HUGE - A Stepbrother Romance Read online

  “Can I look?” he asks huskily and I want to tell him he already is but I don’t want to break the spell with my smart mouth. Instead, I slip my hand down between my legs and pull the material aside, baring myself to his heated gaze.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, adjusting his cock before he sucks on his finger to get it good and wet. I think he’s going to go straight for my clit, but I’m wrong. Harrison reaches his wet finger up and slips it into my mouth. “Suck,” he says, watching me move my head forward and take his finger down to the knuckle. I look into his eyes as I pull back, knowing how explicit it must look to see my red lips wrapped around his finger like that.

  He parts my pussy lips with one hand and uses his moistened finger to stroke my clit round and round. The pressure he uses is just perfect and the way he concentrates on the task is driving me insane. I roll my hips against his touch, look up to the ceiling and surrender to the intensity of feeling that being with Harrison this way is giving me.

  “Oh yeah, you like that,” he says, slipping his finger downwards into my wetness, pressing up and in so slowly my legs shake. “That looks so fucking good.” He pushes another finger in deep and twists his hand so first the tips of his fingers, then the joints graze my g-spot. I start to move, raising up and down, hooked on his hand and on his words. The sound of his voice hitching with arousal does something to me and I want to hear more.

  “Tell me what you want,” I whisper.

  “I want to feel you come,” he replies. “I want to feel your pussy flutter and hear the moans you’ll make. I want to play with your clit until it hurts and then make it feel so good you come again.”

  “Oh,” I gasp when he uses his other hand to stroke my clit, fingers still pushing and twisting inside me.

  “That’s it, baby.” Harrison’s voice cracks like he can’t believe what’s happening. Maybe he wasn’t expecting to get lucky tonight. Maybe he doesn’t usually do this kind of thing. Maybe I’m a terrible corrupting influence on him. It’s that thought that pushes me over the edge, grabbing onto the back of the couch and curing forward with my pleasure.

  “Mmmm,” is the only sound that comes from my lips, a keening noise that sounds barely human.

  “That’s it,” he says again, with a strange tone of awe in his voice as though he can’t quite believe what is happening either. Then he pulls me towards him and wraps his arms around my waist, holding me tight while I come down from the place in the stratosphere he sent me to. The kisses he presses onto my temple and cheek are tender and sweet.

  “You look fucking amazing when you come,” he whispers in my ear. I can hear the need in his voice and feel the evidence of his arousal beneath me. I want to satisfy him too.

  “Make me come again,” I say and he chuckles.

  “Demanding little thing aren’t you,” he replies cockily but the look on his face when I draw back and start to undo his pants is priceless. “Oh, you want that…”

  “Yeah, I do,” I whisper. “I want it all.”

  “Fuck,” is all he can say, helping me as we both fumble with his zipper, fingers tangling in our shared eagerness to get to the really good stuff. I let him free his cock and I watch as he fists the huge length of it, pulling it twice, up and down, so roughly that I think it must hurt.

  When I raise my eyes to his he’s smiling lazily. “You scared?”

  “Nah, I love a good challenge.”

  “You really are a very strange girl,” he says fondly, cupping my cheek and rubbing at the white make-up there. Not wanting to give him too much time to study me I slip my hand into the top of my holdups and pull out the foil packet I hid there earlier and hand it to him.

  “Get yourself ready.”

  His eyes sparkle as he takes the condom, tears it open and begins to sheath himself. I was careful to buy a large size – he really needs it – and my forethought seems to amuse him.

  “You only pull dudes with big dicks?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I throw back the tiddlers.”

  His body shakes with laughter but stops when I grab hold of his cock and squeeze it hard. I rise up over the top of it, stroking the head of it through my folds and up over my clit. It’s so rigid, so large that it almost doesn’t feel real. I know I’m going to struggle to take it all, but I’m going to try. My pussy is practically weeping for it when I settle him near my hole and start to push down.

  The stretching sensation is unbelievable, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I get it about an inch inside me by rocking my hips slowly and easing myself open around him.

  “Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “You’re so damn tight.”

  “And you’re so big, baby,” I whisper.

  “We’re perfect together,” he says grabbing my hips and helping me sink lower with little thrusts upwards. I feel so unbelievably full and open. He’s only part of the way in and it’s almost too much but then he pulls harder and slips in further and it feels so damn good I want to cry. “Look,” he says, his eyes between my legs. “Look at your sweet little pussy wrapped around my cock.”

  I look when he’s staring and I can understand why. He’s all but disappeared inside me and my pink pussy lips are flared around him like a split open rose. It’s the most explicit thing I’ve ever seen.

  “You feel so good,” I say, looking up into his eyes.

  “You haven’t felt the half of it.”

  He grabs hold of me around the ass, holding tight and shifts to the edge of the sofa. Then he’s standing and walking us to a side unit near the door. He sits me on top, still impaled on his dick, and moves the pictures and ornaments to a chair next to us. So considerate.

  When he’s done with the home furnishings he grasps my face around the chin and looks at me. “You want me to fuck you, baby,” he growls.

