Dynomite: A Stepbrother Cowboy Romance, page 8
Unexpectedly, I came with a bang.
It was so sudden, the clamping down on my uterus, the helpless free fall through the vortex of ecstasy, that my legs collapsed from under me.
It was like a giant hand came and squished all my internal organs. Those fabled internal arms wrapped around my ovaries, my uterus, blissfully squishing any sense of intelligence from me. When my legs collapsed, Dyno was there to catch me. He held me up against the house with his broad shoulders, never missing a beat in his tongue-lashing.
When the rapture built to such a crest I was gnashing my teeth and yanking out Dyno’s hair, he slowed his beat. Oh, good. It seemed I might break some internal organ for a while there.
I still couldn’t stand on my rubbery legs, and when electrical spasm started shooting like live wires directly from my clit, I gave one decisive yank on Dyno’s head, pulling him off me.
Panting until I saw tiny bubbles, I staggered to some kind of rusty tractor. It had a rusty seat, and I sat, halfway melting onto the ground. I didn’t even bother pulling my skirt back down at first. I just panted, tried to calm my racing heart—I even pounded my fist on my chest like a cavewoman to get it to slow down. Me Korg. Take me like animal.
Dyno just sat there, his forearms balanced on his knees, grinning a shit-eating grin. He didn’t even look away when he wiped his face off on his arm. Then he speared his fingers through his hair. He even licked his lips. I’d never seen him look so smoothed-out, so serene.
And then I had to go and blow it.
A switch flipped inside me, and I panicked. I saw a few cars go by on the road, I think that’s what set me off. The idea that some cowhands might have seen us engaged in carnal activity. And tell my father. Oh, God, that would be the ultimate. My father knowing what had just transpired. He would fire Dyno and make me work on the CowBucks program for the rest of my life. I would marry a cowpoke because those would be the only men I’d ever see. The rest of my life suddenly stretched out in front of me, all gloom and doom.
Leaping to my feet, my eyes darted around looking for my panties. I didn’t see them, and this panicked me even more. “What were you thinking? What made you think I wanted you to do that?”
He frowned. “Uh, the way you was squirming against me?” I normally worshiped the way he lapsed into an even thicker Texas accent when riled. Now, I just wanted to slap him.
“I was squirming for you to let me go! I was squirming to get out of your clutches!”
Dyno stood, brushing dead grass from his knees. His impressive hard-on still stood out in sharp relief, the cotton of his jeans faded, leaving an imprint of the big phallus. Normally, I would worship that, too. I should be asking what the hell was wrong with me! Hormones! It was all hormones!
He growled, “What’s gotten into you? I give you a mind-blowing orgasm and you stand there screaming at me?” He asked the question I’d been wondering. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me! I let a down-low and dirty outlaw put his face between my legs”—Dyno grinned a little at that—“and I’ve never regretted anything so much in my fucking life! Let’s just wipe that off the slate of history, shall we? Can we just pretend that never happened? I can’t be with you!”
He frowned again. “Who said anything about ‘being with you’? I was just fixing to have some fun, a nice roll in the hay.” And he brushed more hay off his butt.
I was tossing handfuls of dead grass around looking for my panties. “Oh, that makes it even better! You just wanted a screw. My father’ll appreciate that. ‘Oh, who took your daughter’s virginity, sir? Some lowdown cowpoke who smelled like cow shit?’ Yes, that’ll go over real well!”
Dyno muttered, “I wasn’t aiming to take your virginity…”
When I realized I’d just admitted I was a virgin, I freaked out even more heavily. I gave up looking for my panties and jammed my hands onto my hips. “What were you thinking?” I shouted, echoing the phrase my father had often used on me. “Do you do that all the time, run around seducing the daughters of your boss? Well, I’d believe it! You’d seduce a lamppost. You’re just a typical horny guy, so horny you’d hump a doorknob!”
I’ll never forget his face. The only word I can think of to describe it is appalled. He was speechless for once while I went on my tirade. But as I flounced away—I’d like to think with a shred of dignity, although I was panty-less—I distinctly heard him mutter,
“Well. If that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black. You just did it with me.”
