by S. E. Law
When we walk into the restaurant, my mom just melts with happiness when she sees the spread before us. There’s a mouth-watering buffet of every good thing for brunch: smoked salmon, omelets, bacon, mini-muffins, warm sticky buns, a make-your-own Bloody Mary bar, and, yes, thirty servings of Eggs Benedict in all their lemony, creamy perfection. The other guests dig right in but I notice someone’s missing.
“Is Jim already here?” I ask Nancy as I take her coat. I peer around the room, trying to spot someone who looks like a potential stepfather.
My mom takes a quick glance around.
“Not yet, but he’s on his way. His son’s picking him up. I don’t know why he’s late.” She motions to the buffet. “Get yourself something, sweetheart, before it gets cold.”
“First item of business is coffee,” I yawn. “Then we’ll talk sticky buns.”
I head over to the coffee station and pour myself a huge mug. I’m not usually a coffee drinker, but I am going to need a little help getting through the morning after that workout last night. Trevor put me through my paces after he unzipped my dress. An innocent dip in the pool quickly became a second, and third, and fourth hurrah, all the way until dawn. I’m certain I’m only still standing because I’m riding a major adrenaline high, and my pussy is sore and achy as a result.
I hear the door of the restaurant open behind me while I’m adding just the right amount of cream and sugar to my mug.
“Sorry to be tardy, honeybun,” simpers a man’s voice behind me. “My son had a late night and overslept. It’s his fault, not mine.”
But my mom doesn’t care because she immediately calls out to the crowd.
“Everyone! Everyone!” Nancy announces in a loud voice. We all turn around. She has her arms around a square-jawed man in his late 50’s. He’s still trim and fit, with an impressive head of silver hair. “This is the man I’m so eager to have you all meet. This is my wonderful fiancé Jim, and the love of my life.” Everyone applauds.
Jim raises his hand in acknowledgement. “Thank you, everyone. Nancy is everything a man could want. After almost twenty years of flying solo, at my age you don’t expect Cupid to strike again. I’m so pleased to be meet you all, and I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
I turn around just in time to see a familiar head of black hair behind Jim. Something in my body seizes up and shudders with pleasure before I consciously recognize who’s coming through the door.
“Oh and by the way,” adds Jim, “Everyone, please meet my son Trevor. Over here, son! Come say hello.”
They say that when you die, your life flashes in front of your eyes. Well, a whole bunch of other memories were flashing in front of my eyes in that frozen moment. A bunch of memories that definitely didn’t belong at a brunch - especially with my mother and her fiancé present.
Trevor stands head and shoulders above the crowd, and he’s absolutely gorgeous with his raven hair and penetrating blue eyes. He looks so goddamned good in a casually unbuttoned suit jacket and jeans, scanning the room with the confidence of a lion. There’s just a flicker of a grin on his face.
And then he locks eyes with me.
He doesn’t show much emotion in his stoic, strong face, but after watching him in the throes of ecstasy I recognize what those flickers of expression betray. His brows furrow slightly in uncertainty. His eyes open in surprise, and then the slightest smirk settles on his mouth. Those sculpted lips part in a flashing white smile, and my heart races.
Oh my god. Is this really happening?
Is Trevor going to be my new stepbrother? Is he flirting with me, right here right now, at our parents’ engagement brunch?
My fingers go weak around the handle of my coffee cup. I don’t mean to drop it in shock, but I only realize what I’ve done when a burning splatter of coffee soaks through the thin cotton of my skirt. It’s hot, and it hurts.
“Ouch!” I scream, wincing.
Every eye in the room turns to me as I stand, dripping, with a huge brown stain ruining my skirt. The spill burned my thighs and I began dancing back and forth to distract myself from the pain. I probably look like a clown of some sort, but I can’t do anything to make my humiliation go away. I want to sink into the floor and disappear forever.
