ROMANCE: MC Romance: Owned by The Bad Boy (Stepbrother Bad Boy BBW Ménage Mafia Romance) (Contemporary New Adult Alpha Male Billionaire Romance Short Stories) (10 page)

The morning came and Rob was gone. Since it was Saturday he was supposed to be home, and I wondered where he was. I shouldn’t be mad at him for letting my mother know that I was home instead of going on the weekend trip with the girls, but it was something about the way that he looked at me when I walked in the door. It was the feeling that I got, like he was expecting to see someone else coming into the house, and that he had to alert this other person. I was going to get the bottom of the situation, but I would have to withhold myself from him to think with a clear mind. Who was he expecting to be home last night, and why did he have to call my mom to let her know that I had arrived?

THE END

Stepbrother

4.Forbidden Temptations

Chapter One

“Fuck I hate this…” I said, as I packed the last of my holiday must-haves into my suitcase. The look on my brother’s face said
you hate everything
, which was true, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. I really wasn’t looking forward to this Christmas vacation, stuck on an island somewhere with my mother and her third husband in as many decades, Charlie.

The real reason I wasn’t looking forward to this trip was Tyler. He was our new stepbrother, a little older, thirtyish, and some big deal on the internet. He was handsome yes, okay,
fuck it
, he was really hot. But I was eighteen, and besides using images of this dark, broody creature for my private moments of self-manipulation, I really wasn’t up to playing happy families.

Tyler had been on a business trip to Hong Kong, so he missed the wedding, and now, on what was supposed to be my mother and
Charlie’s
honeymoon Isaiah and I were being dragged on a meet the family trip for a few days in the sun. The only thing I hated more than beef jerky, or being introduced to yet another transient step-family member, was the sun. Isaiah was 16, so he didn’t give a fuck about anything anyway.

Anyway, we arrived on the island at around 4:30PM, and the place was deserted, except for the staff. Charlie really looked like he enjoyed spending his son’s money, and if the drinks and appetizers were anything to go by, I wouldn’t complain about a thing. Tyler was set to arrive around 6, so Isaiah and I had a few hours to explore this paradise.

“So, how long do you think this one will last?” I asked Isaiah as we took a bend that opened up on an incredible view.

“Not sure Ash, she really seems to like this one,” was his standard response. I had asked him this question after each of the previous weddings as well.

“That’s what you always say…” I said.

“What can I say; she’s a great actress…” another standard response, one that said it was time to move this conversation right along. He didn’t care too much for discussions about my mother.

I moved the conversation on to more random subjects, and just after 6 we made our way back. I did not want to be there when Tyler arrived, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of having an entourage that would serve as his welcome committee. I was really not about to set any precedents that I would not later be able to maintain.

We arrived at the house to find my mother and Charlie caught in catch-up conversation with Tyler, who looked like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine. He looked nothing like his pictures of the internet, all stiff and starched; with a coldness in his eyes that you would be forgiven for thinking was callus and calculating. He seems a little more relaxed now, although the distraction is obvious on his face, and in the way he taps his finger on his glass.

“This is Ashley, and Isaiah, her brother…” Charlie does the introductions. I hate being called
Ashley
, and Charlie knows this. I make a mental note to change my name to
Sky
, or
Rain
, or anything but
Ashley
.

We greet Tyler, without touching him. No handshakes, no hugs, no pretentious air kissing that rich people seem to like to do. I think of excusing myself, but there is no chance of escaping this
family bonding
, at least until after dinner. How many times will my mother subject us to this shit, I wonder.

The good thing is Tyler doesn’t seem too interested in Isaiah and I. We make it through dinner listening to him and Charlie taking about philosophy and business and the stock market. My mother is the perfect accessory, smiling and nodding at every turn, making sure that their drinks are filled at all times. I wish that they would relax the rules a little, let me have one or two drinks, just to take the edge off. I know I’m not 21 yet, but still, it is the holidays. I know my mother though, and so I don’t even try.

As soon as we can, Isaiah and I escape from the table. I turn to look at them again, to look at Tyler. He really is every shade of beautiful. But he is older than me, much older, and he is my brother now. I shake this thought from my head, and follow Isaiah out of the room, passed the kitchen, and through the back door. Isaiah grabs a bottle of Vodka from one of the kitchen cupboards on his way out, reminding me why I love this little shit so much.

We make our way up the trail at the back of the house, the same one we walked this afternoon. We get to the precipice that overlooks the ocean, still clearly visible even in the moonlight, and we settle down to a bit of underage drinking and shit talk. This vacation will be over soon enough, and we decide to do what we can to speed things along… 

Chapter Two

Isaiah and I get back into the house around midnight. We heard my mother calling for us around 10, but as usual, we ignored her. We go to our separate bedrooms, a little drink, actually
, a lot drunk
. We don’t say goodnight to each other, we never do. I just give him a squint look that lets him know that somewhere, deep in the bottom of my heart, I love him. He staggers to his room, whistling too loud, but he really doesn’t care. I escape to my room, close the door, surprised that there is no key in the door. I’ve got just one thing on my mind.

I get undressed, completely, not even thinking. Blame it on the alcohol, blame it on hormones, hell, blame it on the man on the moon, but I suddenly have the serious urge to touch myself. I get onto the bed and pull the covers over my pussy, pulling on my clit gently. As my pussy warms, I wet two of my fingers and send them into my cunt, pleased to find it hot, and wet. My mind goes to places that it really shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.

Thoughts of Tyler consume me. I think of his legs, strong and sturdy, slightly bandy, and his crotch. The outline of his penis was clearly visible when I was introduced to him earlier this evening, and even in most of his full body pictures online. I can’t help but thinking that he either has a constant erection, or a very large penis. She allows herself to go there, in the safety of this room. And there is something about his eyes, something deep, and attractive. His voice too sounds like vanilla velvet, if it had a flavor of course, and she imagines his lips on her pussy, creaming a little more.

