Stepbrother Tormentor 1 of 2: A Steamy Romance Read online

  To her, I must be Mr. Jackass. Too cool to hang with his stepsister. Too cool to love her. If only she knew she is the one I think of and the reason I go out each evening. Drinking to take my mind off her, partying with girls who don't even succeed at entertaining me on more than just the level of basic desire.

  "Sorry about that." Stepping back, I look away.

  "Me too," Cassandra says softly. Too softly and with too much feeling. I prefer the anger. The anger hurts me less.

  "Let's go," I say, more brusquely than intended. "Don't want you to catch a cold in those wet clothes," I add, trying to sound friendly.

  We don't talk until we've arrived at the parking lot, and that's where we catch the wrong sort of attention. Guys like me, that is. Trying hard to prove how tough they are. Though and stupid. And I know exactly where it will lead to the moment I see them eye Cassandra with the lust that I’m only too familiar with.

  There are three of them. Them and the beaten down truck they drove in, and the crate of beer in front of them.

  "Want me to warm you up, babe?" the tallest says, after giving me a glance over and deciding that he'll risk pissing me off. Like the jerk that he is, he spreads his arms and makes a thrusting motion with his hips. Predictably, his friends laugh. Just as predictably, I tense up, my body preparing for the attack, when Cassandra touches my arm. If it weren't for that, I'd have charged already.

  "Don't bother," she says.

  "Yeah, don't bother, sissy," the jerk off says, and they laugh.

  "Stephan," Cassandra says with a warning, standing dangerously close to me. The deep furrow between her eyebrows tells me how worried she is, and again there is the bodily impulse to grab her, pull her close, and kiss those soft lips. Instead my body decides to take my pent up frustration out on the ones who deserves it.

  She calls after me again when I storm off, but I don't listen; I have anger to unleash. Anger for being in love with the one woman I can never have, and I just found the guys who deserve the beating. Honing in on my target with eyes that I know scream murder, I feel the adrenaline kick in.

  "What?" the jerk says as he watches me approach, trying to make it sound like a challenge but without the confidence he needs to make an impression. There is fear in his eyes, though. And a nervous tremble that he tries to hide by puffing his chest. We both know how this game is played. He'll pretend he isn't shitting his pants right now and is betting on me being all show too. Too bad for him, unlike him, I'm not the kind who freezes up. The kind who is all words and no action. Not unless he is certain that he will come out as the big winner, but I can see he doesn't feel like he will. Nor do his friends look too inclined to take me on.

  There's a crunching sound when my fist slams into his face, and I feel his nose cave in under my knuckles, blood gushing out instantly in copious amounts. His cry is loud and his hands go to his face as he stumbles backwards, slamming against the front of the truck.

  "What the fuck?" one of his friends says, and I'm already turning a forty-five degrees to catch a punch meant for my face on my shoulder, countering it with another straight smash that lands firmly on the side of his head, snapping it to the side. The upper cut snaps his head back and I follow it up with a jab to his jaw that sends him down to the ground. I never realized that I had this fury in me until now.

  Furious over the way my parents shuffled me from one to the other. Furious over wanting the one girl who is off limits. But most of all, I'm furious over the way I treat her. As hard as it is to keep my feelings hidden, no one forced me to be the jackass that I've been to her since day one. What does that say of me? That I am some insecure jerk? Cool only when things go my way, but pathetic and weak when it really comes down to it.

  "Stephan!" Cassandra screams, as I twirl and block a fist, and strike out again. My assailant stumbles backwards several feet and I follow, putting all my strength into a punch to his solar plexus. He doubles over and I raise my fist to finish it off. But I can't. SeeingCassandra stare at me with horror etched on her beautiful face drains all the fury out of me, leaving me empty and sad.

  Looking around me at the guys I hurt, I'm certain she must think I'm some fucking madman. A lunatic. Fuck!

