Off Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance (27 page)

He’d told me what he
was going to do to me tonight. It had been all I could think about
since. I might have avoided him with my body, but my mind had been
locked on him, his words, his promises, his heat. He bewitched me,
entangled my mind, melted me to him.

That’s why I’d gone
out to the movies. Sitting there with a group of people from my
internship, I tried to relax. For two hours I could pretend I was
normal, just hanging out with some friends from work. My mind
wandered, of course, to where it always did. But for two hours I
could sit in the dark and pretend everything was fine. Even though I
knew it wasn’t.

Most of the group had
headed out to a bar afterwards. I’d declined, coming back home. I
was tired, I’d told them.

I was anything but. I
got myself a glass of water and wandered through the rooms. There
were a whole bunch I’d never even gone into. Who needed a mansion
that big? I rattled around, haunting the hallways, finally ending up
frustrated and restless in my bedroom.

I knew our parents
would be out late. It was only ten thirty. They were probably just
getting started. I paced the perimeter of my room. Where had Tuck
gone? He was probably with some of those skanks from the MMA club. I
was sure they were waiting for him, ready to do anything he wanted.
Two at a time. And they wouldn’t play head games with him like me.
They’d deliver.

I should feel relieved
that he’d finally given up, stopped stalking me like his prey and
gone for an easier catch. I shouldn’t feel so tortured. I shouldn’t
secretly wish he’d come home, take me in his arms and haul me up to
his room despite my protests, no matter what objections I offered,
not stopping until he’d made me his.

Were those his
footsteps on the stairs? I paused, my heart fluttering in my chest.
Not another sound came from outside the door. False alarm.

We wouldn’t be living
like this for much longer. Two weeks from today I’d be flying back
to Massachusetts. I knew the smart thing would be to end this now,
move out, maybe spend the last two weeks crashing on a couch at Maria
or Mike's place. At the very least I should stay up in my bedroom and
lock the door, take a sleeping pill if I needed to and knock myself
out. I was on a collision course and yet I kept insisting on getting
straight out into the middle of the freeway, asking for it.

I left my room and
headed downstairs. A book in my hand, I told myself I’d read on the
couch. That would be more comfortable than the chair in my room.
Yeah, right.

Like a child, I kept on
making excuses to duck into the kitchen and look out the window. As
if that would draw him home sooner. I wanted to see the headlights of
his car, see him returning. To me. Despite all I’d done to fight
him off, I wanted him to come for me.

Finally, in the living
room, I heard the faint rumble of the garage door rising up. I froze.
My heart stopped beating. The moment I’d been waiting for, now I
couldn’t decide if I wanted it. I should run. I didn't.

When he walked in, I
was in the kitchen pouring myself a glass of water, my shaking hands
betraying my nerves.

He walked in, tossed
his keys on the table, then devoured me with his gaze.

“You waited up for
me,” he said, low and dangerous.

“No,” I protested
lamely. “I was just down here reading.”

“Mm-hmm.” The sound
rumbled deep in his massive chest. He wore a black t-shirt stretched
tight across his broad shoulders. I could see the ridges and planes
of his muscles, so defined and cut I wanted to sink my teeth into
them. He stepped closer.

“You waited up,” he
repeated.

I swallowed nervously,
my heart beating fast as a hummingbird. I set the water glass down,
afraid I might drop it I was trembling so much. “I just…” I
stammered, “I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Missing me?” The
hunger in his dark eyes was unmistakable, overpowering.

This was a mistake, a
huge mistake. “I was just heading back—” I tried, my eyes
darting nervously to the doorway.

“You’ve been
avoiding me,” he continued, drawing nearer.

I exhaled, brought my
hands up over my face. This was all too intense. I felt like a
madwoman. “I'm so confused, Tuck. I’m so mixed up. I don't know
what’s going on here.”

“You need to stop
fighting,” he explained, low, controlled and certain. “This is
going to happen.”

“I'm scared. I can’t
do this.” Tears threatened at my eyes, burning. I’d never felt so
torn.

“You can’t fight
this. It’s too strong.” He stood only a few feet away now. I
could be in his arms in a heartbeat if I moved toward him. But still
I pushed him away.

“I don't think—”

“Don't think.” He
closed the distance between us, his arms encircling me in his warmth,
his hands tracing down my back, circling my waist. It felt so good,
my eyes closed and I swayed into him.

