Stepbrother Catfish: The Complete Series (8 page)

I grab his ass. I pull on his ass and drive him back into me. I can feel him smiling. Over and over he pulls out. Over and over I pull him back in.

The bed creaks. Our skin slaps. I’m sticky with sweat, tight with exertion. Pressure is building with every deep stroke. My need grows, I never thought it could expand like this. I can’t get enough of him.

I close my eyes and suck in the smell of him. AJ is making love to me. AJ, the man I shared my heart with is burying himself inside me, losing himself in me. I clench, trying to hold him in. I want to keep him here forever.

“Look at me,” he growls.

I open my eyes. For a second, it’s Andrew I see. Sweat is dripping down his brow. His eyes look so intense it could be confused with anger. He’s so strong, so built, but still I can see the muscles in his arms working. My eyes wander down, over his broad chest, his hardened little man nipples. His stomach is taunt. I watch his hips work. His six pack twitches. I become fascinated by watching his cock disappear in and out of me.

“No, up here,” he commands.

My eyes drag back up. He’s so beautiful. His features are strained with exertion.

“Come for me,” he commands.

His eyes have me. I’m falling, losing myself in them. I want to give him what he wants. I’m almost there.

“Fuck, Hailey,” he moans out. I can feel him pulsing inside me. His thrusts become more erratic. Is he going to come? Just the thought of him holding himself back is my undoing.

I explode. It’s glorious. It’s earth shattering. It’s so wet.

I cry out, clutching him, clawing him. My sex convulses, my body spasms.

“Yes,” he roars out and throws his head back. “Fuck, yes,” he roars again.

He’s pounding into me so hard. My clit is trapped, it’s getting hammered. I’m fucking love it.

Waves of pleasure break against me, roll through me. I’m swept away. My sex grips him, milks every hot drop of cum out of him. It feels as if it goes on forever, but it’s not long enough. AJ shudders and falls on top of me.

He breathes heavily against my neck. I savor the weight of him. I swear our hearts are racing in stride. Together, we catch our breath and come back to ourselves.

“Hailey,” he finally says rolling off of me. My chest is rising up and down. I stare up at the ceiling and listen to him take off the condom. Then his hot hands are on me and he’s pulling me up against him. I curve into him perfectly. It’s like he was meant to spoon against my back.

“Promise you’ll stay with me, just for the week,” he says into my ear.

I shiver as hot breath brushes against me.

Groggily, I tell him, “I promise.”

I can’t resist him, especially like this. I fall asleep being snuggled by him.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Andrew says as he leans over me.

He’s smiling, and somehow he’s glowing.

I blink slowly, bringing him into focus. Am I dreaming? Surely this can’t be for real?

“Did you sleep well?” Andrew asks then his head dips and his lips brush against mine in a tender sweep.

Damn, he tastes good. My arms go up and wrap around his neck. He tries to lift his head, but I pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He chuckles against my mouth.

If this is a dream I never want to wake up.

His morning stubble scratches my chin. He groans as I open my mouth in invitation. His tongue meets mine and it’s as if I was just struck by lightning. My muscles tense, my breath hitches, and my belly tightens in anticipation.

He lowers the rest of his body down on top of me. His weight has me sinking into his soft, expensive mattress. I love the weight of him. I love how it feels with him coming down on top of me. I love how it feels as if I’m trapped beneath him.

Suddenly I realize we are both naked.

This is going to be a good dream.

Andrew’s knee nudges at my knee. He finds just enough space to slip his leg in between my legs and I spread.

He fits perfectly.

His kiss deepens, his tongue begins to move with a sense of urgency. I can’t resist it. I struggle to keep up with his strokes and pulls. He’s so needy, so hungry.

I feel his hardness slide against me. I want it, badly. At this moment, I want nothing more to have him inside me. To be connected to him again.

He groans into my mouth and moves himself against me. I find myself bucking my hips, moving with him.

Get inside me, I want to tell him but there’s no mercy to be had from his lips. He just keeps me there, quivering on the edge. Burning. Aching. Throbbing. His grinds himself into me.

Suddenly a loud, air raid siren sounds, nearly scaring me half to death.

Andrew curses and tears his lips away from mine. He rolls off of me and I sit up in bed, clutching my chest.

“What the fuck?” I gasp.

My heart is hammering, pounding so hard it hurts. I’m going to get a stitch.

