Page 26 of Step Brother Bear

Every time I see him, it feels like my first. I can’t believe he fits inside of me, especially with his knot at his base. I could spend more time examining him, only visible in the lowlight seeping around the cracks of the door, but he grabs my jaw and snaps it open. “Don’t make me wait any longer. Take me deep, or I’ll make you.”

I know he’s full of shit. He might be deranged, but he’d never force me. I don’t know why I’m so sure of this, but I am. Regardless, I appreciate his continued role. I follow orders without haste, rolling my lips over his shaft and taking him as deeply as I can before I gag. “God, yes. I love hearing you choke around my cock.” He grabs the back of my head and urges me to continue. I don’t need encouragement, though—the taste of him, his words, his grip, the clear trembling he tries to hide—all of it makes me eager to take him in my mouth. He’s too big, though, and I must use my hand, coated in my saliva, to lather all of him.

“Fuck!” he yells, bucking into my mouth. It doesn’t take long until he’s frantic, his body clenching. He pulls out of my mouth and holds his cock, aiming to cover my tits. I’m soaked, both underneath my dress and my breasts, his release covering all of my front and seeping down the top of my dress. I watch with a heavy breath as his knot inflates, wishing he were inside of me. It’s not enough. Sure, I had my orgasm mere minutes ago, but I want more. I’ve only experienced its piercing pleasure once, but it was enough to make me addicted.

Derek grabs my jaw and drags me to my feet, lifting up his mask so his lips can meet mine. “So fucking good,” he whispers against my mouth, before diving his tongue inside. The kiss lasts much too short before he moves away, pulling down his mask and examining the small room. He yanks out a pristine white cloth, folded neatly inside a box, and wipes up his mess. I’m breathing heavy and watching him work all the while, adjusting my dress once I’m cleaned up.

“Come on.” He yanks me upward and pulls me toward the door. “We’re going home.”

Reality settles over me. This masked stranger isn’t a stranger at all, but of course, the monster I share a wall with.

Chapter 12

Ishould be doing a happy dance. I just confirmed a 2 p.m. virtual interview tomorrow for a marketing firm in New York City. The pay was listed in the job description, and if I got it, goodbye to my childhood home and hello to a comfortable one-bedroom of my own. It’s a dream come true. Of course, I don’t know if the job is mine yet, but this is my first interview in a while. Everything seems to be aligning for me, even if nothing is set in stone. But, instead of dancing around in the new lounge set my mom got me and letting the tennis skirt flow around me like I’m the main character in a cheesy movie, I stare at the screen, emotionless. Something doesn’t feel right, and I can’t place it.

My phone rings—Lewis. “Hello?”

“Hi! I know it’s short notice, but my meetings are all canceled for the rest of the day. I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch. I figured I could drive down.” No small talk, I guess—figures.

“Oh, uh.” I ponder, eyes darting around my room, looking for an excuse. But why do I need an excuse? “Sorry.” I cough. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh, no. Well, how about I come over and bring you soup?”

There’s no way I could have expected his burst of thoughtfulness. “That’s okay. I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Oh well…” There’s a long pause, as if he wants me to offer another solution of how we can be together today. I don’t budge. “Okay, I’ll see how you’re feeling at the end of the week.”

“Okay, thank you.”

We exchange our goodbyes, and I hang up, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Why did I lie to him? He annoyed me at dinner the other night, but it’s still Lewis, the man I imagined marrying such a short time ago. He regrets breaking up with me, something I dreamed of while I cried alone in my stupid childhood bed. I’m spending too much time in my head. I need to keep myself busy and ponder my strange feelings later.

The full laundry basket in the corner catches my eye, and I stand to retrieve it, exiting my bedroom with it in tow. A hand slaps against my forehead. “What the fuck!” I yell, dropping the basket to the floor.

Derek keeps his palm pressed to my skin, leaning against the hallway wall. “Hm, you feel normal to me.”

I push him away. “What are you talking about?”

He steps back as I lean over to retrieve my laundry, scrunching his lips. “I thought you were sick. You know, paper-thin walls and all.”

Shit. Derek is the last person I want to talk to about my confusing feelings, probably because he’s the cause. He’s right. It wasn't too late when the Uber he ordered pulled into our parents’ driveway last night, so I don’t even have the excuse of exhaustion. I’m not hungover. Chrishell must have ordered top-shelf, or the effect of my mind-blowing orgasm washed away the poison in my body.

The minute we exited the club, the spell broke, and we were back to our usual hating game, ignoring each other the whole way home; I planned to avoid him for the rest of the day—hell, the rest of my life. Yet, here he is—shirtless, tattoos on full display, his gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low, calling me out on my lies.

“There are more illnesses besides those with a fever.” I turn away from him, charging down the wall, hoping that’s the end of our run-in and he’ll leave me alone.

“Hmm.” He whispers in my ear, so close he’s nearly pressed against me as I descend the steps. “You don’t look sick either.” He picks up the back of my skirt, inspecting it. “You look like you’re about to join a tennis match.”

I pull my hip back and glare at him. “Since when did you become a doctor?”

“Oh, you know, between working out and jerking off, I’ve had plenty of time. Wanna dress up as my nurse?”

I pause and gawk at him, my parents murmuring audibly from their bedroom at the other end of the house. “What’s wrong with you?” I whisper.

“Oh, a lot, clearly. But there seems to be nothing wrong with you. So why did you lie?”

I try to ignore him, but he’s like a puppy at my heels, following me as I turn down the hall and push open the laundry room door. He shuts the door behind him.

I bend down to shove my clothes in the washing machine. “Why do you care so much about what’s going on in my life? Don’t you have your own shit to worry about? You recently got shot and are obviously hiding out from something, not to mention you're a bear.” Damn, saying it out loud makes me realize the ginormous anomaly that is my stepbrother. I should be more intrigued by the mystery that is his hidden life than the way his dick looks in his slutty gray sweatpants. But alas, I’m just a girl, a stupid, horny girl.