Cockney:A Stepbrother Romance(30)

"I'm pretty sure robots don't fuck that well." I almost can't believe I  said that, but I laugh as I see Oliver's eyebrows shoot up and redness  creep into his cheeks. "My my! Did I just make big bad tough guy Oliver  Beckett blush like a little girl?"



I'm falling into another fit of giggles as his face goes even redder,  before he coughs and reaches or the wine, "Need a bit more there, luv?"  He says, dumping the last of the crazy expensive wine into the plastic  to-go cups we're drinking out of.         

     



 



"Hey, can I ask you something?" I say, pushing my empty plate away and turning to cock my head at him.



"Shoot."



"Why do you stay here?" I can see him bristle and quickly put a hand on his shoulder, "You know what I mean."



Oliver shrugs



"Because of your mom?"



His eyes quickly dart to mine.



"I talked with Danny the other day," I say with a small shrug.



He glares at me for s second before his look softens and he nods. "Eh, possibly part of it."



"And your dad?"



Oliver barks out a laugh. "That guy," he rolls his eyes and shakes his  head. "You know, he didn't used to be such a mean old prick." He laughs,  "Okay, never mind, that's rubbish. He was always bit of a miserable  prick, but it got worse after she died."



I shrug, "My mom didn't drink before my dad did."



"You don't get to choose your life I guess," he says, shrugging again  and pulling me close. "But you get to choose who you spend it with while  you've got it."



I raise my brow at him, "Nice line."



"Yeah thanks, been practicing that one a bit."



I laugh as he grins at me, "So what are you going to do?"



"Stay here I guess; build the place up a bit more."



"With your dad."



He shakes his head, "Looks that way." He arches his brow at me, a grin  teasing his lips as he pulls me off my stool and into him. I giggle as  he grabs my ass, pulling me up onto his lap, my legs on either side of  him. "For now though … " I moan as his fingers find me, and I'm instantly  wet again.



"Seriously, again?"



"Luv, I'd have to be fucking dead not to want it again."



I grin, my eyes leveled with his as I reach down to find him rock hard  and pressed against me. He's raising me up and then we're both gasping  as he lets me slide down his entire length until he's buried inside.



It's slower this time, and we take our time. I can feel every pulse of  his heart, feel every rumble of a growl in his chest as I writhe on his  lap and slowly ride him up and down. It's just him and I, and whatever  other bullshit that's attached to this with work or family or the world  just melts away as I find his eyes with mine and never let them go. And  when I come, it's like an avalanche. When I call out his name, I can  feel him erupt inside of me, his muscled arms holding me tightly and his  cock throbbing deep inside.



*****



Later, it's like we're back in high school, sneaking back into the house  with big goofy smiles on our faces and a secret in our hearts. But this  time. There's no separate bedrooms and no drifting off to sleep  wondering what might have been.



This time, I sleep with my cheek on his chest, and drift off with the beating of his heart against my ear.





"Are you crazy?"



I gasp and clutch at his arm, my breath coming in white plumes as his  fingers curl deep inside the heat between my legs. His lips are hot on  my neck, sucking the skin there hard enough to leave a mark as two of  his fingers slide wetly in and out of my pussy. His thumb on my clit  sends throbbing desire through my whole body, enough that I'm not even  aware anymore of how freezing cold it is in here.



‘Here' being, the large commercial walk-in refrigerator at work.



"Someone could walk in!" I'm protesting, but I'm not really protesting,  if that makes any sense. It's almost a game at this point, my telling  him we "shouldn't be doing this thing", or "this is wrong", or some  other nonsense like that. And of course, who I'm really talking to is  myself when I say those things, but at this point, I think I just like  saying them even if they're totally meaningless.



Because we should definitely be doing this, and there is nothing wrong about the way he makes me feel.



"Then I guess you better come quick, luv," he husks into my ear.



I cry out, my hands clutching his bicep through his chef coat, feeling  the muscles there ripple and roll as he grinds his palm against my clit  and moves his fingers faster and faster inside of my panties. I'm biting  his shoulder, rocking my hips back and forth against his hand like some  sort of sex-starved maniac, because that's apparently what I've become  with Oliver.



And I'm super okay with that.



His fingers are driving me insane, but I want more. Actually, I want it all right now.



He looks surprised when I pull his arm out of my panties and push him  away, but when I yank my pants down to my knees and turn around to  thrust my ass out toward him, I think he gets the idea.



"Who's crazy now, sweetheart?" He says, a grin on his face as he reaches for the waist of his pants.



I glance at the door - the door that has no lock on the inside of it for  safety reasons - before I look back over my shoulder at him, "Better  come quick then, luv," I say, badly mimicking his accent.



His cock is throbbing hard and ready, just like I knew it'd be, as he  growls and steps up behind me. I can feel his hand on my ass, stroking  the skin there as he presses the thick head to my opening and slides  inside, making us both cry out.



It's fast, and it's raw, both of our breaths fuming like white smoke and  goosebumps tickling our exposed skin as we create our own heat  together. His hands hold my hips tightly, his cock fills me to the brim,  and the melding of our voices and gasping moans fills the walk-in as we  barrel like a train without brakes towards that edge.



Oliver roars, and it's the feel of him swelling up even bigger inside of  me, and the feel of his hot cum pumping into me in contrast to the  chill in the air around us that sends me screaming over the edge. My  hands tighten like vices on the shelves in front of me, clinging on for  dear life as the waves of my orgasm threaten to wash me away.



"You know," he says, grinning broadly as he pulls me close and kisses me, "I like this crazy new Chloe."



I smirk, "Who says it's new?"



"Because if you've just been hiding this side all these years, then that's just a damn crying shame, that's why."



******



It's been like this for the past few days, us sneaking around like this  when no one's looking. We go about our shifts like nothing's changed,  but the secretive looks and knowing grins we shoot each other over the  course of each night is like sharing this dirty little secret together.



And, God, I can't even look at poor Julie's prep-table without blushing.



It's later, right after a mid-sized rush, and I'm still trying to wade  through some last orders when I suddenly feel something long, firm, and  insistent press up against my ass.



This man is insatiable.



And I am not complaining.



I turn towards him, but I frown as I realize he's not behind me, he's  standing right beside me, leaning against the counter. He's also got the  world's most innocent look on his face, which, knowing Oliver, of  course means he's up to something.



And that something is still poking my butt.



"What are you-" I jerk my head around behind me and gasp before I quickly swat his hand away.



The hand holding the cucumber that he's been nonchalantly stroking and prodding my ass with.



He gives me an alarmingly believably innocent look, "What?"



"You are permanently in adolescence, I swear."



Oliver grins, folding his arms over his chest and waving the cucumber  around, "Well, I can't very well take my cock out right here and use  that now can I?"



"So you decided to use produce this time?" I eye the cucumber in his hands.



"Who says just this time?" He grins wickedly and I blush.



"I've got work to finish."



Oliver slowly starts to stroke the cucumber suggestively with his  fingers as he gets up to walk away, and I roll my eyes as the blush  creeps over my face, "You are incorrigible."



*****



We're in the office later, the lights of the kitchen dimmed and the rest  of the staff long gone as Oliver pulls me gasping towards the small  couch to the side of his office.



It's been like this for a week now. We can't very well go home, because I  don't care what Oliver says about the ground floor not being able to  hear our floor, I am not having sex with our parents at home. It's way  too weird, and way too much of a reminder of how wrong this is.



So, naturally we're screwing around at work. On literally every single surface we can find, I might add.