Page 23 of Stepping Up

“Me, too,” I told him breathlessly, and he met me with a nervous laugh.

“I want to. I will. But it’s been a while since I’ve tasted heaven, so I think I need to fuck you first, or I’ll embarrass myself.” He shifted against me, pressing that jutting erection into my thigh as a physical reminder of his need. “Is that okay, gorgeous?”

“Yes,” I practically begged, contradicting what I'd wanted before. Sure, I’d love to feel his tongue on my clit, his rough beard hair scraping my inner thighs as he drove me to another orgasm with his mouth. But even more so, I wanted him to plunge himself inside me, to fuck me quick and hard and dirty, just like I needed. I only needed one more thing. “Condom?”

Logan swore and jumped to his feet, leaving me on the couch for only a moment. While he was gone, though, I found it a good use of my time to strip off my panties and reach my own fingers down to circle my clit, readying myself for what was to come.

When Logan returned, he stopped to stare at me with hunger that was almost rage in his eyes. I met his gaze without fear, staring directly back at him as my free hand moved up to tug at my nipple. Shamelessly, loving how he watched me, I fingered myself, let myself moan when I pressed just right into my clit.

“Enough, Carly,” Logan rasped, but it was no less commanding for its lack of volume. He tossed the condom he’d gone to retrieve onto me, and the cool slap of the foil packet against my belly startled me. “Here. You do it. I want to watch.”

Okay, that was hot. For once, I enjoyed following an order. Logan stepped closer until he was within my reach, and then he propped his hands on his hips and watched as I stripped off his boxer-briefs for him.

My mouth watered at the sight of his cock, thick and long and bulging red at the tip, dripping with precum. He was beautiful, some kind of god built just to make me wet. The dark, curly hair nestled at the base of his cock looked almost black, and even his balls were beautiful enough that I had to reach out and cup them. Logan looked down at me with a stern expression that did nothing to hide the effect I had on him, since the hard proof of it was close enough to taste. Even though I could see the warning in his eyes, I couldn’t help but lean forward and do just that, licking the bead of moisture off the head of his erection.

I hummed in pleasure at the salty taste, and Logan gasped.

“Condom,” he snapped through gritted teeth. “Don’t test me, Carly. Not right now.”

I liked the sound of that right now, the implied maybe later of it. So I did as he asked and relinquished him for a moment. Carefully, I ripped the foil packet open, pinching the tip of the condom inside before I started to roll it down his significant length.

I loved the weight of him in my hands, loved even more watching him steel himself against the need to thrust into my grip. Logan hummed in satisfaction once the condom was secure, and he fisted a hand into my hair, tilting my head back to meet my eyes.

“Good girl,” he half-growled, and if I weren’t already on the verge of total sexual abandon before, now I was. I reached for him with my eyes as much as my body, and Logan climbed back on top of me on the couch, kissing me hard as he positioned himself at my entrance.

I wasn’t sure whether I expected him to be careful or not, but I had no complaints about the way he immediately thrust forward, quickly and completely burying himself to the hilt. That first thrust was a relief, a gasp of pleasure-pain, the fulfilling of a promise. Logan groaned, too. I lifted my legs, spreading my thighs wider to welcome him inside me. Upon second thought, I crossed my ankles around his back so he’d have no way to escape.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Logan swore into my ear as he pulled his hips back the little bit my hold on him would allow and drove himself home inside me again. I cried out as he hit my G-spot at the perfect angle, and he swallowed down the sound with a bruising kiss. “Hard and fast, beautiful. That’s what I’ve got in me right now. Sound good?”

“Perfect,” I whispered. “Do it. Please.”

This time, he followed my orders. There was no grace or gentleness in the way Logan fucked me. His rhythm was perfectly punishing, and I was lost in the pleasure, unable to think. All I could do was feel—the satisfying weight of him on top of me, the perfect stretch of his girth filling me almost too full, the scrape of his chest hair against my raw, sensitive tits. The very definition of perfection. I was sobbing out pleas that he go harder, faster, begging him, Don’t stop, please, more. All he could do was oblige, using that single-minded focus he had at work to drive my pleasure to its highest peak.

When I came, I screamed from the force of it, my entire body shaking even under the steadying weight of Logan’s body on top of mine. He trembled with me as I rode the first wave of many, and with another couple of satisfying thrusts, he cursed as he found his own release, too.

I was still seeing stars when the silence of what we’d just done settled into the room. Our bodies were still sweaty and intertwined, Logan’s softening cock still slightly twitching inside me. He was the first to speak.

“Good Christ, woman. That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

I laughed, and it was its own kind of release after all the rampant sexual tension we’d been slaves to for the past… however long. Time didn’t exist to me anymore. It was that good. “Same. By a long shot. You’re very… competent,” I said, and he barked a laugh at that unsexy description.

“I’ll take it,” Logan said. He kissed me hard, a surprising move of affection rather than lust. “You’re just sexy as hell. Now, how about that dinner?”

As Logan started dinner, I settled into the new lightness of our dynamic, laughing with him, teasing him, and otherwise carrying on like we’d always just been friends. Funny how addressing pent-up sexual tension could solve things in our relationship so easily. Even more, though, having crossed that line with Logan and released some of the pent-up need I’d been ignoring in the years I’d dedicated to motherhood, I felt lighter overall.

Maybe after we’d had dinner, once I’d gone home and faced the reality that I’d slept with my stepbrother, I’d start to worry about what this all meant.

14

BENNETT

Iliked to think I was a pretty smart guy, so I knew that this wasn’t my best idea ever. I knew it when the thought first occurred to me and I started to consider the logistics. I knew it when I asked Dwight for Jodie’s address and to borrow his car. I sure as hell knew it when I got into the car and drove over to the cozy bungalow my new stepmother currently still shared with her daughter and granddaughter. But now that I was outside the Sanders’ house, having followed my spontaneous whim in a show of impulsiveness I hadn’t exhibited since that fateful night back in college, some of the anxiety that had been eating away at me seemed to preen.

Ever since Carly ran off that day I’d bandaged her daughter’s ankle, I’d been going nuts with worry and overthinking and attempts at logic both for and against the theory that I was Ella’s father. I just needed to know, and maybe then I could process how I felt about whatever reality I was living in. So that was why I was sitting in Dwight’s car outside his new wife’s house, waiting impatiently for Carly to get home.

There was evidence all around of Jodie’s move. Overfilled trash cans on the curb, boxes stacked against a front window and in the garage. It had me thinking about my own impending move, the apartment and job hunts that hadn’t yet started, until headlights flashed down the dark street. That must be Carly. Sure enough, she parked in the driveway, and by the time her feet hit the pavement, I was out of the car and approaching her.

She was beautiful even in the moonlight, even with her hair messy because she clearly had more important things to worry about. I wasn’t here to admire her curves in the tight jeans and T-shirt she was wearing, but when I approached her from behind, I couldn’t help but notice. I was just a man.

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