Andrew fumbles with something on his nightstand. The alarm stops but my ears are still ringing.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. Hunching over, he rakes his fingers through his hair.

A minute passes as we both catch our breath. My heart starts to slow. I consider scooting closer to him. I have the strongest urge to reach out and run my fingers along the smooth expanse of his bent back.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew says and stands from the edge of the bed. “I have to go to work.”

My jaw drops in disbelief as I watch him walk gloriously naked to his closet and disappear inside it.

Work? He’s just going to get dressed and go to work, leaving me hanging?

I feel cheap all of a sudden. I grab up the blanket from the bed and wrap it around myself. I squeeze my thighs together. I’m going to need a shower. A very cold shower.

I don’t know where my clothes are. I think they’re on the floor. I scoot to the edge of the bed and begin to search for them.

Andrew reappears. He’s now dressed smartly in dark pants and a crisp white shirt. He’s straightening a blue tie at his neck as he walks back in.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He stops near me. “You know how my dad is…”

Slowly, I drag my eyes up his body. The resentment bubbling inside me begins to fade. I do know how his dad is. I want to be angry at Andrew for getting me worked up, but I understand. I understand all too well being under that man’s thumb. I can’t hold it against him, even if my body is throbbing mad.

“It’s okay,” I say softly as my eyes meet his.

Andrew frowns, concerned. He reaches out and tenderly strokes my cheek. Even now, I want to purr like a cat and rub against him.

“Are you sure?”

I nod my head.

His fingers start to trail down my cheek. He follows the line of my jaw, then runs them along my neck. They tug at the top of the blanket then slip beneath. He drags his tips down, following the cleft between my breasts.

“Raincheck?” he asks.

I can hear him breathing now. My eyes glance down and yep, there’s a bulge in his pants. If I’m uncomfortable, he must be suffering just as bad.

“Depends…” I smirk.

Andrew lifts a brow, “Depends on what?”

His hand covers my right breast. He squeezes and it takes every ounce of inner strength I have to keep from groaning.

“It depends on what kind of mood I’m in,” I manage to breathe out and then promptly bite my lip.

“Ah, I see,” he says sagely and gives my breast another delicious squeeze. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the day without thinking about you.”

I let go and the blanket slithers down my arms and falls to the floor.

The look on Andrew’s face is priceless. I feel so powerful. I could so get used to this.

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” I say sweetly.

Andrew kisses me savagely and then makes his exit. I hear him cursing all the way to the elevator.

AJ
: Make yourself at home. If there’s anything you need, just shoot me a text.

It’s jarring, even after last night and this morning, to receive a text from Andrew but to have it marked as “AJ”. I stare at the words for a moment, letting my brain wrap around it.

Now that Andrew is gone, I can think more clearly. There’s something about being around him and having him near me that makes my brain fog up. It must be the increase in my blood pressure and my hormones taking me over.

Doubt is starting to sink in. What am I doing? I look around at the empty bedroom. What good can possibly come from all of this?

My phone vibrates, drawing my attention. Andrew has sent me another text.

AJ
: Last night was the best night of my life. Can’t wait to come home to you.

Wow. The best night of his life? I have to swallow back the surge of emotion that hits me. My fingers stumble as I type him back.

Me
: Ditto

Best not to look too desperate. I already can’t leave. All the doors are unlocked, there’s nothing or no one to stop me but myself.

Nothing to stop me but my heart.

There’s something about Andrew. Something that draws me to him. I know he’s bad for me, I do. I know, I’m probably going to be the one who gets hurt when this is all over, but I can’t walk away. For whatever reason, I just can’t do it.

My heart wants him. My brain knows he’s bad for me in the same way that I know that brownies go straight to my thighs and stick to my ass. But that doesn’t stop me from reaching for them. Life is short, indulge now and regret later.

My phone remains silent. Andrew is either busy at work or just has nothing else to say to me. I look around his bedroom. There’s nothing for it. I can’t leave, so I might as well do exactly as he suggested. I’ll make myself comfortable and maybe do a little snooping.

First on the to-do list is a shower. I wrap the blanket around me and walk to what I assume is the bathroom. It’s enormous. There’s a bathtub that’s the size of a small swimming pool and the entire back wall appears to be a shower. I’ve never seen anything like it. Half of me is tempted to soak myself in a long hot bath, but the shower is so big, I have to check it out.

