“OW!”

“Fuck! What?” The world crashed in, a blur. This was not my bed, or my pillow, or even my dorm. Then the big fat memory strolled in: karaoke.

Fuck. Me.

“I'm sorry,” I heard Landon say, as he hopped out of bed. “I was on the floor. My roommate Kyle put a dude on the extra bed. It's just—my back, and there's this game tomorrow...I didn't think you'd mind.” His sleepy face was at once contorted with worry. He bit his lip. I realized he'd been spooning me. A vague, dreamy sensation told me that we'd slept together all night long.

“Do you feel okay?” my step-brother asked, approaching the bed slowly. He wasn't wearing a shirt, I noticed. His six pack—which had seemed almost painted on in the car last night—looked impressively real under the lazy light of daybreak. I wanted to reach out and press my palm against his abs.

“Yeah,” I said instead, stretching my arms. Then it occurred to me to be self-conscious—I probably looked like a fucking train wreck. Put a few cocktails in me and I'm suddenly Girl Gone Wild. I stuck out my tongue, as an experiment.

Yup. Still blue.

“Landon,” I started. “Look—I'm really sorry about—whatever it is I did last night. I honestly didn't mean to...”

But he was already shaking his head and bending his knees so our faces were level again.

“Hush,” he murmured. His eyes were all concern. Shyly, he reached out and placed a palm on the wild, tangled thatch of my un-brushed hair. I felt...safe.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” he said. “And like, no funny business. Obviously.” He cracked a dorky grin. When his body shifted, I caught a whiff of his smell: sleep, and something muskier—the echo of Old Spice, applied the night before. His big brown eyes drank me in with tenderness. Something told me it was now or never.

I raised my chin, just slightly. It was easy. Our mouths fit together like puzzle pieces. He explored me gently at first, mouth pressing forward and back. I pictured an undulating jellyfish. I opened my eyes for a fraction of a second and saw that something like a smile hovered around his eyebrows.

I leaned back on the twin bed, inviting him forward. This time there was no hemming and hawing, no need to pretend. I wanted him and he wanted me and no one else was around this morning—ta-frickin-da. Gently, he rose above me and pressed his hands forward so he rested against the mattress. I slithered my fingers out from below the covers and made to tug his boxers toward me.

Still, he said nothing, even as he obeyed my little commands and began to climb into bed. His body was warm and hard and heavy on top of me, even with him bearing most of his weight in his flexed thighs. I let my exploring fingers dance all over his surface this time; he kissed me, and I tangled myself in the shaggy tips of his hair. He kissed me, and I dug my fingertips into the wings of his shoulder blades, the taut expanse of his middle, then the muscular, pert pans of his ass.

Landon rocked back on his knees once my hands began to fiddle with his waistband. He straddled my middle, and took a moment to gaze down at me. I wanted to laugh. We'd been fighting. I'd been hating his guts. Our family was ruined...yet, look at us now, world.

He started to rock back and forth above me—slowly at first, but with the muscular pressure of a 170lb football player who was maybe 9/10ths raw muscle. I was surprised at how hot I found it, his dry-humping me. He rocked forward on his hands until he was hovering above me, our faces separated by centimeters. I darted forward and bit his bottom lip, bringing it down toward mine. In an abrupt change of tempo, Landon brought both hands up to frame my face. He tilted my head back and kissed me deeply.

I thought of the great Rhett Butler line, from Gone with the Wind: “You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.” And then, I stopped thinking. It was happening to me.

Eventually, one skilled hand wound its way to my chest. Landon slipped himself up underneath my t-shirt—a borrowed t-shirt, I realized—and covered one swollen breast in warmth. I found myself bucking up against him, so we fell into humping again. He pinched my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and I let out a little coo.

“You like that?” Landon whispered, his voice tickling my neck. “You like it when I hold your tit like that?”

I almost giggled at the word 'tit,' but something about Landon's voice made the sound die in my throat. His gruff tone was incredibly hot. In response, I moaned and pressed my crotch up towards his blooming erection. He tilted backwards again, affording me an eyeful of the muscular span of his chest, with its spattering of coiled hairs. He straddled me.

A man.

And all the while, Landon kept working on my nipple. I began to feel a wetness spreading between my legs. My body began to ache for penetration, for the admission of his thick cock. Reading me like a book, Landon positioned one knee between my thighs and began to nose himself towards my entrance, his hand still working my tit. I wanted it faster, though—I wanted it now. I sat up so quickly we nearly knocked heads, and quickly reached to my sides and yanked the grey “UT” shirt up over my head. My skin tingled for a second, exposed against the air conditioning, but I was covered just as quickly. When he mashed himself against me, I felt our nipples brush together. Something about all that sensitive flesh made me moan again.

“Fuck, Landon,” I heard myself cry. I was surprised, having never been a huge fan of the dirty talk before. It was a morning of firsts. His big head rustled against my neck again, nibbled softly at my collarbone. He bent lower and took one my breasts fully into his mouth. He began to suck.

I could still feel his hard-on, straining for love. I reached down and rummaged my way past the slit of his boxers. The girth and smoothness of his cock was as I had imagined it, as I had felt it the night before. Perfectly proportioned. I could not wait to have him inside me.

Landon, perhaps sensing my rising heartbeat, narrowed his mouth to one nipple. He gently took my sensitive flesh between his teeth, and left me dangling there for a moment, on the precipice between pleasure and pain. A first, delicious shock shot through my pussy. I was aware of more wetness, pooling between us. When I glanced down, I saw that the tip of him had begun to grow moist.

“Baby, will you please suck me?” Landon asked—though he didn't have to. Although I also hadn't made myself a reputation for being especially into fellatio, something about his perfect manhood begged my oral attention. I peeled my glistening chest away from his mouth, reluctantly, and fixed my attention on his cock. Slowly, I eased the wide head into my mouth. Landon responded by digging his fingers into the back of my head and shouting “YES!”

I suddenly felt like I couldn't take it anymore, the anticipation—so as my mouth fell into a rhythm, sucking up and down along his shaft, I slid one hand down into the waistband of my panties. I was wetter than I had ever been, and for a second this shocked me. Then, as I felt Landon's cock begin to knock against the back of my throat, bulging with want, I pressed up hard against my clit. The combination of actions almost made me come right then.

Landon looked down approvingly, nodding as he continued to thrust inside my mouth. “Yeah. Touch yourself. Touch yourself while you suck my big hard cock.”

It almost happened again. I felt myself pulsing and pulsing, desperate for release. But I was determined to hold off—I wanted him to make me come. He had promised, after all.

With effort, Landon pulled himself out of my warm, eager mouth. He was so hard that his member immediately rose skyward, pointing past his belly button. He brought my face close to his and kissed me deeply once more.