Cruel : Stepbrother Billionaire Romance (3 page)

“You mean like you did.”

“I left my phone numbers, Facebook, email. You had plenty of ways to be in contact.”

“Likewise, Ba…” I stopped myself. Even now, I wouldn’t break that trust.

The deck rumbled as he left me with the sandwich I could hardly afford, and now, almost certainly couldn’t bring myself to eat. As I glanced at the plate, I saw his phone. My head whipped around, but he was out of sight. I picked up the phone to run after him.

As I got up from the chair, a huge noise shook the air from behind the restaurant. I was just a couple of steps across the deck when a helicopter roared overhead, close enough to blow all the linen. Somebody’s glass blew over and waiters came running towards the protesting howls.

As the helicopter rose and arced out across the beach, it threw up a small sandstorm in its wake. It headed straight for the ocean. It was a small dark fish halfway to the horizon before it baked to the left and veered out of sight.

Even though I had a strong hunch that Balthazar had left in the helicopter, I carried on to the edge of the deck to look around. He was nowhere to be seen. So, I made my way back to my table trying to decide whether I should leave his phone at the restaurant so he could come back for it, or if should I take it.

He would be bound to have a way to track the phone, so if I took it he could find it easily enough. And me with it, if he cared. But that was what I knew I would do. I’d take his phone.

The wine was fresh and crisp, and I did my best to enjoy it. Any taste that I had for the sandwich was gone, but the waiter was pleasant when I asked him to bag it for me. I knew that I needed to eat, and I hoped that a walk along the shore would revive my appetite.

As I walked back onto the sand, the sun was still high in the sky, but the breeze was more stiff and persistent. With the laces of my sneakers knotted together, I put them over my shoulder.

Strolling near enough to the water’s edge to dip my toes in the ocean, I tried to make some sense out of my feelings about the day, with no success. It was a day of disasters. And in the middle of it, Balthazar showed up. My pulse raced at the thought of him. It looked like he had become pretty wealthy.

Thinking of the finely cut cotton of his suit, I tried to keep my mind off the bulge in his pants. The recollection of his scent took me back to the sensation of him standing over me, so near, and his hard heat.

His phone rang. I knew I would be able to answer the call, though I probably couldn’t do much else. I pressed the screen and held the phone to my ear. A cultured male voice said, “Thirteen point eight million dollars. Cash.”

I said, “Who is this?”

And the voice hesitated. “I was told to give the number only. Will you see that the message gets to Mr. Colt?”

“Thirteen point eight million is the message?” I said, baffled.

“Thank you.” They hung up. I looked at the screen. There was no number.

I had just dropped the phone back into my pocket when it rang again, so I fished it back out. Still no number. I pressed the ‘Answer’ key.

“You picked up my phone.” When I heard his voice I nearly dropped it again. “I knew that you would.” The bastard did it on purpose. “Did you answer it a few moments ago? Did a call come in?” It was getting hard to hear him as a huge motorboat sliced the waves close to the shore.

I shouted into the phone, “Yes. Thirteen point eight million dollars, cash, is what the man said.”

Through the noise of the boat’s engine I was just about able to hear him, “Thanks, Sis. Did you eat your sandwich yet?”

“Not yet. I wasn’t hungry.” I shouted with one finger in my ear, pressing the phone hard against the other ear. The boat grew louder and closer.
 

He said something and I couldn’t hear him at all, the damned boat was so close. I shouted to him to repeat it.

“Have lunch with me,” I moved away from the shore but the boat slammed onto the beach in front of me.

He stood tall in the back of the speedboat. Two of his uniformed minion-kids sat behind the windshield to drive.

As the long speedboat lurched back into the waves, the front rose and I was thrown hard against him. I held him to steady myself. My heart thumped as my hand rested on the firm ripples of his stomach.

His body was big and hard against mine, and I felt protected like I had in the days when we lived together. Protected and excited, like when kids in the hall make remarks about me and he beat them up.

The huge swelling in his pants transfixed me. As I held tighter against him, the fabric of his pants was stretched tighter and harder.

