First Time With My Stepbrother Boxed Set: A Stepbrother Romance Bundle (First Time With My Stepbrother Boxed Sets Book 1) (4 page)

Her eyes welled with hot tears. “How could you keep letting me do it?”

“How could I not?” His voice was subdued, longing almost. “I didn’t just come running when you called, you know. I used to come seek you out, hoping you’d have some crisis or a crappy day because that meant I had a chance of being in the same space with you.”

The burn in her cheeks dialled back a notch. She swung her legs off the side of the massage table and put her hands out to touch him. They landed on the bare skin of his waist. She stroked her thumbs down over his hips and caressed the sensitive skin just inside the deep, hard V of his hips. His body arced towards her like he was pushing his chest out and dropping his head back.

She realized what a risk he’d taken, finally, speaking out. And she couldn’t stop touching him now that she’d started. She traced her fingertips across his abs and let them meet in the middle before sweeping them down to the belt on his shorts.

“Why did you decide to tell me?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending I love you like a brother.” His hand closed over hers, and she felt her palm pressed to the cool cotton of his shorts. His cock was thick beneath the soft fabric, even just half-hard. He stroked the back of her hand and groaned as she gave him the gentlest squeeze.

“You are so bad,” she murmured.

“Only eventually.” He nudged her knees a little further apart on the edge of the table. “It’s taken a long time for us both to get here.”

Her fingers trembled almost too much to unbuckle his belt, but she managed to strip down his shorts and briefs to mid-thigh. She’d felt him all over so many times, and now she needed to taste him. She slipped off the table and got down on her knees, holding his thighs as she sought out his crotch with her lips. His heady, clean musk drew her to the base of his cock and she brushed her lips up the smooth length to the head. She kissed the side of the head and gave it the gentlest lick. Greg grunted softly.

She licked again, over the whole velvet tip, tasting the light salt-sweetness of his precum and letting it smear her tongue. He gave a tight double-gasp and she felt his thighs harden against her palms. She was soaking her panties. Not just dampening under his touch as she had during the massage but a full-on squeeze as she dove straight into the joy of pleasuring him. She took the whole head in her mouth, stroking the upper side across her palate and massaging the bottom with her tongue.

“Oh…
God
, Maddie!”

His fingers raked through her hair, stroking her scalp and down to her neck as she started sucking and taking him deeper in her mouth. She felt him flex and thicken until he was trembling against her lips, seeping more and more precum down her throat. A low moan rumbled down from the back of his throat and he squeezed her shoulders.

“Not yet…” He panted, reaching his hands down under her armpits to pull her up and coax her back onto the massage bed. He eased her onto her back and she felt him part her legs.

Without so much as the warning of a touch on her thigh, his fingertips stroked her through her panties. She clutched the sides of the bed to keep from crying out as he traced a slow path with a single finger from her clit to the entrance of her pussy and back again across the wet cotton. Each time he stopped at her cunt, he pushed just to his first knuckle, teasing her unbearably before drawing his touch back to her clit. She couldn’t keep from thrusting her hips up, desperate for him to put his fingers inside her. He closed his fingers around her panties, pulling them away from her crotch, then down over her thighs, knees and calves.

“Maddie, reach back and hold the pillow behind your head.” Greg’s voice was almost a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to stroke you from the inside out.”

She whimpered as his fingers pressed slowly into her, twisting and sliding. And then there was gentle pressure on the pubic bone just above her clit, circling slowly. He curled the fingers inside her to meet the other side of her G-spot and started massaging on both sides. The pleasure made her want to writhe but she didn’t for a second want that delicious hot tension to stop as he stroked her to swollen wetness.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

There was the warmth of his other hand smoothing over her bare breasts, sliding over her hard nipples and down to the flat plane of her stomach. He kept massaging her, inside and out, and when he moved his thumb right onto her clit she couldn’t keep quiet. A low moan flowed from her lips, then another, one after the other, as he pleasured her.

“Fuck me with your fingers. Please, Greg!”

“Shhh.”

His breath moved over her face and then he was kissing her, silencing her with slow, tender thrusts of his tongue while tightening the grip of his massage. Held captive, she whimpered into his mouth, feeling the tension in her body wind to a peak. He was going to make her come! No one else had ever made her come before!

