries, her back bowing. She lifts her legs and rests her feet on my shoulders.
I now have one hand on my cock and one hand rimming the opening of her pussy while my mouth sucks and slurps, eating all of her. This is the stuff fantasies are made of.
The entire time, I keep my eyes locked on her, trained on her every movement.
Her hands are now on her breasts, and she’s twisting her nipples, pinching them hard. The sight makes me pump my cock harder, faster, rougher.
Too bad she’s going to be my stepsister because I have a feeling if we had the chance, things between us could get crazy.
On a loud moan, she throws her head back. Her thighs tense, her back arches and she pushes her breasts towards the sky. Her pussy muscles clench around my fingers, and I know she’s a few seconds from coming.
Good.
I keep sucking her clit, trapping the small bud between my teeth, and I pump my fingers in and out of her while continuing to pump my cock. A hoarse groan sounds in my throat. Just like a fucking inexperienced teenager I’m about to lose my fucking load.
Taylor presses her crotch against my mouth, searching for her release. The release I’m desperate for her to have. Usually, I make a woman wait, make them scream and beg for it, but I can’t hold back anymore.
In what feels like a flash of white heat, she screams. Her inner muscles push down on my fingers almost expelling them from her body.
Over and over her clit and pussy spasm as she gives me everything. When a second round of shocks rocks her, that’s all I need to go over the edge. With my fingers still inside her and my mouth still on her, I shoot my load over my fingers.
There’s so much, it’s like I’ve never ejaculated before. It keeps coming and coming and coming. Taylor is killing me. She makes me feel like I’ve never felt in my life. After-shocks rock my body, and she wiggles to get away from me.
“No more please,” she begs, “No more. I can’t.”
Reluctantly, I kneel back with my fingers wrapped around my still semi-hard, cum covered cock.
Where the fuck did all this cum come from? It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. More than a few weeks, but I jerk off every day, so I don’t understand where or how it all came from. I pull off my T-shirt and clean myself up. I have clothes in my car, I’ll change when I get there.
“I, um,” Taylor says.
I look up.
She’s fixing her dress, shielding her body from my eyes and then stands. “Oh, God. We shouldn’t have done that. I should go.”
The look on her face is one of stunned embarrassment. As if she can’t believe what just took place between us.
She’s dismissing me. Dismissing what happened between us. She got what she wanted, and now she’s regretting it. I don’t mind her using me to get herself off, but I do mind her acting like it’s something she wants to bleach from her memory.
“Yeah,” I say, “you probably should. I stand and tuck my dick back into my pants.
“Well, um, thanks,” she says, picking up her panties.
I know I should be a gentleman and walk her back to her mom’s house, but right now I’m not feeling all that gentlemanly.
I watch her run along the beach, and I don’t go after her. She’s acting like she hates me, or maybe she hates herself and is taking it out on me.
Well, too bad. As much as she doesn’t want me in her life, every time I look at her face over the Thanksgiving and Christmas table—if I bother showing up—she’ll always be reminded of what happened on the beach. Twice.
Chapter 6
Taylor
My alarm goes off at 6AM, and my eyes spring open. Not that they closed much the entire night.
What the fuck was I thinking?
<
br /> What the fuck did I do?
I wasn’t thinking, and that’s the problem. The last time I hooked up with Aaron, I could blame the wine coolers—yeah, because that’s what it was. Last night I hadn’t had so much as a sip of champagne because I was too worried about things going wrong. And then they went wrong in an epic way.
When I saw his silhouette standing by the ocean, I had no intention of doing anything. But if that were really true, I would’ve walked the other way. I would’ve pretended I didn’t see him.
I grip the comforter and fling it over my face to hide my embarrassment. Doesn’t matter that I’m the only one in the room and there’s no one else around to witness my humiliation.
As much as I want to lie to myself about what happened last night, I can’t.
Maybe the reason I went to the beach is because deep down I knew he’d be there. From the minute he walked into the tent, I wanted him. My body wanted him even if my mind balked at the idea. When I told him I had little experience with men, I was telling him the truth—I don’t. He’s the only man I’ve ever been with.