Of course I had to stamp my way home, and that worked off a lot of my anger and frustration. The sun had set by the time I got there, and Dad had several guests in the living room sipping cocktails. I recognized a couple of them as being on the board of directors for the CCPRA, and I slipped away down the hallway before anyone could stop me. Maybe Dad wanted to introduce them to the newly well-mannered Dyno, smelling of cunt and full of shit.
I allowed my anger to mask the deeply ingrained suspicion that perhaps I was doing the wrong thing, pushing Dyno away. What the fuck had he done, after all? The whole time he was lapping away at my pussy, hadn’t I been thinking Wow, what a great guy? Wow, he’s only interested in my well-being. He wants me to feel good. And he’s damned good at it, too.
Why had I suddenly lashed out at him? True, we could never be a couple. We could never be seen in public. We were stepsiblings, after all. That was gross, unnatural, and plain old wrong. Not to mention, I was a well-known rancher’s daughter. He was, well, no one. Not in California, anyway. His father in Paducah only had two thousand acres to our fifty thousand, and only five hundred head. That was small potatoes. No wonder he had to get rid of his drug-addicted son. He couldn’t afford to pay him a salary.
I mixed some gin I’d hidden in my closet with some sparkling water and got a light buzz on. In this mood, I texted Olivia.
Me: The stepbrother from hell moved in tonight.
Olivia: Oh, goody. He’s a whackamole.
Me: I thought you liked him?
Olivia: Not anymore. He’s too moody fr me. Plus, he’s short. Isn’t he shrot? I tink he’s short. And has a face like ferret.
Me: Well that’s a big change in opinion. Yesterday you wanted to suck his dick.
Olivia: Eras that! Delete, delete! I never said tht.
Me: Oh, yes you did.
Olivia: I think he’s gay.
It went on like that, you can fucking imagine. I tried, to no avail, to get Olivia to tell me the real reason she suddenly disliked Dyno. All I could figure out was he had somehow rebuffed her, insulted her.
Around eleven, when the cocktail glasses in the next wing were tinkling at a fever pitch and I ran out of my own gin, I gathered stuff to take a shower with. But as I got closer to my bathroom, I had to stop dead in my tracks. Someone was already showering in there.
Letting my robe slither out of my fingers and to the floor, I craned my neck to listen more closely. Was Marcus in there, being completely disgusting? His bedroom was down the hall and around a corner, pretty much in a different wing altogether. There were two bathrooms with showers in between our rooms. There’d be no excuse for him to be showering in this one, unless…
I had to find out. There was only one reason he’d be showering here, and it was too gruesome to imagine. I would have to move to one of the stand-alone units on the property, one of the in-law units where guests often stayed. I had to protect myself. I had to find out—
I poked only my eyes past the edge of the door, and gasped.
Steam obscured the vision through the sliding shower door, already opaquely patterned. But this was no disgusting Marcus. Of course it was Dyno who stood with his back to the spray, his beautifully tanned arms and torso creating a stunning display. I didn’t think he heard my idiotic gasp over the sound of running water, so I stuck my entire head through the door, barely daring to breathe.
White, blurry swaths of soap decorated his chest. When the spray hit the sliding door I could see momentary, clear views of his hairy chest, matted with soap as he socked the sponge into his underarms. I went weak in the knees again when he raised his arm to soap it. I’d never seen his bare torso before and it was a sight to behold. All those months, years of riding with the herd had done wonders for his physique. He was set to model some workout equipment, saddle, or cordless grease gun.
He looked so poised, blurry and idealistic behind the cloudy door, just like a romance novel book cover. It almost looked to my amorous eyes as though he moved in slow motion. He rubbed his well-built chest, leaving trails of bubbles. He swiped the sponge down the center of his six-pack, taking special care to soap up his trim bush.
I swear, at that point I was literally drooling. I was dumbfounded with stupid lust. That man just had his face between my thighs. And I was watching him smooth his hand down over his pubic bone to grasp his fat, heavy boner.
Oh, dear Lord. Is all that for me? I just knew he’d been erect ever since going down on me earlier. It had turned him on to wolf away at me, and now he was so hot and bothered he had to put aside the sponge to fondle his hefty, engorged ball sac.
