By day five, I don't know what the fuck's happening to me.

I'm spending every waking minute deep inside Delia. My dick's been everywhere by now, but it still feels like we've barely begun to explore. I've been in her hot little lips, wedged between her tits, shoved balls deep in her slick, perfect cunt, fucking her every way I know how, plus some ways I invent.

It's ludicrous.

I've never fucked the same woman for a full week straight in my entire life. Chris Cleveland doesn't do that shit. I get my dick wet, makes my girls happy, and then forget, disappearing every time duty calls.

Except this time it's not so simple. It's like she's crawled inside my skull and hot-wired my brain. I've fucked her a couple dozen times, and I still want more. I can't get enough.

She can barely get me to leave the hotel to take her out on the town. It's not just because my dick never wants to rest. When we're out, my hands are always on her, holding her on my lap by the waist, or guiding her through the casinos and down the strip with my hand wrapped tight around hers.

She's never getting out of my sight in this city again. We have our fun, sure.

But having her like this only makes me rage even more about the men who almost took her away from me, pulled her into the darkness forever. I want to head back to that abandoned theater, douse their rotten bodies in gasoline, and torch them 'til they're ashes.

Of course, I'm not an idiot, and I won't attract attention to myself. I keep scanning the local news, but nobody's found their carcasses yet. Or if they did, it was such a non-incident there'll be nothing more than a footnote about two unidentified bodies in the Vegas police blotter.

Our last full evening out, I take her to this fancy French place. Aside from the hotel, I use all my own money. I won't take shit from her father, no matter how nice he is.

I'll never be blue blooded rich, and I'll never be able to comprehend her fancy world. But when I'm dressed up in a nice vest and she's in her hot red dress, staring up at me over the spotless table over wine, I don't fucking care.

My body reacts to hers at some caveman level I can't wrap my head around. Fuck it, I don't need to. All I know is I want her coiled around my dick twenty-four seven, legs spread, digging her nails deep into my flesh 'til I pump every drop of come I've got into her womb.

I want to lose the rubber and sew her deep. I want to fuck her 'til she comes on command, sucking at my mouth like it's precious oxygen after she's been underwater. I want to feel her pussy clenching on my cock all fucking night, digging my fingers into her ass as she rides me, growling 'til my thunder matches her pulse, bending her to me forever.

“It's been quite a week, hasn't it?” she asks shyly, twirling the burgundy in her glass.

“Yeah, and we're damned lucky we got it too. The commander called me up last night, told me needs me back at base the day after we land. Duty calls, babe.”

“You really take it seriously, don't you? I didn't realize until I had a chance to see your tattoos. I mean, really look at them.”

Her eyes dance mischievously for me. Last night, I finally gave myself a breather after we exploded at least three times. She laid on my chest, running her fingers over each and every patch of ink on my skin.

I told her about the trident on my flesh, and even the three black triangles on my left bicep. They're the newest on my skin, one for each man on our team who died in Kirkuk. I wouldn't say how or where, but I cracked and told her it was for them, something I never thought I'd tell anybody who's not a SEAL.

Certainly not my hot, sweet, and infuriating stepsister. Yeah, the same one I need to stop fucking in about twenty-four hours, when we leave the paradise we've created here for the bland hell back in California.

“You know what I said – my ink, my life. I don't hide behind walls, Delia. You know exactly who I am.”

“Do I?” She quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head. “I saw what it means to be a SEAL the first night we were here. But there's a lot I don't know, Chris.”

I shrug, tucking into my escargot. “Just ask. Stop being so shy. You ought to know there's no need for that after the things we've done since I took your cherry.”

I say the last part under my breath, leaning in, grabbing her hand. Her fingers squeeze mine back and she blushes.

The girl has no reason in the world to be shy. I wish she'd get over it for her own good, but damn if it doesn't make my cock throb in the meantime. Pink glows on her cheeks, and she takes an extra long sip of her wine, like there's something she's trying to find the courage to say.

“Okay, so why is Evie such a bitch?” The way she blurts it out nearly causes me to drop my fork.

“I'm not sure what you're getting at. Give me something specific.”

Bullshit, I know exactly what she's saying. Too bad my mom is the last thing I want us talking about on our final night in this town. It's supposed to be about her and I, even though I know that's only going to make a clean break harder once we get home.

“I'm worried about my dad. It's obvious to us this whole thing is a big mistake...but he's blind. He doesn't see it. She's already screwing him over, I just know it. What I haven't figured out is why.” I stare at her, trying to comprehend why she gives a shit. Our parents' problems aren't mine. “She knows about us, Chris. She came after me before we did anything, warned me to stay away from you and stop screwing you up.”

