Stepbrother Thief(66)

He stares down at me for a long moment and then tries to pull away again. I won't let him. Against my better judgment, I reach up with my right hand and grab his waistband. Without even thinking about what I'm doing, I tug his shorts down, letting the hard, rigid length of him spring free. He sucks in a harsh breath, but doesn't fight me as I run my hands up his hips to his belly, my eyes dropping to his cock instead of his face. Believe it or not, it's easier to look at.

I cast a quick glance at the door to the pool area, but I don't see anyone. I know this is wrong, that it's highly inappropriate, that I'm probably making a really poor life decision, but I can't help it. I wrap my fingers around the long, thick length of him and lean forward, flicking my eyes up to Gill's face one last time before I put his cock in my mouth.

He holds his breath for a moment, like he can't quite believe this is happening. To be quite honest, I'm sort of in the same boat here, so I hold my breath, too, curling my fingers into a fist around his shaft and squeezing while I dip my head low. My lips meet my hand before I pull back, the left coming up to cup his balls. Like our previous two sexual encounters, this is just a quick flash, a bandage to cover the wounds we're both suffering from. I don't revel in it or try to drag it out, it just is what it is.

I'm taking the initiative here, taking hold of Gill—quite literally—and there's no excuse this time. There's no pleasure in this for me other than the fact that I'm getting off on getting him off. It's like a compulsion at this point, an unstoppable force. As much as I want to blame my body for this one, pretend this is all just some animalistic rut, I can't. I can't keep lying to myself.

I want Gill. Bad.

I pull back with a gasp, sucking in the air I just refused myself, and find my eyes drawn up to his face again. He's staring down at me, openmouthed, almost slack-jawed, his eyes hooded and dark, fists curled tight at his sides. I can see every muscle in his body quivering with need right now, with a violent rush of adrenaline and desire that's taking every ounce of his self-control to hold back.

Gilleon licks his lips like he's about to say something, but I cut the words off by taking him back in my mouth, gliding along his hard flesh with my tongue until he fists a hand in my hair. He tangles his fingers in honey blonde, but he doesn't hurt me, doesn't even bring a lick of pain to my scalp. I can feel the power there in those inked up fingers of his, the possibility of pain. He could hurt me bad right now if he wanted. Hell, he could kill me. But he won't.

I love the feeling of him holding back like that, but I can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he didn't, if I got to see the full force of him, feel the full force of him.

I lean back again and tilt my head to the left, licking down the side of his shaft and listening to his breath as it hitches then stops before turning into a harsh pant. The tip of my tongue traces across his balls as I pump my fist, listening to the sounds he's making as I try to judge the level of his pleasure. A groan breaks past his lips, almost like he doesn't have the willpower to hold it back anymore. Sliding my tongue back up, I take him in my mouth again and move until I feel his entire body go rigid, muscles standing at sharp attention under his warm, wet flesh. He tastes like chlorine, like a long ago memory that I'm only now just starting to understand. I move faster, squeeze harder, and listen in satisfaction as a growl escapes his throat before he comes inside my mouth.

Leaning back, I swallow the salty sweet taste of him, reach down and pick up my book before rising to my feet and starting for the door.

Gill adjusts his shorts and follows after, the sound of his wet feet loud on the concrete.





“We're not gonna talk about this?” Gill asks as I lean back into the pillows and shuffle the brand-new deck of cards I grabbed from the lobby gift shop. I keep my gaze on them and not on my stepbrother. I can't look at him right now, and the only way I seem able to keep going is to not mention the fact that we keep ending up in … questionable situations.

“About the blow job?” I ask, hoping that if I mention it first, it won't be as embarrassing. I don't look up, but I can hear the tight smile in his voice.

“I'd love to talk about that, actually, but I was referring to the rest of it, to the swimming pool and you falling in, to me being there. Don't you want to know why?”

I keep shuffling, bending the stiff cards with my ferocity. All I can see right now are the glossy images of spades and clubs, diamonds and … hearts. Fucking hearts. If there was a manual override switch for the brain to push back the tender feelings of that particular organ, I'd be using it right now. I need to get my head together, my thoughts in order. I think the most important thing is to find some distance from Gilleon. Since that's not an option right now, we're going to try a different tactic. Me and him, we're going to watch a movie, eat our shitty room service food, and play Go Fish.