First Time With My Stepbrother Boxed Set: A Stepbrother Romance Bundle (First Time With My Stepbrother Boxed Sets Book 1) (7 page)

“Let me catch my breath,” he said, spent and exhausted.

We had more days like that—lazy and naked, figuring out new ways to make each other come while avoiding any possibility of penetration. I saw the look in his eyes—crazed, greedy, lustful. I could imagine him seeing me as a business transaction. A forbidden merger that would yield undreamed of wealth and pleasure. But I wouldn't give it to him.

By the time the leaves started to change color, I was on a train bound for Kansas and his internship had ended. Behind the walls of the convent, Miles faced a total communication blackout. He couldn't contact me if he tried.

In my austere cell, I spent my days praying and fasting. In the chapel, I celebrated Mass and sang hymns. Our own perverted legend became replaced by the legends of saints, martyrs, popes, and bishops. But the more I filled my head and kept my hands busy, the more I knew it was all a ruse and a distraction.

One can't fill the abyss of doubt with busy work and bumper sticker optimism.

Am I losing faith or am I just coming to realize—I never had it to begin with?

I only had to mention that fateful summer to see how it made Miles hard. He tried to hide it, but the wine made him uninhibited. He leaned back and spread his legs, letting me see the stiff rod beneath his jeans.

“I've missed you so much,” I said, not even bothering to hide my lust. “I went to the convent because my desire for you scared me. Not a day goes by that I don't regret my decision to leave you. What we did, what I want to do…I know it’s a sin before God. You know what we did as well as I do.”

He nodded slowly.

“I'm still a virgin. Technically.”

“Technically,” he echoed softly.

“But Miles…” I swallowed, my head swimming with alcohol, my heart beating hard in my chest. “I can’t stop it anymore. I can’t resist. I know it’s wrong—but I can’t…”

That magnet, drawing me in again. I slid off the sofa and knelt before him, penitent. Beaten. Broken. I bowed my head, feeling his hand brush my hair—just my bangs visible under my wimple. I lowered my head to his lap, the erotic throb of his cock against my flushed cheek through the denim. He didn’t move to touch me, didn’t say anything. He waited, and I watched the rise and fall of his chest with his breath, knowing that this was my test.

Then with a precise care, I unzipped his jeans and scooped out his erect cock.

Miles let out a little sigh as I closed my eyes and put my mouth around it. My tongue remembered him, rolling around the head, sliding down the shaft. Miles slid his jeans and boxers down, giving me more access as yanked them all the way off.

I marveled at his body. During our separation, he’d worked to sharpen and harden muscles, giving him the appearance of polished marble. He could have been a Baroque statue, a mythical figure fighting off harpies or enemy soldiers. I wondered if he’d sunk himself into work—and his workouts—the way I’d tried to lose myself in the Lord.

At least his efforts hadn’t been in vain. He was like a god as he stood, his strong arms lifting me from the floor. Then he bent me over the couch, lifting my habit and pulling it up.

“So nuns do wear panties.”

I looked back, seeing Miles smirk at he looked at my plain, white cotton underwear.

“I always wondered.”

“You were thinking about my panties?” I bit my lip when he yanked them down to my knees.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about them,” he confessed, cupping my flesh, the blonde fuzz there curling around his fingers. “Or you.”

I moaned when he parted that sea with his index finger, rubbing up and down my slit.

“Please. Miles.” I licked my lips, looking back at him through half-closed eyes. “Put it in me. I want to feel you inside me.”

“It’s going to hurt.” His winced like it might hurt him too, as he positioned himself, cock poised at my virgin entrance. “Give me your hands.”

I had to rest my cheek against the arm of the chair to reach my hands back. He grabbed my wrists, holding them behind my back, using my body as leverage as he pushed inside. I gave a loud cry when he slid inside me, trembling all over.

“You bled a little.” Miles started sliding out, but I didn’t want that, so I pressed back toward him, settling my bottom against his pelvis. “Washed in the blood of my little lamb…”

“Please.” I swallowed, everything between my legs throbbing, on fire. I didn’t know now where he began and I ended.

“Tell me, Clarice.”

I’d been Sister Sarah so long I’d forgotten how much I loved hearing him say my name.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you…” I whispered, feeling tears stinging my eyes. My confession. My secret confession. “Oh Miles, I love you, I always have. Please! I want you, please, please! Won’t you fuck me?”

“Yes, sweet sister.” He let go my wrists, hands moving to my hips under the heavy weight of my habit. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you see God.”

Oh God.

“Yes!” I cried as he began to move. We were slotted together like we’d always been meant to be. And I wished I hadn’t waited so long to taste this forbidden fruit.

He gave me a bit of him at a time, teasing me, short strokes following by long ones, keeping me—literally—on my toes. My whole body shook with the force of my wanting. I couldn’t hold myself up anymore—my knees gave way. Miles was there, holding me, kissing my cheek as he sat on the sofa, pulling me into his lap.