Fuck, I temporarily lose my appetite. I pick up my glass and suck down the last of my wine before I answer, feeling it slip straight into the fire in my guts.

“I don't give a damn what she says, and neither should you. She's always been a selfish, greedy, train wreck. Your old man's got no backbone. Tell him to break up, throw her out, and pray to God he's got himself a pre-nup before it's too late. I'm stuck dealing with her bullshit because we're blood.”

She shakes her head sadly, staring into her onion soup. “No, he's really in love. I haven't seen him like this since mom walked out. I can't get in the middle. He has to leave her on his own. It's not my place to twist him into doing something he doesn't want to.”

Right now, it's awfully hard to give a shit what Bruce wants. If he'd man up and leave the tornado blowing through his house, then maybe I wouldn't have to try like hell to forget Delia the instant we get off our flight in NorCal.

It's going to be hell. I'm disappearing to base and never coming back. Every instinct I've got keeps fighting me, though.

I can't think about anything except all the ways I want to keep kissing, touching, and fucking her, pleasures that go way beyond anything we can condense into one final night.

“I'm just trying to figure out what I'm dealing with, Chris. What you've been dealing with all these years. What's her deal? What made her so awful?”

I rip my last piece of escargot out of its shell the same way I pulled the trigger on Abu Alhazred before the Iranians showed up. It's gone in an instant.

“Mom can't handle failure, Delia. She can't take getting old, losing her career, having nothing to look forward to except a few more wrinkles and half a dozen more exes, assuming she doesn't OD first. I spent two summers trying to get her off the junk before I enlisted and left her shit behind. You can't help the people who don't give a fuck about saving themselves, and Evie stopped trying around the time I was five.”

“Jesus,” she says softly. “I read about her, you know. She wasn't always like this, right?”

I roll my shoulders again, wishing this damned conversation would disappear, just like the delicacy sliding down my throat.

“How the hell am I supposed to know? The past was a long time ago. She went to pieces after my old man walked out. She divorced him because he was no good for her – too poor, too savage, too violent. Mom wanted to be another Hollywood princess. Why she thought she could ever make it work with some biker badass she met at a sex club, I'll never know.”

Delia almost chokes on her water. “What? You're kidding. That's really how your folks got together? Not that there's anything wrong with that, I mean.”

I laugh. She's so innocent, and she really doesn't have a clue. I look her up and down, wondering if I'm drawn to her because she's giving me a chance to follow in dad's footsteps.

Part of me wants to. I want to wreck this girl, every fucking inch of her, brand her as mine forever. I know it's insane, I know it's wrong, and fuck if I care.

“Babe, you're a smart chick, but there's a lot you've got to learn about the world. People don't always marry and pop out kids because it's sane and loving. Sometimes they just make a big goddamned mistake because the sex is that good, and mom's drug was kink before she got into the other shit.”

No, I can't do this shit. She's too good, too innocent.

I tell myself I've got no interest in corrupting a sweet, rich, smart girl, one who's from a world I don't want to understand – especially when she's my own damned stepsis. Then I think about that little whimper she makes when my cock's driving into her, slamming her into the mattress, and I want to ruin her forever.

Honestly, I'm fucking out the things I should've dealt with years ago. And it's even worse that I've got to stop, but there's no choice. I have to end this back in California, before I really hurt her, and leave her just as screwed up as my mom.

“I'm not as naïve as you think,” she says with a pout. “Is that what really has her all torn up? A bad breakup and pining after some biker boy? All the tabloids say it was her career.”

“My old man's dead,” I growl. “Road accident, or so I heard from a guy in his club when I got older. He belonged to the Grizzlies MC. They were dirty, outlaw sonsofbitches in the old days. Whatever really happened to my pops, I'll never know. I don't care. It's not going to fix all the ways mom's fucked up her life.”

“I have to keep dad from getting hurt.”

“His problem. He's – what? – pushing fifty? That's old enough to know better. You're right about one thing, Delia. You have to let a man make his own mistakes. He'll find out she's been stringing him along as a sugar daddy soon enough.”

A waiter comes by and interrupts the conversation. We get our entrees, some kind of rustic French chicken I can't even pronounce. Damn if it doesn't take the edge off as soon as I stuff the juicy meat into my mouth, tasting the way it blends with the wine.

She's picking at her food again. I want to fly home and drag Evie out of that mansion, kicking and screaming. She's not ruining this. None of this shit between our parents is wrecking our last night together.

