Off Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance

by Harper, Callie

  “Ooh, big word.”

  “Sorry to confuse you.”

  “I’m not the one confused.”

  We stood there practically panting, neither of us backing down. He had a band tattooed around his bicep and perfectly defined pecs like a sculpture, only he wasn’t made of marble. I could feel heat radiating off of his massive chest. I didn’t think I’d ever stood that close to a man that powerful.

  “I’m guessing it’s going to be another early night for you.” He tilted his head to the side, one of those cocky eyebrows lifted slightly.

  “You’ve been going to bed early, too.” Everything he said made me so jumpy and defensive.

  “You’re paying attention to when I go to bed?”

  I exhaled in frustration. Why did he always insist on teasing me? I’d grown up an only child, maybe this was a normal older-brother-pestering-his-younger-sister dynamic. It didn’t feel like that, though. I figured in the typical scenario I wouldn’t notice how low his athletic shorts rode down his lean hips. Any lower and things would get X-rated. Part of me wanted them to slip.

  He was so huge, I had to wonder if he was huge all over. I had to admit, I was curious. I wasn’t exactly an expert in penises. OK, direct experience with two if you had to know. One in the dark in my hand, one with the light on and, yes, still just in my hand. No mouth. No anything else.

  I was still a virgin. You wouldn’t think being a virgin at 20 would be that big a deal, but I sure felt out of it at school. Most everyone around me seemed to think casual, alcohol-soaked hook ups with all kinds of sloppy sex were just a normal part of college life. Honestly, I didn’t judge. I wasn’t the moralizing holier-than-thou kid giving them the evil eye when they did their walk of shame the next morning. If I had to be totally honest, I was a little jealous. I wished I could not care, wished I could be free and not think about any consequences. But I’d seen shit go wrong with my mother far too many times to be able to do that. So, I kept my cards close to my chest. And wore tents.

  “You don’t like any of the guys at work?” Tuck pressed on.

  “I like them fine.” Why was he asking me about this?

  “Anyone special?” I wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face. That and get away from him. Each second in his presence seemed to slow my brain functions, my senses increasingly aware of nothing but him, his nearness, his maleness.

  “Yes,” I flung back, suddenly feeling reckless. “His name is Mike and I like him a lot. I’m hoping we spend tons of time together this summer.” That was 100% true, as was the fact that Mike was 100% gay. He was also funny and smart and we’d hit it off right away.

  “Mike.” His voice dropped lower and suddenly he seemed darker, like a cloud had passed overhead in what had been a blue sky. I shivered.

  “Let me get past you. Please.” My voice came out quiet and pleading. I’d meant to sound bossy and firm but it was hard standing so close to him with my rapidly racing pulse and a slight throb starting down between my legs.

  Then, just like that, he stepped to the side. “Have fun.” He tossed the words over his shoulder and headed down the hallway, dismissing me. I hated how he always made me feel like he had the upper hand.

  I wished I could pack up my bags and go live somewhere else. Unfortunately, my Mom had sold our house in L.A. If I had any money of my own I could have paid for an apartment, but this internship was unpaid. The really prestigious ones usually were. And when I’d chosen to accept it, I’d believed my mom when she’d said she’d be there for most of the summer. It wouldn’t feel so weird in this Bel Air mansion if my mom were there with me.

  Play the tiniest violin for me, I know. I really had nothing to complain about. Here I was, the beneficiary of a freaking billionaire. The only problem was me. I didn’t feel comfortable accepting any of it. I knew this marriage wasn’t going to last. My mother cycled through men like a washing machine. All I could hope for was that when the buzzer went off this time, I’d be safely on my own two feet, degree in hand and nice salaried job finally giving me true independence.

  Until that day, I’d just have to endure Tuck. Thankfully, if there was one thing I knew how to do well it was hide out. I knew how to blend in with the scenery. All I had to do was fade into the background and he’d forget I even existed.

  Problem was, he always seemed to notice me, even when no one else did. He’d noticed me that first time we’d met at that fundraiser. He’d noticed me in New York. I wished I could forget about what had happened there, what I’d seen him doing up against that wall, how it had felt when he’d touched me in the hot tub. Together again under one roof, I thought about it all the time.

