Off Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance (17 page)

“Oh, Jewel. I could
never promise that.” Dark, silky, heated, the man had the sexiest
voice I’d ever heard.

“You have to.” I
insisted. It might be my only chance of making it through the next
five weeks. He always seemed to find a way to touch me, brush against
me, toy lightly with a curl in my hair, press a hand to the small of
my back. Even the slightest contact felt electric, making waves that
echoed in ripples along every sense for a long time after. It wasn’t
fair.

“That’s not even a
dare,” Tuck countered.

“OK, I dare you to
keep your hands off me for the rest of the summer.”

Tuck smiled. “If you
win—”

“When I win—”

“Like I was saying,
if you win, I’ll keep my hands off you. Until you beg me to touch
you. Then, all bets are off.”

“Oh really? Until I
beg you?” I tried to keep my voice steady. Just him saying the word
“beg” made me start to throb. Deep down I knew he could get me
there, work me up so badly I’d beg for exactly what I should be
trying to fight. If I let him.

“It’s a deal then?”
Tuck pressed. “If you win, hands off. Until you ask for them on.”

I rolled my eyes. The
arrogance of this guy was unbelievable. “Fine, yes, that’s my
dare.”

He jumped right in.
“When I win, tomorrow you wear a bikini around the house all day.”

What? Our parents would
be gone tomorrow. They were leaving in the morning for Baja. All day
Sunday it would be just the two of us. I couldn’t be next-to-naked
in the house with him all day! He’d find countless ways to touch
me, tempt me. I bet he’d offer to rub sun lotion on me and I’d be
panting and begging under his hands in less than a minute. Unless…
maybe I could choose something that really covered up, like a
tankini? With a long-sleeve sun shirt. And a cover-up skirt.

“I choose the
bikini,” he added.

What, could he read my
mind? That would never work. He’d choose a thong with pasties and
call it swimwear. “No deal.” I refused.

“How about a kiss,
then?” he asked, cocking his head.

“A kiss?”

“Just a kiss. If I
win, I dare you to kiss me.”

“Clothes on?”

“Clothes on.”

“No touching?”

He put his hands up as
if to suggest innocence.

Well. One kiss. That
was pretty harmless, wasn’t it? In fact, maybe it was smart. Maybe
it would get Tuck out of my system?

That had happened back
in high school with Walt. We’d sat next to each other in Chemistry.
I’d had a crush on him for over a year. Nothing like what I felt
now for Tuck, but still, I’d wasted time drawing hearts with our
names inside of them. When Walt had finally taken me out to pizza and
given me a kiss in front of his car, it had felt like getting licked
by a reptile, cold and repellant with an aggressive tongue. I’d
gotten over Walt real quick.

Maybe kissing Tuck
would be horrible? OK, we’d done it at that holiday party and it
had rocked my world. But maybe that was beginner’s luck? Maybe now
we’d finally lock lips and—poof, problem solved! I’d never want
to again!

“Sure,” I agreed,
surprising him.

“Yeah?” His eyes
heated up and I swallowed, instantly unsure I’d made the right
decision.

“Um, I guess. But I
kiss you, not the other way around. Once.”

He nodded, so sure of
himself. “I win, you kiss me.”

“OK.” I nodded,
looking down at the cards. “No touching,” I reminded him. Now I
just had to make sure I won.

I won the first hand
and the second. Then I got overly confident and he took the next
three. By the time we got to the eleventh and final round, it was an
even tie, five and five. I’d met my match. Tuck was good at
bluffing, raising the stakes when most people would have folded,
knowing when to call and force my hand when sure enough I had
nothing. My hands shook as I discarded two and drew two more. I
couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

His lips were full and
sensuous, yet so wickedly masculine. He still had a cut above his
eye, from the fight Thursday night. I wanted to kiss that, then trail
down to his lips and drink my fill. No touching, clothes on, it
couldn’t be that risky, right?

A kindergartener could
have seen right through my poker face. Emotions and bluffing didn’t
mix. I was a hot mess, sitting so close to Tuck, knowing so much was
hanging in the balance, how close I might be to winning and him
giving me some space. Or me screwing up and getting what I really
wanted.

