Fight: A Stepbrother Romance Novella (5 page)

They were fun to play with and seemed to drive the girls wild. As I ripped off her underwear with my teeth, a move that made her groan low and thrust against me forcefully, I briefly imagined finding a surprise clit piercing.

However, as soon as I saw that pink flawlessness, I couldn’t imagine marring her perfect pussy with anything, even a decorative stud through her clit. I pulled open her folds, just eyeing her pink depths for a long moment as my mouth watered and my cock leaked pre-cum. She looked delicious, and she smelled even better. Her scent was intoxicating, and I breathed in deeply as my head lowered toward her slit.

She had shaved or waxed recently. I think waxed, but I wasn’t entirely certain. Either way, she was smooth and hairless, the quintessential wet dream. When her folds were back together, her little clit peeked out shyly, but spread open as she was now, I could see every detail, including her swollen clitoris and enlarged hood. She was weeping fluid, and I bent to taste her, tongue lapping up each trail of her juices. She whimpered and cried out, her hips lifting her sweet pussy even closer against my face.

Like a man starving, I dug in, tasting and licking every little part of her. I soon discovered she liked it when I flicked my tongue under her clit instead of across it, and it drove her mad when I thrust three fingers into her slippery folds while circling her clit with the tip of my tongue. My cock was hard and aching as I licked her, lapping at her heat before sucking hard on her sensitive nub.

She came with an enchanting little cry that turned into a hybrid of my name mixed with a moan. Her juices flooded my mouth, and I drank greedily, determined to catch every drop. It seemed to be a never-ending flow, and even after she’d come on my tongue once more, she was still plenty wet and ready for my cock.

I wasn’t ready for that yet though. There were toys I wanted to try. I’d played with some of these with other girls, but never one as seemingly wholesome and fresh-faced as my sweet little stepsister, who clearly wasn’t all that sweet. She was a kinky bitch, and I was just the dirty bastard to match her.

I lifted one of the butt plugs, selecting a small one, because I assumed she had never played with them before. Her eyes were wide, her expression shadowed with apprehension, but she didn’t protest when I pressed the smooth purple cylinder into her slick folds. After it was nice and lubricated with her own juices, I carefully pulled it out and brought it to her little rosette. As I pressed the smooth head against her puckered hole, she seemed to take in a deep breath and tense. “Relax and bear down. It’ll be easier that way.”

A small nod indicated she’d heard me, and I could feel her muscles relaxing and the ring of resistance pushing outward as I slowly slid the cylinder inside her. Her greedy little ass took it easily, sucking it in to the base, and I smiled at her. “You’re a natural at this,” I praised.

Suddenly, it wasn’t the little purple cylinder I saw in her ass, but my big, hard cock taking her anal virginity. I felt positively caveman-like at the idea of being the first one to take her there, to mark my territory and make sure she never forgot me.

She was shaking and gasping, clearly enjoying the experience though it was foreign to her. She watched with evident surprise as I unfastened her wrists. She rubbed them lightly, though I knew I hadn’t confined her tightly enough to hurt or cut off circulation. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, giving me a shy smile. “Pretty darned okay.”

Her charming answer made me laugh, and once the amusement had fled, I told her, “Turn around and get on your knees. Put your head on the pillow and your hands behind your back.”

If she had protested, I certainly would have listened. This was fun and games, not my way or the highway. Apparently, Mia had a submissive side she wanted to embrace, because she obeyed my directions without question or hesitation.

When I thought my cock couldn’t get any harder, it had grown again at the sight of her on her knees with her ass in the air, hands behind her back. I could see her sweet pussy dribbling juices everywhere, and the sight of the butt plug filling her ass sent a pulse through my dick.

I couldn’t wait any longer, and it took my last ounce of self-control to fasten the handcuffs around her wrists. I wished I had my camera, though I suspected she wouldn’t consent to that anyway. Damn, it was a tragedy, because the sight was a masterpiece that I would love to immortalize.

I got on my knees between her thighs, my cock homing in instinctively to her cunt. Heat extended outward, and she was slick and dripping on my bare skin.

That was a wake-up call, since I’d never had sex with a woman without a condom before, even during the occasional relationships that I would consider long-term—meaning it lasted at least two weeks. With my history, and the line of work I’d once been in, I had gotten into the habit of using protection every time all the time. With her, I just wanted to plunge in blindly, and that was scary to my logical side, though the caveman side of me I hadn’t really embraced it until now was urging me to fuck her hard and come inside her until my cum was streaming out her pussy.

