Page 6 of Unwrap Me After Dark
My grin widens. “Oh yeah? Then what is it, little bro? Enlighten me.” I step even closer, our chests almost touching.
“Fuck you. Get off me.” He tries to push past me, but I block his path, sliding my leg between his thighs.
He grunts, the sound caught somewhere between protest and surprise. His attempts to escape only press him harder against my thigh. I feel the hard length of him through the thin fabric of our swim trunks, and something dark and possessive unfurls in my chest.
“You know what I think?” I murmur, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “I think you want your big stepbro.” The words are meant to taunt, to humiliate, but they send an unexpected jolt of heat straight to my own groin.
“Shut up. I’m not gay,” Liam spits, his hips shifting against my thigh.
“Your dick says otherwise.” I press my leg more firmly, watching his face as he fights the sensation.
He struggles against me, trying to create distance, but the movement only creates more friction. And to my horror, my body responds, blood rushing to my cock until it’s straining against the wet fabric of my trunks.
Liam’s eyes widen. “Who’s gay now?” he snarls, a hint of triumph in his voice despite his compromised position.
“At least I’m not a little slut like you,” I retort, covering my confusion with aggression. “Rubbing on your stepbro’s leg to get off.”
He curses, but his hips make another involuntary jerk against my thigh. The friction draws a hiss from between his teeth.
“Come on, Liam,” I taunt. “Rub yourself on me like a good boy.”
“It’s you who wants to rub your disgusting monster cock on me,” he shoots back, his words at odds with the way his body moves against mine.
“How do you know I’ve got a monster cock? Been watching me?” Even as I taunt him, I’m pressing against him, our bodies finding a rhythm that bypasses our mutual hatred.
Our cocks align through the thin fabric, hard length against hard length. The sensation tears a groan from my throat that I try to disguise as a grunt of disgust. We’re moving together now, grinding against each other, our breathing harsh in the quiet air around the lake.
“Fuck, I hate you,” Liam gasps, his head falling back, exposing the long line of his throat.
“The feeling’s mutual,” I growl, but I don’t stop moving. Can’t stop. The friction is too good, the forbidden nature of what we’re doing adding a sharp edge to the pleasure building at the base of my spine.
I’m vaguely aware that we’re outside, that the neighbors could see us, but the thought only adds to the twisted excitement coursing through my veins. My hands find Liam’s hips, fingers digging into his flesh hard enough to bruise as I pull him more firmly against me.
“You gonna come in your trunks?” My voice is barely recognizable to my own ears. “Gonna make a mess for your big bro?”
“Go fuck yourself, Tyler,” Liam hisses, and his rhythm falters.
“Such a prissy boy with your perfect grades and manners,” I growl, grinding harder against him. “Look at you now. Rutting against me like a whore.”
His eyes flash with fury, but he doesn’t stop moving. “Fuck you.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I grip his ass with one hand, pulling him tighter against me. “You want your big stepbro to bend you over right here…”
Liam grunts and throws his head back against the tree.
A sudden sound of a car engine makes us both jump. I spring away as if electrocuted, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. I scan the road beyond the trees, heart hammering against my ribs.
The car engine grows louder, tires crunching on gravel. I take another step back, running a shaky hand through my wet hair. The sound of the vehicle swells, then fades as it passes by without stopping, continuing down the lakeside road. Relief floods through me, followed by a wave of shame.
Liam and I stand frozen in our separate spaces, neither moving. Liam’s eyes are wide, pupils still dilated despite the panic that’s replaced the heat in his gaze. His lips are parted, his chest rises and falls in rapid succession, the muscles of his abdomen tensing with each breath.
Then his face transforms—desire draining away, replaced by dawning horror. His throat works as he swallows once, twice.
My skin feels too tight, my thoughts too loud. “Liam, I—” I manage, my voice coming out in a hoarse croak.
He shakes his head, cutting me off. A drop of water falls from his hair, trailing down his cheek like a tear. His hand curls into a fist at his side. I watch as he rebuilds himself piece by piece—shoulders squaring, jaw setting, the vulnerable boy disappearing behind the wall I’ve grown so accustomed to pushing against. Then, without a word, Liam turns and stalks toward the cabin. I remain rooted to the spot, watching him go.
This time, I think I’ve broken something that might be impossible to fix.