As her inner muscles began to seize up, he pinned her wrists under his much bigger hand, picking up the pace of the clit-rub. She rocked and moaned as he started fingering her hard, twisting and plunging until need tensed every muscle in her body and her legs started to lock.

Then he pulled his hand free.

“Greg,
please
let me come!”

He scooped her off of the massage table and laid her down on the bed, the coolness of 800-thread cotton rising up to cushion her as Greg put her on her back. The coolness was disrupted by intense heat as he spooned up behind her, his hand under her upper thigh, drawing her knee towards her chest.

She felt him push his naked cock between her legs and stroke it back and forth, super-slow, brushing over her tenderized clit. His belly and navel were warm, firm yet supple against her lower back. His
naked
cock… and he was so close to her pussy.

God, she just wanted him to jam himself inside and fill her, possess her, but he wasn’t protected, and neither was she. “Greg, we can’t. It’s a step too far.”

“It’s not far enough.” His voice was raspy in her ear as he closed his arms round her, holding on with an intensity that would’ve been frightening if she weren’t so desperate to feel the head of his cock push up inside her. He was breathing hard, holding his tip at her entrance.

“It’s my first time,” she confessed.

“I know.” He tipped his hips back and forth, pressing down on her upper thigh to make the channel between her legs tighter. “I know this is all messed up but… how much longer are we both going to wait for this other ‘right’ person to come along?”

He his hand slipped down her thigh to her mound and he cupped her, squeezing. All she could do was moan. He felt so good against her all she wanted to do was thrust down on him and take him inside but she couldn’t just throw caution to the wind. They didn’t have insanely rich parents to bail them out if her body responded to Greg as Lisa’s had to Mike. She had a life to think about.

“Greg… I could get pregnant.”

“I know!” He jerked out from behind her and climbed over the top, his hands pushing her wrists above her head as he laid down, his cock pushing between her legs. He let her feel every inch of him as he went all the way in. “I love you, Maddie. I want you. I’ve always wanted you and if I can’t make you mine—right now—I’m going to go crazy!”

She tossed her head back on the bed as he stroked in and out, his naked cock delicious and punishing in her virgin pussy. Each time he went balls-deep, he twisted his hips, delivering a light slap to her clit that made her whimper.

“God, you feel so good. I’m going to come inside you and give you a baby.
Our
baby.”

She couldn’t answer, her breath wouldn’t come. But her body surrendered to his heated fucking, drawing strength from the slide of his skin over hers, the scent of him burning through the body-spray as he began to sweat.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, matching his rhythm and rising to meet his thrusts. Her body coiled tight, as it had before, on the massage table. Greg stopped thrusting and ground his pelvis against hers, crushing her resistance to nothing. She was pushed off the precipice and felt her climax thrashing through her.

It had never been like this. Never.

Maddie’s nails dug into him as pleasure rocked through her body, a sound coming from her throat that she’d never made before. Greg came too, his body rigid as his cock exploded, shooting thick waves of cum deep inside her. He muffled his rising cry on the pillow above her shoulder, his body jerking again and again until the climax tide rolled away, leaving them both limp and exhausted.

He laid on top for maybe a minute before rolling them both over onto their sides, his arms clamping her body against his, his cock still inside her. It pulsed, teasing her as they came down.

Maddie felt floaty. Surreal. “I just know we’re making a baby right now.”

He eased himself out and slid down the bed, kissing his way from her lips to her belly. “You know how I don’t play games?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll make an exception right now.” He brushed his face over her belly and kissed just above her navel. “Hey, in there, little lady. Or tiny guy. A few facts about your mama—listening? She’s the most beautiful woman in the world, I love her more than any man could love a woman, and you’re gonna be the most wanted, most loved baby ever.
Ever.
”

Innocent Clarice tries so hard to be a good girl, but the world is filled with temptations of the flesh, especially when they involve her older, sexy, stepbrother Miles.

The summer their parents go to Europe proves too much for the pair, who almost give in to the ultimate sin and pay the ultimate price.

Clarice doesn’t trust herself around Miles and decides to wash herself clean by entering a convent and becoming a nun, assuming a new life and a new name. But the memories of “Sister Sarah’s” sin with her stepbrother won’t be washed away so easily...

