Unleashed: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Part 25

"Wouldn't be her first divorce, won't be her last."

"This is going to be a really s.h.i.+tty family holiday, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I say. "No doubt."

She takes my hand, squeezes it tight, and I squeeze back.

And we walk back to our hotel without incident.

"Want to start training tonight?" she asks me. She gives me this cute smile that just melts all my residual rage away.

She has this weird control over me. G.o.d help me if she ever figures that out.

"Train?"

"Yeah. Show me some of Kaminski's videos. Explain to me how he'll fight you. We'll go through it mentally, you know. They say it's very powerful to visualize something you want to do before you go through with it. Helps you get prepared."

I nod at her. "Sounds good, Ca.s.s."

"You may have to teach me some stuff, but I'll pick it up quick."

"Of that I have no doubt."

Chapter Twenty Eight.

The next two days went by in a blur. Just one big smudged pa.s.sage of time. Ca.s.sie and I studied Kaminski's fight videos. She became my scout, studied MMA techniques at an astonis.h.i.+ng rate.

She picked it up fast, and as each day pa.s.sed, we became less interested in goofing off, in enjoying ourselves on this brief holiday before a fight night that we knew would be the most important thing to happen to us in a while.

When you're in trouble, the stakes have a way of seeming larger than they are. It's true we could just run away if we lost the fight, go into hiding, or even take a chance back in the States under new names, or in different states.

But to us, it felt like the end of the world was coming. Ca.s.sie handled it well, as well as anyone could hope to. She's a fighter, just like me. Brave beyond her life experience had any reason to make her.

Some people paid her father a visit, nasty looking people. How they had reach even out here in the United Kingdom, I have no idea. Whoever he borrowed from was connected, and in a big way.

Kyle explained the situation to them, told them he'd have their money.

And they told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he didn't, there'd be a price he'd have to pay, and it wouldn't be in green, and it wouldn't just be him who paid it.

But after several nights of tireless training and studying, of her sitting endlessly at the computer and watching fights, and me working on my conditioning, getting my health as perfect as possible before the big night, we decided to go out.

We needed a break.

And it was just what we needed.

We went out for dinner and drinks, a proper date. You might even call it our first.

Ca.s.sie wanted to go to a place she read about in her guide book. She's got this mental checklist of things she has to do while in England, and it strikes me as an odd way to travel.

I'd rather wing it, go where the wind takes me.

I shouldn't have had any drinks, but a few wouldn't hurt me, anyway. The only rule was I had to stay on the hard liquor a no beers or wines... none of that excess sugar. No bloating, no extra water weight. I need to be at my quickest to win this fight. It's the major advantage I have over Kaminski.

Ca.s.sie went through gla.s.s after gla.s.s of a sparkling chardonnay, and I matched her shot for shot with twelve year-old Glenlivet. It was an expensive night, for sure, but with three days until the fight, I had the distinct impression we both needed to let off some steam, cost be d.a.m.ned. We burned through a ton of our cash, but we came out of that restaurant laughing, hand-in-hand.

Now, back at our hotel, she gives me a rosy-cheeked and cheeky grin, and asks me, "Do you want to go to the pool? It's heated."

Instinctively, I flick my eyes toward the bedside clock, see the red-pip digits blinking zero-zero-thirteen. I turn to her, and think to myself: h.e.l.l yes.

I tell her so, and she lets out a loud laugh. We're both buzzed, both quick to smile, and it's like there's not a worry in the world.

She needed this... and I think I may have, too.

Ca.s.sie begins to put on a show, and it's so unlike her, but it's so s.e.xy. She pulls her dress slowly up her thighs, s.h.i.+fting her hips as she does so, laughing with more than a hint of nervousness.

I lean back on the bed, groan a little at her, feel blood thundering into my c.o.c.k.

"More," I tell her, licking my lips. "Show me more."