  CHAPTER 6

  Tuck

  I couldn’t fucking believe it. Wednesday morning she was doing yoga outside on the pool deck. Dressed in next-to-nothing while she twisted and stretched. Fuck.

  I stood there, sweat dripping off of me from my 6 a.m. run, drinking a bottle of ice water and watching her out the window like a fucking stalker. She usually wore baggy clothes, annoyingly baggy, like she was deliberately trying to hide underneath a bunch of layers. While most girls I knew just about painted on their clothes, prancing around in tiny tank tops and short shorts, Jewel preferred old t-shirts that would probably fit me and sweatpants so loose I’m not even sure how they stayed up on her hips.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about her hips. She was my stepsister. Here to spend the summer in the same house as me. What a fucking joke.

  The last time I’d seen her we’d been in New York. I’d caught her watching me fuck a girl against the wall.

  I took a swig of water and wiped my mouth on my forearm. I liked seeing what she usually hid underneath all those layers. Now all she wore was a jog bra and capri tights. Lean and slim, long tone legs, a flat stomach flaring out into sweet curves, a tight round ass I could sink my teeth into. Perfect tits, a good handful. I bet she had pink nipples, big and sensitive to the touch.

  Damn it. This summer was supposed to be about nothing but training. I’d cleared everything off my deck. Most of my friends didn’t even know I was out in So Cal. That was the point. Everyone I knew through my father, the boarding schools I’d gone to, my college lived back east. I’d come out west to escape it all so I could focus on nothing but training and fighting with the best MMA club in the country.

  But then she showed up. Little Miss Perfect with her wide eyes and fuckable lips, standing there with her creamy legs that went on for miles and that tumble of red hair. What. The. Fuck. She was the last person I’d expected to see.

  I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised. She was my stepsister after all. Most people wouldn’t be too surprised to have a family member walking into their kitchen. But I wasn’t most people and our family wasn’t exactly typical. Step-sis took it up a notch, too, avoiding me and my dad like it was her job. Hell, I don’t even think she let my father pay a cent of her tuition. And from the look of her beater car, she wasn’t taking any handouts on her ride, either.

  She pissed me off, but I had to hand it to her. She was independent. I didn’t know her well, but I already knew I’d been wrong to assume she was just like her mother. The girl was a hard worker, all business all the time. I respected that, even if it did rub me the wrong way. She held a mirror up, reminding me how much I relied on my father’s hand-outs.

  Not for long, though. That was what this summer was all about. Laser-focused, eyes on the prize, nothing distracting me or standing in my way from becoming the best fighter I could be.

  I had to prove it to myself, first. I knew I had what it took. Then I could prove it to the MMA world. I’d been studying Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu since I was ten, wrestling since I was twelve, and now I had an amateur heavyweight win-loss-draw record of 8-1-1. It was enough that scouts and sponsors were sniffing around me.

  But I was a hack and I knew it. The booze, the girls, the partying, I’d been half-assing it my whole life. I had a huge brick shithouse of a body and the drive to push mys
elf, physically. But I’d never had the mental discipline.

  Until now. Now, I wanted to see what I could do. I was lucky to have been accepted onto a kick-ass, highly competitive training team and I was giving it everything I had. This summer the club had lined up a couple exhibition fights for me, the first one this weekend. I was going to dominate, and I was going to do it all based on my own sweat and blood. For once the Helmsworth name didn’t mean shit. I loved it.

  What pose was she doing out there by the pool? Was it called ‘fuck me now’? I practically pressed my nose against the glass of the kitchen window. She had her back arched, tits thrust up, one leg stretched out in front, one leg back with her knee bent and her foot actually up touching her head. So now I had that image burned into my brain. Why did I have to know how flexible she was? All that did was give me all sorts of ideas, all the ways I could bend and stretch her and spread her wide so I could fuck her good and hard and long.