  Cassandra

  My eyes shoot wide open and the moonlight hits my face as a moan that is lustful and loud wells up from the back of my throat, my whole body trembling when I feel Stephan's strong hands run over my hips. I'm so wet that my juices run down my thighs, and biting my lower lip is all I can do to not cry out when his lips embrace my throbbing clit, my bare breasts rising and falling with each deep breath I take. Still, the muffled moan that escapes when his tongue flicks over the sensitive organ while sucking me into his warm mouth sounds too loud in the semi-darkness of my room.

  Grabbing the sheets as if that can bring me salvation, I arch my back and, without thinking, my hands find their way to the back of his head. His hair feels as soft, as I always knew it would, and he doesn't disappoint when I press my swollen lips against his mouth. Afraid it will stop any moment, I close my eyes tight again, tears escaping from the corners that gravity has no trouble pulling down, a wet path left in their wake that is fast reinforced by more tears of the lust that is consuming me.

  Soon enough my cheeks are as wet as my pussy and his lips, his tongue never stopping in its quest to bring me pleasure. His tongue slides deep inside me unapologetically, like a little hard and smooth cock, leaving me shuddering and moaning even more. The next moment the tip dances lightly around my clit, as if too timid to approach. But that is just play, I know. There is nothing timid about the way his hands on my thighs keeps my legs spread wide apart. Nor is there any timidity when the teasing touches build to the point where he sucks me in hard again, the flicks and twirls of his tongue around my swollen clit leaving me a helpless mess of hormones that course through my bloodstream in insane volumes. My racing heart ensures that they reach every cell of my body in record time.

  "Oh God," I cry when his fingers join in on the action between my legs. I'm in the hands of a virtuoso who knows exactly what he is doing, and he is making certain that I know it. Each second brings me closer to the orgasm that is as unavoidable as my sighs and moans are when I feel a finger enter, fast followed by another. Shaking my head wildly, hair is left clinging to my forehead and I curl my toes when I look down to see his cool blue eyes looking back with an intensity that sends a pang of fear and lust through my spasming pussy.

  I'm a virgin. Not by choice but due to circumstances, and I don't know if I can handle the intensity of the lust that I see in the eyes that stare back at me. An intensity that gives my handsome stepbrother an almost animal appearance. His eyes are the eyes of a predator, and the thought that I and my wet pussy are his prey only serves to increase my heart rate in forbidden excitement.

  Throwing my head back, I cry out again—too loudly—when he finally pushes me over the edge. It is a cry that is as primal as the look in his eyes. My pussy contracts and leaks like crazy, stars exploding as I orgasm right there, his fingers drilling me hard and fast and his tongue never stopping.

  "Mercy," I finally cry when I come down from the height of my bliss. Releasing his head, I hope his tongue will retreat from the now hyper-sensitive clit. I’m also hoping he will replace his fingers with something else. Thank God he does.

  "Cassandra," Stephan says, in a voice that is raw and deep enough to send another pang of excitement down my spine and straight to the pussy that wants so much more. No matter how wrong it is, I need him. And he can't lie to me and say he doesn't need me. He does. That's what the look in his eyes tells me.

  Thunder rumbles nearby and with a jolt I sit up and turn around, my cheeks burning when I offer myself to him. He’s already seen me with my face down and ass up, but never like this. On all fours, I look at him over my shoulder. I'm ready to beg for it if I have to. Instead I sway my ass with a boldness and sensuality that would meet Stacy's approval, my entire body in a state of hormone-enhanced excitement t
hat has made me temporarily insane. But if insanity is what it takes, to get me the hard cock of the man I love, then I'll take it any day of the week. Any stormy night too, for that matter.

  But he isn't about to make it that easy, that hunk of a stepbrother of mine. Standing up straight behind me, my pussy spasms at the sight of all those hard muscles and his tattooed skin, and his hard cock. Like every other part of him, it is perfect. If only it wasn't so damn big. But my horny juicy snatch only throbs that much harder at the sight of him, not easily intimidated. Too horny to be afraid, I lewdly push my ass back as he leans over me, and I whimper when the broad head presses against my swollen lips.

