Forbidden Stepbrother Page 3

  “Don’t stop,” she begged in a low voice she didn't recognize as hers. “Please.”

  He groaned, and started to play with her folds. She bucked her hips again, unable to keep from moving. What the fuck was happening? He swatted her ass again, as if warning her not to move, but damn it, she couldn’t help it.

  He teased her bundle of nerves. Oh no. She gasped, unsure if she would last with this insane pressure building inside her, and begging for release. He inserted one finger into her pussy. Oh yes.

  He thrust another finger in and out, mimicking the slick moves she wanted his cock to do. She wiped sweat off her forehead. Snow might be falling outside, but indoors a volcano erupted.

  When he upped his intensity, she lost any shred of rationality. Her body convulsed, and waves of pleasure spread from her core to her entire self. Contracting, then releasing. Contracting, then releasing even harder.

  When the tremors subsided, she let out an audible sigh. It dawned on her the havoc she just experienced had been caused by the same guy still under her. She moved, and his hard-on poked her rib. Yup. He was still aroused.

  “Why didn’t you leave when you saw me in the shower?” he asked, his sexy voice cutting the stillness.

  She swallowed, and motioned to move but he held her in place. Her stomach sank, and she wetted her lips. “I… I liked seeing you. Turned me on,” she said, the grip of him on her wrist loosened but she didn’t feel like leaving. She stared at the floor, unable to believe she said those things to him. Half of her expected him to laugh at her and get her off him, but instead he put her on her feet and when her hands touched the edge of the kitchen island, he embraced her from behind.

  “Why?” He shoved his fingers into her textured pixie until her neck stretched along his chest.

  She spun her face a little desperate to see if the expression on his face matched the intensity of his voice. Unfortunately unless she let go of his embrace and fully turned around to see him she’d have to settle for imagining. An invisible cloud of warmth enveloped her. “Because you get me hot.”

  He cursed in Spanish, and she thought he’d tell her to leave but instead he cupped her breasts, causing a painful tingle to move through them. She moaned, and he circled her nipples until they tightened to the max. She arched her hips against him, and the friction of her tender still throbbing flesh against his pants only added to her state of arousal. For a moment, she didn’t remember who she was—hell she didn’t want to. Instead, she focused on how he made her feel: sexy, wanted, and liberated.

  She rubbed her back against his front, his growing erection the evidence she needed to know he too wanted her badly. “When I saw you touching yourself I wanted your cock inside me. I wanted you to fuck me.”

  “Where?” he whispered, his breath fanning her ear lobe.

  “My mouth. My pussy. Everywhere you want,” she said, her breath catching in her throat. The sensual massage on her breasts gave her the rush of a highly addictive drug spilling into her bloodstream. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to understand why her body felt so light though desire heaved.

  He groaned. “Everywhere?”

  “Y-yes,” she said, finding the kitchen spinning as she opened her eyes.

  She heard the sound of his pants unzipping, and the clothes falling to the floor. Her heart sprinted like Usain Freaking Bolt. A flickering light inside her alerted her to the consequences having sex with Santiago could bring. But as soon as he nudged her thighs apart any doubt dissipated like powder into the sea.

  “God, Tiffany. Why did you open the bathroom door? Why?” he asked more to himself than to her, like he cursed her for watching him—the same way he probably cursed himself for wanting her. Emotions welled up inside her: need, excitement and longing. Her palm slicked against the granite, sweat also sheening her forehead. Due to a snowstorm coming at any moment she should be cold and unfeeling. Sterile. Yet her entire body throbbed with heat, roaring for more physical contact from him.

  The tip of his cock poked at her entrance, and her knees buckled under the sensation of arousal drilling her even before he completely plunged into her. She leaned into the island, worried she’d fall otherwise. He took advantage of the situation and pressed the small of her back so she pressed into the granite and her ass stuck out.

  His strong hand on her back kept her in place.

  “Yes.” She hissed out, encouraging him to plunge into her and make her forget about anything else. “More.”

