Chapter 8
Marshall
We slam the door shut and stand there panting in the darkened hallway.
Water drips from our clothes onto the tile floor, pooling around our feet.
The sound of the rain is muffled now, just white noise behind the pounding of my pulse.
Gabriel’s chest is heaving, and he’s staring at me with wide eyes that catch what little light filters in from the window at the end of the hall.
His lips are parted, swollen from kissing, and I want to taste them again so badly my hands shake.
“Marshall,” he starts.
I don’t let him finish.
I crowd him against the door, pressing my body to his, and kiss him again.
His back hits the wood with a dull thud, and he makes a sound that’s half gasp, half moan.
I cup his face with both hands, tilting his head back, and he parts his lips, letting me in.
His mouth is warm and desperate, and I kiss him like I’ve been starving for it, like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this exact moment.
Our hands are everywhere. His fingers tangle in my wet hair, tugging hard enough to sting, and I groan into his mouth.
My hands slide down his neck to his shoulders, gripping the soaked fabric of his shirt.
The silk is slippery under my palms, and I want it gone.
I want everything gone. I want to feel his skin against mine with nothing between us.
I find the buttons of his shirt and start working them open, my fingers clumsy.
The first one pops free, then the second.
Gabriel makes another low and needy sound and arches into me.
I get the third button undone, then the fourth, and I pull the shirt apart, exposing the smooth planes of his chest.
He’s gorgeous. I’ve seen him shirtless before, but this is different. This is my hands on his bare skin, my thumbs brushing over his ribs, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath. I slide my palms up his chest, and his skin is warm despite the rain, heated under my touch.
My thumbs find his nipples and I flick them, just a light touch, testing.
Gabriel moans and arches harder into me, his head falling back against the door. “Marshall—”
I do it again, circling my thumbs over the tight buds, and he shudders. His hands are gripping my shoulders now, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. I kiss his jaw, his throat, tasting rain and salt.
Then he breaks the kiss, turning his head to the side, his voice coming out strained. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
I freeze for half a second, my thumbs still on his nipples, and then I push my thigh between his legs. He’s hard, straining against his wet pants, and the evidence of his arousal sends a bolt of heat straight through me.
Gabriel groans at the contact, his hips jerking forward.
I lean in close, my lips brushing his ear. “Give me a reason why we shouldn’t.”
His breath hitches. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not.” My voice is steady and certain. I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, and I can see the conflict there, the want battling with the fear. “I’m perfectly aware of what I’m doing.”
I lean down and kiss his exposed throat, dragging my tongue over the raindrops clinging to his skin. His pulse hammers under my lips, and I feel the vibration of his groan against my mouth.
“You’ll regret this in the morning,” Gabriel says, but his voice is weaker now, less convinced.
“I won’t.” I press the words into his skin, kissing along his collarbone, up the side of his neck. “I know it in my bones. I’ll never regret this.”
He shudders, his hands clutching at my shoulders. “Marshall, we’re stepbrothers. We can’t do this.”
I pull back and look at him again. “No one else is here to see us,” I say quietly.
Gabriel stares at me for a long moment, and I can see him running out of arguments and reasons to push me away. His mouth opens, closes, and then he just whispers, “Marshall, please…”
The word hangs in the air between us, and I’m not sure if it’s a plea for me to stop or to keep going. I lean away slightly, searching his face, trying to read what he needs.
“I can stop if you want,” I tell him. “Just say the word.”
I still my movements completely, waiting. Gabriel is panting, his breath hot against my neck, but he doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches, and I can feel his heart pounding against my palm.
“See, I don’t think you want me to stop.” I push my thigh harder into his groin, applying more pressure, and his whole body goes taut. “Admit it, you want this just as much as I do.”
“Fuck,” Gabriel breathes, and the word is so unexpected, so raw, that it sends another jolt of heat through me. I’ve never heard him curse before. Never seen him lose control like this.
