Mom Handed Us One Lease, So I Handed My Stepbrother My Bed novel · Chapter 4 of 24
Chapter 4: Paper Walls
I had him against the hall wall before the door finished closing.
My mouth was on his, and my hands were in the front of his shirt.
He kissed me with his whole body bent down to reach me, one arm braced on the plaster over my head.
His boot came down hard on the floorboard.
Three thumps answered from below, from a broom handle on a ceiling.
We froze.
"That's Mrs. downstairs," I whispered. "She's eighty-one."
"She heard that?"
"She hears hairbrushes."
His shoulders began to shake, and he pressed his face into my neck to stop the sound.
I laughed into his chest, silently, and felt his heart going under my cheek.
"Quiet," he breathed against my ear. "Can you be quiet, Saldana?"
"Can you?"
"I'll try."
"Then try in my room," I said.
I took his hand and led him down the hall.
Mine was the back bedroom, with a twin bed under the window and a dresser with a mirror.
It was the bed I had slept in since I was twelve.
Jakob stood in the doorway and looked at it.
He looked at the bed, and then at himself, and then at me.
"I won't fit," he said.
"Sit."
He sat on the edge of the mattress, and the frame groaned.
He took up most of it, with his knees at the level of my hips and his hands on his thighs.
I stood between his boots and looked down at him for the first time in my life.
It was a very good view.
"Take your shirt off," I said.
He pulled it over his head in one move, and I put both hands on his chest.
I ran them down his ribs to his belt, and felt the muscles flinch under my palms.
"You're so big," I said.
"I'm aware," he said.
"I'm still impressed."
I knelt on the rug between his knees and unbuckled his belt.
He put his hand in my braid, lightly, and held it off my neck.
"You don't have to," he said.
"Jakob," I said.
"I'm only saying."
"I want to."
I opened his jeans and drew him out, thick and heavy, already hard in my hand.
In the lamplight he was darker than I remembered, with a vein running up the underside.
I licked a slow stripe from the base to the tip, and his whole body went tight.
"Fuck," he whispered. "Maricela."
I took the head into my mouth and sucked, gently, with my tongue pressed flat underneath.
He tasted of salt and clean skin.
I took him deeper, and I could not take half of him.
I wrapped my fist around the rest and worked it in time with my mouth.
His breath started to come in short, uneven pulls.
"That's it," he said, so quietly I barely heard. "Look at that mouth. God, you're good at this."
I hollowed my cheeks and looked up at him.
His head was tipped back and his jaw was clenched, and the cords stood out in his neck.
His hand tightened in my braid, and then he made it let go.
"I'm not going to push," he said, through his teeth. "Take what you want."
I took more.
I breathed through my nose and let him slide to the back of my throat, and my eyes watered.
He shuddered all over.
His thighs trembled under my hands.
I looked up through wet lashes and held his eyes while I did it again.
"God," he whispered. "Look at you. You're perfect. Do you know that?"
It was the first time anyone had said it to me with my mouth full, and I made a sound of pure pleasure around him.
The vibration made him curse under his breath.
"Careful," he said. "Careful, I'm going to come."
I did not stop.
His thigh began to tremble against my shoulder, and I felt him swell in my mouth.
"Maricela. Stop. Please."
I let him slip free with a wet sound and sat back on my heels, breathing hard.
His cock stood up against his stomach, shining, and I licked my lips.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I want to be inside you when I come."
My whole body clenched.
"Then take your boots off," I said, "and don't make a sound."
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