Stepbrother Studs: Taboo A-Z Boxed Set Volume 2: A Stepbrother Romance Bundle (Stepbrother Studs Boxed Sets) (17 page)

 

“Ready, baby?”  His hips shifting, making his cock bump up against me. 

 

“Mmm... 
hike
!”  I giggled, pressing my shoulders to the bd. 

 

His bark of laughter was followed by a deep plunge of his hips, and then neither of us were laughing anymore.  Fuck!  He was so big, filling me, stretching me just like I knew he would.  I arched my back to press my ass against his groin and wiggled.  I liked the snug fit.  Liked the way his cock heated up my channel. 

 

“So tight,” he muttered, fingers gripping my hips. 

 

“What, you didn’t think your sister’s pussy would be so tight and wet?”  I smiled smugly, looking back and squeezing down on him, my pussy clenching.  Hayden hissed between his teeth and grimaced. 

 

“Brat.”  His hand came down on my ass with a hard smack, making me yelp.  That made him smile, something devilish dancing in his eyes.  “You’re gonna get it.” 

 

“Oooo are you gonna give it to me?”  I tossed my hair over my shoulder, a blonde waterfall. 

 

“You better fucking believe it.”  His fingers curved into my hipbones, thumbs pressing into the globes of my behind.  “I’m going to fucking pound this sweet, tight, little ass.” 

 

His words made me feel faint and my ass clenched involuntarily.  That made him moan and he pulled his cock back just so he could drive it into me again. 

 

“Oh yeah!”  My toes curled as I took every glorious inch of his cock.  “Fuck me!  Baby, take me hard!”

 

“You want it hard?”  He pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the head lodged inside, then thrust forward again.  And again.  And again.  He repeated those long, hard, deep strokes, building momentum and speed, until his balls slapped my clit every time he thudded against me. 

 

And still, it wasn’t enough. 

 

“Harder, baby!”  I begged, my clit throbbing as he stopped to grind deep, his balls against my clit, the head of his cock so deep it hurt.  “Oh my fucking God, harder!  Come on, fuck me!  Do it hard, make me feel it!” 

 

“You feel that, baby?”  He pumped into me faster, plunging deep, hammering my pussy.  The wet sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, echoed in my head.  “You feel that?” 

 

“Yes!  Oh yes, yes, like that!”  I clutched the bedding, stretched out a hand to brace myself against the headboard to keep his powerful strokes from shoving me too far forward.  The bed banged the wall with his hard, relentless drive, and I was loving it.  Every time he sank into me, I cried out, my arousal building, coiling inside me, ready to burst. 

 

“Oh God, I’m close,” I panted.  “Don’t stop. 
Don’t.  Stop!”

 

But he slowed and slapped my ass, giving me shorter thrusts. 

 

“Hayden!”  I protested, but he pulled out anyway, making me cry out as he flipped me onto my back. 

 

He propped himself over me with one hand, clutching his cock with the other to feed it back inside me.  He began moving again, seeming in no hurry while I whimpered, so close to exploding, feeling like it was too much, and not enough. 

 

He brushed away the hair sticking to my face, touching my breasts, pinching my nipples, then trailed his hand down my belly to my cunt.  There, he touched my clit, circling two fingertips over it, around and around until I quieted and grew restless again. 

 

“Hayden...  ?”  I asked, my voice wispy-thin, looking at him through dazed, half-closed eyes. 

 

“Yes, baby.  Tell me what you want.”

 

But I had to show him.  I raised my legs, draping my calves over his shoulders, my body jack-knifed beneath him.  He clutched my hands, entwining his fingers in mine, and pinning them over my head.  It was like he knew just what I wanted, without me having to say a word. 

 

He rested on his elbows, hips moving again, slow then fast, faster, as he continued to pummel my pussy. 

 

Watching him fuck me was almost like seeing him running down toward the infield, his hands outstretched for the ball—every fiber of muscle stretched and ready to for the moment the leather slid into his hands.  It was so fucking good it made me flush with heat. 