I drop the blanket, just leaving it on the floor, and step into the shower. There’s like ten different knobs and I have no idea what any of them do. None of them are labeled. I turn one and water starts to shoot out at my hip. It’s cold and I squeal but it quickly starts to warm so I endure it.

Once the water is at a comfortable temperature, I experiment with the other knobs. I get blasted in the face, which sucks, but once I’ve got them all turned on, I’m getting sprayed from every direction.

The shower is lovely, and I could so get used to it. The warmth of the water starts to seep into my bones and I stand for what feels like forever, just enjoying it. The water stays warm. I don’t even know how many minutes have gone by, but I do eventually realize I should probably find something to wash myself with. Water itself just isn’t going to cut it.

I look around and notice there is shelving built into the wall within arm’s reach and it’s loaded with bottles. The first bottle I grab is clearly meant for a man. I pop the top and sniff it. It smells just like Andrew. Cool and crisp, I remember smelling it as I buried my face into his neck. I start to warm. I quickly close the bottle and put it back before the trip down memory lane gets me so worked up I have to turn this lovely shower into a cold one.

My eyes scan the bottles. The top shelves are loaded with dark bottles labeled with bold letters, all very masculine. The bottom shelf, however, is covered with more feminine bottles. Slender bottles, featuring pictures of flowers and flowy script.

Why does Andrew have products that are clearly meant for a woman? Did he plan on me being here? Or does he keep it for someone else?

The thought of another woman almost sends me into a jealous fit. Just imagining anyone else touching him, anyone else staying here and using this shower, makes me see red. Thankfully, my brain decides to step up and reason kicks in. If there was another woman, she’s no longer around. I’m here now and I was the best night he ever had.

Andrew is a notorious playboy. Every weekend, he has a new girl on his arm and in his bed. I shouldn’t take it personal. What’s in the past is in the past. And right now, it’s to my benefit.

I grab up a bottle, it’s fairly heavy and feels full. I pop the top and it smells amazing. I check the label and it says it’s a shampoo scented with awapuhi, whatever that is. I lather my hair up, rinse it out, and then condition it. By the time I step out of the shower, I feel soft and clean, and ready to start snooping.

I start in Andrew’s closet and help myself to one of his shirts. I choose a blue, long sleeve dress shirt. I roll up the sleeves and wear it as a dress. The shirt is a little short, the bottom hem hitting me at mid-thigh, but it works. Then I start to poke around in his drawers.

There is a disappointing lack of personal items in Andrew’s drawers. There are plenty of cuff links, ties, watches, and pins, but I find nothing personal. Nothing that seems sentimental or gives me a clue to what kind of person he really is.

After coming up empty handed in the closet, I move on to the bedroom. I check his night stands, underneath his bed, and his dresser. There’s nothing of interest. I don’t even find a stash of porn. It’s seriously weird.

Where are all his mementos?

After searching the living room, perusing his blockbuster DVD collection, and checking out his kitchen utensils, I end up more confused than anything else. The refrigerator is completely bare. There’s not even a packet of ketchup or leftover Chinese takeout. Thankfully the sink dispenses water or I’d be completely out of luck.

Andrew’s apartment is clean and luxurious, but it feels somehow sterile. There’s nothing in the apartment laying claim that it’s even his. No pictures, no personal items with names, I can’t find a thing that points to him or shows that he’s even the owner. How can someone even live like this?

I’m not necessarily a sentimental creature myself but I do acquire things as I live every day. The things I acquire no doubt give little clues about me, my personal life, and how I go about. I know in my own apartment there are old receipts, pictures of my friends during our days in school, and things from my mother. I may even have an old teddy bear or two, to snuggle up to on those nights that feel lonelier than others.

If you were to snoop around my apartment, you would eventually come to the conclusion that I lived there. Such a conclusion seems impossible to reach in Andrew’s apartment. I’m almost willing to bet it actually takes a great deal of effort for him to keep his own residence so impersonal.

I’m just about to give up. I’m just about to call it a day, veg out on his couch, and call out for some pizza when I hit the jackpot. Tucked way back in a kitchen drawer of all places is a picture.

I almost don’t catch it. My fingers slide across the surface and that’s when it registers something is different, something does not have the same grainy texture as the wood. Using my fingernail, I gently pry the picture off the bottom of the drawer and pull it out.

I don’t know how to feel after looking at it. It’s a picture of me. It was taken the first night my mother introduced me to Andrew and his father. WTF