“Oh, darling,” says my mother. “Is this any way to meet your new family? Let me help you.” She steps towards me but Trevor stops her.
“I’ll help her, Mom,” says Trevor. “You enjoy your party because you’re the bride.” He strides confidently over to me. “What was your name again? I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. But why don’t we go to the restaurant kitchen and get some ice while getting acquainted? Oh, by the way,” he says loudly, with a devilish glint in his eye, “I’m Trevor. Nice to meet you.” My mouth literally opens and closes a few times before I can force any words out.
“I’m Missy,” I say in a choked voice. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
He swings the kitchen door open and places a guiding hand on my back. I can’t fight the little push he gives me.
Fortunately, the kitchen’s empty, and he wastes no time. Trevor pushes me up against the wall and kisses me with everything he’s got.
“Let’s check those thighs,” he says, his palms kneading my breasts while searching for the hard nubs of my nipples. “I want to make sure you’re alright, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”
“Trevor!” I hiss, looking around frantically despite the fact that no one’s there. “What are you doing? We can’t. Not now! My mother can’t know.”
He chuckles, even as his hands continue to roam.
“She won’t know. That’s why we’re in here.” Before I can stop him, he drops to his knees and slowly slides my knee-length cotton skirt up my thighs.
“Panties,” he murmurs. “Bad girl’s being good today.” He starts kissing my thighs, starting right above the knee and slowly working his way upward over the pinkening flesh.
Oh god, we should stop, but his light kisses on my tender thighs are a tantalizing mixture of pain and pleasure. It does make the sting go away, and I’m struck with a sudden, quivery urge to slide my panties down and see how his kisses will heal me. But the sound of someone clinking a glass for a toast in the other room brings me back to my senses.
“You have to stop,” I plead. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
“Oh, but I do,” he says in a muffled voice while kissing closer and closer to my sweetest spot.
“No Trevor,” I say. “Do you understand what this party means? Everyone’s here to celebrate a marriage that will make you my new stepbrother! What we’re doing – what we’ve been doing – is practically illegal.”
Trevor’s not even fazed.
“Usually I’m a practical man,” he says, and flicks his tongue right where my clit is nestled under my quickly dampening panties. “But you’ve changed my mind about the limits of practicality.”
Suddenly, another voice interrupts.
“Miiiiiiiii-sssy!” I hear my mother getting closer. “Are you all right? All the guests are outside.”
Quickly I snatch a first aid kit from its perch on a shelf nearby. “We’re fine!” I call back cheerfully as I can. Trevor gets the hint and gets to his feet an instant before my mother strides through the swinging kitchen doors. He looks completely fine, whereas I’m a flushed mess.
“How are you doing, dearest?” Nancy asks, poking her head inside. “All good?”
“Fine! I’m fine. I’m not burned,” I lie. “It’s just a little pink and hot.”
“She’s fine,” adds Trevor in a silky voice. “I checked.”
I shoot him a look but can’t help feeling a jolt of pleasure blossom inside me. I want so badly to be the good daughter right now, the kind who makes sure her mom has a great engagement brunch - and who definitely does not fool around with her new stepbrother. Which is so wrong that it makes me gasp.
But what did he say to me the first night we met? Right and wrong ar
e a spectrum, sweetheart. I silently pray that everything we’d already done stays on the nice end of that spectrum, but deep down, I kind of want everything we’re going to do to be a little naughty.
“Well, I’m glad you’re all right, but it’s a shame about that dress,” my mother clucks. “Put some white vinegar on it before the stain sets.” Her eyes quickly scan the kitchen. “They’ve got to have some here.”
“I’ll just do that when we get home, Mom. I don’t want to miss any more of the party,” I say quickly. Anything to get her out of here.
Nancy nods.
“Of course, honey.” She turns to leave and I follow her quickly. Trevor puts his hand on my shoulder but I duck away from his touch. I hate being so brusque but I have to let him know I mean business. No matter how badly I want him to bend me over the stainless steel counter and make me come, now’s not the time. Not with our parents and guests waiting outside.