"You'll just have to be patient," she says curtly, making a face, before breaking into a laugh again. She's slowly sidling the dress up her thighs. I see a flash of her underwear, purple, a glimpse of her shape. It turns me on like nothing else. I feel it in my throat, my chest, my abdomen, my c.o.c.k.

G.o.d, I want her. She's so f.u.c.king perfect. Everything about her is everything I want. It's s.e.xy that she's acting a little out of character, letting loose... having fun.

This time, she brings the hem of her dress higher. The daring Aztec-print bunches up, and she's showing me her underwear, her hips, her waist. The dress comes higher, and I can't take my eyes off her. Every inch of her hot skin is like a drug, leaves me longing for more.

Then the dress is up around her neck. She pulls it over her head, arms up, and I can't control myself anymore. I go to her, push her against the wardrobe's cold mirror-door, the dress still covering her face.

"Don't move," I tell her, pinning her hands above her.

"Chance, I can't see."

"Don't... move."

I kiss her down the back of her upper arm, savoring the soft skin. I kiss her down over her armpit, and run my fingers up her sides. She squirms, laughs, and so I nip her neck gently, turning the laugh into a yelp.

She smells so good, and I can feel the warmth of her rus.h.i.+ng breath through her dress. I bring my lips to hers through the fabric, take her lower lip and hold it between my teeth.

I hold her hip in my hand, run it around to the small of her back, let a finger dip beneath the elastic of her underwear...

"No," she says, wriggling her wrists free of my hand and pus.h.i.+ng me away.

She gets her head out of the dress, and wags a finger at me. "Bad Chance! Bad! I want to go swimming."

Turning her back to me and looking into the mirror, Ca.s.sie unhooks her bra, lets it fall carelessly to the floor.

I wrap her up from behind, press my lips into the bare skin of her shoulder, smell her neck behind her ear.

But before I can cup her breast she's pushed me off with her b.u.m, banging it into my hard c.o.c.k.

I back up, grinning, and adjust myself in the mirror. Her eyes don't leave my crotch.

She slides out of her underwear, steps out of them. She hooks it with a toe, and then turns to me and flicks it at me.

I catch it, bring it to my nose and smell her. G.o.d, she smells so good. Her scent drives me wild.

I watch her, look at her back, her a.s.s, all her s.e.xy flesh that I just want to grab and hold and knead and pull against me.

Then into the mirror, at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s that I want to squeeze, her nipples I want to suck and bite. I look at her s.e.x, lick my lips, and go to her again.

But she slides open the wardrobe so that now I can only see myself in the reflection, and she bends over and opens her suitcase.

"I brought my favorite bikini," she says, humming to herself. She antic.i.p.ates what I'm about to do. I reach out to run my hands on her a.s.s, dip inwards a little, but she slaps me away.

"Go get changed, Chance. Get something to drink from the mini-fridge, too."

I guess she wants to be in charge tonight.

Chapter Twenty Nine.

Bathing trunks on, c.o.c.k hard and h.o.r.n.y, towel draped over my shoulder, and a champagne bottle clasped between two fingers, I walk down the maroon-carpeted hotel hallway.

At the end of it, by the elevators, is standing Ca.s.sie. She's got a fluffy white robe on, and she's leaning her weight to one side, watching me. I don't miss her eyes roaming up and down my body.

We ride up in near silence, casting muted grins at each other. When we get to the pool, we see that it's completely empty. It's heated, for sure; there is steam pouring upward, an upside-down waterfall.

I watch Ca.s.sie as she removes her robe, and then slips into the pool. I dive in after her, and am instantly bathed in warm water. I've been working out hard the last few days, and the warm water won't be good for my muscles a it encourages swelling a but I hardly give a s.h.i.+t right at this moment.

We swim and play, splash water at each other and laugh. We hold onto each other, float and stare up at the ceiling, climb out of the pool and cannon-ball in to see who can make the bigger splash.