When a crisis of faith drives Clarice to the big city, she finally confesses her lust-filled secret to her ambitious, worldly stepbrother, who she discovers is more than willing to plow her fallow, fertile ground and give her everything she’s been dreaming of for years.

Together, they know they can’t recapture the innocence of Eden, but they just may find a heaven right here on Earth…

The bus stopped on the corner and a blast of air brushed my face as I took the last step off. Or maybe it was my first step, I thought, looking around at the indifference of the city. There were millions of people here, doing only God knew what, and no one here paid any attention to a young nun stepping off a Greyhound bus. I was just part of the landscape amidst the skyscrapers and luxury high-rises stabbing upward into the clouds.

Car horns and the bustle of people everywhere created a wall of sound, enveloping me. The summer heat seeped onto my black habit and my wimple fluttered in the breeze. The humidity was suffocating, and considering I was covered head to toe in a black habit, I knew I would be in danger of heat stroke. I needed to find my brother's loft apartment.

Well, I guess I’m really not in Kansas anymore.

Crowds bustled around me while I stood like a stone in the path of the never-ending rush of human bodies. I looked down at my notecard where I had written the address and rudimentary directions to my stepbrother's loft, trying to discern my own handwriting. My hands were shaking, so that didn’t help.

Someone bumped my shoulder and I glanced up, surprised.

“Excuse me, Sister,” the voice said when he saw my habit—at least there was some remnant of chivalry left in the world—and I looked up at the middle-aged man in a rather disheveled business suit. He actually stopped to make sure I was unhurt, instead of hustling onward.

“Quite all right.” I smiled. “I wondered if you could point me toward East Ohio Street?”

He pointed, literally, behind him. “Two blocks down and take a left.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Sister,” he said.

“God be with you,” I murmured, although even saying those words made me feel like a hypocrite.

Because deep inside, I was unsettled. Conflicted.

Unlike the sisters at the convent, I was restless. Sometimes I felt as if I had a slow leak. Instead of prayer filling my up, something was continually draining slowly out of me. I prayed, I fasted, I served—but every day felt as if I was wearing a mask. Playing a role.

I was a hypocrite.

I felt unworthy to wear the habit of the Order of Mary, Mother of Perpetual Peace. While nuns like Sister Clara and Sister Dominique went into seclusion when doubt reared its serpent head, I chose to do something far more dangerous.

I’d decided to re-enter the world.

Miles.

My stepbrother was out here, in the world, a part of it all. It was Miles I was going to see.

Walking just those few blocks from the bus stop to Miles’s apartment gave me an education about everything I had been missing. People of every skin color and sexual orientation passed me by, and I looked at them all. No one seemed to even notice me, even in my out-of-place habit, because everyone was so different. We all seemed to blend.

Mother Superior had warned me about going to the city—the danger, the crime, the moral decay. I listened to her counsel. I nodded and understood. But I knew I had to go. Other sisters might balk at the prospect, but not me. Some secret part of me was excited about it, to be honest, although I wouldn’t admit that, not out loud.

Besides, sometimes seclusion harbored its own vices.

I wasn’t seeking the big city to convert lost souls or accomplish social justice. I went because it was where I could find Miles. It was his counsel I needed the most. He was, in his own way, both the cause and the solution to my crisis of faith.

I held out the notecard, double-checking the address. The decrepit apartment building didn't match my brother’s carefully crafted persona. I stepped into the lobby and went to the nearest elevator. He lived on the highest floor. Maybe what it lacked in outward charm it made up for with a decent view?

“Clarice.” He said my name the way he always had. It rolled off his tongue, like a caress.

He looked the same—thick, sandy hair, that sardonic smirk that always threatened to break into a grin, big, gorgeous brown eyes underneath cocked eyebrows. He was wearing just jeans, no shirt, and the sight of that much flesh made me even hotter under my habit. My stepbrother had been working out. His biceps were thick, his chest broad, and when my gaze skipped down his front, I saw a ridged mountain range on his belly.

“Miles.” I put my arms out and he pulled me into his, a great, big bear hug as he shut the door behind me. My bare cheek brushed against the skin of his shoulder and I breathed in his scent—clean and fresh.