“You'd better dig in, baby, and put that negative crap aside.” I lean forward and reach across the table, cupping her chin, stroking her cheek with my thumb, harder than any romantic gesture should be. “We're not letting what's going on with them get to us tonight. This is our night, Delia. The last one we're ever gonna have together. Don't make me fuck the bad thoughts out of your head on an empty stomach.”

She reaches for my hand and I let her pull it off her face. For a second, she holds my big hand in both of hers, and gives it a little kiss.

“I wish it weren't over. Do you know how hard it's going to be to let go? Maybe things could be different if our parents weren't married and so...so fucked up.”

I've never heard her drop an F-bomb in public before. I know she's upset. Still, I can't lead her on, even when every part of me knows just how right she is.

“But they are, babe. We can't pretend there's no understanding about what's going on here, with them and us. You want to give your old man a chance to sort out his shit? Then you can't let him find out his perfect daughter's sharing a bed with her own damned stepbrother.”

She nods like her head's made of cement. I can see the sadness in her eyes, melancholy over how screwed up our situation really is, the thousand and one things standing between us.

Fuck, us. The very idea makes me want to punch myself in the face for even thinking it. It's not like she's my girlfriend.

We're trained in the SEALs to find the flaws in our own thinking before they become fatal mistakes, and I catch mine now. I don't care how beautiful she looks, or how much I wish I could burn away the lonely regrets in her big brown eyes.

We've got one more night to make our memories. One more night of splendor, booze, and passion before it's back to reality. And the reality is, I don't do relationships.

Delia's one more fuck – an amazing, unforgettable, mind bending fuck – and nothing more. I know she'll be okay in the end.

Evie and Bruce will self-destruct sooner or later, and she'll help pick up the pieces. I hope there's a man waiting for her someday to help sweep away the fallout forever, but it won't be me.

It can't be. Her future's too bright to end up with a military man who's fucked more girls in the past year than he can even name.

Reality sucks, but reality rules. I know what I need to do.

Tonight, I'll make her happier than she's ever been in her whole fucking life. Then I'll be gone.

* * *

We're outside on the balcony, overlooking the city of lights. It's an otherworldly sight out here, but I can only stare at the lights in quick snatches, before turning back to what I really want to gaze on tonight.

Delia's curled up on my lap, her legs slung over me, her breath quickening as she inhales my scent. I let her bury her face in my shoulder as I fist her hair. My dick wants to rip straight through my trousers and take her right here, right now, but the mutinous bastard beating in my chest wants to savor this.

I let him win, just this once. We actually cuddle – a word that was never in my vocabulary – and it isn't half-bad. Too bad the sex is a thousand times hotter, and after about twenty minutes, I can't take this easy, tender shit.

“Babe, look at me.”

“What?” She's got tears in her eyes, reflecting the Vegas lights below us. I expect it, but it's still a punch in the guts.

“You can't be upset. We're siblings, Delia, brother and sister thanks to one serious mistake some numbskulls made. You know what has to happen tomorrow, and so do I. We don't need to obsess about that right now.”

“It still hurts. I don't want to lose you, but I have to, Chris. Why? Why does it have to be like this?” I wonder if she's lost her mind and she really doesn't understand. “We're not even related. It's not that crazy, this thing between us...or maybe it is.”

She twists her lips, deep in thought, before she sighs softly. “Whatever.”

She reaches for my neck and presses her hands into my skin. Hard.

Christ. I've seen women look at me with lust before, but this is something else. The brutal intensity in her face almost causes me to shoot my load. There's an overwhelming urge to rip her dress off and fuck her right here, out above the city, and I don't give a fuck who sees or hears us.

“You're right,” she hisses, a strange energy coming over her I can't resist. “Fuck me like I mean something to you tonight, Chris. Let's make this last time the best. Give me something to remember for the rest of my life.”

Shit. It's like she's possessed. A second later, so am I.

My hand reaches for her back and rips her zipper down. I give her just enough space to fumble with the dress, and she doesn't even protest, sliding briefly off my lap to stand up and let it fall to the floor.

I'm ripping off my vest, my trousers, my boxers, anything and everything I need to get naked and sink down inside her. By the time I'm done, she's standing next to the glass door, one arm folded across her breast.

No fucking way am I letting the shy girl come back. I grab her by the hand and pull her toward me, guiding us into the long deck chair, where I throw her down first.

“This isn't what I meant. Are you insane?” she asks, and I answer her by holding her down, pushing my face between her legs. “Jesus, Chris, we're outside and – “

The moan that slips out her mouth when I slide my tongue against her clit tells me all I need to know. She keeps shifting uncomfortably for a little while, like she wants to fight, but I lick her into submission.