 

“You feeling it now, little sister?”  he panted, face close to mine, fingers gripping my hands.  He had me completely immobilized under him, taking everything he had to give me. 

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” I cried, my head thrashing side-to-side. 

 

“Look at me,” he insisted when I turned my face, closed my eyes. 

 

I did what he asked, whimpering as he ground his hips into me, his cock buried deep.  I’d never felt anything this intense, never hurtled so high. 

 

“I want to watch you come,” he whispered, capturing my mouth for a brief kiss before he started fucking again, rutting into me, deep, deeper. 

 

“Hayden!”  My toes curled behind his back, my fingers grasping his.  “Oh fuck!  Fuck!”

 

“Tell me.” 

 

“I’m gonna come!  Oh I’m gonna come all over your big fucking cock!” 

 

“Whose cock?” 

 

I was almost too far gone to realize what he wanted but when I realized, it pushed me immediately over the edge. 

 

“My big brother’s cock!”  I gasped, lifting my chin and meeting his glittering eyes.  “Ohhhh yes, big brother, make me come all over you!” 

 

He grunted and gave me my orgasm like a gift.  I came so hard, I keened, the sound careening off his bedroom walls, and still he didn’t slow. 

 

He wasn’t about to give me any mercy. 

 

I’d asked him to make me feel it, and he was. 

 

“Again,” he breathed, his voice harsh and ragged. 

 

He was barely sweating.  Not gasping, like I was.  He was like a machine.  My own goddamned Terminator. 

 

“I can’t,” I gasped, but he didn’t give up.  He let go my hands and shifted me under him, my legs moving down off his shoulders, around his waist.  He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, kissing my cheek, my throat, burying his face in my hair as he fucked me. 

 

“Oh Kel, you feel so fucking good,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear. 

 

“You like your little sister’s pussy?”  I half-smiled when he looked at me, his eyes dark.  “You like fucking it?” 

 

“Yes.”  He groaned when I squeezed him.  “Oh fuck, yes, yes.”

 

“Give me what I want.”  I slipped a hand down between our bodies and clutched his balls, giving them a firm tug. 

 

“Tell me.”  He grabbed a handful of my hair, tilting my head back so he could look at me.  “Ohhh fuck, tell me, tell me!” 

 

“Now, big brother,” I purred, giving his balls a gentle squeeze.  So much cum in there, all for me.  “Come for me.”

 

He grunted and jerked inside me, his hips losing rhythm as his face tightened. 

 

“Jesus, Kel.  Fuck. 
Fuck.  Fuck
.”  His hands moved down my body, fingers digging into my ass as he cradled it.  He threw back his head and yelled, and all I could do was stare. 

 

He was beautiful.  Every muscle tensed, sweat gleaming on the hills of his chest, shadows accentuating hollows.  He bucked and burrowed, fucking faster, building friction that set fire to my pussy. 

 

I gave a shout, and he stared down at me, holding my gaze as his jaw sagged and he pounded me harder.  His cum slicked my passage, eased his thrusts.  The lewd, wet sounds we made together pushed me over again.  My vision blurred as a wave of excruciating pleasure washed over me. 

 

When we could breathe again, Hayden lowered my legs then lay atop me, his hands still cupping my ass, his face snug in the corner of my neck. 

 

I soothed him with strokes up and down his back, marveling at the depth of muscle surrounding his spine, at the way his powerful body trembled in the aftermath. 

 

“This could work,” I whispered into his ear. 

 

His tongue licked up the side of neck.  His cock twitched deep inside me. 

 

“This was fucking hot,” he mumbled.  “Best.  Sex.  Ever.”

 

Then his breath held, and I knew he was waiting for me to echo the sentiment. 

 

“I’ve never come so hard,” I confessed.  “I feel...  boneless.”

 

“Better than a workout?” 

 

“Therapeutic and aerobic.”  I smiled and petted his hair. 

 

His hands slid from under me, and I quickly wrapped my legs around him to keep him lodged inside me.  I knew it would be hard to lie, to pull away emotionally, when our bodies were connected. 