The wind blowing into the room moves the curtains away from the glass, and she looks up at where the wind is intruding on her private moment. She thinks she catches the outline of a man, outside her window, watching her. She stops with her cunt activity for a moment, straining to see who could be watching her. She knows those legs, it is Tyler, and I pulls her finger out of herself, feeling very exposed. The vodka gets the better of me though, and I decide to take myself over the edge anyway. I pull the blanket off myself completely, and open my legs. I send two fingers into myself, straining to catch his eyes.

The curtains are dancing now in the breeze, so that it is impossible for me to get a lock on his gaze. I don’t care though, knowing that Tyler is on the other side of the glass, knowing that he could step in at any moment, knowing somehow that he wouldn’t dare, and
not
knowing how clearly he can see what I am doing to myself. This is my way of telling him that I don’t give a fuck about him, that he is irrelevant in my life. For now though, for this moment, he is very necessary.

I close my eyes, getting closer and closer to the edge. I wish that he would expose himself to me, so that I have the fuel needed to take myself to a magnificent end. But I have to rely on my imagination, for now. My imagination is all I need though, and I create snapshots in my mind of all the images of his bulge, undressing it in my head, and I cream all down her thighs in beautiful excess.

When I open my eyes he is gone. Did I imagine it, seeing what I wanted to see? I do have a bit of a wild imagination, and the vodka didn’t do much to help the situation. I reach for the tissues on the side of my bed, and clean myself up. After tossing the tissues in the bin, I jump back into the bed, and pull the covers over myself. I will deal with the apparition that I saw outside my window in the morning, I tell myself, as I rock myself gently to sleep.

At breakfast the next day my mother goes out of her way to get us in the Christmas mood. It is hard though, with the sun hanging high in the sky outside and not a single snowflake is sight. Tyler walks onto the terrace and I can’t help but look at his crotch before his face. I have vague memories of last night, and I think of how I can ask him if he played peeping tom, without coming out and asking him, of course.

“So, how did everybody sleep,” I ask, making small talk, trying to get to the bottom of this mystery rather quickly.

“Well, you and your brother disappeared on us, and then we went to bed. At least I know that there isn’t much trouble you can get into on the island…” My mother feels the need to play
mother
, probably to give the semblance of some normalcy to our existence.

“I took a midnight stroll, it helps me to think, to process my thoughts. It’s amazing what beautiful surprises are held in the dead of night…” Tyler speaks now, letting me know that it was him, and he did see me.

I warm between my legs immediately. I hate that he has this effect on me, but I really cannot help myself. I look at him, him looking at me. I know that he means me, he must. Why then, did he not just step into my room and help me with my little problem. He probably has some principled code about sleeping with family members. We are not family though, not really, and if we did fuck, it would be a once off, our little secret.

I find my mind drifting to the other lovers I have had. The list isn’t long, but they were all amateurs for the most part. Boys my own age, who excited me at the time, but who I know were just pawns in my chess game of lust. I needed a hard cock, and hard cocks are easy to come by with boys ages 16 to 21. Hell, any age seems to be prime for men, and so I start to wonder if it is at all possible for Tyler to look at me like that. I’m good at keeping secrets, and Tyler would have to be a secret. But what if he just looked at me with pity; a kid who had to pleasure herself in the secret darkness, without any hope of being fucked in the light.

After breakfast I go to my room, and put on a bikini that my mother bought me for the purpose of this holiday. I’ve always considered myself as a bit of a tomboy, but for the purposes of realizing this fantasy that has now taken a firm hold on me, I decide to forgo my usual board shorts and t-shirt, and make myself look like a girl, like a woman. I join the rest of
the family
by the pool, and recline on one of the deck chairs, looking at Tyler, hoping that he notices me. 

He does notice me, and suddenly I am very self-conscious. He doesn’t even hide it, coming to lie on the deck chair right next to hers. I look from his bulge up his chest, hairy, shaped and firm, and back down to his bulge again. He catches my eyes, watching them move over him, undressing him. He places a hand on his dick, and I avert my gaze momentarily. What was he trying to do? What he trying to flirt with me, to seduce me?

I look at his dick again, almost willing it to get hard, thinking that this will embarrass him somehow. All he does is adjust his hardening cock in his shorts however, and he looks directly at my cunt. I almost feel the fabric of the bikini bottom disappear, so that again I feel extremely exposed. I cannot take this. I don’t know how this flirting shit works anyway, so I take my towel and my iPod, and leave them to their sunbathing.  

I think of walking down to the beach, but the sun is really beating down heavy on the island now. I hate the heat, intrusive and all-consuming. I decide to go to my room, and to take myself on another trip down the garden path to orgasm. If Tyler intended to get under my skin then he has succeeded. I hate him for this. How is it that a guy who hasn’t spoken two sentences to me since we arrived on this paradise hell creep into my thoughts so quickly. I decide to wash him off me with the cold water in my private shower.

The water from the nozzle in the shower beats down hard on my back. It wets my hair completely and then falls wildly on my breasts, creating serious rapids on my curves. I hate admitting it to myself, but as far as bodies go, mine was seriously banging. Who could blame Tyler for teasing me the way he has been. He is thirtyish though, and he probably has a string of lovers back where he comes from. Strange how I don’t even know where he lives, strange how interested I am suddenly in this information. I remove the bikini top and then the bottom, and let them sit on the shower floor like wet meat. Then I reach for the soap and attempt to wash Tyler’s eyes off my body, off my breasts, off my aching pussy.