Chapter 5
It was hard to argue with someone that was giving you a god-tier massage on muscles already loose and languid from heat. I temporarily shoved my misgivings aside and allowed myself to relax into Red’s surprisingly dexterous hands, letting the refreshing pressure of cool glass blank my mind for long, blissful minutes. The problem was that relaxed me wasn’t terribly different than drunk me, in that my conversational filters often went offline.
“So you never answered my question, Red.” My voice came out sultry and low, and I smirked at the wooden wall in front of me, knowing he couldn’t see my face as his thumbs dug in just right between my shoulders.
“Curious little thing, aren’t you? The answer’s yes, it’s all glass. I’m fully functional, thank you very much. My exes have never complained—quite the opposite, honestly.” I could hear the proud grin in his voice, which only made me want to ask even more inappropriate questions.
So I did.
“And does it…rise to the occasion, like a human’s?” That made Red pause his kneading, clearing his throat in a way that made me smirk.
His answer came out rough, a sensual purr woven through the words, the sweet fruit scent of him mingling with the cedar of the sauna as he leaned close. “I’d offer to show you what it looks like soft, but I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment.”
I couldn’t help it, I spun around on the bench and stared down at the elephant in the sauna. Red’s garish Hawaiian print swim shorts were tented so tight he could have hosted a circus between his thighs. “O-oh. Wow. Is that from..?”
“From getting my hands on the woman I dream about every goddamn night? Hell yes it is. This doesn’t have to be anything, Jules, this whole conversation can vanish into the void the minute we get out of here, but I’m not going to sit here and pretend I don’t want you with every drop of my being right now.” Red’s cheeks had gone pale again, but his eyes were molten with need, black voids above a sea of cherry red. The sheer desire in his wide, cartoon-like expression nearly gave me vertigo, exacerbated by the literal heat around us. I looked away from the intensity I found there as warmth rose in my own cheeks, and, traitorously, between my thighs too.
Oh god, I was considering this. I was really considering this. Even languid and well-massaged, my brain was still online enough to register that if we were going to cross any kind of line, I couldn’t hesitate anymore, couldn’t play coy. The only thing worse than regret over letting this strange, hot opportunity pass me by would be Dan and mom catching us in a compromising position in their new sauna. My pussy throbbed as I hesitantly allowed myself to consider Red in a new light, one with less clothing and far fewer morals. And I didn’t know if it was my dry spell, latent school stress, or my stepbrother’s unexpected confession that did it, but the normally-cautious part of my brain had switched off entirely.
“Fuck. Red, this is such a bad idea…” But even as I murmured the token protest, I was sliding forward on the bench, pulling my lower lip between my teeth and nibbling pensively as I stared down. My request came out as a rushed whisper, as if lowering the volume could take the forbidden thrill out of what I was asking. “...can I…see it?”
Glass chimed on wood as Red stretched his arm across the back of the bench, making me immediately miss the cool contact on my skin. He sat angled towards me from the massage, his erection straining beneath the frayed drawstring cords of his trunks’ waistband. The cocky, confident tone I recognized as uniquely him was back: as if he hadn’t just—metaphorically—poured his heart out to me. He tilted his pitcher-lip down infinitesimally towards his lap, sending the faint remains of his ice tumbling and clinking inside his brow. “Be my guest.”
The sauna’s heat was still bearing down on us like a wet towel, but my fingers were adrenaline-cold as they reached for something I had absolutely no business touching: my stepbrother’s glass cock. Sucking in a humid breath, I crossed the line entirely, wrapping my fingers around the surprisingly thick rod, sheathed in a barely-there layer of nylon and netting and giving a very, very tentative stroke through my fistful of fabric and Red. I was rewarded with a groan so hot it begged me to continue.
I did.
“Fuck, Jules. God. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. I’ve wanted you so bad.” Red hissed with pleasure as my grip tightened, his punch sloshing a little as his hips jerked up into my touch. “Please, baby, take it out. Let me see it in your hand, I need to see it.”
My thighs rubbed against each other, squeezing at the unexpected erotic charge of my stepbrother calling me baby. It was like I was watching someone else as my hands moved to slide the single cheap button of his swim trunks free, the fabric eagerly sliding off of the unrelenting glass piston that was Red’s jutting cock.
I stifled a gasp at the beauty of it as it cleared the fabric: a clear glass shaft with a simple bulbed head, all surrounding a thick internal column of the red cherry punch that filled Red’s body. The punch surged in and out of the closed-ended tube in colorful eddies, making it jump and pulse in my palm as I stroked. I draped my palm around the tip, lightly rotating my hand as I shyly peeked up to see his reaction. His big dark eyes were closed in bliss, the edge of his lower lip bitten as his breathing shuddered, the top edge of his body-liquid shivering with delight.
“Jules can I…touch you too?” The hand that wasn’t draped on the bench moved itself to my knee. Red’s thumb swept strokes against my skin, wordlessly asking for permission to creep higher. I slid my grip up his shaft slowly, palming the tip again as I shifted backwards, letting my thighs part further in invitation. Red slid closer, gaze openly hungry as his chilled fingers inched under the leg of my gym shorts, the jersey material thin and stretched from years of use. The fabric readily slid over his hand without resistance, and I gasped at the first explorative touch of cool glass between my slick labia.
Red’s expressive eyebrows raised, his smirk deepening as his index finger found a smooth glide to my entrance. “Naughty girl, Jules. Did you forget to wear panties, or were you hoping I’d notice?” My breath caught as his finger insistently worked inside me, twice as thick as any of my exes’ fingers had ever been but impossibly smooth. “Were you hoping your step brother would find out just how wet and tight you are for him?”
I clutched at his wrist with my free hand, moaning softly with pleasure, both at how filthy Red was talking and the way he was touching me. I’d always lusted after glass dildos, but I’d never been brave enough to try one. Now I wondered why I’d waited so fucking long: it was fullness without friction, a silky glide that buried itself deep, exactly where I needed it most. As I canted my hips up for more, Red’s satisfied, fruit-scented sigh washed over me like an opened refrigerator on a hot summer day. “Look at you, Jules. So perfect. So absolutely fucking perfect.”
I whimpered as his finger slid free, leaving me empty and aching, my eyes snapping open with concern our parents had come home. Red grinned down at me, all but reading my mind through my furrowed brow. “Relax, Jules. I can see the living room clock through the patio door. We’ve got a good forty-five minutes before we should even start to worry. I just want to get these shorts off you, baby. That top too, if you’ll let me. Unless…” His unspoken question hung in the air.