Like most kids growing up, I’ve watched some porn, read some books, and looked at pictures, so I have a general idea about what I’m doing, and I know what I want. Not that I did anything last night except lie on the boulder. Aaron took care of himself, which was kind of disappointing because I would have liked to have touched him more.
He. Blew. My. Mind.
When I orgasmed, it was like I’d died for a few seconds before coming back to life. My self-administered orgasms felt nothing like that. Not even in the same zip code. Sure, I get a few flutters and tingles when I make myself come, but when I came on his mouth, my entire body shook, every cell exploded, and every synapse fired.
That kind of climax was probably a one-off. There’s no way it could be like that every single time. Considering how anxious and tense I’ve been, I probably just needed the release.
The way the night ended makes me groan. I ran away like a scared little girl practically leaving him with his dick sticking out of his pants. Real mature. Very womanly.
What was I supposed to do or say, “Hey, thanks for the orgasm. See you tomorrow, brother.” Which I kind of did say.
I clench the comforter even harder and close my eyes as nuclear levels of embarrassment scorch my body. And as if throwing myself at Aaron wasn’t bad enough, when I got back last night, I checked my emails. I’d received one from my mom’s friend. At the last minute, she and her husband had decided to take their kids to Europe for the summer, and they didn’t need a nanny. I was pissed because I’d planned the next two months around working for her.
Well, what’s done is done. I’ll figure out my summer plans tomorrow, and as for today, I’ll pretend like nothing happened. All day I’ll act like I have amnesia. That’s probably the best way to deal with the Aaron situation.
My clit tingles with sensitivity, and I remember the way he sucked and nibbled. What I wouldn’t give for another one of those orgasms right now. To feel that release again. To let go of all the tension whirling inside me. My fingers wander down my body, and I consider getting myself off, but before I can do anything, a knock rattles my bedroom door.
“You awake, baby?” My mom opens the door and pokes her head in. Her hair is wet, and her skin glows.
“Today’s the big day,” she says, her voice shakes a little, and I can tell she’s nervous.
I pull the comforter off my face and sit up. “Mom, are you okay?”
“I’m good. It’s not every day I get married.” She comes into my room and closes the door.
I know my mom better than anyone, and something is bothering her. “Spill.”
“I think I made a mistake.”
“What do you mean a mistake?” My stomach bottoms out and I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack with how hard my heart just seized. “Don’t you want to get married?”
“God, yes. He’s the man I want to grow old with. He’s a man I want to take a cruise around the world with when we retire.” She wrings her hands in front of her stomach and plays with her engagement ring—a tasteful, white gold princess cut solitaire. “Having a big white wedding and inviting two-hundred people. We should’ve eloped.”
“Like you did with my dad?”
“That was different. Your dad and I married at the courthouse because I was pregnant with you. I was never the kind of woman who dreamed of a white wedding because I never thought I’d get married again.” She sits on my mattress and takes my hand. “I feel too old for all this pomp and circumstance.”
I squeeze her hand and say, “You’re only forty. You look more like my sister than my mom. You’re so not too old for a big white dress and cake that would feed a small country. You’re walking down the aisle to the man you love. I know you’re nervous, but try not to be.”
She sighs and pats my hand, but I still see the worry in her emerald green eyes, eyes so much like mine. “You’re right, baby girl. You’re right. How about I make all of us some pancakes before we get dressed?”
“I don’t think I can eat,” I say, setting my hand on my queasy stomach. “I think I’m more nervous than you.”
She stands up, and when she stretches, her robe falls open. There’s a slight roundness curving her usually flat stomach. Is there something my mom isn’t telling me?
“What time is Chelsea coming over,” she asks, tying her robe. “I’m surprised she didn’t stay last night.”
“She should be over within the hour. She wanted to spend the night with her dad.”