  He spoke in Spanish, his voice so coarse he seemed to choke on each word. Santiago draped over her, and when he kissed her neck a million trills raced through her. With painful tenderness, he deposited pecks on her flesh, and she sighed like an infatuated schoolgirl after receiving a love note. He then nipped the back of her neck, and she shook, letting out a long drawn moan.

  A part of her wanted to suggest they go to the bedroom for more comfort, but she preferred not to kill the mood. What if the logistics distracted him and he changed his mind? Besides, the dark atmosphere enhanced her already crazy hot arousal.

  He nudged her thighs apart, and his fingers scissored her folds, sending a current of awareness to her core. His fingers slid into her drenching wet pussy, and a jolt of pleasure moved through her. “Tiffany…” he called her, pronouncing her name in a way that spoke of both admiration and dread. “Te deseo.”

  “Yes. Yes.” She breathed, uttering the simple word that released a stampede of reactions. He positioned himself at her entrance while teasing her sex with his fingers. She bucked her hips toward him, unable to deal with the waiting tension. She wanted him to make her his even for a moment.

  A moment she’d never forget.

  He thrust into her, and she instantly tensed up. His size was larger than what she had experienced before, and her walls stretched to accommodate his girth. She drew in a sharp breath as every inch of her sex locked him in. “Relax,” he said, and pulled at her folds to distract her from the fleeting ache. “You’ll get used to me.”

  He kissed her shoulder again, and a delicious shiver swept through her. Slowly, he moved inside her, and she let out a long sigh. Yes, she could get used to this. With every breath leaving her lungs, she reveled in the massive cock filling her flesh. Soon, ripples of excitement washed over her and she let herself enjoy the experience.

  He brought his hands to her tits, and cupped them, bringing her close to him again. She rested the back of her head on his shoulder, and he traced a path of kisses over her neck causing her to moan passionately.

  Groaning, he withdrew his cock almost all the way out of her only to slam it back in, and this time, he kept going. He alternated between massaging her breasts, his fingers making invisible patterns on her nipples and gripping them with a possessiveness that took her breath away.

  He thrust into her, intensifying his plunges all the way to her hilt without mercy. She enjoyed how his length filled her completely, his heavy smooth balls slapping against her flesh. She placed her hands above his, and intertwined her fingers in his as he pounded her deeper.

  Bolts of pleasure surged through her, and before she could announce it to him, her body trembled, from top to bottom. A delicious force drove her, every cell attuned to the rapture ripping through her body.

  “Fuck,” he said, impaling her hard until she felt him convulsing behind her, and he held her tighter against him. His fingers trembled and she squeezed them, reveling in knowing it had been wildly intense for him too. When he filled her with his warm semen she mewled, the liquid completing her in a way she couldn’t even rationalize.

  But she should rationalize. Slowly, she returned from the orgasmic haze; her body still tingled but her vision sharper. “God. What just happened?” she asked more to herself than to him.

  As if her question yanked him from that post-sex fog, he carefully let go of her and disengaged. Without the proximity of his warm body she quivered. She turned around, and glanced at him. He seemed as puzzled as she, composing himself and
pulling up his pants. She stood there, naked and exposed.

  Questions popped in her mind like corn in the kettle. “Where do we go from here?”

  Maybe if she told him the truth about Patricia’s baby, he might find room in his heart to move on from Patricia, even to find love with her. A thread of hope made her heart jolt. Nonsense. She had promised her friend she would stand by her. She’d honor her promise, even if it meant sacrificing her own emotions toward him.

  “I’m not going to say I’m sorry. I’m man enough to admit we both wanted it,” he said, and at last his gaze collided with hers. The look on his face hardened, contrasting against the apologetic smile. Turned out Santiago didn’t always have all the right answers either. “I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t even ask if you’re protected.”

  “I’m on the pill,” she quickly said.