Summoning some self-restraint, I asked, “Are you on the pill or anything?”

When she nodded, my cock could have sung “Hallelujah” all by itself. Still, I hesitated. “I’ve had a recent checkup, and I know I’m clean. I’ll wear a condom if you want me to, or if there’s a need to it for it?”

She shook her head. “I always use a condom, along with birth control. It’s safe, and I really want to feel
just
you inside me.” She sounded aroused, surprised, and maybe even a little self-conscious by the admission.

All I heard were the angels singing in my head, and my cock with its chorus of hallelujah, as I plunged into her wet heat. Her sheath clung to me, and she was so wet I slid in and out easily. She wasn’t too wet though. She was just perfect—tight, hot, and slick perfection.

With the butt plug-in, she was also even tighter than she probably would have been otherwise, and I was aware of her lower muscles clenching each time I thrust into her. I wanted to go slowly with her, to make sure she was fine and comfortable, but I couldn’t seem to rein in the impulse to fuck like a wild animal.

I pounded into her hard, my fingers almost bruising her hips in the process. Mia never complained, and she didn’t ask me to stop. In fact, she met each of my thrusts with an enthusiastic one of her own, and I was aware of her contacting around me at least once as she came while I continued to thrust in and out of her.

Finally, I could stand the pleasure no longer, though paradoxically, I didn’t want it to end. My orgasm tore through me despite my best efforts, my cock hardening and twitching as I came inside, filling her with stream after stream of my seed. It was amazing and completely different than any sex I’d ever had before, always with a condom acting as a barrier.

With Mia, there were no barriers, and as I grudgingly pulled out and unfastened her handcuffs and removed the plug before I took her into my arms, I realize that extended beyond physical. In a completely un-dick-like move that was nothing like me, I pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead and pulled her against me, intent on sleeping with her in my arms. There were no barriers between us, and it was a good thing physically, but scared the shit out of me emotionally.

I didn’t want to fall for my stepsister. That would be madness.

She cuddled closer to me, and a sense of peace and contentment swept over me. I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t. I surrendered to an easier sleep than I’d found in a long time, knowing her presence was the reason why I was so restful.

Fuck, I was in trouble.

Mia

I was sore in places I hadn’t even known existed. I felt battered and broken, and a quick glance at my hips revealed light bruise marks from his fingers. I’d never realized what a workout great sex could be, and I couldn't wait to do it again.

Of course he wasn’t beside me, but I wasn't surprised. What surprised me was how aroused I became again at the memory of everything we had done to each other last night. I considered getting out of bed and tracking down Paxton for another go, but couldn't wait that long. Instead, I rummaged in my nightstand drawer for my trusty vibrator.

I was still slick from combination of arousal and old release, so the vibrator glided inside me easily. Of course it did, because it was no match for Paxton's cock, which was easily the largest I'd ever taken. Surrendering to memories of how he had taken me, I moaned and shifted the vibrator to provide more friction against my clit. I was on the edge of coming when the door opened, making me jerk with surprise.

I wasn't the only one surprised, as Paxton stood there with the breakfast tray, his eyebrows inching up toward his hairline at the sight before him. Embarrassed, I shut off the vibrator and started to put it away.

"No, don't stop on my account." He walked closer, setting the tray on the nightstand before taking a seat on the bed—at the foot of the bed, where his vantage point would allow him to see the full show.

Despite everything we had done with each other last night, I was still self-conscious. I'd certainly never masturbated in front of someone before, unless I counted that little stunt a couple days ago when I had used the wall between us to let him know exactly what I was doing. This was still so much more intimate and embarrassing than that had been. Hesitantly, I took the vibrator and returned it to its former spot, turned it on, and glided the toy across my clit, deciding not to penetrate this time.

"That is a sexy sight, beautiful. I think the only thing I like more is my cock inside of you instead of that toy of yours." He stood up, stripping off his clothes quickly, and I knew I was in for around two.

Just the thought sent me over the edge, and I cried out as I came. It was an intense climax, but over quickly, like most of my toy-induced orgasms. It wasn't the drawn-out kind like he could inspire, and I couldn't wait to surrender to him again.

I wondered what toys he would use this time, but to my surprise, Paxton simply lifted me off the bed, laid down, and pulled me atop him. His cock was hard and ready, and I knelt between his legs, my pussy poised to take him.