  Leaning over me, Stephan presses his body against mine and all that hard muscle feels surreal against the soft skin of my back. He kisses the back of my neck with his soft lips, and with his breath hot on my sweat-coated skin, I don't know how much longer I can stand this torture.

  "Baby," I hear myself say as if listening to another woman, my voice husky and covered with a layer of the despair of a woman too horny for her own good. "I need you to do me now." That's something Stacy would say, not me. Not the silent girl. But I'm saying it, and then I say it again. Louder. Commanding. His kisses don't stop when he presses his cock harder against my leaking snatch, and I cry silent tears when the penetration I need still doesn’t happen. I don't know what is worse: all the days of suffering in silence, and believing he doesn't want me, or this.

  "Are you certain?" Stephan asks, after what seems like forever. My heart glows when I hear the concern in his voice and a smile spreads. I'm not just a quick fuck for him. That's what it tells me and it confirms what I already knew: this is the right thing to do.

  "Yes!" I cry deliriously, ramming my hips back hard simultaneously. Hard enough to feel the broad head part my wet lips wider than I feel I can handle. Too much cock. Who would have thought that could happen? The sensation is out of this world. A mixture of pleasure and pain as my stepbrother fills me up and stretches me out to the point of bursting.

  Grunting, I curl my toes when Stephan places both hands on my hips, and I feel his manhood slide up my belly. I'm in for a serious fuck and I love it. I need it. Badly. Now!

  "I love you," Stephan says, bucking his hips, his voice low and deep. His fingers cut into my flesh just right. Holding me in place, he starts drilling me in a strong and steady rhythm, and time ceases to exist as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. All that is left is the awareness of my stepbrother's fat cock nailing me and the knowledge that he loves me. My pussy clings to his cock each time he pulls back, reluctant to let go of all those pounds of meat that is making it drool and contract like crazy.

  "Yes, baby," I cry, dropping one hand between my legs to rub my clit. "That's the spot! Keep nailing that pussy, sweetheart!" I feel like I am channeling Stacy, the pro-slut. She no doubt talks like that. Maybe that is what being dangerously horny does to you. You say things you'd never thought you'd say out loud.

  "Oh God, yes!" I cry when Stephan grabs my breasts and pinches the stiff nipples, triggering ripples of lust that lay my body to waste as they wash over me. "Oh fuck, yes!" I cry again, humping back hard and fast, pleasure building each time his balls slap against the fingers that are rubbing my clit.

  I know I'm going to orgasm all over my own stepbrother's hard cock, and even though I know it is immoral, so wrong, I want it so badly. And when Stephan picks up his rhythm, ramming into me so hard that the head of the bed slams against the wall, almost lifting me physically off the mattress, I know he is going to swamp my womb with his seed.

  "I wanted you since the first time I saw you," Stephan grunts, and it is enough to push me over the edge. My pussy contracts powerfully around his cock and my orgasm kicks just as Stephan grunts, his body shocking when he shoots a first blast of cum deep inside me. "Fuck!" I cry, hot tears flowing.

  Gasping for air, I open my eyes, my pussy spasming with lust and pleasure. Then I curse as I stare with unseeing eyes into the darkness of my empty bedroom. My sheets are wet with sweat and my own juices, and I've never felt like such a fool. A silly girl who has wet dreams over a man she will never have. "Fuck!" I curse under my breath, sad over my state of excitement, my pussy wet and my nipples as stiff as my clit. Sad too, as I recall what happened earlier.

  After going all psycho, Stephan stormed off without saying a word and the guys he humiliated so badly, their pride no doubt hurt more than their bodies, got in their truck and pulled off violently. That was the last I saw of him, and he hasn't returned home since. Mom is worried sick, and I didn't need to tell her something had happened when I returned all by my lonesome self. And Dan is clearly both concerned and ashamed of his son. But I didn't tell them what had happened, only that Stephan didn't feel well and had decided to call it a day.

  I'm not even sure why I'm protecting him, it’s not as if he deserves it. But there was something in the way he held me, saving me from another humiliating fall, and then the way he attacked the guy who bugged me. If I didn't know better, I'd say he is protective of me. Very protective, even. But that wouldn't make any sense. I'm his favorite person to scorn, after all.

