Stepbrother Gigolo (A Stepbrother Romance Book 1) (4 page)

Kara

But I did need him in my life. More than he could possibly know.

A crisp white shirt. No tie. Elegant but simple black slacks...Italian, maybe. Gucci? No. They were smart, not showy. German. Probably Hugo Boss.

Dark, slightly tousled hair; an impossibly handsome face punctuated with a small amount of stubble - just enough to brush my lips as I kissed him, sending tiny sparks through my already aroused body.

From the first second I saw Ethan Drake I was smitten. He had me submitting to him without words, like putty in his hands without a touch. I wanted him like I’d never wanted any man before - those eyes!
God, those eyes
. Sparkling, cobalt blue, and able to hypnotize me with a quick sideways glance. There was just one problem – he was my
stepbrother
. ‘Was’ is the operative term; his dad and my mother had divorced three years ago. That’s when we last saw each other, those little sparks of electricity between us unrequited but never fully extinguished.

And now, here I was; pressed up against the glass of his apartment walls, his hands gently sliding up the side of my body, his kisses peppering my lips and neck like raindrops landing on bare skin. Occasionally he would become more forceful, more deliberate, then regress back to being tender and loving again.

He took a step back and placed both hands on the delicate fabric of my thin white cotton blouse. Without warning, he ripped it apart, buttons popping and flying across the room, and I gasped at the sudden violence of his actions. I felt my breasts rise and fall with the weight of my breathing, my unpadded lace bra straining to contain their motion. Hardened nipples were clearly visible in outline; my heart was pounding so fast and hard I felt like it was slamming against the inside of my ribcage.

Ethan began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the swoops and curves of rock-hard muscle beneath. I felt a warm rush of juices in my already soaked pussy as he slowly walked towards me. I instinctively raised my hands and placed them on his chest running my fingers over his pectoral and abdominal muscles. He kissed my forehead gently and reached behind me to unhook my bra. He pulled it away, letting my breasts drop free, and immediately ran both hands slowly up their sides. I closed my eyes and moaned slightly as my nipples responded to his lips gently sucking against them, his tongue flicking playfully at the erect peaks.

I unzipped my skirt, slipping it down my hips, and it fell to the floor, pooling at my feet. I kicked it across the room and looked into Ethan's eyes.

He spun me around, with one of those sudden movements that I was beginning to long for. His unpredictability was as arousing as his incredible body. I felt his hand slip under the band of my drenched panties. He formed a fist and tugged at them gently.

"You were always such a good girl, weren't you, Kara?"

I shuddered. "Yes."

"Well, let's see what I can do to corrupt you."

With the same efficiency with which he had dispatched my blouse, Ethan ripped my panties clean off my body with a sudden, strong tug. I cried out as the elastic snapped and stung at my bare skin. Suddenly I was completely exposed, pinned naked against the cold glass, the lights of Las Vegas below, in nothing but a pair of five inch high heels. I wobbled on them, unsteady from what had just happened. I had never had clothes, let alone underwear, literally torn off my body before. Goosebumps broke out all over my skin and his breath against my neck caused my drenched pussy to respond again. He pressed himself against me, the bulge between his legs pushing into my bare, tight ass.

"Are you ready, Kara?"

I reached back and started to undo his belt. These were the sorts of actions I would never have even contemplated a few weeks ago, yet here I was, eager – no, make that
absolutely desperate
– for my stepbrother to penetrate me, right here with the city behind us. "Ready for what, Ethan?"

He circled my right buttock with his palm then slapped it, hard. I yelped at the exquisite pain before he gently nibbled at my earlobe then whispered into it.

"To do very bad things together."

I moaned out at his words. I couldn't take anymore. I was his now, utterly defeated, my defenses shot. "Yes," I replied breathlessly. "Take me. Take me and fuck me."

"Kara!"

The palm of a hand slamming on the wall brought me back to reality. "Come on," my contact at the hotel barked. "You have to be front and center now! They’re about to introduce you."

I grabbed my drink and pushed my hair back behind my ears. "Sorry, I was miles away."

"I could see that. For a minute there, I thought you were asleep."

"Asleep? I…I was just daydreaming, that's all."

"Well," she replied with a grin, "you did have your eyes closed."