  “Okay. Good,” he said, and she wondered if he’d felt trapped when Patricia had announced her unexpected pregnancy. “I’m going to check my phone, see how the radar looks.”

  He went into the office and closed the door behind him. She could tell what their post-sex radar anticipated—a dark stormy night. Did the sex they just shared—and enjoyed—pull them farther apart or would it ultimately bring them closer?

  Chapter 4

  Santiago flexed his fingers. What the fuck am I doing? He strode into the office and closed the door behind him. He couldn’t stay in the common areas, and going to the master suite where she would sleep was out of the question.

  He slammed his fist on the desk. Mierda. He’d slapped her. Never in his life had he spanked a woman’s culo with abandonment. Sure, he’d smacked buttocks in the throes of passion, but having her at his mercy had been… incredible. His cock twitched.

  Then… the amazing sex.

  Wind rumbled through the house. And snow slammed into the window. Staying had been the right choice—until he’d feasted on her luscious, round, full butt cheeks.

  He swallowed. Exposing his weakness—her—would only make him even more vulnerable. The spanking had been a good way to show her who was in control, until he’d completely lost it and fucked her beyond comprehension. The best sex of his life.

  How could he have passed it up? The soft, erotic moans escaping from her kissable lips rang in his ears. Don’t stop.

  He heard the sound of the door, much like he had a few hours earlier, when she stormed back into his life. No, not his life. The cottage. The noise from the whispering hollows filled the space, and he marched out of the office. Did she try to walk out in the snow? Is she insane?

  A “meow” made him turn his face to the left. A skinny black cat with green eyes curled against the magazine rack. A cat? He’d been at the cottage for a couple of days and never spotted any pets in the vicinity. Alan would certainly have told him.

  “Excuse me,” she said, rushing from the kitchen with a couple towels in hand. Tiffany leaned down and started to wipe the snow from the feline’s paws. The cat made a purring sound, and with a different towel she wrapped him, and held him on her lap like a newborn baby.

  Of course she was at the bottom of it. “Did you open the door to rescue the cat?”

  “Yes. I took a quick shower, then came to the living room and heard her whimpering. I wonder how many days she’s been roaming. Look how skinny she is,” she said, then kissed the top of the cat’s head.

  A few candles lightened the living area, and they probably had been her doing too. He suppressed a smile, and gently rubbed his lips against the animal’s fur. The touch brief, yet filled with caring.

  His heart squeezed. The only time he’d kissed her skin before tonight had been during a Christmas celebration. Not like he had planned on it, but before he could jerk away, her lips softly touched his cheek. How would her mouth feel against his own? Shaking his head, he willed the memory away. He cleared his thick, dry throat. “You can’t be opening the door in this weather, Tiffany. You have to be careful. Haven’t you looked out the window?” he said, even though just the sound of the angry wind smacking against the window should have been enough to change her mind.

  Tiffany lifted her chin, and her gaze locked on his. The fire in her pretty eyes rivaled the candles. “I sure did. And I wasn’t about to let this poor defenseless animal die.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. She had a point. “How do you know it’s a she, and not a he?”

  She petted the cat’s head, and then it purred in response. “Because I volunteer at a cat shelter. I can tell the difference.”

  “Do you have any cats?” he said, remembering the black and white cocker spaniel who was already a treasured family member when his mother married Alan.

  Sadness flickered in her eyes. “No. I love animals, but it sucks saying good-bye to them,” she said, her voice above a whisper.

  Saying good-bye when she left the shelter to go home? Or did she mean something else? He leaned forward, as if to hear her better. “I’m sorry about Buster. My mother told me.”

  “I know. I went to work, came back and he lay on the floor. He lived for twelve good years, so I guess he had it coming.”

  He curled and uncurled his fingers. He had to fight the need to envelop her in a warm embrace. Especially after what just happened. Their gazes met, and passion stirred deep inside him. Blood thrummed in his veins. She must have felt it, too. She parted her lips, as if she meant to speak, then stepped back. The spark faded in her eyes. “Okay. Just keep the cat out of my way,” he said gruffly. Truly, he wanted her out of his way, but since that couldn’t be the case until the next day, he would settle for the cat. Because he couldn’t be jealous of a fucking fur ball. Could he? No. He snorted. That would be beyond ridiculous.