It's the most fun I've had with her since we got to England. Eventually I climb out of the pool, go to one of the deck chairs there and lie down on it, towel against my back.

Ca.s.sie follows me, a glint in her eye, hips swaying. She's acting out of character, so confident, and it's so, so s.e.xy.

We pop off the cork of the champagne, and drink from the bottle. Champagne spurts out when she tips the bottle too high, and she holds it out for me to take while she coughs, wipes champagne from her face and chin.

Something in her has changed. I can't put my finger on it, but I like it. It's not just the alcohol... it's not just that we've had fun all night, that for the first time ever we've actually felt like a couple, rather than her trying to resist the magnetic force that pulls us together.

This girl is more than just someone I want to smell and taste every day. She's more than just someone I want to make moan every day.

She's someone I want to be with every day. Someone I want in my life, someone I want to never not have.

Ca.s.sie sits on the side of my deck chair, trails a finger up the inside of my thigh. "I want to watch you again," she tells me.

Just hearing those words sends me rock hard in an instant. My trunks tent, and I look at her while I pull them down by the waist, hook them beneath my b.a.l.l.s.

I begin to m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e, jerk myself off in front of her. She watches, eyes heavy-lidded, breathing quick, cheeks flushed.

I bring myself right to the brink, then back myself off, all the while never taking my eyes off her. G.o.d, this girl drives me wild.

She adjusts her position, gets closer to me, and I bring my hips up. She puts a finger on my tip, rubs my pre-c.u.m around the smooth, wide dome, before taking me into her mouth.

I groan in delight, immediately grasp on to the back of her head. At first she just tongues me, teases me, licks the strip of sensitive skin right at the back of my c.o.c.k, but then her motions grow more heated, impa.s.sioned.

She sucks me off like it's the only thing in this world she needs. She bobs her head up and down fast, and I continue to pump myself into her mouth. The smacking sounds of her b.l.o.w.j.o.b almost echo in the pool room, and G.o.d if this isn't the best b.l.o.w.j.o.b I've ever had.

But when I'm nearly there, so close, she lifts off me, eyes sparkling, a grin curling her lips.

"Finish yourself," she tells me. The tenor of her voice tells me she wants to be in control. It excites me.

So I do. I crest, fire strands of ropy c.u.m all over my chest and stomach. As I do it she inhales sharply. Her hard nipples are poking through her bikini top.

I see her hand move down her body. She starts to touch herself. My c.o.c.k doesn't soften one bit. She lets her eyes drop closed, lets me watch her while she pleases herself. I reach out to touch her b.r.e.a.s.t.s but she slaps my hand away.

In a flurry she reaches over to her robe, ruffles it, and pulls out a condom. I meet her beautiful eyes, share a smirk. She came up here with something in mind.

She tears it open, rolls it down my c.o.c.k, and then straddles me.

"Don't.... move," she says, imitating my voice from just earlier. "And put your arms up behind your head."

So I do. She runs her hands up my sides, feels the ridges of my intercostal muscles with her fingers. She holds onto my chest and lowers herself against my c.o.c.k. I feel my tip press into her bikini bottom. It nudges her hard c.l.i.t and she lets out a breathless sigh.

She reaches down, pulls her bikini bottom to the side, I feel my c.o.c.k head press against her wet s.e.x. It's so warm, so s.e.xy, and she rubs me up and down her slit, teasing me.

G.o.d, I can barely take it anymore. I feel like I'm going to blow a second load in seconds flat.

She winces and groans as I enter her, stretch her, feel her tightness, eyes rolling back, pus.h.i.+ng down onto me so, so slowly.

I just want to thrust my hips up, bury myself in her, bottom out.

But she's in control tonight.

She rides me slow, lets her hair fall down around my face, looks into my eyes, watches for my pleasure. She moves her hips so my c.o.c.k head grinds against her, and when I lower my arms to hold onto her, she slaps them back up, and shakes her head.