I tried to ignore the dampness between my legs as I stood up and gathered my thoughts. My panties were warm and soaking wet and I worried whether my excitement would begin to trickle down my bare inner thighs soon. At least they hadn't been ripped off, like I had just imagined.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to our artist who created the wonderful works that you see around you…Kara Reynolds!"

I politely nodded my head, still uncomfortable at receiving applause from strangers. For all my bravado and attempts to portray myself as a confident woman – which, I think I'm probably successful at some of the time if not all of the time – a part of me felt almost guilty at receiving any kind of praise for my work. I had grown accustomed to having the belief drummed into me that I was a sellout, a fraud of some kind – that what I was creating wasn't real art just something to pay the bills. I'm not going to lie, a lot of that was true.

I always dreamed of having my own studio, whiling away the hours trying out new ideas on canvas and with different media – paint, charcoal, digital images. I still got to do that, of course, but I was creating work without love, without soul. It was designed purely for profit, always fitting in with the color scheme that the client wanted. Ethan's comment about how I was no different to him in many ways kept bouncing around my head. He could be a cruel, opinionated prick when he wanted to be, for sure. But he also had a point. Neither of us were producing work with an emotional connection. He gave companionship and, sometimes, his body to women who wanted an ideal, a perfect man without the strings attached. I provided art that spoke to nobody, not even myself. It kept the clients happy, but it didn't elicit any respect. Why should I care? Why should it matter if the money was sensational? Why had that bastard stepbrother of mine managed to get in my head so easily?

"They never told me the artist was so damn beautiful."

I turned to see Martin Williams, one of the assistant managers at the hotel whose reputation for basically being a complete creep preceded him. "Mr Williams, pleasure to meet you. I've heard an awful lot about you."

"Really?" he said, slurring his words. "Good or bad?"

All bad, you misogynistic scumbag
. "That would be telling."

He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. I was uncomfortable, pissed off. He was drunk and inappropriate – the worst combination where male attention is concerned. "There's a lot of rooms in this hotel, Kara, and do you know what? I can enter any damn one of them. What do you say you and me go and get away from this crowd for a little while?"

I calmly removed his hand and looked him in the eye. "I think you've had a little too much to drink, Mr Williams."

"Just one too many, that's all," he grinned.

"More like ten too many. Why don't you go and have a lie down somewhere?"

"Only if it's with you."

That was my cue to leave or at least get away. "I need to go to the ladies room. Excuse me."

It wasn't long before his voice boomed down the corridor behind me. "I hope you're not trying to get away, Miss Reynolds. I know every nook and cranny of this hotel, you know."

I turned, my heart pounding in my chest, to see his lumbering frame coming towards me. "Mr Williams, I don't mean to be rude but I really think you need to go and lie down before you do something you regret. I'm here in a professional capacity and I'd like you to be the same."

He grabbed both my arms and pulled me to him, causing me to gasp. "You little cock tease. Women like you are all the same. Look at you, in your tight dress and your high heels. Why do you dress like that? Hmm? I know exactly why you do it. Because it turns men on. You dress like a fucking slut, showing off your cleavage and loads of skin because it gets us hard. And then what? You think you can just snatch that away from us when we give you a bit of attention?"

"Yes we can," I scowled. "Because a woman has a choice. And I choose not to put up with this any longer, got it?"

"I always get what I want," he growled, squeezing me too tightly for comfort.

"Not this time," I replied. I brought my knee up swiftly between his legs, slamming him with all the force I had. I never understood why men were so quick to tell each other to "grow a set of balls" when they wanted to elicit masculinity or bravado. It's the weakest part of a man by far, the one area where any woman can immediately and literally bring a guy twice her size to his knees.

"Ohhh, fuck…" he whimpered, his legs buckling. "You pretentious little bitch! You're going to regret that."

"No she won't. But you will." The familiar voice came from directly behind him and it took me a moment to even comprehend what was happening as, without warning, my aggressor suddenly flew through the air backwards, slamming off the opposite wall and collapsing in a heap. "You okay, Kara?"

I struggled to stop my face breaking out in the broadest of smiles as I looked at Ethan's beautiful face, his sparkling blue eyes staring at me with a mixture of concern and genuine affection. "Yes," I said. "More than okay."

"Who the fuck are you?" Martin said, slowly rising to his feet. "Her bodyguard?"

Ethan squared up to him, his muscular frame both delectable and imposing in a black Armani suit. "She doesn't need a bodyguard. She'd started kicking your punk ass before I even got here."

