Wicked Game: a Billionaire Stepbrother Romance (7 page)

“The public?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“So you haven’t seen yet?” he said.  

Damien grabbed the remote from the table in the middle of the room and flicked on the television.  An entertainment news program was going over that day’s hottest gossip stories.  Stills of Damien catching my clumsy funeral hooker fall and my horrified face as he announced our upcoming joyous union were plastered across the screen.  I turned green as one of the hosts nudged his cohost and said something about looking out for a baby bump.  

“You don’t seem to happy about that,” he said.

“What do you expect, Damien?” I asked, throwing my hands up.  I couldn’t hold it inside anymore, even if I knew it was the smart thing to do.  This whole situation was fucking ridiculous, and he had to know that.  Even Damien Blackwood wasn’t
that
oblivious.  “We fuck, you move away, we never talk again.  And I’m supposed to be happy to pretend to be your arm candy?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like hell you don’t.  What happened between us happened, Damien.  Just because we were stupid teenagers when you ran away doesn’t mean it doesn’t count.  And it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.  You can’t pretend that.”

His eyes widened with recognition.

“Are you talking about… about the divorce?”

“I’m talking about you fucking me and leaving the next morning.”

“And you blame that on me?”

“Of course I do.”  I glared at him.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You know it wasn’t my choice to move,” he murmured.  There was hurt in his voice as he sat down on the side of the bed.  The cockiness had drained from his eyes, and his voice was soft.  I edged away from him, folding my knees into my arms against my chest.  There was no way I was letting him get close to me.  That was always trouble.  “We had no choice.  The divorce made it unavoidable.  After you exposed Dad in front of his business, in front of the public—”

“Me?  Embarrass
him
?”  I barked a laugh.  “Right, because I’m the one who made him fuck around on Mom.  Because I’m the one who kept a line of blondes filing into his bedroom.  Because I’m the one who was the hypocrite who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“I’m not defending him, Cleo.  I told you.  We both know he was a shit person.”  Damien frowned.  “But it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t have a choice in leaving.”

I wanted to snap at him about the letter, but I shut my mouth.  There was no use arguing about it now.  I shouldn’t have even brought it up—it was a stupid teenage mistake from years ago, and it’s not like it mattered now.  

Well, besides the fact that it reminded me I could never trust Damien Blackwood.  Mom had trusted a Blackwood once, and see where that had gotten her?

“You’re right,” I said.  “Forget it.  It was stupid of me to think you cared.”

Damien froze.

“What did you say?”

“I said it was stupid to think you cared.  Forget it.  I’ve grown up, I get it, let’s just stop talking about it.  That will only make it worse.”

“You think I don’t care about you?”

“Damien, goddamnit, don’t keep playing this game.”

“This isn’t a goddamn game!”

Damien shouted for the first time that day.  I jumped in my seat.  Damien wasn’t the kind of guy to shout—he was more the kind of guy to scheme and give you a sweet smile as he stabbed you in the back.  

It wasn’t that I was scared.  He annoyed me, but he wasn’t dangerous.  Deep down, I knew Damien wasn’t cruel or evil, he was just a selfish idiot.  

But I
was
confused.  Something was burning in his eyes.  There was anger there, but something else, too.  Something that made my hands shake and my heart pound.

God, don’t look at me like that.  My panties might fly off.

“As if I believe that,” I whispered.

Painful memories from my teen years rolled over.  No, there was no way I could ever believe that.  I knew what it was like to trust Damien Blackwood and be betrayed.  Never again.

“Don’t care?”  He ran his hands through his thick hair, his gaze burning through me.  It was a hungry, desperate gaze that drank me in.  It wanted me, I realized.  “Trust me, Cleo.  I care.  I care a whole fucking lot more than you realize.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”  His eyes widened as he studied me.  He shook his head, amazed at me.  “God, Cleo.  You are the only person who would ever say something like that to me.”

“Because I know you.  And I know you’re a fucking liar.  Especially when it comes to ‘how much you care’ about me.”

He tensed up again, fixing his eyes on me.  I had hit a nerve.  

“Is that what you really think?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me show you just how fucking much I care,” he growled.

I gasped as I was thrown on my back, collapsing into the pillows again.  

Damien pounced on top of me, and the heat of his body caressed mine.  

“I think you fucking care, don’t you, Cleo?”  He leaned down until his lips were only an inch from mine.  “Tell me.  Do you want this?  Do
you
fucking care?”

His body felt too good on top of mine.  Instead of answering no, and instead of pushing him off of me like I should have, my body reacted the way it really needed to.  

I leaned forward and kissed him.

Fuck, why did I do that?

His arms crushed me to his chest, and my gasp was interrupted by his lips.  He kissed me fiercely as I gasped for breath.  The soft warmth of his lips pressed hard against mine as his fingers dug into my hips.  My legs parted, letting him press himself against me as hard as we both wanted.  

His hips grinded into mine.

Oh God, I had missed this.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I moaned.  In the back of my mind, I knew this shouldn’t be happening, but I was too hypnotized by how good his body felt on mine to care.  My fingers laced through his hair, forcing his head to mine as he kissed me.  

