Cockney:A Stepbrother Romance(27)

     



 



And I know right then, I'm not letting another fucking second tick by without doing something about this.



I grab her by the arm and drag her as she gasps around the corner to the  alley beside the restaurant. Instantly, I'm pushing her up against the  brick wall behind her, my eyes wild as my gaze burns fire right into her  eyes.



"I said I DON'T," I say gruffly, holding her by both her wrists against  the wall. "I don't want to be your friend, or your buddy, or your  fucking pal, Chloe."



And the second I say it, even I'm wondering what it means. What do I want to be with this girl?



But she throws that look right back at me; that fiery, defiant look  filled with heat and power, but also this sort of scared tenderness  behind it that just slays me. And just for a second - just for the  briefest second - her lip trembles just a hair, as if giving testament  to that scared girl behind this defiant mask of sass and attitude.



And it's my undoing.



My mouth crashes against hers, hard. I push my whole body against hers  as I grab her head in my hands and kiss her with everything I have;  everything single thing I've been holding back. I'm hungry for her as I  sear my lips to hers, heedless of whatever consequences this may bring.



And we're frozen, just like that, for a single moment in time; a single  second of just two people stopped in the flow of time. Just as we begin  to unfreeze - just as the world is about to keep on spinning under our  feet - I know she's about to push me away, or slap me, or yell, or all  three of the above, and that'll be the end of it. After that, I'll have  my final verdict, and I'll be done with this whole bloody thing.



Except, she doesn't push me away, and she doesn't slap me, or yell at me.



She fucking moans.



And it's like unleashing the animal inside of me.



I growl into her kiss as we open our lips, tongues sliding against the  other. Breaths come in halting gasps as we lose ourselves to each other.  I'm pressing her up hard against the wall, and she's rolling her hips  against me, bringing her fucking knee up to my waists and hooking her  leg around me as if to pull me even tighter against her. We break the  kiss, gasping as we pull back for a second, eyes darting around the  other's and our breathing coming ragged before we go crashing right back  into it.



I'm fucking lost in those lips; dropping out of all sense of time or  space or any other fucking issue in the world. Because nothing else  matters in that moment but those perfect, pouty lips pressed against my  own.



"Oliver," she gasps, pulling away for a second before pressing her lips back to mine, kissing me hungrily, "I- I-"



"I want you," I growl, bringing my mouth to her neck and biting the skin  there, hard. "I wanna bend you over right here, yank those pants down  over that sweet ass, pull your panties to the side and bury my face in  your pussy."



She moans, her breath hitching and her hands clutching at my back as I  rasp the words into her ears. I can feel her hips undulate against me.



"And then I want to slide every single inch of my cock inside of you,  and fuck you like you need to be fucked," I hiss the words into her ear,  my hand coming up cup her breast through her shirt. I run my thumb  across a hard nipple I can feel right through the material. "And I'm not  gonna stop until I hear you screaming my name."



She groans and cranes her neck to bite at my ear as she pulls me hard  against her, "I want to know what your face looks like when you come on  my cock, Chlo-"



"Oy, chef!" The backdoor opens with a bang, and it's like lighting  hitting us with crack as she suddenly jumps away from me at the sound of  Marco's voice.



"Chef?"



He can't see us around the corner here in the alley way; not yet.



I swear viciously under my breath, my eyes holding hers, "I-"



"Go," she whispers quickly, biting her lip. There's a teasing glimmer of  a smile there, one that she's trying to hide with that sexy little lip  bite thing she does. But there's no hiding the glow in her cheeks or the  fire dancing across her eyes.



"Oy, Ollie, where the fuck did you run off to-"



"What, Jesus, mate," I say quickly, stepping out from the alleyway and  punching Marco in the arm. "You're like a fuckin lost puppy or  something." He grins and I wrestle him into a headlock like we're just  two pals horsing around.



Or, you know, like I'm averting his eyes from the backdoor so that Chloe  can dart out from the alley, looking exactly like she's just been  making out with someone. Her eyes meet mine for a quick second, and I  can see her chest rising and falling quickly as she bites her bottom lip  softly between her teeth, before she turns and slips into the kitchen.



"Git," Marco shoves me off, grinning as he flips me off. "Ian needs you to look at the new menu fonts or some shit."



I roll my eyes, "Ah, right."



"The glamorous life at the top, eh Chef?" Marco winks before ducking  back inside, leaving me to finally let my breath out and wonder how in  the fuck I'm going to get through this shift without dragging Chloe into  my office and fucking her brains out in the middle of a dinner rush.





And I do wonder about it; the entire night. From the moment that first  order comes through the kitchen, through the rush, and as we start to  wind down, the single thing I can concentrate fully on is wanting to  watch her face when she comes.



It's the sound of laughter that grabs my attention as we're closing up,  finally. I jerk my head around and then narrow my eyes as I see Marco  over at Chloe's station, leaning against the counter with his "smooth"  look on - you know, the one I fucking coached him on - while he flirts  with Chloe.



And that right there, is what we call a breaking point, and right then  is when I know I'm not going another Goddamn second without claiming her  as mine.



I also might not go another second without punching Marco in the face if he doesn't get the fuck away from her.



I slam the knife in my hand down hard enough for it to stick into the  cutting board in front of me before I march right over to them.



"Oy, I need to speak with you." My voice and my eyes are leveled right at her.



Marco shoots me a look, but I silence whatever he's about to say with a  withering look of my own and a jerk of my head, "That new waitress was  looking for you, mate."



Hey, all's fair in love and war, or whatever. Mate or not, this girl is mine, and I'm about to show her that.



He arches a brow, interested in the bait, before he grins and claps me on the shoulder as he walks away.



"You," I say to her once he's gone, feeling every nerve ending in my  body buzzing like live wires and my blood roars through my veins. "Let's  go."



She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a look, "Wow, possessive much?"



"Watch me." I grab her wrist and start to pull her out of the kitchen.



"Um, excuse me caveman-Oliver," she says with a snort. "Just where the hell are you taking me?"



I grab my keys from my pocket as we stop in front of the locked door  next to Ian's little office by the coat check. I yank the door open and  gesture down the old steps, "Wine cellar, now." And then I'm pulling her  after me, and she's blushing bright red but coming willingly.



God help me, is she about to come willingly.



I pull her in, slamming the door behind us and pulling her down the  stairs. She opens her mouth to say something at the bottom, but before  she can even get a damn word out, I'm pressing her against the wall  behind her and searing my lips across hers.



Fuck, it's like the sip of water I've been dying for all night. The balm  that soothes the raw heat that's been building inside ever since that  first kiss earlier outside. She whimpers as I kiss her, opening her  mouth for my tongue and bringing her hand up to cup my cheek. There's  the smell of old wood, of hanging kitchen herbs, and it's almost like  we're back in time in some sort of farmhouse; far away from the bullshit  of whatever happens upstairs and in the outside world. Far away from  the maybes and the what-ifs, and the second thoughts.



Because there's no space for that shit here. Right here and right now, it's just her and I.



She gasps as she pulls away for a second, her face flushed and her eyes  searching mine, "Oliver, I-" She shakes her head, "We shouldn't be doing  th-"



"Chloe?" I say sharply, cutting her off. "Stop fucking talking." And this time when I kiss her, she melts into me.



I'm so fucking hard for her, so ready to take her, and I feel her hips  rock and undulate against me. Our kiss turns fevered, gasping as we  devour each other's mouths. I reach between her legs, cupping her pussy  through the chef-whites she's wearing. She's warm there and I know she's  as wet as I am raging hard.



I pull away from her, "Take off your shirt," I say, ripping mine off.