Stepbrother UnSEALed (15 page)

I have to listen to reason. We can keep having fun, but we can't go too far...right? And if we do, I might not be able to stop wanting him.

Later, when we towel ourselves off and throw on our robes, heading out on the awesome balcony for our morning coffee, I realize I'm already in too deep.

He had me from the very first kiss.
Mine
is just a highlight, an afterthought, a reminder that there's no earthly way we'll ever share the same room with a quiet heart and dry panties.

I'm scared. I don't know how I'll ever find my way back to normal.

B
y day five, I don't know what the fuck's happening to me.

I'm spending every waking minute deep inside Delia. My dick's been everywhere by now, but it still feels like we've barely begun to explore. I've been in her hot little lips, wedged between her tits, shoved balls deep in her slick, perfect cunt, fucking her every way I know how, plus some ways I invent.

It's ludicrous.

I've never fucked the same woman for a full week straight in my entire life. Chris Cleveland doesn't do that shit. I get my dick wet, makes my girls happy, and then forget, disappearing every time duty calls.

Except this time it's not so simple. It's like she's crawled inside my skull and hot-wired my brain. I've fucked her a couple dozen times, and I still want more. I can't get enough.

She can barely get me to leave the hotel to take her out on the town. It's not just because my dick never wants to rest. When we're out, my hands are always on her, holding her on my lap by the waist, or guiding her through the casinos and down the strip with my hand wrapped tight around hers.

She's never getting out of my sight in this city again. We have our fun, sure.

But having her like this only makes me rage even more about the men who almost took her away from me, pulled her into the darkness forever. I want to head back to that abandoned theater, douse their rotten bodies in gasoline, and torch them 'til they're ashes.

Of course, I'm not an idiot, and I won't attract attention to myself. I keep scanning the local news, but nobody's found their carcasses yet. Or if they did, it was such a non-incident there'll be nothing more than a footnote about two unidentified bodies in the Vegas police blotter.

Our last full evening out, I take her to this fancy French place. Aside from the hotel, I use all my own money. I won't take shit from her father, no matter how nice he is.

I'll never be blue blooded rich, and I'll never be able to comprehend her fancy world. But when I'm dressed up in a nice vest and she's in her hot red dress, staring up at me over the spotless table over wine, I don't fucking care.

My body reacts to hers at some caveman level I can't wrap my head around. Fuck it, I don't need to. All I know is I want her coiled around my dick twenty-four seven, legs spread, digging her nails deep into my flesh 'til I pump every drop of come I've got into her womb.

I want to lose the rubber and sew her deep. I want to fuck her 'til she comes on command, sucking at my mouth like it's precious oxygen after she's been  underwater. I want to feel her pussy clenching on my cock all fucking night, digging my fingers into her ass as she rides me, growling 'til my thunder matches her pulse, bending her to me forever.

“It's been quite a week, hasn't it?” she asks shyly, twirling the burgundy in her glass.

“Yeah, and we're damned lucky we got it too. The commander called me up last night, told me needs me back at base the day after we land. Duty calls, babe.”

“You really take it seriously, don't you? I didn't realize until I had a chance to see your tattoos. I mean,
really
look at them.”

Her eyes dance mischievously for me. Last night, I finally gave myself a breather after we exploded at least three times. She laid on my chest, running her fingers over each and every patch of ink on my skin.

I told her about the trident on my flesh, and even the three black triangles on my left bicep. They're the newest on my skin, one for each man on our team who died in Kirkuk. I wouldn't say how or where, but I cracked and told her it was for them, something I never thought I'd tell anybody who's not a SEAL.

Certainly not my hot, sweet, and infuriating stepsister. Yeah, the same one I need to stop fucking in about twenty-four hours, when we leave the paradise we've created here for the bland hell back in California.

“You know what I said – my ink, my life. I don't hide behind walls, Delia. You know exactly who I am.”

“Do I?” She quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head. “I saw what it means to be a SEAL the first night we were here. But there's a lot I don't know, Chris.”