 

I kissed his chin, his nose, then pressed my lips against his, before dropping my head to the mattress to meet his serious gaze. 

 

“This could work,” I repeated.  “Us.  Together.”

 

His eyebrows lowered, and again, that touch of fear was in his eyes.  “Mom and Dad?” 

 

“Are miles away.”  I shrugged.  “Besides, we have two years of college left.  A lot can happen.  We just have to stick to one basic rule.”

 

“And that would be?” 

 

“We’ll always be honest.  And if one of us decides this is over, we don’t get butt-hurt, and we don’t pull away.  Sex can bring us closer, even if it doesn’t last.  I love you, Hayden.  I loved you before I wanted you.  That won’t change.  Not ever.”

 

“I love you, too.”  His smile was soft and sweet.  “But I’ve wanted you forever.  Remember that time you caught me jerking off?” 

 

I nodded, my chest expanding. 

 

“I was thinking about you.  It’s why I let you watch me cum.  When I’m fucking my fist, it’s always you.”

 

Well, I’d given him an out.  And I meant what I said.  No matter what happened in the future, I wouldn’t let this get awkward. 

 

“So, I think...  we should keep this our secret.”

 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t like anyone talking bad about you.”  His face screwed into a grimace.  “It’s no one’s business but ours.”

 

“We’ll spend more time together.  Study together.”

 

“Work out together.  It’ll make things...  easier.”

 

“Yeah.  Easier.  Sounds like a plan,” I said, smiling up at him. 

 

We had time to figure this out.  Time to be a couple before we let the rest of the world in on our dirty little secret. 

 

“In the meantime...”  I gave him a sly smile, running a hand down his back, digging my fingernails into his tight ass.  “I need a little more help, big brother.  I have this itch...”

 

His smile grew wicked.  His cock twitched again.  It had been steadily filling as we talked and was now thick and lodged deep inside my juicy channel.  He rolled until I was on top. 

 

I slid my knees close to his hips and braced my hands against his wide chest.  The next two years were ours to explore.  A jock and a cheerleader.  Brother and sister. 

 

“Fuck buddies?”  I teased, rising slightly, then grinding down. 

 

“You’ll pay for that,” he said, gripping my hips and giving me a little jiggle. 

 

“Lovers, then,” I said, giggling.  “My guy.”

 

“My girl.”

 

“Best dick ever.”  I gave a sexy grind of my hips and drilled down on his cock. 

 

“Last dick, little sister.”

 

And because I’d always been able to read his needs, see into his heart, I believed. 

 

 

Stepbrother Studs: Ian

 

Veronica’s sexy, punk-rock stepbrother, Ian, gets angry when she brings girls home, but she does it anyway. 

 

Because while he tells her it’s because they make so much noise he can’t concentrate, she knows he secretly listens to them through the vent they share between their rooms. 

 

In fact, Veronica has a habit of keeping that vent wide open, just for that purpose. 

 

She has to admit, she likes making Ian squirm, and she can’t help but wonder if she might be making her stepbrother just a little bit jealous? 

 

That thought makes Veronica squirm. 

 

But one night, Veronica does something that pushes her stepbrother a little too far, and she finds out something she never expected. 

 

And only dreamed of. 

 

 

“It’s just...  distracting, that’s all.”  Ian cleared his throat and continued to stir Ramen Noodles in the pot on the stove.  It was his specialty—he made a Thai version that was out of this world with peanut butter, green onions and shaved carrots.  She loved it when he made Thai ramen. 

 

Veronica crossed her arms and leveled her older stepbrother with what she hoped was a quelling look.  Like he had any right to complain about the noise she made in their little apartment?  I mean, really—Ian, Mr.  Punk Rock, who played that Johnny Rotten crap on his Bose iPod speakers at max volume—complaining about her? 

 

Hello Pot, this is Kettle! 

 

“Distracting, huh?”  The side of Veronica’s mouth rose into a smirk.  “Distracting how?” 