Instead, I scooted down a bit farther and bent my head, wanting to taste. It was hard to fit all of him in my mouth, but I persisted, lubricating the tip of the head with my tongue as he groaned and writhed beneath me. I loved having that kind of power over him, but I would never abuse it. I would only use it for pleasure, just as he had done for me the night before when he had controlled me so effortlessly with his mouth.

I sucked him for a few minutes, licking the underside and pressing my tongue against his weeping slip to catch every drop of his delicious pre-cum. When his balls felt hard in my hand, and his shaft started twitching, I pulled away. He groaned, looking put out, until I shifted position to sit on him, guiding his cock into my slit.

He filled me just as he had last night, perhaps even more so in this position. My sore body protested for a minute, trying to convince me I didn't want to have sex right now, but I ignored the twinge of discomfort. I certainly wanted to have sex, and I wanted to have Paxton inside me. It was worth a brief flash of discomfort when he was fully seated in my pussy. Slowly, I rode him, making sure we each felt every inch as I moved up and down. He clutched my thighs, either considerately avoiding slightly sore spots on my hips, or simply because they were the easiest parts to grasp.

Our pace was slow and steady, as gentle as we had been yet, and when my orgasm unfurled, it was slow and sweet and long. He twitched inside me before his erection spasmed, and he came. It was just as amazing as it had been last night to feel a bare cock come inside me. I certainly understood the need for condoms, but I wasn’t at all regretful that he and I were making love without any of those barriers.

No, I couldn't call it making love. I had to keep the urge to romanticize this in check. There was nothing that suggested any kind of permanency about our arrangement, and I knew Paxton would likely be gone just as soon as Laura passed away—or within days. I couldn't imagine my dad would actually kick him out the minute his mother died. I didn't know what was the history between them those two, but my dad wasn’t that cruel. Was he?

Afterward, we curled together on the bed and shared the breakfast he'd made, feeding each other and talking. It was just lighthearted chatter, but I couldn't help feeling closer to him by the time we dragged ourselves from the bed and into the shower.

I definitely had to keep my emotions in check, because Paxton could be very dangerous. Not because he was a fighter, but because he was a lover too. My lover, and I didn't want to surrender to some girlish urge to embrace a fantasy that could never be reality.

Paxton

I felt invigorated, like I did after a long run or an intense workout at the gym. There was none of the bone-deep fatigue that often accompanied the adrenaline rush of a fight, whether I won or lost. I just felt…happy. I wasn't totally unaccustomed to the emotion, but that I could feel happy in this house, near the presence of the most disgusting piece of filth that had ever lived, was an insane turn of events.

Almost as insane as sleeping with my stepsister.

Not that I regretted it, not even a little bit. In fact, I couldn't wait to do it again. When Mia and I had been in the shower, it had taken every ounce of self-control not to take her again. It was only because I realize she was sore that I had held off. I was hoping she would feel better by tonight, but if not, I could control my animal urges at least another day.

When I entered my mom's room, her nurse was just finishing up her bath, wiping down Laura's face, and she nodded to me with a friendly smile. She was probably ten years older than me, but there was a hint of interest in the nurse’s eyes. I didn't feel even a twinge of curiosity or a twitch of my dick. I was too consumed with thoughts of Mia to have any interest in other women.

Man, that wasn't a good sign.

My mom's eyes were bright, and she seemed alert today, indicating her pain medicine must be working, at least for now. I sat down in the chair beside her bed, asking, "Have you eaten anything?"

She gave me the ghost of a smile, her painfully cracked lips curving upward just a bit. I winced along with her, because I could see the pain even a simple smile caused her. Right then, I couldn't wait for her to die. That sounded terrible, but I didn't mean it in a heartless way. There was nothing that was going to make her better. At least after she was gone, she wouldn't hurt anymore. While she was still here with me though, I was determined to take advantage of it and spend as much time with her as possible. I still felt so guilty that I had let eleven years lapse without trying to contact her.

Shortly after I had run away, I had tried calling once. Of course, Dirk the dick had answered the phone instead, and though I hadn't spoken, he seemed to realize it was me. He had told me to disappear and stay gone, or I wouldn't like the consequences. When I had summoned the nerve to speak, because he had still left me a stuttering mess at that point, I had demanded to know what consequences. I still remembered his chilling words, spoken eleven years ago but just as crisp in my mind: "You might be out of my sphere of influence, but your mother isn't."

Of course that terrified me as a seventeen-year-old boy, especially with my history of the bastard, but I couldn't believe now, as I sat by her bed with her hand in mine, that I had allowed it to intimidate me for eleven years. Would he have hurt my mother? I didn't know. The simple truth was by disappearing, I had made it easier on him, and if he had chosen to hurt her, I wouldn't have been around to stop him anyway. He had succeeded in driving us apart and running me off. I didn't know if that had always been his goal, or if he had just taken advantage of the opportunity when I had run away, finally having reached the end of my endurance.