His throat tightened and his breath seemed to thicken. When he rested his hand on my waist, the bulge moved up. He took his hand away again. I was sorry that he did.

We bounced hard over the white spume and the green waves. The water splashed under us and a cool spray dampened my face and my clothes as we sped in a wide arc out to the open ocean.

His shirt was damp, too and it clung to his skin. He had a beautiful muscular bod when we were younger. Now he was awesome, and breathtakingly beautiful. And, somehow, he seemed to have become incredibly wealthy.

In no way was I prepared for the size of the gleaming silver yacht that heaved into view ahead. There was no doubt in my mind that it was our destination, because the massive helicopter that had swept thunderously over the restaurant perched like a dainty dragonfly at the back of one of the upper decks.

Aboard the yacht, he took me to a shaded deck at the front, no bigger than a tennis court, and more minions served us lobster and mayonnaise salad with freshly baked bread. A green bottle of champagne swirled in a silver ice bucket, beaded with drops of water that ran down the sides in rivulets.

“This is quite a change from how we grew up.” I said, sipping from a tall champagne flute.

“All the times we came up to the beach when we were kids?” he tore a hunk of bread, “I met a lot of the local kids. All of them were from very wealthy families. I kept in touch.”

He had always had that gift for getting along with people, even when he bullied them like a savage. They always seemed to love him for it. Maybe his gift was for spotting the masochists.
Then again
, I thought,
Maybe he found the masochist in whoever he met and then nurtured it.
 

“As we grew up together,” he took half a lobster tail from the shell and tore it in half, “I needed work and I needed money. I found ways to help them get what they needed.” He at the lobster tail with some bread and mayonnaise then refilled our glasses.

“I found transport, office space, and staff--anything. Whatever was required.” I wondered whether all of ‘whatever was required’ would have been entirely legal.

He said, “Soon I discovered a big demand for a very high end taxi service, with executive jets as the taxis.” He certainly didn’t think small. But you wouldn’t wind up on a yacht like this one by thinking small.

“Now I have a fleet of twenty two planes, four helicopters, plus limos and SUVs for ground transportation all over the US. Some in China, Europe and Russia, too.” My stepbrother had turned into one hell of a man.

“So, why did you say that you left because of me?”

“Sis…” he protested.

“Really. You said that it wasn’t because you hated me. I’d thought it was because you hated all of us. Well, Mom and me at any rate.” I didn’t say ‘The Asshat.’ I never said that aloud. It was Balthazar’s father, after all. I didn’t want to hurt him. From what he said, I think Balthazar had his own issues with him, but hearing me bad-mouth him wasn’t ever going to make it any better.

His feet shuffled. I saw that the front of his pants was beginning to lift above his lap. A tent pole rose.
 

“I couldn’t stay there, with your Mom and… him. Nothing against your Mom, she’s a good woman, but I couldn’t forgive him for replacing my mother, and for shacking up in our home. Moving in the first woman he found who would…”

“I get that, really. But you said that it was about me.”

“When I met you, Sis, do you remember?” Did I ever! “All the girls at school, all the girls since–everywhere I go, girls just fling themselves at me. Practically beg me, sometimes they actually beg me to do whatever I want with them.”

They did. I remembered it well.

“None of them hold a candle to you, Sis.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing from him.
 

“I wanted you. I wanted you so bad. It was always you. And it couldn’t ever be you.” His brow furrowed, “Look, it won’t do any good to talk about it.”

“It might. I wanted you too, you know.”

“Well, that only makes it worse.”

He got up and strode around the deck.

“Just seeing you makes me so damned horny, Sis.”

I could see that was true. He stood proud like the mast on the front of a galleon. “I’m going to have to fuck half the girls in the crew tonight to get you off my mind.”

He chewed the inside of his lip. I leapt up to stand in front of him.

My big breasts heaved and my nipples ached to be free of the constraint of my sheer black bra.

I said, “There could be another way.”

As I slid up against his big, hard chest, the beat of his heart pounded against my temple. His heat stirred against my hips and his hardness lengthened along my thigh. My thighs straddled his leg and I squeezed him. The torment burned on his face.
 

He was hoarse, “Sis, it’s wrong.”