"Do you have any idea who I am? We’ll see how tough you are with six security guards on you."

Ethan placed a hand around Martin’s neck and squeezed, pushing him against the wall. "Go ahead, little piggy. Scream for them. What's the matter? Lost your voice?"

His hands flailed at Ethan's wrist, unable to break the grip from around his throat. "Stop…you're…choking me…"

"Very perceptive," Ethan said, releasing him. He slumped again to the floor, desperately catching his breath. Ethan kneeled down and slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. It was the ultimate humiliation; the ultimate loss of masculinity. To lose a fist fight is one thing; to be
slapped with the back of another man's hand?
He had broken him in an instant.

"You like preying on women, you piece of shit. Everyone in Vegas knows about you. I'm the opposite. I worship women, adore them. I believe in giving them the respect and adulation they deserve. If you ever,
ever
touch another woman I care about, I swear to God I'll find out about it. Next time I won’t be so gentle with you. Understand?"

He nodded, pathetic and defeated.

"Come on, Kara. Let's go."

He held out his hand and I took it willingly. "You came," I whispered. "I asked you to come and you did."

As we headed out into the cool night air, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. "I wasn't going to let you down again. Or myself."

Kara

There's an old saying that's always bugged me.
Life is short
.

As I stood in my hotel bedroom with Ethan, I had one of those clarifying moments where I realized that simply isn't true. Life isn't short at all. It's more than long enough for all of the things that we want to do with it. The truth is, the vast majority of people spend all their days getting distracted – messing around on Facebook or sending pointless photographs of whatever dish of food they're eating to Instagram. These things are all just distractions, procrastination when you could be doing far more interesting, life affirming things.

I learned this from my father. Not because he taught me, but because when he died he had so many regrets. He was diagnosed with lung cancer one January morning and by October of the same year he was dead. Those months were painful, the latter half even more so. Those were the times when hope was starting to fade, when it was clear nothing could be done for him. It was in those lonely hours that he realized he'd never get to travel the world and see the places he'd always wanted to see. He'd never get to live beside a beach, play with his grandchildren or fall in love again. He had let all those opportunities, all those moments slip away like grains of sand through parted fingers.

He worked hard, but not smart; always giving his all for somebody else and receiving so little in return. He had dreams, aspirations – but he never acted on them. The most painful thing he had to accept as his days began to fade was that he'd always either given up on his dreams or failed to do anything about them. When I saw the sadness in his eyes, the disappointment of all those wasted years etched on his face, I vowed never to do the same.

As Ethan removed his clothes to reveal the swoops and curves of his muscular body, I made a decision in the moment.

Breathe. Let this happen. No regrets, no turning back.

“Are you sure you want this, Kara?”

I stood before him, watching as the rippling muscles of his gorgeous body glided toward me. I slipped the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders before giving him my response.

"Yes. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

I pushed the fabric down my body, letting it drop from my thighs and pool at my feet. My nipples were hard and erect beneath my bra, my pussy filled with warm juices. I walked to Ethan and ran my hands over his muscular chest before standing on the tips of my toes to kiss him. As our lips met, my body broke out in goosebumps. He tasted warm and salty, like delicious sea water, his tongue lapping at mine. His smooth, hard arms wrapped around me and I was enveloped, my legs sliding up his body as his muscles lifted me up and held me close to him.

If this was a dream, I didn't want to wake up.

We kissed and kissed until he laid me gently, softly down on the bed, my long red hair cascading across the soft duck-feather pillows. Ethan slipped off my bra and drenched panties before moving down to my neatly-trimmed pussy. He ran his tongue up the length of my opening and I felt it part with his movements. I moaned out as stroked against my folds, darting his tongue into me then paying meticulous attention to my clit, already reddened from my earlier arousal.

Aware of my sensitivity, he ran his tongue up and over my pubic bone before reaching my tight stomach. He licked at my navel, then worked his way up my body with soft, gentle kisses. It felt like snowflakes landing on skin, each touch of his lips wet and slightly cool, and when he reached my breasts his strong hands stroked at their sides and cupped them as he licked and sucked at my impossibly hard nipples.

My moaning was uncontrollable and I found myself giggling, biting my finger at the sheer level of arousal. My pussy flooded with wetness again and again and, as he flicked his tongue up my neck and reached my mouth, he was inches from my face. I looked into those amazing eyes, wrapped my arms around him and spread my legs wide. "Fuck me," I gasped. "Fuck me, Ethan."