She moves towards the door, but before she leaves, she turns and says, “Since you two were always joined at the hip, she’s always been like my daughter. I feel privileged at becoming her stepmom. I know no one will ever replace her mom, but I hope our relationship doesn’t change now that I’m marrying her dad.”
“You don’t need me to tell you how much Chels loves you, Mom. Heck, she sometimes confides in you before me.”
“I want us all to be happy. And I hope Aaron and his dad can find a way.”
I step out of bed and stick my feet in my bunny slippers. “We will be happy. We are happy. Even Aaron.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asks, a flash of worry flitting across her eyes. “Did you talk to him much last night? I saw you dancing.”
“We talked a little,” I reply, my cheeks reddening at the lie I’m telling her.
Her fingers go to her hair, and she drags on the ends, pulling her corkscrew curls straight. “You think he’s going to stick around for a while?”
“Who knows with Aaron.”
“It would mean a lot to his dad if he visited more.”
“I know, Mom. Just don’t count on it.” I’m not sure whose benefit I say that for—hers or mine. “You know how it is with college football. He might have been benched for most of the year, but he still has commitments.”
“You’re right.” She gives me a wide smile and opens my bedroom door. “Time to get the show on the road.” She’s doing her best to hide how nervous she is, but I can always tell. When she’s on edge, she fidgets with her fingers and hair.
Today is a big deal for her, for all of us, not only because she’s getting married but because she’ll be on show. Being the center of attention isn’t something my mom likes. Another one of the ways I’m like her, which, considering I’m the flyer in the cheer squad, is weird.
Today, we’re both going to have to tuck our introvert tendencies away and put on a show. I have to be prepared for every eventuality, and that means being focused on my mom and Coach Thompson and not on Aaron.
***
While Chelsea finishes her makeup in the bathroom, I’m with my mom in her bedroom.
She’s smoothing down her dress in front of the full-length mirror, and I stand behind her. I gaze at our reflections. We really are like sisters. We both have almond-shaped, green eyes, brunette hair—hers is curly, mine is straight—and red cupid’s bow lips with a ligh
t smattering of freckles over our noses.
Not for the first time today, I notice the slight curve of her stomach. Her empire line dress seems to accentuate it. Now that I think back to last night, I don’t recall her having any wine. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I saw her take a drink.
“You look stunning, Mom. Coach Thompson—Jack—is a lucky man to have you.”
“You look stunning too.” I’m wearing an aquamarine maxi dress with thin spaghetti straps that crisscross the whole way down my back. The front has a lowcut sweetheart neckline, and it’s more revealing than I’d normally wear, but when I tried it on, I knew it was the dress for me.
I glance at my mom’s stomach again and open my mouth to ask if there’s anything she wants to tell me, but Chelsea comes into the room and I decide now isn’t the time.
My best friend and soon to be sister squees with excitement. “OMG, Sherry. My dad is going to freak when he sees you.” Tears fill her eyes, and she waves her hands in front of them doing her best not to smear her mascara.
“You look beautiful too, Chelsea,” my mom says, holding her hands to her heart. “And I think Wes is going to freak when he sees you.” Chelsea is wearing the same color as I am, except her dress has one shoulder and is made from chiffon while mine is made from silk.
She flicks her golden hair over her shoulder. The daisies entwined in her hair flutter. She’s wearing them as a sweet tribute to her mom. “As he should,” Chelsea says.
We all give watery laughs and hold hands.
“It’s not like we’re not already a family,” I say, “but now we’re officially a family.”
“Forever,” Chelsea says.
“Forever,” I repeat.
“Forever,” my mom confirms.
I release their hands, go to the door and open it. I nod towards Shayla and Becca who grin excitedly before they walk downstairs. They’re going to inform the band to start the music and let everyone know the bride is on her way.
Then it hits me. I’m going to see Aaron. Shit on a fucking stick. I’ve been so busy all morning making sure everything was in order. Like the food, the drinks, and the dresses. I haven’t had time to think about him or think about seeing him, but what can I do? It’s not like I can run away and bury my head in the sand—as tempting as that is.
Out of Line: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Page 4