And then he starts moving his hips, rubbing himself against my thigh. Slow at first, then faster. His fingers dig into my shoulders, his breath coming in short gasps against my neck. I stand still and let him move at his own pace.
“That’s it,” I murmur, kissing his neck, then his jaw. “Take what you need.”
I capture his mouth again, swallowing his whimpers as he ruts against me. His movements are uncoordinated, frantic, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Gabriel, always so composed and elegant, grinding against my leg like he can’t help himself.
I press my lips to his ear. “You’re so beautiful like this. So beautiful when you lose control. It turns me on so much.”
Gabriel cries out, his eyes rolling back, and I feel him pulse against my leg.
His whole body goes rigid, shuddering, and then he’s coming, his orgasm crashing over him with an intensity that nearly takes me down with him.
I’m so close to the edge myself, my cock straining against my zipper, and watching Gabriel fall apart against me almost tips me over.
His legs give out.
He slides down the door until he’s sitting on the floor, his chest heaving, his eyes glazed. I stand over him, my own breath coming hard, and the sight of him wrecked and sated at my feet does something to me.
I can’t take it anymore.
I pop the button of my pants and unzip them, reaching in and pulling my cock out. The relief of being free from the confining fabric is immediate, and I wrap my hand around myself with a hiss of pleasure.
Gabriel looks up at me from the floor, and his eyes widen when he sees me.
I know my cock is impressive. It’s both a blessing and a curse.
I’m long and thick, bigger than average, and it’s caused problems in the past. Rachel always complained that it hurt, and I’ve spent years holding back during sex, trying not to cause her pain, trying to be gentle when all I wanted was to let go.
But right now, seeing the awe in Gabriel’s eyes, I can’t help feeling smug.
I give myself a long stroke from base to tip, squeezing firmly, then flick my thumb over the head. The sensation is exquisite, and I hiss through my teeth. I’m close, so close, and it’s all because of him. Because of my stepbrother looking up at me with those dark, hungry eyes.
“Do you like it?” I ask, a smirk tugging at my lips.
Gabriel doesn’t reply. He just licks his lips, his gaze locked on my cock like he’s hypnotized.
I stroke myself again, squeezing harder, watching the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
“You made me this hard,” I tell him, my voice dropping lower. “I’m so close I’m gonna burst.”
Gabriel parts his lips wider, still looking up at me, and the raw expression on his face, the hunger and the need, breaks whatever restraint I have left.
I start jerking myself off in earnest, my strokes fast and firm. My other hand braces against the door above Gabriel’s head, and I look down at him, taking in every detail. His wet hair plastered to his forehead, his swollen lips, the way his eyes are fixed on me.
“You look so good like that,” I tell him. “On your knees, flushed and wrecked because of me.”
Gabriel licks his lips again and shocks me by opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue.
The sight destroys me, pushing me right to the edge.
I come with a groan, my hand working my cock, and I spill messily onto his waiting tongue, his lips, his nose, his cheekbones.
I come and come, thick ropes covering his face, and I can’t stop, can’t do anything but ride out the most intense orgasm of my life while my stepbrother kneels in front of me.
When it finally subsides, I press my forehead against the door, my eyes closing. My legs are shaking, my whole body trembling with the aftershocks. I stay like that for a minute, trying to catch my breath and process what just happened.
When I finally open my eyes and look down at Gabriel, he’s licking his lips, tasting me.
Fuuuck.
I tuck myself back into my pants and offer him my hand. He takes it, and I pull him up, my limbs still shaking. He’s unsteady on his feet, and I slide an arm around his waist, keeping him upright.
I can’t help it. I kiss him again, tasting myself on his tongue, and my spent cock gives another twitch. It’s filthy and perfect, and I deepen the kiss, pouring everything I can’t say into it.
When we finally break apart, Gabriel’s voice is soft and teasing against my lips. “Marshall, hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you know how being a wingman works.”