“Not now,” I mouth to him. But he merely grins back, not at all perturbed. We have to think this through. We’re going to be related soon, so isn’t this wrong? Trevor and I can’t be siblings, and also lovers. It’s just too confusing, and my mind whirls with confusion as I join the party again.
10
Trevor
Missy put me off, but that’s fine. I understand her reluctance because we just found out that we’re soon to be stepsiblings. With the emphasis on “step.”
It’s a little strange, I have to admit. I mean, how many people really sleep with their siblings, even if they’re not related by blood? But given that we’ve already shared two incredible nights, I’m not about to stop. I need that gorgeous body underneath me now. That’s what she has to learn.
I wait a few moments and then re-join the party with a casual smile. All the guests are happily sitting at tables and enjoying their breakfast. I scan the room for a place to sit, and notice with some pleasure that there are only two spots left in the entire room.
My dad and her mom are seated on one side of a table for four, and there are two empty seats on the other side of their table. Sure enough, Missy is sitting in the seat right across from her mom, and the empty space must be for me.
I forget that in many ways, Missy’s still so young. She’s growing to accept how much of a woman she really is – and believe me, she’s a gorgeous woman. But one week of awakenings isn’t enough to undo twenty years of romantic loneliness.
My knack for spotting and seizing opportunity kicks in. Smoothly, I take off my jacket and quickly hang it over the back of the empty chair next to her.
“Hold my spot,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
Missy tries to hide the uh-oh expression that washes over her face, but she’s not very good at masking it. I can’t help but feel a little amused imagining what she thinks is going to happen.
I wink at her instead. “It’s okay, Missy. I don’t bite.”
“Missy!” her mother scolds as I walk away. “Be polite to your new stepbrother. Is this how you treat your new family?”
I return from the bar with four champagne glasses filled with a sparkling orange drink.
“Bellinis for everyone,” I say while handing everyone a drink. “A classic Italian cocktail of champagne and apricot nectar. Much more fun than the usual mimosas. Salute.” I clink glasses with everyone and take a swallow. Missy sips and puts her hand to her mouth. I bet she’s surprised by the fizz. The sweet virgin; I bet she’s never had champagne before. Another first, and all because of me. I feel unduly pleased because it makes me happy to think I’m introducing this beautiful, innocent girl to new experiences. I want to show the world to her, and smile lazily.
“Thank you, Trevor,” says her mother in a friendly voice. “Please, help yourself. We brought a plate of pastries for the table.”
“I’ll grab something in a moment,” I say. “Dad, did you ever hear back from that DJ friend of mine? I mentioned you to him.”
“Nancy’s in charge of all that,” Jim says, squeezing his fiancée’s hand and smiling at the older woman. “I’m just the guy in the suit.”
I turn to Missy. “Hey, I don’t mean to be annoying, but would you mind moving over a little? My seat’s on a table leg,” I lie. She does, and I take the opportunity to slide the edge of my chair right next to hers. Our thighs are now touching. Mmm, she’s warm and soft, just the way I like it, and I rest my hand lightly on my lap, right where I know she can just barely feel my fingertips on her own thigh.
Missy jumps up. “Um, I think I’m going to get a croissant,” she stammers.
“Nonsense, Missy, there’s a croissant right here. Now Trevor,” says Nancy, turning to me, “What exactly is it that you do? Your dad tried to explain it to me, but it’s all over my head.”
“I’m a venture capitalist turned bitcoin trader turned race car driver,” I explain. “Basically, I spent my whole career managing imaginary money until I had enough real money to follow my dream.”
I see Missy’s eyes go wide. Oh, that’s right. As intimate as we’ve been, we’ve never shared any personal information beyond our names. This is a great chance to let her know who I am – and vice versa.
“And exactly how much money is that?” Missy blurts out.