I shrug, tucking into my escargot. “Just ask. Stop being so shy. You ought to know there's no need for that after the things we've done since I took your cherry.”

I say the last part under my breath, leaning in, grabbing her hand. Her fingers squeeze mine back and she blushes.

The girl has no reason in the world to be shy. I wish she'd get over it for her own good, but damn if it doesn't make my cock throb in the meantime. Pink glows on her cheeks, and she takes an extra long sip of her wine, like there's something she's trying to find the courage to say.

“Okay, so why is Evie such a bitch?” The way she blurts it out nearly causes me to drop my fork.

“I'm not sure what you're getting at. Give me something specific.”

Bullshit, I know exactly what she's saying. Too bad my mom is the last thing I want us talking about on our final night in this town. It's supposed to be about her and I, even though I know that's only going to make a clean break harder once we get home.

“I'm worried about my dad. It's obvious to us this whole thing is a big mistake...but he's blind. He doesn't see it. She's already screwing him over, I just know it. What I haven't figured out is why.” I stare at her, trying to comprehend why she gives a shit. Our parents' problems aren't mine. “She knows about us, Chris. She came after me before we did anything, warned me to stay away from you and stop screwing you up.”

Fuck, I temporarily lose my appetite. I pick up my glass and suck down the last of my wine before I answer, feeling it slip straight into the fire in my guts.

“I don't give a damn what she says, and neither should you. She's always been a selfish, greedy, train wreck. Your old man's got no backbone. Tell him to break up, throw her out, and pray to God he's got himself a pre-nup before it's too late. I'm stuck dealing with her bullshit because we're blood.”

She shakes her head sadly, staring into her onion soup. “No, he's really in love. I haven't seen him like this since mom walked out. I can't get in the middle. He has to leave her on his own. It's not my place to twist him into doing something he doesn't want to.”

Right now, it's awfully hard to give a shit what Bruce wants. If he'd man up and leave the tornado blowing through his house, then maybe I wouldn't have to try like hell to forget Delia the instant we get off our flight in NorCal.

It's going to be hell. I'm disappearing to base and never coming back. Every instinct I've got keeps fighting me, though.

I can't think about anything except all the ways I want to keep kissing, touching, and fucking her, pleasures that go way beyond anything we can condense into one final night.

“I'm just trying to figure out what I'm dealing with, Chris. What
you've
been dealing with all these years. What's her deal? What made her so awful?”

I rip my last piece of escargot out of its shell the same way I pulled the trigger on Abu Alhazred before the Iranians showed up. It's gone in an instant.

“Mom can't handle failure, Delia. She can't take getting old, losing her career, having nothing to look forward to except a few more wrinkles and half a dozen more exes, assuming she doesn't OD first. I spent two summers trying to get her off the junk before I enlisted and left her shit behind. You can't help the people who don't give a fuck about saving themselves, and Evie stopped trying around the time I was five.”

“Jesus,” she says softly. “I read about her, you know. She wasn't always like this, right?”

I roll my shoulders again, wishing this damned conversation would disappear, just like the delicacy sliding down my throat.

“How the hell am I supposed to know? The past was a long time ago. She went to pieces after my old man walked out. She divorced him because he was no good for her – too poor, too savage, too violent. Mom wanted to be another Hollywood princess. Why she thought she could ever make it work with some biker badass she met at a sex club, I'll never know.”

Delia almost chokes on her water. “What? You're kidding. That's really how your folks got together? Not that there's anything wrong with that, I mean.”

I laugh. She's so innocent, and she really doesn't have a clue. I look her up and down, wondering if I'm drawn to her because she's giving me a chance to follow in dad's footsteps.

Part of me wants to. I want to wreck this girl, every fucking inch of her, brand her as mine forever. I know it's insane, I know it's wrong, and fuck if I care.

“Babe, you're a smart chick, but there's a lot you've got to learn about the world. People don't always marry and pop out kids because it's sane and loving. Sometimes they just make a big goddamned mistake because the sex is that good, and mom's drug was kink before she got into the other shit.”

No, I can't do this shit. She's too good, too innocent.