 

“Oh come on.”  Ian rolled his eyes, picking the pot up from the stove and carrying it to the sink to drain the broth.  Veronica moved over a little, leaning against the fridge instead of the edge of the counter, to give him room.  The kitchen was tiny.  “If I was having sex with some girl that loud, you’d skin me alive.”

 

“Well, maybe not alive.”  She grinned when he glanced over at her. 

 

“What the hell are you doing with her anyway?”  He gave her a sideways look as he shook the noodles around in the strainer and poured them back into the pot.  “I kept hearing this loud thump.  Not, you know, like fucking, but...  what, were you banging her head against the wall on occasion, just for fun?  Is she into pain or something?” 

 

Veronica snorted a laugh.  “I bet you’d like to know.” 

 

Ian rolled his eyes again, but she saw the way the back of his neck reddened.  Veronica knew he listened whenever she had her friends over to “play.”  Jessie and Amanda were lovers—but occasionally they enjoyed adding a third, for a little fun and variety.  Sometimes the three of them played at their place, but for some reason—probably the plethora of sex toys Veronica had in a box under her bed—they enjoyed staying over at Veronica’s when they had their little “play dates.” 

 

They practically had to play musical chairs at the breakfast table in their cramped little apartment.  But she wouldn’t give it up for the world—it was the real deal, in the coolest neighborhood in the city.  Ian could walk to the music store where he worked, and Veronica could walk to the Double Crow, where she served drinks. 

 

But their rooms were right next to each other and the walls were paper thin.  Worse, there was a vent between the rooms, and if she didn’t close it, or vice versa, the sound carried.  Even if Ian didn’t bring girls home often, she’d heard him jerking off before in the middle of the night.  It was hard not to listen. 

 

And obviously Ian listened to her too. 

 

“I’m just saying, it’s hard to get things done when...  you know...” Ian mixed the noodles with the peanut butter sauce and vegetables while Veronica got out bowls and forks.  Her stomach was growling. 

 

“Just play your music louder,” she suggested, holding out her bowl for noodles.  Ian scooped her a little less than half of what was in the pot.  “Dude, I can’t help it if we get a little loud.” 

 

They sat at the little table across from each other, their knees touching, it was so tiny.  She was wearing a faded pair of jeans with holes in the knees and she felt his bare leg brush hers.  Ian was just in boxers and a t-shirt, his usual apartment attire, if there was no one else around.  Her older stepbrother had filled out in the past couple years. 

 

“A little loud?”  Ian tilted his head and raised a pierced eyebrow at her.  “It sounds like you guys are making a porno in your room.” 

 

“You wish.”  She grinned through a mouthful of noodles when he looked at her from under his thick, heavy brows.  “Ian, get real.  Do you hear me complaining about the millionth time you played the Sex Pistols?  I mean, all those dead, 70s losers.  Blah.  But do I tell
you
to keep it down?  No, I don’t.” 

 

“Hey, the Sex Pistols were about fighting back.”  Ian slurped noodles, using the side of the table edge to crack open the top of his beer.  “It’s better than all that ‘
ooh I’m so sad I’m gonna kill myself
’ emo crap you listen to.” 

 

“You know fuck-all about Emo, you punk-assed idiot.”  She nudged him under the table, wrinkling her nose at him when he looked at her over the beer bottle he held to his lips.  “Just turn up your music and quit complaining, all right?” 

 

“Sure.”  Ian put his beer down and Veronica picked it up and took a swig.  “I’ll turn my music up louder.  Then we’ll have old man Quimby at the door again, threatening us with eviction.”

 

“Fuck old man Quimby.”  Veronica handed his beer back. 

 

“Okay, then, I’ll tell him that when he comes.  And the rest of the neighbors with their torches and pitchforks.”  Ian gave her a long, judgy look from under those dark brows of his.  Sometimes he made her want to smack him upside the head.  “There have been too many complaints already.  You aren’t making enough money that we can afford to move.  It still amazes me that we can afford
this
place even, shitty as it is.”

