Page 10 of Step Brother Bear

“That’s the best you can do? I know you’re stronger than that.”

I yank back, feebly, and his grip tightens, holding me by my waist. “Come on, try harder. Or do what you really want and see what’s beneath my shorts. You owe it to yourself. You’re practically drooling.”

I’ve always been competitive, especially when it comes to Derek. He’s taunting me, and I should resist or turn into a vulnerable, weak mess at the implication, but I do neither. His negging emboldens me. Yes, I want to prove to him that I’m not a pussy, but it’s something more. I want to see the full extent of him, and my body trembles with ignited anticipation.

Before I have a chance to think, I reach for him, not letting our eye contact break as I pull him free from his shorts. I revel in the shocked and helpless expression that washes over his features before darting my attention to the searing member taking up too much space in my hand.

Chrishell was right—he’s huge, and it boils my blood that it’s the first thought that comes to my mind. His shaft stands proudly, thick veins running up to his prominent mushroom head. I can’t help but salivate, thinking of him entering me. God, I must be desperate for release. Desire almost clouds my reasoning—almost. Something is not right.

“What’s that?” I point. Thankful that I can actually embarrass him.

“A cock.” He grins and leans back, holding himself up with one outstretched arm.

Cocky bastard.

“No, what’s at the base?” I can’t tear my eyes away from the extra bulge at the end of his shaft.

His eyes flick to his length for just a moment. “Extra fun.”

“You should get that checked out.”

“Trust me. I’m clean.” He leans forward, ghosting his breath across my neck. “And no one’s ever complained about my knot.”

I jerk backwards. “Your knot? What are you, a fucking dog?”

“Worse.”

He’s smiling, taunting me as he licks his lips. “Are you scared now?”

“No.”

“You look scared.”

“I’m repulsed.”

“You’re a shit liar.”

“Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.” I move to stand, but he pulls me down, and I can’t help the subtle jerk of my hips against his large thigh and the tight gasp that escapes my mouth.

He tsks. “Such a pussy. I know you won’t suck it. You’re such a prude.” He’s drunk on his words. They leave his lips not as if he’s teasing me, but as if he’s luring me in, begging me with a delicious sort of chant.

He knows me well—more than he should. It’s working—his coaxing words dragging me off his lap and bringing me to the floor, pushing myself between his knees. I’m hypnotized by his wide eyes, the low hang of his jaw. He’s speechless for probably the first time in his God damned life, and it makes me feel powerful—a feeling foreign to myself after the past couple of weeks. I take him in hand, and he moans, low and lust-driven.

I don’t break our tethered gaze as I bring myself lower, taking him in my mouth and slowly rolling my lips down his girth. I don’t stop until I reach the end of his length, to his knot that he speaks of. Maybe it’s some sort of modification, like a dick piercing. I should spend more time contemplating his otherness, but I’m delirious from my lust, driving me to bob my head, up and down, fucking him with my mouth as if I’m starved.

My curls slide over my shoulder, brushing against my cheeks, but I don’t stop. Derek leans forward and I watch as his abdomen muscles tense. He gathers my hair in his hand, smoothing the strands into a ponytail. He pulls. I glance up at him, still not stopping my bobbing motion. He stares down at me, parted lips, complete awe sparkling in his eyes. I get lost in the sight of his large frame shadowed from the low light, caging me in. I speed up my pace, eager to watch as I bring him to his edge. I witness the euphoria melt way from his harsh features, but before he gives in, his eyes widen.

It happens quickly—he yanks my hair, pulling me from him, a strand of my saliva the only thing connecting us. “Wha…” I can’t even finish the word. Derek pulls me to the bed, slamming me against the comforters and flipping me to my back. He pulls my legs to him, and kneels at the edge of his bed.

“What are you doing?” I ask, already out of breath as I rise to my elbows. The idiot probably fucked up his wound again.

He runs one illustrated hand up my thigh, reaching for my sleep shorts and pulling them down my legs. “My turn.” He smiles, and damn him for looking so good between my legs. He spreads me with his fingers, and I squirm. It’s one thing to take him in my mouth as a weird form of revenge; it’s another for him to return the sexual favor and look so eager while doing so. I feel vulnerable and nervous and although I want nothing more than for him to continue what he’s started, the rational side of me knows this should stop.

I don’t have time to reason, though. He makes up for the uncertainty, bringing his mouth to my core, no teasing, no prodding, only an animalistic hunger as he laps through me. I cry out, giving in and falling backwards on his bed, immediately enveloped in the musky yet surprisingly clean smell of his bedding.

It must be the knowledge that we are utterly alone together, but I melt into the moment, letting him have his way with me and damn, does he do a fantastic job, lapping through my arousal as if he’s dying of thirst and I’m a damned Evian fountain.

He pulls back and stares into the depths of me. “It’s like honey,” he whispers before returning to his task.