Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance (30 page)

“Cal,” I choked in warning. 

My eyes squeezed shut. 
Yes, yes, yes.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair.  “Just let go.”

I couldn’t resist him.  Not after that.  My back arched against him with a helpless moan, and my orgasm crashed over me.  White hot electricity coursed through my body to every fingertip and edge, setting me on fire with need for him.  My shaking hands and thighs clung to him as he thrusted into me over and over again, his rhythm drawing the orgasm out longer. 

I was still panting and gasping for air when he came.

We laid there in each other’s arms in the afterglow, his fingers combing through my blonde curls as we watched the stars.  My nose nuzzled its way into his neck again, and I inhaled that musky, masculine scent that was uniquely Cal’s.  I was home again.  Finally.  And no one would ever take him from me. 

“I love you, Nat,” he whispered into my hair. 

“I love you.”

“I think you’re right,” he said, pulling me closer.  “I don’t know what will happen to us.  I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve you.  But I think you’re right.  I think you’ve saved me.”

“I think we’ve saved each other.”

“As if you need saving,” he said, his lips smirking against my hair.  I felt the soft vibration of his deep chuckle.  “You would have done fine without me.  You always do.”

“Yeah, well.”  I punched his arm lightly.  “At least you make things fun.  And I’ve gotten to know the local police really well since you came along.”

Another chuckle rumbled through his chest. 

God, he was sexy when he did that.

“Come on,” he said, looping an arm around my waist.  He swept me up in embrace for one last kiss, holding my cast delicately against him.  His heartbeat pumped against my chest, throbbing with mine as if we were one person.  I smiled against his mouth.  I never wanted this to end.

His green eyes twinkled as they gazed into mine.

“Let’s go make our happily ever after, sweetheart.”

And we did.

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“Come on, baby,” he said, cocking his head to the side.  His grin was irresistible, stretching impishly across those tempting full lips.  The glint of that seductive piercing in his full bottom lip gleamed at me through the drunkenness. 

I wanted to kiss him.  I wanted to bite that pierced bottom lip.  I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.

I should mention that I had never thought I would be naked and alone in bedroom with Damien Blackwood, sprawled out over my bed with his knee between my legs and his lips inches from mine.  And I definitely never thought I would let him run his hands over my body, tracing his fingertips over the curve of my breasts and down to the soft flesh of my thighs. 

First of all, because he was a tattooed bad boy.

Second of all, because he was my stepbrother.

And third of all, because I was a virgin.

The warmth and weight of his body pressed down on top of me, and I moaned as he kissed me.  His fingers crawled deeper into my panties, stroking me and making me moan his name.  There was no way this should be happening.  There was no way I should be soaking wet, moaning and writhing, naked underneath my stepbrother and about to come again.

But I didn’t care anymore. 

God, how could I care with him fucking me with his fingers like that?  With his tongue teasing my mouth, and his cock straining against his jeans, desperate to be inside of me?  My body was growing warmer and warmer, just on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Take my cock out,” he breathed, gazing into my eyes.

“But our parents—”

“They’re out for the night.  They won’t be coming back.  We’re safe, baby.”  He kissed me.  “I’ll keep you safe.  Always and forever.  That’s a fucking promise.”

I believed him. 

The more I moaned for him, the harder he became, and I helped strip him of what few clothes he had left.  I tangled my fingers in his hair and brought his mouth down on mine.  The heat of his skin on mine was amazing.  Even if we weren’t alone for the night, the only chance we’d get before his mother divorced my father, I would have still needed him. 

I always needed him. 

I loved him, I realized helplessly.

 “Cleo,” he said, cradling my face.  He was so gentle, despite the muscles and tattoos and stubble across his face.  I had never seen this side of him, one so kind and romantic.  “Please tell me you want this.  Tell me you’re ready for it.”

I could feel his cock pressing against me, and I bit my lip.

“Please,” I moaned.  “I need it.”

He smiled softly, cupped my chin, and kissed me.