One hand cradled his testicles, lathering them up one at a time. He let one pop through his slick fingers, then he’d massage it against his thigh. As for his towering dick, he could barely wrap his fingers around it as he choked the life from it. Even through the soapy partition, I could see the effect this had on him. He tossed his head back, displaying his full throat, his bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulped, his nipples tiny erotic nubs, his giant tool in dark relief against the tan shower tiles.
He squeezed his erection as though afraid to come too fast. Afraid if he pumped it for dear life he’d shoot against the tiles, but that’s what I wanted to see. I wanted to call out, “Do it! Do it, Dyno! Pump that giant dick! Shoot against the shower wall!” I wanted to see his load splatter like the water pump into a drinking trough. My only regret was I couldn’t be there to lick it up—to let it wash my own face.
Maybe he heard my heavy breathing. Maybe he caught sight of me from the corner of his eye, or in the mirror. Whichever, he wasn’t letting on that he saw me, but his kneading and squeezing sped up. Now he stroked his cock overhand, letting his fingers splay over the breadth of it, then throttling the mushroom glans, allowing his thumb to slick across his slit.
Sometimes he looked down, as though admiring his handiwork. I knew I was. I was sliding down the door jam, sort of not caring anymore if I was spotted. Half my entire body was in the room, my arms trailing on the floor tiles like limp appendages. Still, he pretended not to see me and pumped his dick more energetically, head tilted back, the shower spray running down his beautifully sloped back.
When he shot, I had to close my eyes. It was too, too much.
When I looked next, every muscle in his body had tensed him into a gorgeous statue of some Greek god. And my mind was shot. Completely, thoroughly shot.
That vision was permanently engrained in my memory banks.
Like the survivor of a blood battle, I inched myself up the door jam. It was a major struggle of every lazy, sleeping ligament and tendon in my being to wrest myself off that damned floor, to stagger down the fucking hallway, stumbling over my own bathrobe that had become a massive mountain in the past ten minutes.
I made it by the skin of my teeth to my bedroom, my sanctuary, my salvation. I swiped at my phone as I fell into the safety of my bed. The last thing I remember was seeing Olivia’s final text.
I’m totally sure he’s gay. Someone else told me they tried to kiss him, and he just pushed her away. That, or he’s got major sexual dysfunction.
CHAPTER TEN
DYNO
That had been one of the weirdest days of my life, hands down.
First, April flinging herself at me. Who was I to say no? Then, after I’d gone pearl diving between her sweet legs, she turned on me. All I could figure was, she realized she’d made a giant mistake, regretted having commanded me to kiss her, and wished she’d never laid eyes on me. I liked being called an outlaw—an outlaw was a horse that couldn’t be broken or ridden—but not coming from April Pleasure’s lips. From her it was a massive insult, made to make me feel disgusting, lowdown, a piece of vermin.
I was an option for her, not a priority—and maybe not even an option on account of how lowdown I was. She was going to ride with that Lawson Willard buttfuck until he went away to his snob school, then she’d latch onto some other rancher’s son.
She was the first girl I’d ever tongue-fucked, and it was a fresh, hot treat. She tasted like sweet cream with a slight tang. Had I done it wrong? Had I injured her? I was pretty sure I knew how juicy a woman flowed when she came. How she squirted into my mouth, how her toes curled up, how she stiffened and shuddered and acted like a maniac undergoing a lobotomy.
Most women—all?—purred like kittens afterward. Not this one. She was so feisty, so full of piss and vinegar, she couldn’t just say thanks for the mind-blowing orgasm. No, she got all up in my face about it like it was a giant mistake, although later that night she snuck into my bathroom and spied on me draining the monster in the shower. Yep, she stood there for a whole five minutes with her mouth half-open while I gave her a one-man show. I even played it up, acted all lust-filled and theatrical like a porn star, to give her a little extra for her effort.