  As if sensing the dark, nasty train of my thoughts, she looked over at me. Of course she had to have emerald green eyes with that red hair, eyes that narrowed as she realized I’d been watching her. I gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement. I wasn’t going to apologize. It was my father’s house. I belonged here. Her mother happened to have married him, but I didn’t give that union long. He maxed out on his partners once they hit their expiration date right around 40 years old. I think this one had about two more years left in her, tops.

  Jewel rolled up her yoga mat. She didn’t seem aware that she was giving me a perfect view of her round ass as she bent over. My cock sprang to attention, imagining bending her over just like that for a much different purpose. She picked up her mat and walked over toward the kitchen, head high, prissy as fuck.

  She didn’t like me. I liked that about her. As Tucker Leland Helmsworth III I’d encountered more than my fair share of suck-ups. Not many people said no to you when your daddy was a billionaire. It taught me early on: don’t trust anyone. You never knew what they were really after, you or your money. So I liked it that Jewel clearly wanted neither.

  “Doing some early morning yoga?” I opened the sliding glass door for her. We had an open floor plan, like most homes in L.A. With every day 80 degrees and sunny, it only made sense.

  “How did you know?” Smartass, she looked at me all wide-eyed pretending to be impressed. I wanted to impress her, that was the problem. I wanted her to look up at me wide-eyed for a whole other reason, her pink lips parting just like that. She glowed from the exercise, a flush in her cheeks. She’d put her hair up in a loose bun and more tumbled out than stayed in, cascading around her, just-fucked curls in her luscious red hair against her creamy skin.

  My fucking stepsister.

  “Just trying to make conversation, sis.” I shifted my weight and held my water bottle in front of my shorts. No sense scaring the girl with my wood.

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped back.

  “Our parents are married, sweetheart. I give it one year, two tops, but—”

  “They won’t make it past twelve months,” she interjected.

  “As I was saying, for now, you’re my stepsister. Or would you rather I just call you sister?”

  “You know I’m not your sister!” Her green eyes flashed as she looked at me with anger and disdain. I loved her like that, all fire and heat. I bet she’d be a fucking firecracker in bed.

  Not going to happen. I was a lecherous fuck, I knew that, but even I had boundaries. My stepsister was off limits. As much as it pained me to say it, I knew it was true. Plus, the last time I’d nearly crossed the line she’d reminded me all about it with a sharp, hard knee to the balls.

  She brushed past me to get to the refrigerator. For a moment, I felt her soft skin, the warmth of her arm against my own. I could see her feel it, too. She clasped her hand up to her skin as if she’d been burned.

  “Everything OK?” I couldn’t help ask. Once you knew you bothered someone it was hard to not go for it. It was like a big, shiny red button was right in front of me with a ‘press me’ sign underneath it. Who was I to say no?

  “I’m fine.” She brushed me off and opened the fridge. She bent over again as she dug around in the fruit bin. She needed to wear tights more often. That ass was a national treasure, so high and tight.

  “Are you finished?” She knew I’d been checking her out. Holding an apple, she slammed the fridge door closed and stood there with a hand on her hip. Like a prim and proper teacher, standing up in front of the class, annoyed with the poor behavior. I’d like to take her over my knee and give her some discipline.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I stood there, shirtless, and decided why not. I lifted up my water bottle and took a long swig. Once I finished, I had her right where I wanted her. Her eyes were locked on the huge bulge in my shorts, the nylon tenting over my giant cock. Now her eyes widened for all the right reasons.

  “Are you finished?” I taunted her, flashing a wicked smile.

  “Uh!” Throwing her hands up in frustration, she tore her eyes away. Her cheeks flushed a deep rosy pink, so sensitive. “You’re disgusting.”

  “Just a healthy American male.” I sauntered slowly out of the room, taking another swig from my bottle, feeling her eyes on me as I left. “You have a good time today saving the world, sis.”

  “I’m working at the Marine Mammal Center!” She called after me.

  Man, I liked fucking with her.

  That was the problem. How could I focus on training when I walked around hard as a fucking rock? I’d planned to be celibate this summer, none of my usual distractions. But I might need to change my plans. Four days around Jewel and I already knew I wasn’t going to make it one, never mind eight weeks without plowing into some pussy.