"You’re mine,"
he growled, dipping his mouth down to my throat, licking me there,
claiming me.

I put my hands out, up
against his chest, one last shred of protest left. “I can't be.”

“All this struggle,
all this resisting.” His words wove a spell over me, low and heated
and dominant as he licked and sucked and kissed my throat. “Give
in, Jewel. Give in to me. You’re mine.”

But I couldn’t do it.
My body couldn’t be more desperate for it. But my brain wouldn’t
let me. I pulled back, looked down at the floor panting and shook my
head.

“Then I'm going to
have to show you,” he declared. Before I knew what was happening,
he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder like I didn’t weigh
a thing.

“Tuck, what are you
doing?” I cried out, shocked. I smacked his huge back but my fists
fell off of him completely unnoticed.

Paying no mind to my
protests, he brought me over to the living room couch, sat down and
drew me over his lap. My chest down on the couch, he held me there.
One hand on my upper back, he used the other to move my hips directly
over his groin.

“Right there,” he
said, starting to caress my ass cheeks lightly, lovingly, teasingly
through the soft, thin fabric of my boxer shorts.

“What are you doing?”
I felt trapped, frightened and already so aroused. What was he going
to do to me?

In a low, wicked voice
as he touched me, he asked, “Have you ever had a spanking before,
Jewel?”

“What?” I spat out,
twisting under his grip. This couldn’t be happening. Spankings were
for toddlers with tantrums. “You can't be serious,” I managed.

In answer to my
question, he reached up, grabbed the waistband on my shorts and
yanked them down and off my legs entirely, throwing them to the side.

I gasped and struggled.
“What are you doing?”

He pinned me, his hand
on my upper back firmly mashing my breasts into the couch cushion. He
positioned me back exactly where he wanted me. Helpless, across his
lap, he started stroking me again, his large, calloused, palm now
directly on my naked, quivering ass cheeks. I shook with fear and
deep, dark arousal.

In a low, wicked voice
he reprimanded me. “You've been naughty, Jewel. You’ve been
avoiding me.”

“No!” I tried to
twist away from his hand, but I couldn’t. He held me there, so
vulnerable, grabbing my ass cheek rough in his palm until I stopped
struggling. Then he rewarded my compliance with soft, sweet strokes,
the kind that coaxed a sigh from deep within my body even though I
didn’t want to let it out.

“See how much you
want this, Jewel?” he asked, still in that low, controlled voice.
“But you keep fighting.” He caressed the swell of my ass cheek,
lightly fingering my crack, so gentle, so sweet, in stark contrast
with the low, coiled, possessive tension in his voice.

“I'm going to teach
you a lesson tonight, Jewel. One you’ll never forget. You’re
mine.” With that he withdrew his hand from my ass. I squirmed,
instantly missing the heat of his touch. When his hand came down
again, it made a loud, sharp smack against my sensitive flesh.

Shocked, the pain
rocketed through me and I screamed. His hand came down again, hard
and hot on my soft, vulnerable ass. “What are you doing?” I
yelled, my hands fisting into the couch.

“I’m spanking you,”
he grunted. Smack, his hand bore down again, forceful on my ass.

“Tuck!” Humiliation
poured over me, hot and thick. He’d taken me over his knee and was
spanking me? “Ow!” I twisted in pain and embarrassment. His hand
was huge and he was spanking me so hard. I wanted it to stop.

“You'll take your
punishment and you'll like it.” He denied me escape, holding me
there, relentlessly bringing his hand down again and again on my
pale, quivering flesh.

Trembling all over,
heat spiked through my body, the sharp pain of the spanking, and
more. He kept at it, his hand bearing down on me relentless, and I
couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t even squirm or try to
get away. I wasn’t conscious of anything other than his heat, his
maleness, his scent, the feel of him holding me, keeping me
positioned there so exposed, exactly where he wanted me, my ass
cheeks up, taking his punishment.

Thwack, his hand landed
hard on me again and a cry escaped my lips. Panting like an animal,
every nerve ending tingling and alive, my every sense focused
entirely on my ass, the shooting pain driven by his hand. This time
he left his palm on my skin for a moment afterwards, caressing my
sensitive, sore flesh.