My hand slid down his hard abs. “Isn’t it, though.”

The taut muscles of his leg flexed as I gripped it between mine. As I pressed my mound against the ridge of his thigh, a rush went through me and I had to cling tight to him.

My eyes were wet and my lips parted as I peered up at him. He looked down and the sweet taste of his breath drifted to mingle with mine. I pressed my arms, my breasts, my hips against him.

I raked my nails in his hair, felt around to the back of his head. I had wanted this for so long. His body here, in my arms and his strong arms wrapping around me, I pulled his face down to mine.

He pulled back. The conflict blew like storm clouds across his face. His rich, thick lips trembled. His voice was a whisper. “Sis.”

We broke apart at the sound of moccasins on the deck. Two of the minions brought canapés or whatever those fussy little pastry things were. He looked at the minions and they froze.

“Everyone go below decks and into their quarters.” His voice was like gathering thunder, “Everyone. No exceptions. Nobody allowed in the public rooms or on the berth levels. Not until you hear from me.”

They nodded silently and began to back away.

“You two tell everyone. Right now.”

They nodded again then silently turned and hurried away.

Then there was only us. Just him, and me. On a deck above the ocean, out of sight of the land.

I moved back to him.

“I don’t care about them seeing us.”

“Neither do I, Sis.” Finally he returned my embrace. “I want us to have privacy,” he said, “but that isn’t why.”

“Why then?”

“You know. You know what I want, Sis.”

And at that moment, I did know. The trouble was, what I wanted was what all of those other girls wanted. I wanted him to do to me what he did to them. But I didn’t want him to think of me in the same way. I would have to find another way to ask him.

Or maybe I should tell him. Perhaps that could be the shift that he needed. The change that would get me what I needed.

His strong hands held me and I was where I wanted to be. The fact that it happened also to be on a yacht was just a bonus. But him. I felt so close to him, like I really could get what I’d panted and pined after, all these years.

As I stretched up to nuzzle my nose into his unfamiliar beard, his pulse deepened and quickened against my soft, squashed breasts. The beat of his heart and the pump of the blood in his throat made me sigh and pull him closer to my body.

His hands came slowly, naturally to life. His breath, his lips found mine and I opened for him. Then, as our mouths joined and our tongues danced; our bodies knew the moment was here. We were free at last.

His still hardening length thrummed hot against me. My fingernails scraped down his shirt and straight behind his belt. It was too tight. I had to open it. As I dragged on the buckle, the heat of his eager cock made me wild to get at it. I kissed him again, harder, deeper.

His hands drug my shirt open. As soon as his hands touched my bare waist and stomach, I jumped onto him. Flung my thighs around him, squeezed and held him tight, and devoured him with my mouth.

For such a long time I had pushed these feelings down, kept my wrong, bad, nasty thoughts in lock-down. Now that I could taste him, touch him feel his hands on me, feel his skin against mine, now my body wouldn’t wait for me.

My breasts wanted to be out of the bra, to flatten on his chest. Feel his lips and his breath. I kissed him harder and he slipped. I pushed him down to the deck.
You’re mine now!
His hands gripped in my hair, pulled my mouth to his.

I shook my shoulders to be rid of the shirt and pulled at the clasp between the cups of the bra. He looked up at me from the deck. His eyes widened and his mouth opened as my big tits bounced free.
 

I straddled his stomach and gave him my breasts, one by one. Electric sparks crackled through me as he hungrily sucked on my nipples. My stomach vibrated inside as he pulled them with his strong lips.

He licked and sucked all over my breasts, lapped them underneath and shook them. My breath rasped as I smothered his face with them. I held his hair against the deck as I nibbled all the way down his stomach. I jumped and thrilled as his abs trembled in response.

My hand kept a grip in his hair and I reached the other hand to his buckle. His head lifted. I yanked it back down. I liked this game. A part of me didn’t even think about whether he liked it. I wanted this.

His buckle fell open and I unbuttoned his fly. When I had the front of his pants open wide, I stopped and panted at the sight of the soft white cotton with a hot mass of hard flesh that pressed up from behind.