Page 6 of The Stepbrother 2: Noah

“No!” I nearly yelled the word. My dick was so fucking hard it felt like it would pop like a balloon.

"What’s wrong with you?” She frowned.

Right then, I decided enough was enough. I reached out, gripping her chin, making sure her eyes were locked on mine. “You need to stop playing with me, Creed,” I said, voice low and steady. “I’m not that little boy who let you push them around for fun. You don’t know me now, not well enough to keep poking at me like this.”

My gaze dropped to her lips where she was biting into the bottom one. I forced myself to look away, to focus on the task at hand, even though she made it almost impossible.

My grip tightened, just enough to let her feel it. “I’m holding back, believe me. But you keep pushing, and one day, I might not. You don’t want me to give in. Because if I do…” I let my thumb trace her jaw. “I’ll break you apart, just to see if I can put you back together.” I let her go, stepping back, putting space between us. She looked a little stunned, maybe even hurt. But I had to do this.

Smirking, I grabbed the door handle, ready to leave, thinking I had made my point.

She stepped into my space, blocking me. Her hand slid under my shirt, tracing the hard lines of my stomach. Every nerve in my body sparked alive.

"I think you meant your words to be a deterrent, but they do the opposite. she murmured, voice low, silken and filthy. This tone, this demeanor, it makes you so much more interesting. Break me, I dare you to try." Her hand slipped into the waistband of my swim trunks, fingers curling around my dick, her stroke, slow and devastating as she slid her hand from the root to the tip. My head fell back against the door, and a low sound escaped my throat, something close to a growl. I was so fucking turned on I was about to let her do whatever she wanted to me, then I would do what she was begging me to do.

The door handle I was holding jiggled in my hand. That to me was a sign I shouldn't be doing what I was about to do.

Creed's fingers lingered on my dick, then withdrew, with one last torturous brush of her nails against my skin.

She turned away. "Better let whoever that is in."

I exhaled a rough, uneven breath. I tried to get my heart rate back under control as I dropped my hand from the door knob, then turned to face the door.

Iggy walked in.

Her eyes settled on me. She gave me a slow once-over. She was a cute girl, tiny, with bleached blonde hair and blue eyes. She reminded me way too much of my sister for me to ever consider fucking her. She wanted me to fuck her, badly. Not in the way Creed did. Creed wanted me because I was resisting. She wanted to break my resolve. Everything about her spoke to the baser side of me. Iggy was just making a desperate attempt to give her pussy away. I hated desperation.

"Maine told me to come see what's taking you both so long," she looked behind me to Creed.

“I bet you volunteered to come,” Creed laughed. Then walked past both of us. I watched her ass bounce and jiggle until Iggy cleared her throat.

I looked down at her, staring up at me, her lips pressing into her thin lips.

“How are you doing?” She asked.

“I’m fine,” I answered, then followed Creed's trail out of the door. Creed had me feeling like the old me, and I was a second away from using Iggy to relieve some aggression.

The rest of the day I spent avoiding Iggy and watching Creed dance and twerk up on half the men, old and young. She craved attention.

Laying back in the beach chair surrounded by people I didn’t know, who Maine had made friends with, they had pulled up a table and were playing Spades. No matter how many timesMaine had tried to teach me, I couldn’t figure out how. I downed my drink, something fruity with vodka in it that Maine had given me, feeling the burn go down, centering me. I was ready to go, but didn’t want to ruin Maine's fun.

Creed appeared out of nowhere, dropping herself right into my lap like it was exactly where she belonged. Her arms looped around my neck, pulling me close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her. My body responded instantly. I became very aware of how good her weight felt on top of me, making me remember last night—a heady mix of weed and vodka that clung to her skin like perfume.

“Hello, Mr. Grumpy Pants.” She giggled, a little too loud, her pupils wide. “You should come dance with me.”

I looked down at her.

"I don’t know how to dance," I muttered, half-hoping she’d lose interest and go find someone else to bother. Half-hoping she wouldn’t.

She leaned in, lips brushing my ear, voice a low purr. “I can teach you,” she said, soft enough that it was meant for me alone. And then, barely above a whisper, “In exchange, you can teach me how you like your dick sucked.”

Before I could react, she was gone, slipping out of my lap and into Ivory’s. I watched her whisper to Ivory,they laughed.

Then she said “Your brother’s weird and boring,” loud enough for me to hear, her laughter spilling out of her.

Ivory laughed, swatting her playfully. “Teach him a few things. You’re wild enough for both of you, Creed.”

If only Ivory knew the conversation we’d just had. She would not be giving out sucky advice.

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