“So pink,” he
murmured, appreciatively. “So sensitive.” I squirmed against his
lap, uncomfortable now for so many reasons. Embarrassment engulfed me
as I realized I could feel wetness forming for him deep in my pussy.
From his spanking. What was wrong with me?

Smack, he brought this
hand down on me again, disciplining me. A low, heavy moan escaped my
lips.

“That’s right,”
he coaxed, his palm grazing the hot surface of my ass, petting,
praising me. “That’s right. Take your spanking.”

Spank, his hand hit me
again and this time it just felt good, so hot and right, the side of
his hand hitting lower this time, directly onto my slick, needy
pussy.

“Ah!” I cried out,
the sensation on my clit shooting through my body.

“Get that ass up for
me, baby.” He pushed my ass up higher in the air and I complied,
eager, arching my back and giving him more, my thighs slightly
parted. “Yes, that’s how I like it.” He trailed fingers along
my inner thigh, and I panted for him, waiting, wanting.

Smack, he gave me what
I needed, what I was starting to crave, that intense sensation, the
heavy erotic pull as he spanked me, this time more directly on my
clit.

“Oh, Tuck.” My
voice sounded throaty, needy, overcome with lust. I needed him to
spank me, smack my pussy. Each time he hit it I nearly buckled into
orgasm. I’d been so pent up all week, so taut and tense, almost at
a boiling point. Now it was time for it to all come tumbling down,
crashing over me.

“Yes,” he murmured,
bringing his hand down again. “You like your spanking, don’t
you?”

“Ah!” I cried out,
embarrassed, undone, desperately loving my spanking.

His large hand came
down again, hard and full on my soaking folds. It made a wet,
smacking sound. “So wet,” he groaned. I moaned and clawed at the
couch. He brought two fingers to my slit, slippery and begging for
him. He traced along my opening, light and teasing.

“Please,” I begged
him. I needed him inside me. I needed to come.

Smack, he spanked my
clit. I bucked against his hand, the tense heat and waves of orgasm
threatening to surface and engulf me.

“You want this,” he
spoke as he stroked me. “You keep acting like you don’t. But you
want this so bad.” He worked my dripping sex, bringing pleasure
after the pain, every nerve sensitive and quivering, so much liquid
heat there waiting for him. I panted beneath his hand.

“You need this, don’t
you, you bad girl?”

“Yes, yes,” I
moaned, admitting it. How could I not? He was everything I wanted,
everything I needed. The man consumed me, body and soul. I couldn’t
fight this anymore. A human needed to breathe, and Tuck had become my
oxygen.

“Tell me what you
want, Jewel.” He gave me another series of loud, hot smacks, along
my sore ass cheeks and directly onto my dripping pussy. Writhing on
his lap, I could feel his huge cock pressing into my thigh, so hard
and urgent, so delicious.

“Fuck me,” I
begged, beyond reason, almost beyond words. “Fuck me, please.” I
needed him inside of me, his huge shaft deep inside my drenched heat.
I’d never needed anything as much as I needed this.

With a growl, he dove
his face into my pussy, sinking his teeth lightly into my soaking,
sensitive flesh, then licking long and strong with his tongue. Deep
into my hole, he began fucking me with his tongue, his hands gripping
either side of my thighs, prying me open so he could get in as deep
as possible.

“Ugh! Ah!” I
grunted and shuddered as he feasted on me, the tension building and
building until l couldn’t take it anymore. I had to come.
Whimpering, whining, I waited for him to tell me I could.

As if he knew exactly
what I needed, he growled into my sex, “Come.”

Quivering, I erupted,
screaming as I convulsed, wave after wave of orgasm engulfing me as
he licked and lapped and tongue-fucked me, prolonging my pleasure,
drawing it out until I thought I might lose consciousness.

Lying there, covered in
a warm haze, only partially aware of my surroundings or even who I
was, he brought his large, heavy, hot body over mine. Leaning down he
whispered in my ear, “Now I’m going to fuck you, Jewel.”

Tuck

Seeing her lying there
on the couch, quivering and shuddering from her orgasm, I nearly lost
my mind. This girl had been driving me crazy for weeks now, months if
I admitted it. Since the moment I’d seen her at the party over the
holidays, all innocence and sex bundled together. I’d needed to
sink all the way into her from that very moment. Now was the time.