Without hesitation, his cock slid deep into my saturated pussy. I cried out, not in pain but sheer ecstasy, as a hardness I had never experienced before parted me and stretched my inner walls, travelling deep into my soaked passage before withdrawing and thrusting in again. I gave myself to him completely, widening my legs to accommodate his ripped torso so that his cock could deliver stroke after stroke of sheer pleasure.

He spread my arms outward and pinned me to the bed - not forcefully, but delicately. If I wanted to break free, he would let me, I knew that - but nothing was further from my mind. I let myself be spread-eagled, my fingers forming fists to pull at the cotton sheets beneath me. His cock was thick, easily ten inches long and as hard as steel. I felt the bulging head of it rippling through my walls with each stroke and wondered if I would even survive the resulting orgasm. At least I would die smiling.

"Ethan..." I moaned. "God, you're so big..." As thrust after thrust of relentless hardness penetrated me, I felt an orgasm build. “Oh, fuck..."

Juices drowned his cock as I came. I shuddered against him, my body exploding like a delicate piece of glass. A thousand shards of my body shattered at once as his deep, hard cock kept up its relentless rhythm. He slowed his pace, giving me chance to recover, and loosened his grip on my forearms. I pulled him to me and kissed his lips. "Please," I gasped. "I want to taste myself on you."

He pulled out and I felt my juices trickle out of my drenched pussy. I was almost in a daze as I kneeled on the bed and bent down to take his cock in my mouth, the sweet nectar almost too delicious, too boozy, too addictive. His length was too much for me to fully take, barely half of him fitting in me before hitting the back of my throat, but I knew the roll of my tongue and sucking action of my lips was enough to satisfy him. His moans told me all I needed to know. The taste of his salty pre-come mixed with my juices filled my mouth and formed a cocktail that caused me to become soaking wet again, ready once more for his beautiful violation.

I released him and drank down the gorgeous liquid before kissing him once more. "Ethan," I moaned. "I know you have sex with women all the time. But when was the last time you made love to someone?"

"It’s been a while," he replied. "Let’s not think about them. Right now I only want you, Kara."

I bit my lip. "Show me how much you want me." I turned around, sliding my tight ass up and down the length of his erection. My pussy lips were fully parted, the cool air conditioning gently blowing at them, and he penetrated me again, that incredible hardness causing me to gasp. I reached back and placed my hands on his firm, muscular buttocks, pushing him into me as if he needed any further assistance. His palms and fingers stroked at my breasts and flicked at my nipples, their hard tips cutting through air, and his arms wrapped around the front of my body pulling my bare back tightly onto his chest and washboard abs.

I moaned out again and again as his lips landed kisses on the side of my neck. Suddenly, Ethan lifted me and spun me around, throwing me onto the bed and driving deep inside me from above with expert precision.

"My God!" I said, startled at his prowess. "Now I understand why you’re so expensive. Take me completely." He slammed into me with jackhammer-like thrusts, the feeling of fullness inside me almost too much to bear. "Oh shit!" I screamed. "Fucking hell!"

I felt almost ashamed at my language, yet I had no other reaction. This wasn't the time for niceties. I was being penetrated so mercilessly, my breasts crushed against the hard muscles of his chest, and I had lost all control. "I'm sorry, Ethan...you feel so good..."

"Don't worry," he whispered in my ear. "Lose control. Do it now!"

"Fuck me!" I begged. "Fuck my pussy...make love to me..."

Make love to me
. We had gone beyond mere sex. This was like nothing I had ever experienced, dream or no dream. I was completely letting go. I had given up my body, my emotions, everything. He slid his rock-hard, enormous cock deep within me, his body working like a piston to deliver thrust after thrust of utter satisfaction, his back muscles rippling beneath my fingers as sheer ecstasy exploded throughout my body.

My orgasm gave no warning this time; I simply collapsed into the moment, my body tightening inside like a fist then unfurling again like an origami swan. Everything seemed to slow down; the speed of his movements, the sound of my moans, the flow of my juices. Life, suddenly, was in slow motion. I felt myself scream out silently then smile uncontrollably as he began to pulsate below.

"Come inside me, Ethan..."

His hot, warm cream exploded inside me as he held me tight. He felt like he would never let me go.