“I want to see you.” He lifted my habit, his big hands moving up my thighs. “Please, Clarice.”

And so I bared myself to him, this man, my god. The thick, heavy weight of my habit came off, over my head.

“No bra.” Miles smiled at that as I divested myself of my wimple and veil. “Oh Clarice, your hair…”

He touched it, like spun gold, spilling over my shoulders.

“You’re an angel.” He pulled me to him and kissed me, his tongue stroking the roof of my mouth just like he had that first day. My body knew his kisses, knew just what it wanted, as it always had. I kissed him, deep and hard, as I placed myself upon his mighty rod.

It felt extraordinary. Despite my reluctance, he knew I wasn't ignorant in the ways of pleasure. My undulations came naturally as I rocked in a primal rhythm on top of him.

“It's been too long, Clarice.” Miles stayed hungry, famished to taste my skin and lick my body. His tongue found its way to my nipples, sending sweet pulses of pleasure between my legs. His hands roamed, exploring every inch of me as I ground my pelvis against his, my motions jerky, slightly awkward, the objectification of pure lust.

“Still.” He held my hips, stopping the roll of them. “Be still.”

“Be still…” I smiled. “And know God?”

“Yes.”

And thanks to Miles, I did. He balanced me above him, fingers gripping my ass, as he proceeded to pound my cunt with furious glee from underneath. I didn't know when it would end. I heard moans. Then I realized those guttural sounds were coming from me. Our bodies meshed together and brought us back to that forbidden Eden, our utopia of step-sibling blissfulness.

He fed on my breasts. He licked one nipple and then held it in his mouth. When he pulled back, I moaned. And then he let it snap away. One after another. First one breast and then the other. Again and again for what seemed like ages. Whenever he had one of my nipples in his mouth, I detected increased throbs from his heroic cock.

We created our own momentum, my undulations working against his, until our bodies seemed like crashing waves. I imagined us trapped on a deserted island, naked and alone. We spent our days fucking and swimming and tanning. He would feed me coconut and pour it on my body where he would lap it up, a depraved parody of the Eucharist.

Our lips met again, for kisses more feverish and drunken than ever before. Desire intoxicated us both. The years apart had tempered that lustful iron into a bright steel.

“Late at night,” I whispered, breathless and sweaty. “I would think about you and masturbate.”

He fucked me even harder.

“Your face and Christ's face on my cell's crucifix, getting confused, twisted. I imagined myself as Mary Magdalene, the prostitute, and men. Many men. Dreams of the Apostles, each one getting hard and then coming all over me. I never confessed this to anyone.”

His cock slid in and out with less fury but more desperation—trying to slam deeper into my body, trying to get as far as possible.

“Because I never confessed these impure thoughts, I would whip myself again and again. But the pain didn't kill those thoughts, it only made them worse. Oh God,” I panted, out of breath. “This
hurts
so good.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” Miles confessed. “Dreaming about you. I watch porn and can’t get off. But when I remember you, I come so fucking hard. What we did that summer…”

“Miles, I want to have your baby.” I didn't even realize what I said until I said it.

What had moved me to say such a thing?

“Fuck.” He said the word, what he was doing to me, so guttural, so base, and yet there was a surrender in it beyond profanity. “You’re mine. Mine, Clarice, do you hear me?”

“Please.” I nodded, leaning in to kiss his mouth, feeling his cock so deep in my pussy it almost hurt. “Fill me, Miles. Fill me up.”

All those times I’d worried about getting pregnant, holding back, afraid. Now I wanted nothing more than to be filled by him, to have his seed planted in me, a virgin no more. I pictured myself in my habit, belly distended with proof of our lust, of our love, and nearly climaxed at the thought.

Miles pressed my body back while one hand traveled down my taut, flat belly. He began massaging my pussy with his fingers and I swooned, the feeling so much like what I felt when I touched myself at night, alone at the convent, thinking only of him.

He found my clit. When he touched it, light exploded behind my eyes. Whatever pleasures came before now became transcended. Hot eruptions emanated from my clit, sending lightning strikes of extreme pleasure throughout my entire body. I bit my lower lip, holding back the desire to scream. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to hold back for as long as I could. But I also knew, when I finally surrendered, the pleasure would be even more profound.

And then I came for him.

My body shuddered and writhed, like I was possessed by demons. I grabbed Miles's neck and held on to his body while mine seethed in a twisted, bucking chaos. In the aftershocks, I felt
holy
. Not like the holiness espoused by the Catholic Church or any church for that matter, but a sacred union between our two bodies.

He had promised to fuck me until I saw God, and for a moment, I did. I glimpsed the infinite as Miles’s cock erupted deep in my womb. His face contorted and his body bucked with wild craziness. When he moaned, it sounded equal parts joy and sorrow as he spilled everything inside of me, the best, sweetest, most secret confession in the world.