 


I’m
not making enough money?”  Veronica twirled her noodles and scowled at him.  “Since when are they giving you tips at the music store?  When was the last time you did a shift and your dickhead boss didn’t give you some lecture on how the minimum wage was ‘socialism’ or something.  Your fucking boss won’t give you a raise despite the fact you’re the only one who knows how that place works.”

 

Veronica really didn’t want to argue with him, but it was turning out to be another head-butting session.  She really just wanted to make up with him, curl up on the couch, and watch the Netflix marathon of Dexter they were in the middle of.  But no.  He had to bring up her loud sex with the girls.  It wasn’t her fault that Jessie and Amanda were so...  exuberant. 

 

“Maybe I should tell him to fuck off too and then you can support us both.”  Ian scowled back at her.  “Since your tips are so great and all.”

 

Oh great.  Now he was going to make it about that.  All she’d been trying to say was that he was underpaid, given his level of knowledge and experience.  Why couldn’t she just tell him what she really meant?  What she really felt? 

 

Veronica saw the rigid set to his jaw and knew it was too late.  He was already mad.  And she had a feeling he wasn’t really mad about what she’d said—he was mad about her and Amanda and Jessie.  And not just because they were loud. 

 

“You’re Mr.  Responsible all of a sudden, for a guy with Johnny Rotten posters all over his wall,” Veronica pointed out, slurping up the noodles.  They weren’t going to get out of this without bickering, that much was obvious.  And for some reason, she couldn’t seem to keep this stuff from spilling out of her mouth.  “Before you start wearing a suit and a tie, you might think about cleaning the bathroom once in a while.”

 

“I did it last time.”

 

“Last year, you mean.”

 

“You always change the subject.”  Ian sat back and sighed.  “This isn’t about bathrooms.  It’s about me having to listen to your friends screaming ‘oh Veronica, more, more, fuck me more’ all night long.”  He imitated Jessie and Amanda in a high falsetto.  “Doesn’t that start to bore the crap out of you?” 

 

“You should be so bored,” Veronica snapped, taking another swig of his beer. 

 

“Fuck off.”  He grabbed his beer back, putting it down between his legs on the chair, out of her reach. 

 

“And while you’re at it...” she said, picking up her empty bowl and heading to the sink.  She told herself not to say it, but she knew she was going to anyway.  “You might think about cleaning the kitchen once in a while too.”

 

“You mean washing the dishes from your girlfriend’s ‘soufflé’?” 

 

“What would you know?”  Veronica rinsed her bowl.  “Jessie’s a great cook.”

 

“I tried some of the leftovers.”  Ian snorted.  “It was like barf.  No wonder she left cooking school.”

 

“Fuck you.”  Now she really was getting mad.  He sounded jealous, for Christ’s sake.  What the hell?  “That was for me.  You weren’t supposed to eat it.”

 

“Don’t worry.  I didn’t eat much.”  He smirked.  “Most of it is still there.”

 


Most
of it?”  She turned around, leaning against the sink, arms crossed.  “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

 

“Don’t worry, you have the rest of
her
to eat.”  He scowled, slurping Ramen, spattering his cheek with peanut sauce.  She had the urge to go over and lick it off that smug face of his, just to see the look he gave her. 

 

What the hell are you thinking? 

 

She flounced past him, making her comment casual, but cutting, “Well, that’s more than you’re getting, from anyone.”

 

“Fuck you!”  he snapped, grabbing her wrist, not letting her pass.  A scowl knit his heavy brow, dark eyes flashing.  “And just how am I supposed to bring anyone home when you’ve got a harem next door?” 

 

She met his eyes and saw something there that made her breath catch.  Did he really care so much, maybe, not just because they made tons of noise and disrupted his sleep but—did Ian care because he really was jealous?  And if he was—what in the hell did that mean? 

 

Veronica swallowed, thinking of what to say.  For a moment, she softened.  The look on his face, the hunger there, gave her a shiver.  Then his words hit her—
how am I supposed to bring anyone home? 
Who did he want to bring home, exactly? 

 

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