  Replaying the scene in my head, unshed tears pool in my eyes when I hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. One look at the alarm tells me it is 3:23 AM and then I surprise myself. Angry and excited at the same time I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Why not? I'll show him he isn't the only one who can confront a bully, and he's been mine. But that isn't the real reason. The true reason is because after going over all that happened today, I am foolish enough to have some hope that maybe he actually cares for me. Silly, I know, but I guess that is what silly girls do: do silly things and harbor silly hopes.

  Then again, why would he respond the way he had if he hates me so much? Deciding against putting on my bathrobe, I leave my room in my bra and panties. Ones with little white sheep on them, against a pink background, each of them going "meh." But who cares? It isn't as if I'm after impressing him, I tell myself—well aware it is a lie. Feigning the heat between my legs isn't really there.

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  Stepbrother Tormentor

  A Steamy Romance

  Part 2

  Stacy is practically drooling, openly eye-fucking him. The girl is an incurable slut, and even though I know it isn't personal, a stab of jealousy still pierces my heart. Just knowing he is watching me makes my physical impulses override my thoughts, and I find myself walking more slowly on legs that are unsteady and rock my hips, my face burning when I realize what I'm doing but unable to stop. The breeze plays with my dress and a blush spreads as the heat between my legs flares when I think of the sensation of his hard on pressed against me.

  "Don't forget to close your mouth," I say, feigning the blush isn't there.

  But Stacy won't have any of it. Perceptive as always, and impossibly direct, she just blurts it out. "I knew it!"

  "Knew what?" I say, getting in. Just drive.

  "Oh, don't play coy with me, little Miss Sunshine." Little Miss Sunshine is her nickname for me, though God only knows why she sticks with it. There hasn't been any sunshine coming from me for months.

  "Are we going somewhere?" I say. We aren't. I stare straight ahead as she observes me with those big brown eyes of hers, my blush intensifying and spreading like a forest fire to cover like what feels like not just my face and neck but my whole body. And then those big brown eyes move up and in the direction of his bedroom. That's all I need to know he is still there. Watching me. That doesn't help.

  "Does he know?" Stacy asks without preamble, and sweat breaks through my skin. Listening to the drumming of my heart in my ears, I curl and uncurl my toes again and again, frantically searching for the right reply.

  "You really should quit smoking that stuff," I finally say, and it comes out so lame that I can't help but cringe and look away.

  Laughi
ng, Stacy shakes her head, leaning into me. "I can't believe you kept that a secret from me," she says, far too loudly for my liking. But hey, at least someone is amused by my predicament. A shame it isn't me.

  "I have no idea what you’re talking about," I lie through clenched teeth, wondering if my burning face might cause me to self-ignite. It certainly would be a welcome relief.

  "Uhuh," Stacy says disbelievingly, straightening up behind the wheel and hitting the gas without restraint. Gravel spits up as we tear away and I release air I wasn't aware I was holding. I guess I should be grateful that she has the courtesy not to push it with him watching. "We have some talking to do, girlfriend."

  "I don't think so," I say stubbornly and cross my arms over my chest. I should have stayed in hiding and I know it.

  "So, are you are going to tell him, or should I?"

  "What?" Turning my head, all wide-eyed and my jaw hanging, I try to gauge if she is serious or not. With Stacy you never know for certain, not until it’s too late.

  "What what? You don't want him to know?" She seems genuinely surprised at the thought of it.

  "For starters, you’re imagining things," I say, counting off one finger that isn't half as steady as I want it to be so I fast drop my hand. "Besides, he’s my stepbrother," I add, my voice dropping an octave, the heartache that I've been trying so hard to hide pouring out over each syllable in copious amounts, and I find tears in my eyes.

  Besides being perceptive, Stacy is also a softy at heart. Tough when she needs and wants to be, but other than that a real softie. And it shows on her face. "That sucks," she says with conviction.