I tell myself I've got no interest in corrupting a sweet, rich, smart girl, one who's from a world I don't want to understand – especially when she's my own damned stepsis. Then I think about that little whimper she makes when my cock's driving into her, slamming her into the mattress, and I want to ruin her
forever.

Honestly, I'm fucking out the things I should've dealt with years ago. And it's even worse that I've got to stop, but there's no choice. I have to end this back in California, before I really hurt her, and leave her just as screwed up as my mom.

“I'm not as naïve as you think,” she says with a pout. “Is that what really has her all torn up? A bad breakup and pining after some biker boy? All the tabloids say it was her career.”

“My old man's dead,” I growl. “Road accident, or so I heard from a guy in his club when I got older. He belonged to the Grizzlies MC. They were dirty, outlaw sonsofbitches in the old days. Whatever really happened to my pops, I'll never know. I don't care. It's not going to fix all the ways mom's fucked up her life.”

“I have to keep dad from getting hurt.”

“His problem. He's – what? – pushing fifty? That's old enough to know better. You're right about one thing, Delia. You have to let a man make his own mistakes. He'll find out she's been stringing him along as a sugar daddy soon enough.”

A waiter comes by and interrupts the conversation. We get our entrees, some kind of rustic French chicken I can't even pronounce. Damn if it doesn't take the edge off as soon as I stuff the juicy meat into my mouth, tasting the way it blends with the wine.

She's picking at her food again. I want to fly home and drag Evie out of that mansion, kicking and screaming. She's not ruining this. None of this shit between our parents is wrecking our last night together.

“You'd better dig in, baby, and put that negative crap aside.” I lean forward and reach across the table, cupping her chin, stroking her cheek with my thumb, harder than any romantic gesture should be. “We're not letting what's going on with them get to us tonight. This is
our
night, Delia. The last one we're ever gonna have together. Don't make me fuck the bad thoughts out of your head on an empty stomach.”

She reaches for my hand and I let her pull it off her face. For a second, she holds my big hand in both of hers, and gives it a little kiss.

“I wish it weren't over. Do you know how hard it's going to be to let go? Maybe things could be different if our parents weren't married and so...so fucked up.”

I've never heard her drop an F-bomb in public before. I know she's upset. Still, I can't lead her on, even when every part of me knows just how right she is.

“But they are, babe. We can't pretend there's no understanding about what's going on here, with them and us. You want to give your old man a chance to sort out his shit? Then you can't let him find out his perfect daughter's sharing a bed with her own damned stepbrother.”

She nods like her head's made of cement. I can see the sadness in her eyes, melancholy over how screwed up our situation really is, the thousand and one things standing between us.

Fuck,
us.
The very idea makes me want to punch myself in the face for even thinking it. It's not like she's my girlfriend.

We're trained in the SEALs to find the flaws in our own thinking before they become fatal mistakes, and I catch mine now. I don't care how beautiful she looks, or how much I wish I could burn away the lonely regrets in her big brown eyes.

We've got one more night to make our memories. One more night of splendor, booze, and passion before it's back to reality. And the reality is, I don't do relationships.

Delia's one more fuck – an amazing, unforgettable, mind bending fuck – and nothing more. I know she'll be okay in the end.

Evie and Bruce will self-destruct sooner or later, and she'll help pick up the pieces. I hope there's a man waiting for her someday to help sweep away the fallout forever, but it won't be me.

It can't be. Her future's too bright to end up with a military man who's fucked more girls in the past year than he can even name.

Reality sucks, but reality rules. I know what I need to do.

Tonight, I'll make her happier than she's ever been in her whole fucking life. Then I'll be gone.

We're outside on the balcony, overlooking the city of lights. It's an otherworldly sight out here, but I can only stare at the lights in quick snatches, before turning back to what I really want to gaze on tonight.

Delia's curled up on my lap, her legs slung over me, her breath quickening as she inhales my scent. I let her bury her face in my shoulder as I fist her hair. My dick wants to rip straight through my trousers and take her right here, right now, but the mutinous bastard beating in my chest wants to savor this.