Off Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance (23 page)

“Bring it!” She
smiled, watching me start to deal. “What are the stakes?”

“Tonight’s
different.” I looked at her, wolfish. “Tonight we’re playing
strip poker.”

“What?” She drew
back. “No.”

“Scared?”

“No.”

“Afraid I’ll win?”

“You won’t win.”

“Then what are you
afraid of?”

She seemed to think
about it, then her face lit up and she giggled. “OK, just give me a
second.” She ran off.

A few minutes later she
came back down with a whole new getup. Large sunhat, sunglasses, a
cardigan sweater, socks and shoes, she looked like a crazy hoarder
lady who liked to wear all of her possessions at one time.

“Ready!” she
exclaimed, giggling and proud of herself.

“Nice look on you.”
I assessed her layers. I probably had to win nine or ten hands to get
to the promised land. It was going to take a lot of work. But I had
the motivation.

I won the first two
hands. Off came the hat and sunglasses. Jewel still twinkled with
mischief, confident in her strategy. Then she won a hand. I stood up
and unbuttoned my shirt. I did it slowly, liking the way her gaze
stayed fixed on my hands, as if she highly anticipated the next
button coming undone. I shrugged out of it, now wearing just a tight
white t-shirt. Her eyes went to the tattoo on my bicep and I couldn’t
help it, I flexed a little and got rewarded by her reaction, her eyes
going a little bit wider, her hand fisting in the couch cushion.
She’d really need something to hold on to later. I was going to
take her on a wild ride.

I sat back down. I won
the next three hands. Off came the shoes, the socks, the sweater. Now
she just had on her t-shirt and yoga pants. Plus her bra and panties.
I couldn’t wait to see what she had on. And then watch her take
them off.

I liked seeing her grow
more nervous as she lost, removing each layer. Unbuttoning the
cardigan, I could see her hands shaking. If she didn’t want me, it
wouldn’t be sexy, I wouldn’t want any part of it. But I knew the
shaking was anticipation, excitement, eagerness. She wanted this,
badly.

She won the next round
and I took off my shirt. I stood before her, my bare chest close
enough to touch, and I could tell she itched to do just that. She
swallowed, unable to not gaze at me, take me in. I sat down closer to
her, my leg against hers.

Agitated as she was,
she didn’t do very well bluffing. I could see right through her.
She chose to remove her shirt first. She stood up and took her time,
not with the practiced flirtatiousness of some of the girls I’d
played strip poker with. It was different with Jewel. She fumbled
with her shirt, looked down because she really was shy. She really
hadn’t been with many men, none with real intimacy. I would be her
first. It drove me wild.

She drew her t-shirt up
and over her head and I felt the wind nearly knocked out of my chest.
Her tits filled her cups, a demure white bra, sweet with lace fringe.
Her breasts looked like two luscious scoops, lifting up and out,
larger than I’d even pictured and believe me, I’d pictured them
many, many times. She might be a D-cup under all of those layers. I
licked my lips. I’d need a long time with those tits, days and
nights, licking, sucking, taking my time, learning exactly what she
liked, teaching her things she didn’t even know she liked yet. I
bet she liked it rough and nasty. I wouldn’t start there, though.
No, tonight I’d make it sweet.

She quivered as she sat
next to me and folded her next hand almost instantly. She had
nothing, no defenses against me and she knew it. Sticking her thumbs
down the waistband of her yoga pants, she slid them off quick. She
sat right back down, nervous, but not before I caught a flash of
white silk panties. Matching, bikini style. I couldn’t wait to feel
how wet she was underneath them.

I let her win the next
round. It was fun to let it build up. I unbuckled my jeans, unzipped
them. My cock stood out hard and long against my briefs. She sucked
in her breath as she saw it, my size and stark arousal clearly
shocking her. I was a large man, about nine inches, and I planned to
drive every inch deep into her slick, quivering pussy. She could take
me, I knew she could and she’d love doing it.

I stepped out of my
jeans and sat down next to her. She had a difficult time keeping her
eyes on her cards. My hard-on pressed against the stretchy cotton of
my briefs. You could see its outline, the thick head, the outline of
the crown and the tip. I wanted her to look, to think about it, to
want.