She squeezed my hand softly, her expression gentle. "How have you been, my boy?"

A sad smile curled my lips at the use of the sweet endearment. I hadn't been a boy for a long time, at least mentally. I think I had grown up within two weeks of moving into the Gaithway household. "I'm doing all right." It was a modest answer, but I was doing better than all right. I hadn't won a championship yet, but I’d won one more matches than I’d lost, and I had a few endorsements. I was currently ranked in the Top Five of the Light Heavyweight division, and my prospects were fantastic. I was going to make it big, and both my agent and Lila agreed and believed in me.

"I followed your fights sometimes."

That surprised me, and I tilted my head slightly. "You watch UFC?"

She smiled softly. "No, actually I don't. I was at a store one day, and they had a TV paying highlights of some match. I saw LeChance versus Domino, and when they shot to the fight clip, I recognized my son."

I blinked, recalling Mia telling me this morning how she had tracked me down with the help of a private investigator. "Did you tell Mia how to find me that way?"

She shook her head slightly. "I didn't even think about it until after she acquired the knowledge for herself. The pain medicine leaves me pretty scrambled. Before that, before I got sick I mean, I hadn't told anyone, because I figured you didn't want them to know. If you wanted to come home, you could. I didn't want to intrude on your privacy."

I sucked in an uneven breath, feeling somewhat distraught that my mom had known vaguely how to get hold of me for probably a couple of years, but she hadn't. It made me sad to realize she had thought I didn't want her to maintain contact, and I sniffed a couple of times to keep from blubbering like a baby. "I'm just glad I'm here with you now."

She squeezed my hand again, though her grip was more feeble this time. "So am I, son." She took a deep breath, her expressions somber. "Are you ready to tell me why you ran away? Is it something I did?"

I shook my head. "Of course not." Indirectly, perhaps, but she hadn't realized what kind of monster she was marrying.

Her frown deepened. "Was it drugs? Dirk always said it was drugs, and he claimed he caught you using them and told you if you didn't stop, you had to leave. And then you were gone."

I balled the hand that wasn't holding hers into a fist and struggled to take several deep breaths. It was a calming technique, and a way to maintain control, because for just a second, I wanted to storm from the room, find Dirk, and smash my fist into his face a few times. Through gritted teeth, I said, "No, it wasn't drugs. I’ve never touched those things."

That was true, though I'd gone through a period of time when I had been tempted, back when I had first run away and was selling my body on the street to survive. They had seemed to offer temporary oblivion, and I had seen other friends use them and swear by them. At that point in time, I had already felt so helpless and out-of-control that the idea of surrendering my last shreds of control to a chemical substance had held me back—a fact for which I was grateful. A chemical addiction was the last thing I had needed to deal with then or now.

"I'm glad to hear that." She didn't seem to have a shred of doubt that I was telling her the truth. Mom licked her cracked lips, her posture slumped over. "Well why then? Did something happen?"

I hesitated, the little-boy part of me wanting to confide in my mom as much as I ever had, even though I had shied away from it at the time. After having watched her deal with grief and struggle as a single parent after my dad died, I hadn't wanted to put her through losing another marriage. I also hadn't wanted to be in a position where she felt like she had to choose, and I admit back then I had my doubts she would have chosen me anyway. I didn't think it was anything she had ever done that gave me reason to doubt her. My self-esteem and my trust in everyone had just been shattered by that point.

Before I could give in to the urge, the door opened suddenly. I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Mia, so the unwelcome sight of Dirk was something completely different. My stomach churned, and my skin crawled. It was an instinctive reaction every time I saw him, no matter how big it I was now and how much older. He made me want to cower for just a second, so I straightened my shoulders and looked away from him.

Leave it to that bastard to ruin a moment of lucidity with my mom too. Knowing him, he was probably monitoring the conversation somewhere and watching everything going on. I couldn't dismiss the paranoid thought once it entered my mind, because it would be just like that controlling prick to observe Laura's room.

My stomach dropped sharply as I wondered briefly if he'd monitored my room too. Surely not. That would be a gross invasion of privacy, but I wouldn't put it past him. Chances were, he hadn't put cameras or speakers into this room either. Maybe he had been lurking in the doorway, or perhaps he’d just decided to drop in for one of his infrequent visits, according to the nurse I'd spoken to yesterday.