He laid his cards out
on the table. Four of a kind, kings. I had a straight. If my cards
all had the same suit, I’d be in luck, besting his hand in style.
But they had different suits, diamonds here, spades there. Trembling
slightly, I laid out my cards. He’d won.

He looked up at me and
the gleam in his eyes was nothing less than predatory. Wolfish. He
wanted to devour me.

But I’d made the
rules. I’d tightly constrained the boundaries around this kiss.
Clothes on, no touching. I’d kiss him. Just a quick lean in and
duck out and I’d be done with it.

He sat there, watching
the emotions play out over my face. I knew I was showing him
everything, an open book. My nervousness and excitement, my
apprehension and eagerness all there for him to see.

“Just a kiss,” I
whispered, moving slightly closer.

“Just a kiss,” he
echoed, though the way he said it, deep and husky, made me shiver
with need.

“No touching,” I
reminded him, closer still. He kept his hands pressed against the
couch pillows as I leaned in, hand up on the back of the couch as I
raised my lips to his.

Searing heat, soft
velvet, I couldn’t think as my heart pounded against my ribs and I
brought my lips to his. His breath, his lips exploring mine, holding
back, letting me kiss him lightly at the side of his mouth, down more
fully on his lower lip. I couldn’t stop myself, I flicked my tongue
against him and his breath hitched. I pressed closer, kissing him
more fully on his luscious mouth.

He kissed me back,
keeping his hands down, moving his lips with mine, slowly, no rush.
He let me explore and taste and I couldn’t imagine stopping, not
ever, as I parted my lips slightly and he did as well. Our tongues
touched, teasing, flirting the way we’d been flirting around each
other the past few weeks, hot, delicious, then intertwined. A moan
escaped my lips as he kissed me more fully, taking my lips with his
own and stroking me with his tongue.

He made a low growl in
his throat and I could barely breathe, never wanted to use my mouth
for anything ever again, not eating or drinking or any purpose other
than kissing this man. Powerful, urgent, he claimed my mouth and my
entire body sang with desire, wanting to feel his hands, his chest. I
wanted all of him, not just his lips and tongue, but his entire body
pressed full and hot against me exactly like the dream I’d had last
night. Only this was real and I never wanted it to end.

Tuck

I let her kiss me. It
took all my resolve, all my training, every ounce of strength I had
within to let her do it. I sat there and let her kiss me.

She was so eager, so
hot and excited to taste me. Her tongue against my lip, testing,
needing. I wanted to let it build in her, let her fires start
roaring. She needed to lead herself down this path.

I knew I could pin her
down, make her whimper and beg in seconds right there on the couch.
And, believe me, I wanted to do it.

I didn’t think I’d
ever just kissed a girl. Even from my first kisses, I’d always
gotten my hands in play, in for a grope, a feel, trying to get the
clothes off for more. Always escalating the game. To stay with a
kiss, it was torture.

But this sweet,
delicious torture? It would lead to the same place, eventually. I’d
have her beneath me, begging to take everything I had to give her.
And it would be so much sweeter, so much hotter if she got herself
there, placed her own wrists in the handcuffs. Her creamy, sensitive
skin, her own hands sliding down her panties for her spanking. I
loved submission, and nothing would be more sexy than Jewel so heated
up, so filled with lust that she gave herself over fully, completely
to me.

I could feel her shake
and pant. She was fighting it, but I kept kissing her, plundering her
with my tongue, showing her how good it would be, stroking and
licking and kissing. How it would feel when I used my mouth, my
tongue, kissing every inch of her body. Making my way down her
stomach, parting her thighs, finding the core of her, where she’d
be glistening with heat, wet and ready for me as I tasted her,
licking, sucking, fucking her with my tongue until she moaned and
begged and came hard all over my face.

She was so tense, so
taut, her hand gripping the couch pillow as she pressed into me,
still not touching with any part of her body other than her lips.
That’s right, Jewel. Get worked up. Test your limits, so I can take
you past them. Get yourself to where you can’t think anymore and
then give yourself to me. I wanted her panting, senseless with lust,
shaking with need so she’d hand me the keys and let me drive.