Her breasts heaved with
her breathing, her beautiful creamy mounds shivering at my nearness.
That bra had to come off.

I won the next hand,
quickly, easily, and she looked up at me.

“Take it off,” I
said, deep in my throat, thick with need. Slowly, but without
protest, without hesitation, she drew her hands around to the back of
her bra. Unclasped, the straps slipped down her shoulders and her
breasts spilled out free. I drank her in, her nipples hardening under
the heat of my gaze. Inches away, I could tell she was dying for my
touch, my tongue. I wanted to lick every inch, sink my teeth into
those quivering mounds, hear her cry out and arch her back, mashing
her tits into my face as she begged for more.

We played another
round. I won.

“All of it,” I told
her.

She looked at me shyly,
heated. Slowly, she brought her thumbs to her panties. She stood up,
then slid them down along her thighs to her ankles and she stepped
out.

She stood there shaking
before me. Her pussy was glistening. I could smell her sweet, musky
need, see her lips gleaming with arousal. I needed to taste.

With a growl, I wrapped
my hand around her waist and pulled her down on the couch. She gasped
and parted her legs, needing this, dying for this. Like a starving
man finding a meal, I descended on her, my lips hot and wet on her
quivering mound. She cried out at first contact, her hands flying up
as I devoured her with hot, needy licks, lapping up her juices.
Exploring her, I spread her folds with my fingers for more access.

“So sweet,” I
groaned as I sucked her clit, taking the swollen bud into my mouth,
swirling it with my tongue. She threw her head back and screamed
again. I wanted to hear those screams, loud and strong and desperate
all night. I felt like a hungry panther with a fresh kill, all mine,
and I lapped her up, licking and sucking and biting her sensitive
flesh as she panted and spread her legs wider.

She moaned as I went
deeper, dipping my tongue into her, fucking her with it. I’d never
tasted anything so good, never wanted anything more. She brought her
hands down to my hair, grabbing at me, clutching, pushing me closer.
She bucked her hips, grinding her sex into my mouth, unable to stop
herself.

I cupped her ass with
my hands and mashed my face in, fucking her with my tongue as she
screamed. She was close now. I could feel it in the way she thrust
against me, rhythmic, the guttural grunts coming out of her throat. I
wanted her that way, my Jewel, a ravaged animal, consumed with need.

Looking up, I nearly
came myself from what I saw, her head thrown back, skin flushed pink
and glistening with sweat, her tits thrust up, nipples tight with
need. Oh what I’d do to this woman. All the ways we’d play, all
the ways I’d make her come. But right now, she’d come on my
tongue, all over my face.

“Come,” I growled,
into her pussy. “Now.” I took her clit in my lips and sucked
hard.

Screaming, the orgasm
wracked her, and she bucked and shuddered against me, her hands
flailing and grasping at the couch.

“Tuck! Ah!” She
screamed and came on my face. I licked up all of her creamy juice,
licking and groaning and licking some more. I wanted every last drop.

Slowly, her screams
subsided, her shaking slowed, and she rested her ass back down into
my hands on the couch. It was like watching her float down out of a
dream, coming down gently and softly as I kissed her now, kissed her
sweet, tender flesh and the softness of her inner thighs.

“Mine,” I growled
into her. I heard her sigh in complete agreement.

Jewel

I woke up in my bed,
glowing, shattered, thrilled and not a small amount shocked. What had
happened last night? I remembered us down on the couch, the strip
poker. How Tuck had descended on me like a hungry lion, eating me
out. I’d never experienced anything like that before.

I had such little
experience with all of this. Before last night, I’d thought of a
guy going down on a girl as something vaguely gross. How could a man
possibly want to do that? How could you ever relax with that kind of
weirdness going on?

Funny, nothing
resembling those thoughts had gone through my head last night. Not
for a single second. In fact, I’d pretty much had no thoughts in my
head but more, yes, more, now.

This morning I felt
luscious, so relaxed and warm, like I’d slept on a bed of cream for
two weeks. I should feel a heavy, oppressive blanket of shame
covering me from head to toe. I’d let my stepbrother do what? So
wrong! But no, I didn’t. I stretched and yawned, content and
satisfied. It felt so right. The only question needling into my glow
was what was I doing in my bed alone after all that had happened?