“Are you afraid?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed by the mess of emotions storming inside of me.  I didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t know anything besides the desperate aching need for his cock inside of me.  For his weight crushing me into the bed.  For hearing him moan my name like I moaned his.

He waited for me to calm down, kissing the jitters away.  My body melted into his helplessly.  I
was
afraid, I realized. 

But only of how much I loved him.

“If it’s because you’re a good girl and good girls don’t do things like this,” he said, “you shouldn’t worry about it.  Do you want to know why, baby?” 

His voice was playful and teasing, and I glanced up at him to see his smoldering blue eyes burning into mine.  His passionate gaze was hypnotizing.  He gave me a delicious smile.

He leaned over and pressed his lips against my ear:

“Because I’m going to fuck the good girl out of you,” he whispered.  “And that’s a fucking promise too.”

I couldn’t take it anymore.  I grabbed his ass and pulled him to me. 

His cock slid into me, making me gasp with pain and pleasure.  His arms snaked around me, crushing me to him and whispering in my ear about how fucking amazing I felt.  My whole body was shaking, and I could hear myself moaning.

God, he felt amazing.  He
was
amazing.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cleo,” he groaned as his hips began to move against mine, slow and gentle.  I whimpered in pleasure, and he kissed me again.  “Fuck, I love you.”

It was the first time anyone had ever said they loved me.

After a few minutes of letting me adjust to his size, his rhythm began to slowly speed up.  His hips began to grind into mine.  Every time I whimpered or moaned, he would lean down and kiss me, his tongue running over my bottom lip.  His fingers reached down for my clit again and stroked it.  The warmth and bubbly electricity in my body reached a peak again, and I cried out his name when the orgasm crashed over me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

I couldn’t answer. 

His face was too gorgeous, his forehead dripping with sweat and his eyes on fire as they gazed into mine.

“Fuck, I love you, baby,” he groaned, digging his nails into my back. 

His hips began to pound my body into the bed, and the more I moaned, the harder he moved.  The headboard knocked against the wall and the mattress creaked mercilessly.  Every inch of his skin kissed mine, and I could feel his breaths getting shakier against my neck and his hips bucking erratically. 

“I’m sorry,” he growled in a strained voice, “I’m trying to go slow but—you’re just too fucking—fuck, Cleo!”

His arms crushed me to him harder as he came.  He let his weight collapse against me, still clutching me tight against him.  I ran my fingers through his hair as we both floated down from the high, the aftershocks skittering across our bodies.  I fell asleep with his arms around me, one hand cupping my bare breast, and his lips pressed against my neck. 

For once in my life, I was finally home.

***

In the morning, I woke up pleasantly sore and warm.  Grinning like an idiot, still too asleep to realize what had happened, I rolled over to hug him.  For the first time since Mom left, I was alive.  I was in love, I was in love, I was in love, and I wanted to scream it from the mountains. 

But first, I wanted to kiss him, the first person to ever understand me inside and out, the first person to
be
inside me and out, the first person to make me understand why people were always singing about love and heartbreak on the radio.

My hand reached out for Damien’s warmth and clutched at cold, empty bedsheets. 

Oh God, no. 

Please, no
. 

My heart sunk into a black hole and the world began crashing down around me.  All those whispers in the hallways at school and warnings from friends came flooding back. 

You know what kind of guy Blackwood is, don’t you?  It’s all a game to him.  If you think you’re different, it’s because he’s that good at manipulating you. 

Damien Blackwood is a psychopath.  Don’t trust him.  Don’t play his game.  Because he always wins, and you always lose. 

And that’s a fucking promise.

I was afraid to open my eyes.  I knew what I would find when I did.  The only thing left of him were marks on the wallpaper where the headboard had scuffed and torn it.  That, and a note on the bedside table.  I spread the paper out on my knee with shaking hands, and my eyes strained to read it through the tears:

Thanks.  It was fun.  You should forget about me.

--Damien.

I never saw or heard from him again.

Not until I got the next note four years later.

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