  I blink at the ferocity in his voice and my pussy clenches with excitement.

  “I think I just got my answer,” he smirks.

  The first thrust is slow as if he’s testing out the depth of me, and how much room he has to maneuver. There isn’t much. When he thrusts again it’s as if he’s decided he doesn’t give a fuck about anything. It’s so hard it knocks the breath from my lungs and the last ounce of sense from my head. “You – want – to – get – fucked – hard,” he grunts as he works his hips against me, pushing that huge cock in and out of my swollen pussy. I’m so wet I can hear the slippery noises loudly in the otherwise silent room. The party seems to be going on in another reality and I don’t care that there are people out there that could walk in on us at any second, because what Harrison is doing to me feels too damn good to care about anything except the next thrust.

  He pushes my thighs wide watching his cock spear me, his abs rippling and pecs flexing with exertion. His skin is shiny with sweat and I lean forward to lick his arm which is the only part of him I can reach.

  “Bite me,” he grunts, hooking my legs over his shoulder and pressing me backward, caging me in with his ridiculously toned arms. I turn my head and take a good chunk of his forearm flesh and bite hard. I feel his cock kick inside me and want to laugh. Who’d have thought Harrison was into pain? I stroke over the teeth marks I’ve left with my tongue and he groans. “Again,” he barks.

  “Yeah baby,” I say, pushing my hips upwards, biting him again, even harder this time.

  “Fuck,” he says, thrusting so hard the piece of furniture we’re on starts banging against the wall.

  Harrison picks me up again, dropping down onto his knees with me still wrapped around him like some kind of desperate monkey. He lays me on a soft rug and stretches out on top. He’s so big and heavy and it’s bliss to be this powerless in his arms. He grinds into me hard, bone to bone, and he’s so deep it aches but still my clit is pulsing for more. His face is pressed into my neck, breath hot and moist against my skin as he groans and pants. My mask must be scratching his face, but he doesn’t go to remove it. I wonder what it’s like for him to be fucking a chick dressed in goth-horror clothes a
nd make-up. It doesn’t seem to be bothering him at all. Harrison’s hand gets busy pushing down the top of my dress and bra, exposing my erect nipple to the room’s cold air. When he palms my breast and feels how turned on I am it makes him thrust even harder.

  My pussy’s getting sore now but he isn’t letting up and I’m getting really close to feeling like I might come again. It would be a first for me but his cock just feels so damn good I almost can’t bear it.

  I start to moan in little bursts which make him rise up onto his arms above me. He rolls his hips slowly as he looks into my eyes, grazing my clit with each pass, leaning in to kiss me. My hips mirror his action and we move in perfect harmony, as if we have been doing this for years, and I catch a little smile on his lips when he sees me watching the action between our bodies.

  “You like to watch?” he asks and then full out grins as though it’s a hilarious discovery.

  “You put on a good show,” I reply and he laughs.

  “I want you to put on a good show. You getting close?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “Fuck yeah.”

  “What do you need?” I die a little inside at how considerate he is. I’ve had my fair share of lovers but most just rub away and hope for the best. It has taken time and schooling to get them to where I needed them to be. Trust Harrison to be mature about sex.

  “Lie down on top of me,” I say. “Hold me around my waist and fuck me as hard as you can.”

  My request seems to amuse him, or maybe it’s my bluntness. He asked so he got told. Simple as that.

  He does as I say, resting his full weight on me, with one arm slipped under my back and the other holding the top of my head. I flinch, thinking about the wig and how, even though I pinned it securely in place, there is a chance it could come away in his grip. Harrison is gentle, though, cupping rather than holding on.

  Then he starts to fuck.

  God, everything that came before was just an entrée. He gives me the full ten-course meal and more. I grasp him hard with my thighs as he pistons in and out of me like a machine. It feels so good I can’t make any sound and he’s grunting with every thrust, sweat slicking between us wherever our skin is in contact.

  “Oh god,” I say, feeling myself climbing higher and higher. Harrison changes rhythm, backing out nearly all the way and slamming back in. Out, in, out…

  …and then I’m coming so hard I almost pass out. I think I must stop breathing because I see stars and my lips stick to my teeth as my mouth opens into a perfect O. He slows down and rides me through it, and I wonder how it feels to have my pussy clamp down so hard on his dick.

  “That’s it,” he croons, “that’s it, baby.”

  I look up into his beautiful eyes and I watch as he starts coming too, seeing the rush of blood to this cheeks and that moment when all his muscles go tense and then relax.

  He rests down on me as he collapses, chest heaving like he’s done one of those extreme triathlon competitions. I stare at the ceiling, momentarily stunned that it really happened. I got what I set out for and now it’s over. I don’t want to think about what happens next but how can I not? His cock is softening and beginning to slip out. In a minute, he’s going to get up and want to go back to the party. I couldn’t bear an embarrassed goodbye.

  I turn to look at his face, wanting to get that final glance of him at peace; like a picture-postcard for the cold nights ahead. When I do, I find him watching me closely with a slightly bemused, slightly concerned expression on his face.

  “You okay?” he asks, stroking my cheek tenderly.