I figured I’d show her what she missed out on, having her little conniption fit, pushing me away like that. I’d been named Dynomite by a former girlfriend in Paducah due to my penchant for hitting the ceiling with my jet of jizz. Believe me, it wasn’t hard to spout off like that with April Pleasure sliding down the wall eight feet away. I tried not to let her know that I saw her. Either way, it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t be getting any fucking sleep that night. I’m hung like a bull moose and women go crazy for my dick. It’s aesthetically pleasing, one girl told me. Some women are afraid of it. But as a visual treat, I knew it couldn’t be beat. Or, ha ha, I could beat it. I was an expert.
But I was still pissed. Women did not slap me in the face like that, especially not after a ginormous orgasm. She was the first and only girl I’ve ever given a skull job, and her rebuff was a major slap in the face.
The end of school came and went. I just barely squeaked by. Funny thing was, I was killer at math, even when distracted by April’s curves, her pouty lips, her ice queen ways. But I pretty much always cut PE, not wanting to subject myself to the taunts of the jocks, the Willards, the Hemps, the assholes who bullied Sequoia. For instance, someone had posted a photo of me on Facebook with my mouth open when I was eating potato chips with a witty comment along the lines of “what a moron.” Lately Willard and his crowd had been making gay cracks about me and Sequoia, too. Sequoia showed me a Facebook posting where he’d tied his sweatshirt around his waist by the sleeves. The comment declared it was a skirt. It was all so fucking infantile.
Now that it was summer, I could spend more hours bronc riding. I always tried to show up promptly at the dinner table, no matter how much I hated seeing April. We sat at opposite ends and tried not to look at each other—as if Sadie would know her son had just eaten her stepdaughter’s tuna taco. April was in an even fouler mood since she now had to work fulltime for Cliff and couldn’t party with her trivial little friends as much. She really was a shallow, vain girl—and I only hated her so much because I liked her.
One night she came barreling to the dinner table like a house on fire. I knew instantly her conniption fit was due to one of the practical jokes I was so famous for. I wondered which one had made her flip her lid.
She pointed a stiff arm at me and trilled at her father. “Someone has been sending dozens of boxes of bovine colostrum to my office.”
Cliff just laughed! I think I had won him over in recent weeks. My scores at the arena had been superb. “No big deal. It’ll stay good for a while. We can use it.”
I was loving this. April jammed her hands onto her hips. “He put soap on my toothbrush. I want him to use the other bathroom down the hall, the one with the yellow shower curtain.”
Still, Cliff laughed. “Are you sure? Maybe you just got a bad batch of toothpaste.”
I could see steam coming out of her nostrils like a hooky bull seeing red. “Oh yeah? Dad, he sent me ten black faxes—he used up my entire toner cartridge! What next, a flaming bag of dog shit?”
“Oh, come now,” was all Cliff would say. “How do you know it was him?”
Apparently she hadn’t yet seen where I’d drawn moustaches and dicks all over her eight by ten modeling portfolio glossies. “Why do you always stand up for him, daddy? You don’t believe your own daughter when I tell you what a worthless jerk he is?”
“Oh, come now,” I said, handing Sadie the bowl of green beans. “How bad of a feller can I possibly be?”
“Yes.” Even that creepy Marcus agreed with me, seemed. “Is there maybe something else between you two that you haven’t told us?”
“Oh!” April just fisted her little hands in frustration and spun around. “That’s it! I’m eating in the kitchen!”
I called out, “While you’re there, can you get me another Bud?” Cliff had been letting me drink since I recently turned eighteen. He said eighteen should be the legal drinking age, for boys anyway, like it had been in Texas in my dad’s youth. I didn’t want any of their Sidecars or Old Fashioneds, so I opted for beer.
“Sit on it and spin!” April yelled back.
I raised my eyebrows. “Such talk.” I knew I was loading it on heavily for the benefit of Cliff and Marcus. But wasn’t it to everyone’s benefit to get along?
Cliff frowned. “That’s another reason she’d never make a big hit at an Ivy League school. Those places expect you to talk all hoity toity. Dyno, you going back to the practice ring tonight?”
“Sure,” I lied. “I was wondering if I could borrow one of your horse trailers. Was thinking of bringing Hindsight back from the arena. Sequoia can help me. He’s been acting funny lately.”