I remembered after the
couch Tuck had scooped me up in his arms and carried me up to my bed.
Then he’d done it again, his head down between my legs while I
screamed for him with complete abandon. He’d taken longer the
second time around. Torturing me with his tongue, slowly licking,
sucking. When I’d start to get close he’d remove all his heat and
pressure to gently kiss my inner thighs.

“More,” I’d
begged, pleaded. “More, please.”

He’d made me say
please on more than one occasion.

A blush flooded my
cheeks, stole down my body. Oh, Tuck, what he’d made me feel. I’d
gone from shy and inexperienced to coming full and hard on his face.
Twice.

Then I must have fallen
asleep! I covered my face in my hands. How romantic of me. The man
drove me wild, brought me right up to the edge again and again and
then cascading over it. Twice. What did I offer in return? I’d
passed out.

I hoped I hadn’t
snored and drooled.

In my defense, what
normal person could be expected to withstand that kind of attack? I
was a virgin, for goodness sake. Still was. I’d never experienced
anything even remotely like what happened last night. That second
time in my bed, it had felt like hours. He’d licked and sucked,
teased me, loving how I panted and writhed, how he could make me
nearly lose control. How deeply, completely, fully I surrendered
everything to him.

I couldn’t fight it
anymore now. Now I was his. It felt so good. I’d struggled with it
for so long, denying it, tamping it down. All that had done was make
it grow stronger. Even after last night when I’d finally let go, I
felt the fire in me burning even brighter.

Tuck had a fight
tonight. Yesterday he’d asked me to drive over with him, or he’d
told me those were the plans. Tuck, always so gruff and commanding
but I’d seen glimpses last night of something more. It was strange.
Even as he completely dominated me, stripped me down literally and
figuratively and I lay there entirely vulnerable, I’d see a look in
his eyes, like he felt stripped down, himself.

I certainly had nothing
to compare this to. Maybe an intense, scorching hot night like last
night was how it always was with Tuck. But I hated the thought of him
with other girls, so I shoved it out of my head. Last night, I’d
felt like he’d been as into it as me, if that were even possible.
How he’d told me I killed him. He couldn’t stop telling me how
beautiful I was, how much he loved hearing the sounds I was making.
He seemed to bask in me, never want to leave my side.

Of course he wasn’t
by my side now. It made me a little nervous. Maybe things hadn’t
gone as well as I’d thought? Maybe he hadn’t liked the way I’d
fallen asleep after the second long-drawn-out orgasm. He might have
realized I wasn’t his match, didn’t have the stamina and
experience to play all night like he needed.

I wanted to build up
the stamina. With him. He could train me. A wicked smile crept across
my face, there in my bed in the morning sunlight. We both had a lot
of drive and discipline. What if we focused all of that on giving
each other pure pleasure? A tingle thrilled through my body. I wasn’t
going to fight this anymore. I was tired of being the good girl.

I didn’t know how he
was feeling, but I couldn’t wait to see him again. Hopefully our
plans to drive over together to the fight still held. I wanted to be
with him, in the car as we headed there together, by his side at the
match, his woman. I wanted to scream for him cageside, scream his
name in the crowd so he’d hear me, feel me there. Afterwards, I’d
soothe him if he lost, kissing him, making him feel better in all the
ways he’d need.

And if he won? I felt a
flutter low in my belly. I somehow knew he would. I could feel it in
my bones. He’d be the master of the fight tonight. And then he’d
be the master of me. And I couldn’t wait to give myself to him,
completely, fully, the way I’d been dying to these past five weeks.

It seemed hard to
believe, what with the mind-bending orgasms I’d had last night, but
I was wet again. I brought my hand down to my petals and petted
myself, felt the heat growing. Tuck. His tongue, how he’d growled
against my quivering, slick flesh. He’d eaten me with such
ferocity, but also so gentle, reading my every response, knowing
exactly when and how to coax exactly what he wanted from my body,
from my mind.

Tuck. I couldn’t wait
to be with him tonight.