Whatever the reason he was here, he had wrecked the moment, and I supposed that was a good thing. She didn't need to know what was really going on, and what had happened back then. That could do no good under the circumstances, as I reminded myself again.

I got to my feet, squeezing her hand once more, and bent to brush a kiss across her forehead. "I see you later, Mom."

She looked like she wanted to call me back, but then her gaze moved to Dirk and back to me. She wasn't afraid, but she seemed reluctant. I almost considered asking her if she wanted me to stay, but then she squeezed my hand, gave me a smile, and patted my cheek with her other hand. "I'll see you later this evening then, my boy."

I turned and exited her room without looking at Dirk, my stomach still tied in knots from the conversation with my mom.

I was halfway down the landing when he called out to me. I froze, part of me urging my feet to continue on and ignore him, while the other part of me wanted to know what Dick had to say. Slowly, I turned to face him, determined not to betray any reaction.

***

I was boiling with rage, and the home gym they had was an inadequate receptacle for the emotion. There was a simple punching bag, certainly not a kick bag, and I was wailing on it, but it was doing very little to make me feel better. His words still played in my mind, but I couldn't bear to remember them again. He was a sick, disgusting fucker, and I couldn't wait to get away from here. Right then, I would have happily packed my things and driven away without looking back, if not for Mom. And for Mia.

In my anger, I missed the bag and ended up hitting the post from which it hanged instead. Pain flared in my knuckles, but it felt good in a bad way or bad in a good way. I couldn't decide as I did it again and again, uncaring about the torn skin or the possibility of breaking my hands. Nothing mattered except the brief release of emotional pain with the physical outlet of agony.

"Paxton?"

The sound of my name on her tongue was a cold douse of ice water, and I froze. Unfortunately, the rage still churned in me, and denied the outlet of hitting my hands against the wooden beam, it swelled and threatened to choke me. It had been a long time since I’d felt this out-of-control, and I knew I was breathing irregularly. I felt like a bit like a raging bull, and when I turned to face her, it wasn't lost on me that she wore a red halter dress. I couldn't seem to make coherent sounds, so I just stared at her as she came closer.

She wore a look of concern, and when she reached for my hand, I flinched and pulled away. She put up her hands in a nonthreatening gesture, and the rational part of me realized I was scaring her since I was so out of control. I didn't want to alarm her, so I tried to submit to her gentle touch when she took my hand again, this time holding it in hers as she examined the self-inflicted collection of wounds.

She drew in an uneven breath, and I could see the confusion in her eyes. She’d never understand why I had been mutilating myself. In her little ivory tower world, she’d probably never felt the kind of pain and rage that coursed through me, so she couldn't understand how cathartic physical pain could be sometimes. It was easier to feel an outward pain than the kind that ate deep into your soul.

"What's wrong?"

Such a simple question, but there was no easy answer. I pulled my hand away and turned my back to her, keeping my attention focused on the punching bag. I started hitting it again, this time making a conscious effort to strike vinyl rather than the wooden post that was stained with my blood. I knew as soon as she was gone, I would probably return to hitting the post though.

"Paxton, please talk to me. How can I help you?" She put a gentle hand on my shoulder as she asked.

I shivered at the touch of her hand, her palm smooth against my bare shoulder. I had stripped down to just jeans and boxers before I started punching the bag.

To my surprise, desire coursed through me like a raging inferno, and it mixed with the rage into some kind of combination I had never experienced. Right then, if I could have somehow managed to keep hitting the bag while fucking it, I might've found a way to soothe the mix of emotions inside.

"Just go away, Mia. No one can help me."

"No."

She came to stand beside me, her body pressed lightly to mine, and I was aware of the softness of her breasts against my bicep. I wanted to turn and rip the dress from her, to sink my cock into her, as I took her hard and rough. It scared me, and I can hit the bag harder, once again missing and slamming my hand into the wood. It provided a way to balance me and gave me a focal point for the rage, so I did it again.

"Please stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself badly."

I breathed harshly, trying to control myself. I had forgotten how this kind of helpless rage made me feel. Never before had I had such an easy target either, and I didn't mean the punching bag. I didn't want to say something that would hurt her, or do something horrible, so I tried to keep my voice cold and mean. "Get out and leave me the fuck alone. You don't want to deal with me right now, so let me use this punching bag however I see fit until I have some control."

There was a brief hesitation, and then she moved closer, putting her arm around my waist, her hand on my hip. "Let me help you."