  She cocked her head to the side, as if she had not heard him correctly. “Are you allergic to cats?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you being so mean? I think it’s time we talked about stuff. Like how your cock high-fived my pussy.”

  He coughed. Shit. Why was she bringing it up? If he told her he’d always loved her in the least decent way, he’d have to own up to his own mistakes. Proposing marriage to Patricia even though he’d fantasized about Tiffany. Keeping Tiffany at an arm’s length for most of their relationship because he was far too weak to resist her for long. “I got carried away.”

  She put the cat on the carpet and the furry animal kept at her feet, her tail swaying lazily from side to side. “Yeah, me too. Why did you spank me?”

  Couldn’t she just let it go? “Why did you let me do it?” he asked, buying himself some time.

  She stared at him, in silence. Her baby-blues shimmered again, and a glint of hope touched her darkening irises. A shade of red spread across her cheeks and neck, and she shrugged. “Because I… I liked it. It’s good to get rid of the pressure of making decisions even for a moment.”

  “Do you mean work?”

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “Yes.”

  “Does it happen because you overextend yourself?” he asked for the sake of asking. His stepfather had mentioned more than once her mother imposed some ridiculous standards for her daughter.

  Visibly uncomfortable, she glanced around, and avoided looking at him. “Again, it’s my fault?” she said with a hint of nervous playfulness.

  Again, he had the urge to hold and protect her. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his sweat pants to keep from pulling her into his arms. “I’m not pointing fingers now, Tiffany. Not everything is your fault trust me,” he said in a low voice.

  “Yeah. Well, I just love what I do and want to excel.”

  He bit back a smile. Who was he to judge her? “I know the feeling.”

  Her shoulders dropped a notch. “Your show’s doing really well right?”

  “I can’t complain. Ratings are great,” he said truthfully.

  She folded her arms, and drummed her fingers on her elbow. “I’m glad.”

  He sucked in a breath. His body tensed up, and as he shifted his
weight from his prosthesis to his other foot, a sharp ache pinched his hip. Infierno. Even though he worked out, swam, and ate healthy, every so often he overworked his good leg and hips which meant more overall pain. Especially after the ski lesson from the previous day.

  She pointed at his face. “You’re frowning at me.”

  “I just need to sit for a second,” he managed to say. He would die before admitting his pain to her. She dated healthy men who had no physical limitations. Take her ex, for instance… the Italian entrepreneur, the one he heard about. Emilio Moretti. A pang of frustration hit him. She had almost gotten married. Almost. “What happened with your fiancé?”

  “Emilio? I broke up with him shortly after we got engaged. I thought you knew.”

  “Why?” he asked, even though it was none of his business. He plopped down on the sofa, and relief washed over him. He could feel the contours of his face softening. He stretched out his leg, trying his hardest to make it look as routine as possible.

  “Because I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t love him, I wanted to love him. But keeping our relationship wouldn’t have been fair,” she said, then cocked her head to one side.

  “I know what you mean,” he said, and paid attention to his own words. If he had married Patricia, would they have been happy? Would it have been fair to her? He crossed his leg over the other, impatient, and his hip pinched again.

  “What’s bothering you?” she asked, leaning forward.

  “My hip. A little,” he said under his breath.

  She smiled. “A lot.”

  He waved her off. “Sometimes, this happens. I put too much pressure on my good leg and hips, and the muscles strain a bit. Nothing that a pain pill can’t cure,” he said, downplaying to wipe the look of sympathy from her eyes. She sat on the coffee table in front of him.

  She nodded. “You know… I can give you a massage.”

  What the hell? His gut clenched. “No.”

  “C’mon. I took a masseuse course. I actually worked as one part-time during my first year in college.”