“It’s been so long.” His lips brushed my cheek as he took hold of my shoulders to hold me out so he could see me. “Look at you. What a beauty. Love those bangs. They let you keep any more of that hair under there?”

I flushed and laughed. “Actually I’m growing it out. Locks of Love—they take donations and make wigs for sick children.”

It was true, I had grown it out twice already to donate to charity. But, what I wasn’t willing to admit to him or anyone, was that my hair was my one big vanity. Long, thick and blonde, it came almost to the middle of my back now. Miles complimenting my hair had made me feel warm all the way to my toes.

“Well come on in.” He took my overnight bag, setting it aside and swinging my hand as he led me into his spacious loft apartment. “What do you think? I know it doesn’t look much from the outside, but up here…”

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, squeezing his hand as I looked up at the skylights. The floor plan was wide open, with a giant wrap-around sofa and fireplace its focal point. Even the kitchen was open, with an island in the middle. I made my way to the windows, drawn to the light, and gasped. “You can see the whole city from up here.”

“Want a drink?” he offered. “I’ve got bottled water, Coke, beer, wine… you can drink, right?”

“Yes.” I nodded, glancing at him, seeing that perpetual smirk playing on his lips. “By the way, it's Sister Sarah now.”

“I know.” He squeezed my hand. “But you’ll always be my Clarice.”

“Can I sit down?” I swallowed, glancing around at all the options—sofas, chairs, cushions.

“Sure, come on.” Miles pointed to the couch and I sank gratefully into it. He sat beside me, not too far away, angled in my direction. That smirk was still there, but his eyes were more serious. Even concerned. “Was the bus awful?”

“It wasn’t bad.” I shook my head. Truth was, I barely remembered it. My mind had been… wandering. “Maybe I will take that drink?”

“Sure. Wine?” He got up at my assent, heading toward the kitchen. Surrounded by burnished aluminum and black steel, his kitchen epitomized modern chic design. I could watch him from my angle on the couch as he bent to get the wine bottle from his fridge.

And God help me, I actually admired his ass in those jeans. Firm as Michelangelo's David.

It was a sinful thought and I surreptitiously crossed myself, knowing it was even more depraved because Miles was my stepbrother. If I was making a full confession, unclean thoughts and perverse yearnings of the flesh weren’t a new occurrence for me.

“What is it you do again?” I asked to distract both of us as he poured wine.

“Executive consultant.”

“And what’s that?”

“I feed the bigwigs a bunch of bullshit,” he snorted, carrying a wine glass and a bottle of beer into the living room. “Oops, sorry.”

“It's all right.” I waved the profanity away and accepted the glass. “Go on.”

“I give the top-level executives a bunch of suggestions about what they can do to improve their company and they give me a big check,” he explained, taking a swig of his beer and tipping it toward me with that sardonic little smile of his. “Not exactly the vows of poverty and chastity.”

I waited for a smart-ass remark about St. Peter's Basilica and plenary indulgences. Not that it would be either unwarranted or untrue. The Church's material opulence and its monumental moral hypocrisy provided fertile potting soil for my doubts to grow.

“You should read a history of the Vatican Bank. You think Enron and Jack Abramoff are bad? It makes those shenanigans look like Amateur Night at the Apollo.”

“And Sister Sarah with the sick burn. Nice.” He put up his palm for a high-five.

I actually obliged and he laughed

“Can I get one of those beers?” I asked, nodding toward his as put my empty wine glass down on the coffee table.

“Slippery slope.” He got up from his black leather chair to fetch one out of the fridge.

“Although monks have a long history of brewing beer,” I called. “Why don’t you bring that bottle of wine too?”

“Thirsty?” Miles brought me an open bottle of beer and the open bottle of wine too. He put the wine on the coffee table and handed me the beer bottle. “Got that wine as a gift last year. Been meaning to open it. A client of mine. Long story. Pretty boring, it involves ledgers and accounting.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking a gulp of beer and putting it on the table before pouring myself more wine. My head was already swimming, and that was good. Miles watched me sip more wine, eyebrows slightly raised, but he didn’t comment. “Wow, this is strong stuff.”