I can't keep my hands, my mouth, my own goddamned mind off her. She doesn't know, but everything's coming down like an avalanche inside me as I fuck my tongue into her pussy.

I'm not supposed to feel this shit, much less say anything, and I won't. Not with words. I use my mouth the only way I know how instead, growling as I take her pleasure higher. Her clit comes deep between my teeth and I give it the perfect pinch, sweeping my licks across her bud faster.

Her nails drag through my hair, so hard I wonder if she's about to draw blood. I'll fucking let her.

The only thing that matters right now is how loud she's going to scream before we're done. I want the entire city to hear it, the whole fucking world to know our dirty secret, if only for tonight.

“Chris...Chris...Chris!” She says my name like a mantra, slow and hypnotic, a little faster and shriller each time.

She's close, and I send her over the edge. Delia bites the hell out of her mouth to keep herself from filling the bright Vegas night with our music. And that's not good enough for me.

The girl's struggling to breathe when her pussy finally relaxes. I pop up, checking to make sure the chair can support some seriously hard fucking, before I push between her legs.

I reach for my pants and pull out a condom, carefully bundled up with ten more for tonight. She puts her hand on mine when she hears the foil crinkle and whispers.

“No...I'm on the pill. I want to feel all of you, Chris. Everything. Just as long as you're clean.”

“You kidding? I sleep around but I'm not a damned idiot.” I study her, wondering if she's really serious, or if it's just the emotion and the orgasm making her crazy. “Last chance to take it back, babe. I want this so fucking bad, there's not a chance I'll be doing any pulling out once you spread your legs.”

“Do it.” It's a quiet, sensuous, dick grabbing whisper, a plea wrapped in desperation.

My hips go straight for hers, hard and focused as a submarine sliding through the waves.

My cock's inside her before she even opens her eyes. That does the trick.

She finally looks at me like she's reconciled herself to being taken like an animal tonight. We're doing shit I've never done with anybody else, fucking out in the open, and I'm going to give it to her like she's my stepsister – like I actually care.

We kiss forever. I lead her tongue in a tango that stops her breath, resisting the insane effect her heat has on me as long as I can, holding my bare cock deep inside her pussy.

“Fuck, you feel incredible.” Breaking the kiss, I lay my forehead on hers, and even that tiny patch of skin is hot and ready to come undone.

“Come on,” she gasps, wiggling her hips against mine. Her pussy slowly slides around my dick, teasing me, begging me to fuck her fast, hard, and bury my seed deep.

Wish. Fucking. Granted.

The chair creaks beneath us as I fist her hair, pumping my hips, slamming into her a little harder each time we connect. She's so wound up it only takes a few strokes before she's biting her lip and coming all over again.

“Let it the fuck out,” I tell her. “It's the only way you'll feel sane next week. Let me know you want my come tonight, everything I'm gonna give you in spades.”

I speed up my thrusts, and she buckles. Her arms and legs pinch so tight it's like she's part of me. I don't know how the hell I stop myself from blowing inside her just then, but I do.

I feel the heartbeat pounding in her veins, the way her pussy convulses on my cock, listen to every frantic moan and scream leaving her lips, spilling into the open night. I fuck right through her climax, so hard she arches and comes for a small eternity.

We plow right through it. When she's finished, she's panting like a cat in heat, her mouth hanging open, pouring hot breath on me. I bring my mouth down on hers and pull her hair tight, launching my hips into her, faster and harder than I've ever fucked in my life.

I'm afraid I'm going to bruise her, but I can't stop. Not now. Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

She pushes herself into me just as hard, all the worries and passions and future agonies hidden in our tempo. Her tits swing like soft round pendulums on her chest, and feeling her nipples graze my chest does me in.

“Fuck, Delia. I love this hot sweet cunt, love every inch of you, love the way you make me come. I fucking love you.”

I can't believe I said it. Neither can she, not with the imminent explosion ripping through my balls, about to set her off all over again.

My cock swells deep inside her and fire slashes through me. I'm locked in an inferno for the next few minutes, pumping seed inside her for what feels like forever; bucking, coming, and emptying myself inside her 'til she overflows.

I fuck so long and hard I can't even think. She's screaming and I'm roaring out my pleasure, drilling the molten come I've pumped into her pussy deeper, never wanting it to end.

It's only her kiss that brings me back to earth. We both know I fucked up with...whatever the hell that was spilling out of my mouth.

I fucking love you.

Christ, what the hell did I say? It was the heat, the moment, the fire screaming through my balls. It had to be.