  “Fuck yeah.” I want to keep up the bravado, but it sounds weak.

  “Good,” he says, still stroking. I catch a hitch in his breath in the way his chest moves against mine and I wait for him to say something else but he doesn’t.

  Here it comes, I think. Here comes the awkward moment and I need to get out of here before it happens.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I say, pushing on his arm slightly.

  “Sure.” He reaches between us to keep the condom in place while he pulls out. I feel awkward making myself decent but he isn’t watching, he’s lying on the rug staring at the ceiling, cupping his dick as if he’s suddenly shy. I push up and stumble onto my feet, legs feeling like jelly and my fuffie is about as sore as it’s ever been. Just putting my legs together is agony.

  “Okay,” I say, not wanting to promise I’ll be back when I’ve no intention of returning.

  Harrison is quiet and still.

  “I’m going to use the bathroom,” I say again, making my way towards the door that’s separating us from the party. I turn because my heart is beating so fast knowing this is it. I’m never going to be with Harrison this way again. The thought causes me physical pain; a clenching in my gut and chest. When I catch Harrison’s eye I see something that looks like regret and my throat burns. I didn’t want this to hurt him. I didn’t want to make him feel used. The whole situation is fucked up. I’m about to turn and run because I have no words when Harrison smiles at me sadly.

  “Bye, princess,” he says.

  4

  REVELATION

  I don’t know how I manage to find the brain power to get myself home, but I do, managing it partly on bare feet when I finally conceded that my shoes are agonizing and I’m sore enough already without losing toes making my escape.

  I get into my room and close the door and lock it and then stand there like one of those Ancient Greek warriors faced with a gorgon. I’ve turned to stone. I want to scream FUCK FUCK FUCK in the loudest voice but Dad and Lacey are home, and so my terrible expression of utter mortification is instead uttered quietly against the fist I seem to have half-shoved into my mouth.

  Oh my God. He knew. HE KNEW.

  My whole body is a big bundle of adrenaline spiked flesh and boneless panic.

  He said princess. It’s the nickname he always uses for me because he knows how much it pisses me off. But did he mean it directly at me because he knew, or does he just throw around that patronizing term of endearment to any girl that crosses his path. I feel sick to my stomach…in fact…

  …I dash to my bathroom and only just reach the toilet before I start to heave. I hate being sick at the best of times, but now I’m shaking and crying because I don’t know what to do. If he knows it was me, if he guessed, then how can we pretend it never happened? I can’t go back to being his stepsister and sitting next to him at dinner making innocuous family style conversation. I can’t hear him call me princess again without seeing him lying on that rug, jeans around his thighs and his hand covering up the evidence of what we’d done.

  I retch again at the thought of having to go downstairs tomorrow and see him pour out his stupid sugary chocolate cereal like an overgrown five-year-old, and pretend nothing happened.

  This is a disaster of epic proportions.

  At the sink, I wash out my mouth with a handful of water and then catch sight of myself in the mirror. My black lace bat mask it still in place but my white face make-up is smudged and my lipstick is nonexistent. I look at myself objectively, trying to work out if he could have guessed. With my purple eyes and a lot of my face covered by the mask and my wig, I can’t see how he would have suspected. I kept my voice level different the whole time. I didn’t slip once. When I left the house before the party I was totally convinced he would never guess. My heart rate starts to normalize as I begin to doubt my panic-induced freak out. Harrison can be a real charmer. I know this. He has a silver tongue. That must be what the ‘princess’ comment was all about. Just him rolling out the smooth moves.

  Maybe I’m worrying about nothing. I take some steadying deep breaths, holding onto the edge of the sink. Then, when I feel more normal, I start the process of removing my costume. Each layer that I peel away makes me feel better. I stuff the whole thing into a bag and hide it at the back of my closet in a large white cardboard box that houses my memorabilia. I take out the contacts and use make-up remover pads to scrape away the
remnants of the white face-paint and smoky black eyeliner. When my skin is clean I peel down my holdups and panties and remove my bra. It’s late to have a shower and I know the damn pipes will groan loudly when I turn it on, but I feel like I need to wash, if nothing else to soothe my poor lady bits. I find water really cathartic when I’m stressed and it’s nice to wash my hair that has been squashed under the hot wig.

  I towel myself dry and get into some cute pajama’s that are made of silk and so soft against my skin. I’m thirsty so I pop downstairs to get some water. The house is quiet and I look around at my home that has changed so much over the past year. Lacey has been redecorating which is great. The place had been getting pretty shabby. She has a bit of a thing about photographs and always insists we have ‘family’ pictures taken at any special occasion. There are five framed shots of me, dad, Lacey and Harrison in the hall alone. We look kind of awkward in all of them, but I guess maybe that’s why Lacey has been trying so hard to unite our family. I stare at the most recent one and notice for the first time that Harrison seems to be looking at me. If I remember correctly, dad had been goofing around, telling one of his ridiculously unfunny jokes. I’m laughing and so is Lacey and I always thought that Harrison was looking amused in the picture, but now that I’m studying it more closely, his expression seems warm and kind of affectionate.