  Jewel. She might be the one person who could make this Bel Air mansion seem small. How many bedrooms did this place have? My father loved ostentatious displays of wealth. Now that he had his third trophy wife, he’d really gone for it. You’d think with almost 10,000 square feet we wouldn’t see each other that often. You’d be wrong.

  Seemed like every time I walked into the kitchen she was there, her glasses sliding down her nose, her knee tucked up as she read some book. I wondered how many men she’d been with. Probably not that many, but a girl that fucking hot couldn’t have flown completely under the radar. Some chess-playing geek had probably hit the fucking jackpot one night after a long study session. For some reason the thought made me want to hunt him down and rip out his heart while it was still beating. Must be the protective brother instinct in me. Yeah, right.

  I had an exhibition fight in four days. I needed to focus. And maybe I’d ask her to come see me fight?

  §

  Thursday morning, 6 a.m., I got up to go for a run. In the hallway, I paused for a moment outside of her door. Usually she got up at the same time I did. Five days now sharing this house and we’d settled into something of a routine. The walls weren’t exactly thin, but I was aware of her movements. Too aware. I could hear her alarm when she woke up, her soft footfalls down the hallway to the bathroom. Just keep on walking, I’d think, just one more door to my room.

  She never did, of course. After a few minutes she’d head back to her room and I’d get up and brush my teeth, then dress for my run. I’d see her when I got back. Except for yesterday when she’d nearly killed me doing yoga, I’d typically see her sitting curled in a patch of sunlight in the kitchen. She liked sitting over by the sliding glass doors, and she liked tea instead of coffee. She ate plain Greek yogurt and as a high-protein, low-sugar person myself I had to respect the choice.

  We were like an old married couple, right down to the fact that we didn’t speak to each other. She mostly ignored me.

  But sometimes she’d look up with a shy glance. Other times I’d catch her checking me out. I knew I was a fine specimen. I didn’t even feel cocky acknowledging it, it was just fact. When girls threw themselves at you 24/7 you pretty much got the messa
ge—they liked what they saw. Plus now I was honing my body into a machine, ruthlessly taking it to the extreme limit, all hard muscle, not an ounce of fat. I knew she wanted to take a look.

  I couldn’t help letting her know that I knew. I’d give her a wink, flex a bicep for her. How could I not when it made her pink right up? I couldn’t touch her, she was my fucking stepsister. But I couldn’t resist provoking a response, seeing the blush steal across her cheeks, knowing she felt flustered and agitated because of me.

  Fucked up? Sure. I never said I wasn’t fucked up. At least I’d managed to keep my hands off of her. Except for the first time we met. And that time in New York. Last night lying in bed, unable to sleep, I’d thought about that night. We’d been in a hot tub, together in the steam surrounded by the city. That night had given me something to think about while I’d lain in bed, hand around my thick cock, stroking, pumping, imagining it was her hand on me.

  I stood there outside her door but I couldn’t hear a thing. Maybe she’d left early while I was still asleep? Or maybe her alarm hadn’t gone off? Jewel was wound so tight, if she ever overslept she’d probably never forgive herself. The girl had more discipline than most of the pro fighters at the club, and that was saying something.

  I could imagine knocking. She’d open the door, her hair messy from sleep, rubbing her eyes and yawning, her tits thrust against some little sleep shirt as she stretched. She’d blink those big, green eyes at me and I could see myself taking a step inside, running my hands along those curves, crushing her against me before she even fully woke up. I could take advantage of the moment with her brain still sleepy and half shut-down, and I could seize it, grab her, inflame the physical need I could sense within. She felt it, the same as me. We wanted each other.

  Fuck it. I wouldn’t open the door. I’d let her sleep, if that’s what she was doing. Or maybe she was out on a breakfast date with Mike. That was probably the kind of shit a Marine Mammal Center guy like him did, sunrise hikes with granola and yoga. I hated him. I’d never laid eyes on him, but that didn’t matter.