For now, I kept my
hands at my sides. Letting her kiss, explore, taste, lick. Even as I
could feel her desire build, feel her breath grow shaky and uneven.
Even as I could see her nipples pebble, hard, straining against her
sweater, dying to be touched, pinched, twisted, sucked.

Until she stopped. I
didn’t exactly know what was happening until she was standing up.

“OK, then,” she
said, letting out a shaky breath. “OK.”

I watched her there,
her full breasts rising and falling, her nipples standing out hard
against her lacy bra under that ridiculous excuse for a sweater. It
didn’t cover up so much as announce her tits underneath, calling
your attention to the lingerie and, better yet, the breasts within. I
wanted to bring my mouth to them. If she thought my kissing her mouth
felt good, she should just wait.

“I’m going to go
now,” she said without going anywhere.

I didn’t move from
the couch. I knew she didn’t want to go. I just watched her and
asked, “Is that what you want to do, Jewel?”

Her eyes flickered
closed for a moment, a revealing second in which I could see her
fighting back raw lust. No, she didn’t want to go. She wanted to
stay and play, let herself go and get properly, soundly, relentlessly
fucked for the first time in her life.

“I can’t,” she
stated simply. And for the second time in one week I watched her walk
away.

I sat there hard as a
fucking rock. I dropped my head into my hands and pulled at my hair.
She had me as torqued up as a teenager. More than when I was a
teenager. I’d never had trouble finding a girl to get me off, not
from the very start.

Over the last few
weeks, I’d been jerking off like it was my job, more than I had
back when I was 17. At 17 I’d fucked my way through a couple of
different boarding schools. Partying with bored, slutty rich girls
always ended with a bang. But none of that interested me now, none of
the girls I’d known, nor any of the girls who hung off MMA fighters
like candy canes, draping themselves off of your body for you to
lick. I didn’t want them. I wanted Jewel.

And she kept fighting
this. I thought I had a lot of will power. Damn, that girl made me
look like a fucking pansy. She fought this and fought it, as if her
life depended on it.

This was more than just
some label. She and I knew the whole step-sibling thing wasn’t
going to stick. She was just using that as an excuse.

Deep down inside she
was terrified. I scared the shit out of her. She’d never let go
before and she was terrified of what would happen when she did.

But it had to happen.
This was inevitable. An attraction this strong would not be denied.

And you couldn’t go
through your whole life hiding. What was the point? You had to come
out into the storm, take off your shoes and feel the grass barefoot,
run around and take a risk. And I’d make it good for her. I knew I
would. I’d spend all day, all night making it good for her. I
wanted her to come and come again, see her throat arched back, her
lips parted, her hands reaching out to grab on to something as she
felt herself slipping, releasing, giving in to wave after pounding
wave of pleasure.

It was just a matter of
time. And it wouldn’t be long now. I’d break down her defenses. I
knew I got to her, and soon she’d admit it and come to me. Come for
me, again and again.

After flipping around
looking at a few re-runs, movies, stupid shows, I turned off the TV
and decided to head up to bed. I’d wake up early and hit the ground
running, literally. Mondays Coach ran a brutal training regimen. I
ate it up.

Upstairs in the
hallway, I paused outside Jewel’s door. It was closed, of course,
shut tight and I bet she’d locked it, too. Keeping me out. Keeping
herself in. That lock was going to loosen one day soon.

I could imagine her in
there, that sweater off, bra off as well. She’d probably slipped
into something else, but I liked picturing her lying on her bed
naked, those gorgeous tits arching up. I could remember what she’d
looked like when I’d seen her at my doorway, the way her mouth had
parted, the sound on her lips.

In the hallway, I heard
a sigh come from her room.

Had I made that up? It
sounded exactly like in my fantasies, how she sounded when I made her
come. I’d probably imagined it. I was so worked up over this girl
she was fucking with my head.

I heard it again. It
was real. This time, unmistakable. The sound of pure pleasure. I knew
what she was doing in there. She was touching herself.

Desire coursed through
me, hard and thick. Like a wild beast, I wanted to pound down her
door, splinter it with my bare hands, pin her down to her bed and
plunge my cock into her wet and quivering pussy. But I also wanted to
hear her, panting, moaning in there pleasuring herself. So I stood
there still, my dick straining against my jeans as I brought my ear
close to the door and listened.