Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance (27 page)

“What?” He chuckles behind me, “Didn’t you like my little friend from earlier?”

“What?” I gasp as the thing presses deep, hitting
such
a good spot inside. 

“My little friend that couldn’t get enough of your bum, earlier at your station.”

Suddenly, I freeze;
he cannot be serious. 

“Is-!” My eyes fly open, “Is that
seriously
a fucking-”

“It’s
literally
a fucking cucumber at this point, but yes, luv, it is.”

I start to make a move to jump off of him, but his arm holds me tight, and suddenly I’m moaning out in pleasure as his lips and tongue find my clit again. 

“Shh, just relax, luv,” he murmurs, gently licking me and making my eyes flutter shut as I bite my lip, “If you’re not into it, I’ll stop, but I swear you’re going to enjoy this.”

And the problem is, I
am
enjoying it.

A lot.

I can feel the condom stretched over it now, but it feels staggeringly naughty, and dirty, and so unbelievably kinky. The feeling of something sliding in and out of me like a cock while Oliver’s tongue dances across my clit has me
gasping
in a whole new type of pleasure I’ve never felt before. 

His lips wrap around my clit, his swirling around the little pleasure spot as he starts to fuck me slow and rhythmically with the cucumber, pushing me deeper and deeper into my own pleasure.

I can’t come like this; I can’t
let
myself come like this. It’s too…
dirty.

What, like fucking your stepbrother?

“I want to feel you come for me, Chloe,” he growls, “I want to taste you when you come.”

I’m gasping into his thigh, writhing on top of him as he slowly coaxes the impending orgasm from my trembling body. I open my eyes and see him rock hard and throbbing right in front of my face, and before I can even think about it, I’m reaching for him. He groans as I wrap my lips around him and suck him in deeply, and suddenly, the kink factor of this whole thing ratchets up even higher inside my head, sending me spinning. 

It’s
so
dirty, sucking him like this while he licks me and fucks me with that…
thing
. It’s like being taken by
two
Olivers at the same time, from both sides, and the utterly naughty image of that very scenario inside my head sends my body reeling as I start to claw at the precipice of my climax.

There’s nothing slow about the way I suck him, all but gagging as I hungrily take him as deep as I can. I’m swirling my tongue around him while I stroke the part I can’t fit, wanting to taste him; wanting to make him come just like the way he’s about to make me- “
Oh GOD!
” I cry out as the wave crashes over me suddenly and without warning. I’m coming, and the orgasm tears through me from both ends as his tongue beats across my clit and the cucumber hits that perfect spot inside again and again and again.

He groans into my pussy, and then he’s filling my mouth. I’m swallowing through my own climax, swallowing every drop of him as my body shudders and stutters through the tail of my orgasm and the world starts to blur a bit at the edges.

Having a secret affair,
at
work,
with
my boss, who’s
also
my stepbrother, who just fucked me with cucumber while teasing my clit with his tongue…

Yeah, we have officially left sensible, straight-laced Chloe behind
long
ago, and whoever this new version of me is?

I kind of like her.

I straighten the tie as I glance in the mirror, frowning at what a fuckin’ nance I look like. 

Okay, I look sharp as
fuck
, truth be told, but I’m just not used to putting on nice clothes and pretending I’m proper. I mean shit, I spend 75% of my time in loud, messy kitchens wearing what really amounts to fancy pajamas and an apron.

I’m amazed I even remember
how
to tie a tie.

I have a brief memory of my mother trying to show my how to do it in the mirror one morning before church, back when we used to
go
to church. I’m standing on a stool and she’s laughing as she stands behind me and tries to tie the damn thing before she gives up with another musical laugh. She finally just puts the thing on herself. And I remember laughing my head off at how funny she looked in her Sunday church dress with the cardigan on and the pearls dad bought her for their anniversary, and my short little striped kid-sized tie tied around her neck.

Of course, after she died, we stopped going to church at all, which I guess suited both my dad and I just fine.

“Like saying ‘thank ye’ to the fookin’ tax man, son, and we ain’t doin’ that no more.”

Makes decent sense to me, truth be told. 

After that, I went eight years without tying a tie, until the army. And then I tied a
shitload
of ties, and usually multiple times a day at first since I kept mucking it up. Course, I also learned how to turn shit ingredients into something proper over a stove. I learned that even in the middle of Afghanistan, in the middle of a fuckin war-zone, you can find people selling probably the best spices on the planet in their old little stores, as if the apocalypse
isn’t
happening all around them.

Some blokes went over there and learned how to kill people, or learned how to shove it all inside and slowly turn themselves crazy. Me? I got pinched lifting a case of soda my third day there, and after a fucking
court martial
hearing - for stealing what amounted to what, like ten quid worth of soda? - I was demoted and banished to the kitchens for the remaining year of my service.

