Page 34 of The Step Bet

“Atlas, I’m right on the edge. I’ll just jerk it off.”

I reach for my cock, but he slaps my hand away.

“Fucking ass.”

“No,” he insists, “do what I say.”

“Don’t be mean, please.” I’m fucking begging him.

“Then be honest. I just want the truth.”

“You are fucking good at it. You’retoogood,” I confess because he deserves to know I was wrong to ever question him. He’s earned that. “I was wrong. You were right.”

I say it quickly, like we’re in a hostage situation, and fortunately, he doesn’t let me suffer anymore. He takes my cock back into his mouth, going back at it just like before. Relief rushes through me as my body continues soaring, the urgency returning.

He tightens his arms around my thighs and rocks his head back and forth like now that he’s had a taste, he fucking needs this as much as I do. His wild, generous, unpredictable tongue seems determined to get me to the end.

A familiar rush of adrenaline in my hips offers me a warning. “Atlas, you have to stop now. I’m gonna… I’m gonna come.”

But he keeps going for a few more seconds. Like he can’t help himself.

Never imagined my straight stepbrother so hungry for cock.

My body’s already twitching and vibrating. I’m about to warn him again when he finally swaps his mouth with his hand, jerking me as he gazes up, a determined expression on his face.

“See? I’m a fast learner.” He takes deep breaths, like he’s recovering from the workout.

“You were right, you were right,” I surrender again.

There’s an eagerness in his expression. Maybe because he loves when I admit that I’m wrong. Maybe because he’s eager to see my face when I come for him.

For a guy I can act so guarded around, I feel totally exposed, so vulnerable, at his fucking mercy as he fists my dick, moving his hand as though he’s learned my preferred rhythm in the short time he had to study my body.

“Come on. I wanna see who’s got the bigger load,” he teases, and pressure rises from my balls, the sense of urgency exploding through me as I collapse against the arm of the couch. My muscles tense, my face locks up as I shoot in ropes across my abs. I curse through gritted teeth as he drains the last bit of cum, still stroking me as my body erupts into a series of trembles and twitches, my thoughts scattered, lost in the last stretch of the fireworks show that’s still sparking through me.

When the adrenaline and chaos settle, my chest rises and falls. Feels like I’m recovering from an intense jog.

I gaze down at Atlas, who looks smugger than I’ve ever seen him in his life, and again, I don’t care because of what I got out of it.

“Not a bad load,” he says with a wink.

I sit up, surely unable to disguise how shocked and impressed I am.

I notice some of my cum on his chin. I wish I could leave it. Let him walk around with me on his face, marking his body with a part of me. But I wouldn’t just want him wearing me; I’d want him to be proud of the way I’ve stained his body.

Where the fuck did that thought come from?

I shake it off and run my thumb across his chin, collecting and displaying it for him. “Pretty as that face is, it looks even prettier with my cum on it.” I wish I were kidding, and I’m glad he doesn’t seem to realize how serious I am.

“I bet it does. And I don’t wanna brag, but I think I’ll give myself an A plus,” he says with another wink.

And damn, he’s got me laughing. After all that, I’m fucking laughing?

I don’t understand what’s going on right now, but after what he just did to me, I feel too fucking good to give a fuck. The only thing I’m sure of is that Atlas’s hard-on while we were wrestling probably wasn’t a rage boner.

14

Atlas

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