“Missy!” Nancy shoots Missy a look. “What kind of a question is that? You don’t ask people how much they make, especially not the first time you meet them.”
“It’s all right,” I laugh good-naturedly. “I’ve had people ask me worse.” I give her thigh a little squeeze under the table to let her know there’s no harm done. This time Missy doesn’t jump in alarm. Instead, I sense her whole body relax. Either she’s happy I’m touching her or that Bellini is kicking in. “Let’s just say I’m a very good tipper because money is no object.”
“Trevor has always had a head for numbers,” says Jim proudly. “His mom was like that, too, god rest her soul. Can you believe when he was eight years old, he called us down for a meeting in the living room and gave us a PowerPoint presentation about why he should get a bigger allowance?” Everyone at the table laughs. “The little charmer convinced us, too.”
“Oh, Missy did that, too,” says Nancy. “But not about her allowance. She would set up an audience of her dolls and stuffed animals in the living room and then put on a one-woman show. I could hear her singing and dancing for them all afternoon!”
“Mom!” says Missy, blushing slightly.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Missy,” I say to her. “I think that’s cute. Did you grow up to be an actress?”
“No,” says Missy. “I’m just a college student. I haven’t decided on a major, but I was thinking about English Literature or maybe Library Science.”
“Oh, a real book lover,” says Jim. “You must have inherited your mother’s smarts.” Nancy goes all ooey-gooey before our eyes.
“Oh, Jim,” she coos with a smile while squeezing his hand. The elderly lovebirds are kind of cute, come to think of it.
“So this is the mom you were complaining about last night,” I whisper to Missy as Jim and Nancy look dreamily into each others’ eyes. “She’s not so bad in person.”
“Shhh,” she whispers back at me. “My mom’s been planning this brunch for weeks. Please don’t ruin it for her. They can’t find out about us!”
Remembering last night makes me think about how I know what Missy’s hiding under that demure dress. The thought of her voluptuous figure and that tender, tight cunt just aching to squirt is getting me a little hard.
“Ok,” I whisper. “I won’t say another word about last night. Promise.” Instead, I leisurely stroke my fingers up and down the tops of her thigh, just gently enough to make her tingle. The thin cotton of her skirt rides up under the back and forth motion of my fingers until I’m touching her bare skin.
“How’s that burn on your leg?” I ask Missy.
She takes a deep breath to contain herself before she answers. “It’s all better, thanks.”
“You know, it’s funny,” says Nancy
as she points her finger at us, “but if I didn’t know you two had just met today, I would have thought you already had a close connection.”
Missy goes white. “What do you mean by that, Mom?”
“Well, I just mean that …, well, there’s a déjà vu aspect to this. Like you already know each other well. Or like you grew up together, instead of becoming stepsiblings as adults.”
“It’s nice to hear you say that,” I say. “But I assure you this is the first time we’re sitting down for a meal together,” I say. “Right, Missy?”
“Right,” she says hoarsely as she reaches for a croissant. “Uh, so Mom, this is a great party. Where did you say you got the flowers again?”
Nancy chuckles. “I didn’t say, my sweet. That’s my secret.”
My dad practically beams.
“You’re an amazing hostess, Nancy. Speaking of parties,” he says, “Trevor’s been telling me about these secret parties in town. Have you heard of them? They’re like speakeasies where there’s a private guest list, and supposedly, the whole thing is quite chi-chi.”
Missy drops her butter knife on her plate with a loud clatter.
“That’s right,” I say smoothly. “They’re definitely interesting gatherings. I went a few times, just for curiosity’s sake.”
“I don’t understand,” says Nancy, shaking her head. “Is it like a Tupperware party? That’s the only type of private party I know.”
I let out an amused chuckle.
“No, it’s more like a social club, with some networking thrown in. There are people making connections, and they’re casual affairs.”
Jim and Nancy exchange puzzled looks.