I had forgotten how good he tasted.  I had forgotten how good those gorgeous lips felt on my own.  I had forgotten how fucking good Damien’s hips felt when they moved hard against mine.  Not thinking, I crossed my ankles over him, desperate to have him as close to me as possible.

“Fuck, Cleo,” he growled.

I felt his hard cock pressing against my thigh, straining through his pants.  Oh Jesus, that felt nice.  That was another thing I had forgotten—how big he was.

I tilted my head up to finally bite that full bottom lip.  

I had wanted to do that for years.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, pulling my thighs apart.  His fingertips brushed against my panties, teasing me where I needed him most.  I ached to have him inside me, filling me, pounding me into the best orgasm of my life.  His lips kissed and nipped my throat as his fingers worked against my pussy.

One of his fingers slipped inside, stroking me.

So fucking good.

Too good.

The sensation brought me back to reality, and my eyes popped open.

“Oh my God!” I shouted, shoving him off of me.

Damien stumbled back, his eyes wide.  Horrified at what I had just done, I pulled my skirt down over my wet pussy and wrapped a blanket over myself.  I buried my face in the pillow, mortified.  

God, what was wrong with me?  Five minutes alone together, and I was already had him between my legs.  Did I really have zero self-control when it came to Damien Blackwood?  Was I really willing to forget the kind of person he was, all for a good fuck?

No.  My dry spell wasn’t that bad.

Even if it was four years and counting.

“Fuck, Cleo,” he groaned, running his fingers through his hair.  “I’m sorry.”

I mumbled something into the pillow, wishing I could just disappear.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he sighed.  “I’m sorry.  We can talk then.”

I peeked up, confused.  “What?  That’s it?”  

That wasn’t the cocky Damien Blackwood I knew.  The Damien Blackwood I knew would never let me live down the fact that I had just forced him between my legs.  The Damien Blackwood I knew would ask if I needed a mop for my panties and tell me his tongue could help.  The Damien Blackwood I knew would definitely not let me recover the last pieces of dignity I had in privacy.  

I guess adult Damien really was different.  

At least when it came to fucking his stepsister.

“I told you,” he said, adjusting his tie.  God, I wanted to grab that tie and force him back on top of me.  “I
will
fuck you, Cleo.  But you’re going to beg for it first.”

“If you really think that, you’re stupider than you were as a kid.”

“You didn’t seem so sure of that when you were grinding your pussy against me.”

Heat rushed to my face, and I turned red.  “I didn’t—”

He waved me away, shaking his head.  “We’ll talk about it later, Cleo,” he said in a ragged voice, still a little breathless.  “Hopefully when we’re naked.  Remember what I said about practicing our backstory, and get ready for your first day in the limelight tomorrow.”

He turned, and his hand reached for the doorknob.

“Wait!” I shouted.

Damien paused.  He glanced back at me with those burning eyes.

“What?” he groaned in a ragged voice.

“Where are you going?”

I hated how small and desperate my voice was, but I couldn’t let him leave.  Not now.  Not now that he had exposed the weak, vulnerable part of me that still wanted him.  Or still wanted his cock, at least.  I forced myself to sit up like an adult as I glared at him.  

“You think you can just fuck me and leave again?” I demanded.

His glare was just as fierce as mine.  “Trust me, Cleo.  That wasn’t fucking.  When I fuck you, you’ll scream louder than that.  When I fuck you, you won’t walk for a fucking week.”

When.  Not if.

Another shiver rolled down my back.

I forced it away.

“Stop ignoring me and answer the question.  Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Really, Cleo?”  

Shameless, Damien gestured down to his crotch.  A painfully huge bulge was growing there, and the thought of it made my mouth water.  God, he was big.  I could practically taste the hot, pulsing throb of his cock in my mouth, and I imagined the whimpers and moans he would make as I ran my tongue down that long shaft.  A part of me wanted to hate Damien, a part of me
did
hate Damien, but the honest part of me knew that I could never resist that cock.

My face grew hotter and redder as I realized I was staring.  I forced my gaze back up to his face, only to realize he was staring at me with the same intense look.

“I’ve got something to
take care of
,” he said.

“Oh,” I said, getting redder.

The memory of his voice floated back to me:

I will fuck you, Cleo.

I watched him turn on his heel and march out, letting my door fall shut with a thud.

Oh God, I thought to myself as I laid back on the bed.  

So that’s what he was after?

So maybe Damien did want me, at least for a night.  

And, honestly?  I wanted him just as bad.  Probably worse.  I calmed my breathing as I stared at the ceiling, trying to gather my thoughts.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.  After all, I was a grown woman, wasn’t I?  I could make my own decisions.  I was here for the money, but if I happened to get out some frustration by banging my smoking hot psychopath stepbrother…  That wouldn’t be so bad….

Oh God, Cleo, what are you thinking?

I glanced back at the TV, and memories of the baby bump segment flooded back to me.  

No.  Get a grip, Cleo.  

I was here to pretend to be his wife, get the money, and get out.  

That’s it.

That’s all this ever would be.
 

The sounds of scuffling feet and folding sheets woke me up.  

I peeked over my blankets to see three different maids scurrying around the grand bedroom as they dusted, folded laundry, and changed the trash.  I rolled over, burying my face in the pillows.