It’s probably one of the best thing that ever happened to me.

See, Danny had taught me how to hold myself in a kitchen pretty proper. He’d taught me how to hold a knife, how to dice any vegetable out there and how to clean a cut of meat.
Foundations
is what he taught me; and that shitty little kitchen in the middle of the desert forced me to build my fucking tower. 

I shake my head, clearing it of the memories of that place that are best forgotten anyways as I finish straightening my tie before I walk out the door, stroll across the hallway, and knock on Chloe’s door.

Gotta pick up my date for date night, you know.

*****

And it’s a
real
date; a real proper one like I’ve literally never been on before. Because really, it’s all new with her.

“Where are we going?” We’re arm in arm as we stroll through down the side of a lane in Notting Hill. We’re in the nice,
proper
part of London for a change, instead of in grimy gritty Shoreditch. Hell,
Jolie
is on the south bank, which is right proper posh and all that, but it’s not like we ever
see
any of it outside the kitchen. So yeah, this time, we’re going someplace swanky, a place with a bit of class. Seems even scoundrels like me like a littler finery now and then. 

Finery like how fucking
incredible
Chloe looks in a dress and high-heels. I mean this girl looks hot in
kitchen clothes
; she looks downright sinful in this getup. 

“Surprise, I told you,” I say, wagging my eyebrows and loving the way she grins at me. I’ve had plenty of women give me “bedroom” eyes, or “hard to get” eyes, or any of that bullshit. But I have
never
had a woman look at me the way she does. Not once.

Where we’re going is a restaurant owned by a guy I used to work with briefly before the army. It’s “slow food”; super “from-the-Earth” type shit, but it’s fucking
incredible
. He and his wife grow their produce on the damn roof of the place, right there in Notting Hill, and they bring in farm-raised everything else from meat to cheese; all of it. It’s simple, and perfect, and honestly, it might be one of London’s last hidden jewels.

I mean, aside from Rajeev’s Brick Lane curry house that is, but a man can only take so much
paneer
in one week, you know?”

Jerry and his wife Tricia greet me like old friends, even if it’s been at least a year since I got over here. He’s clapping me on the back and is genuinely so happy for me and the success I’ve found moving up at
Jolie
, which is great but also strange since I’m so shitty at taking compliments.

Right, I know;
me
, not taking praise well doesn’t really compute does it? 

Truth is truth though. I put on the cocky mask, because it’s just how I was brought up and all, but being around
real
fucking
proper
trained chefs like Jerry and Tricia always makes me feel like some sort of fraud; the pauper that snuck his way into the castle or something. I mean these two have been cooking for like a decade and a half, or guys like Danny who’ve been doing it twice as long as that. So why the fuck is it some punk like me who gets stupid glowing blog posts about how good my shit is?

“Cause it’s
really good
shit, that’s why, dummy,” Chloe says, rolling her eyes at me when I voice this exact thing at the table.

“Right, but so are a lot of other people’s.”

She grins at me, “
Wow
, you must
really
like me, Oliver Beckett.” 

She bats her eyes sarcastically at me and I roll mine. “Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, luv.”

“Oh, you bring all your girls to Notting Hill for fancy dates at posh restaurants while you divulge insecurities to them?”

She grins as I purse my lips together, “Cute, Chloe. Cute.”

“See, I told you, you liked me.”

I mean
look
at me; look at
us
!

“So, this is a date, huh?”

Chloe laughs, “Afraid so.”

“I like it.”

“Well will wonders never cease?”

I reach across the table and squeeze her hand as the waiter comes over to take our order; “Oh, the lady will have the cucumber salad to start with,” I say quickly, grinning wickedly across the table at her as she about chokes on her water and shoots me a look.

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” She says, blushing fiercely as the waiter walks away with our order.

“Wouldn’t want to tread on tradition,” I say as she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, right, well of course, we couldn’t fall
too much
onto cliché, now could we?” She says with a wry smile.

“And what cliché is that, luv? The one where you have lots of mind blowing sex with your stepbrother?”

She blushes again, “Lower your voice!” She hisses, giggling. 

“Okay ,
fine.”

“
No, I mean, you know, being all…
lovey-dovey like this
.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Wow, you are
so
that girl.”

She laughs, the sound musical in the dim candlelight of the dining room, “No, I’m not
at all
that girl, which is why this is so…I don’t know, strange.”

“Strange?”

“Good strange,” she grins, squeezing my hand. “Really,
really
good strange.”

I’m grinning at her and she rolls her eyes. 

“Oh don’t give me that look.”