We don't talk about it. I pull out of her and push my hand between her legs, feeling our combined slickness, and feeling proud of it.

I've never wanted to mark a woman so badly before. I've never wanted to keep doing it either. With her, it doesn't feel like I can ever take her enough times, fill her all the way, even when she's leaking sex everywhere.

I'm worried about her? How the fuck am I going to survive next week? How the hell can I ever let go?

I don't have an answer. I've never had a woman do this shit to me before, and it's bending my brain in a hundred directions, like a rollercoaster built through my brain.

This night, I can handle. I do the only thing I know how. I take her by the hand and lead her inside, where I get her on all fours, splayed out on the bed.

We can sleep on the flight home tomorrow. I'm not planning to shut my eyes, and I'm sure as shit not going limp. I'm hellbent on milking every last drop of pleasure out of tonight, and I'm going to fuck my girl 'til we're both too sore to move.

* * *

I drop her off at home the next day and return to base. Are we really here already, everything we had this past week dashed like a dream?

My orders are pretty damn insistent about ramping up training for the recruits tomorrow. Probably because the Korean DMZ is just a hair trigger away from blowing the fuck up, and we'll need manpower.

I can't stop thinking about Delia's sad, woeful eyes the last time she kisses me, just before stepping out of my truck. Don't have a damned clue when I'll ever set eyes on her again, or that huge, lonely mansion.

I need to keep my distance. Even if it turns my stomach to know I'll never feel her warm, wet heat wrapped around me again.

The next day, I watch the smoke contrails roaring overhead. My SEAL team hits the shore first, and it's a live chemical drill. The whole world turns stuffy, gray, and blurry behind my Nuclear-Biological-Chemical mask.

I'm yelling through the dummy rounds exploding, martialing recruits ashore, while the rest of the boys do their damnedest to give us a taste of what Dear Leader's got waiting for us if we have to wreck his pretty toys.

The drill runs for hours. We plant our explosive charges on the dummy rocket sites, and watch from a high hill as the shit billows up, sending thick black smoke into the air. The choppers come roaring in when it's over, and we pile into them like ants after honey, lifting off into the smoky sky.

There's a strange thud in my chest, a sickly feeling that has nothing to do with the imminent danger we're about to face from the latest geo-political inferno.

Why does it feel like everything inside me goes up in the blaze? I can't get Delia out of my head. Not even when ninety percent of my focus is on the drill, the mission, everything I've been trained to do to keep the red, white, and blue flying free.

It's hellish, but we get through it with flying colors. We always do.

By the end of it, Commander Jones comes up behind me, slaps me on the back. He's an older, bigger man with a face that always turns beet red from barking orders and bulldozing his way through the harshest ground.

“Haven't seen you move like that since Kirkuk, Cleveland. Keep it up, and we won't have a repeat.”

“It's going to be completely different over there than Kirkuk if we're called up,” I tell him. “The Norks are better equipped than the Iranians any day. We're going to need more practice for all this fresh blood.”

He nods and smiles. “What? You think I don't already have it on the books? Get some sleep tonight, Cleveland, we're going to be drilling hard over the next week until everything's picture-fucking-perfect.”

“You think it's really gonna happen?” I cock my head and feel my eyes narrow.

The commander frowns and lets out a grunt. I already know what he's going to say in words, but his face tells me everything I need to know.

“That's up to the boys in DC to decide. If they do, we'll be ready to give 'em hell. Our worries begin and end right there.”

Yeah, hell, I think. He's not exaggerating.

It'll be the most dangerous mission I've ever been on once the order lands. It's easy to draw parallels with fire and eternal torment when you're talking about war.

But for me, I can't imagine anything worse than eternal silence, torn away forever from the forbidden chick I can't pry out of my skull.

Fuck. I need to see her again. I need to feel Delia wrapped around me.

Her arms, her lips, her soft, wet cunt...

We fucked over our week in Vegas together more than I ever gave it to any woman, and it's still not enough. Our last night together, feeling her draw every drop of come from my balls, is burned into my head for life.

My head's spinning at about a thousand miles per hour, and it's not just the week long drills and imminent war threat driving me loco. It's her.

I don't break my promises, dammit. But Delia's underneath my skin, alive and perfect, singing to me like a Siren. I can still feel her pheromones caressing every fucking pore, igniting some primal chemistry in my blood.

I can't forget her. Can't ignore her. Can't.

We made a vow to get this shit out of our systems and then forget it as soon as we returned from Vegas.

It's the first vow I've ever hated, and I know what I need to do. I'm going to march in and shatter the miserable piece of shit into a thousand pieces.