by Kenya Wright
Zach Evans Creative Publishing
I Want You
An Erotic Short
by
Kenya Wright
I Want You is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Kenya Wright
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by ZachEvans Publishing, an imprint of ZachEvans Creative, a division of Jessica Watkins Presents, LLC.
Chapter 1
What the fuck?
Carmen
I walked in on my stepson jacking off into my red shorts.
Oh. My. God!
The day had been a simple one—breakfast with the aforementioned stepson, morning run, and relaxing shower afterward. Now, I didn’t think the day would continue as planned. For one thing, I needed to talk to my stepson, preferably with his clothes on and dick concealed. Adrian was supposed to be at work with his father, not in my bedroom stroking himself with my running shorts.
And he still doesn’t know I walked in. Oh God.
Still wearing his suit and very much masturbating, Adrian’s eyes were closed as he whispered, “Oh, Carmen. Like that.”
And I stood there with nothing to say or no logical thought to lead me on. My shocked expression stared back at me in the mirror across the room. Drops dotted my brown skin and soaked my black hair. An astonished look was plastered on my face.
Adrian’s words came out in a low grown. “Carmen, baby.”
I turned back to him.
What the...
His eyes remained closed while he sped up his strokes. In his hand, my shorts flapped back and forth with the movement.
Okay. You can deal with this. You can do it.
Thankfully, my stepson was an adult. If he’d been a kid, then I would’ve really had problems.
“Like that.” Whispering, he worked his cock. “Just like that.”
Shame hit me as my panties moistened.
Get control of yourself, girl! This is not cool.
Unfortunately, Adrian was hot. It didn’t matter how twisted this was. To my body, a gorgeous man jacked off into my shorts and moaned my name. My hormones refused to ignore this, while my mind did its best to hush their cries for a taste.
He’s Nick’s son. Not going to happen.
My fiancé, Nick, had been as gorgeous as Adrian when he was younger. Now in his fifties, he possessed an aged elegance. Sort of like a young male actor who year by year got older on film but still entranced us despite the wrinkles outlining his features.
Adrian was a young, hot version of his dad. Social media considered him a heartthrob. His Twitter boasted over twenty thousand followers, his Instagram and Facebook even more. Half the time, all he did was post a coming out of the shower towel pic, or a few snaps of him working in the office—jacket laid on the edge of the desk, hair waved, handsome face staring sadly out of the window. All of his posts and tweets triggered viral madness.
I should snap a freaking picture now! What would his followers say? They’d probably scream for joy.
Women all over the world wanted to know the daily habits and movements of Adrian Ford—the number one most eligible bachelor on the East Coast—chiseled face, tanned skin, midnight black hair, green eyes that shifted to hazel in some lights, strong build, CEO of several major corporations, and a prodigy with a priceless education. I tried not to focus on popular gossip about him. They claimed he rocked in bed. Others declared him a sexual deviant.
Well, the deviant rumors are true.
Slippery sounds ensued while Adrian, oblivious to my presence, continued to pleasure himself. And now things were getting even weirder. Instead of jumping at him to stop, I’d been standing there watching like a pervert for what was going on two minutes.
Now who’s the weirdo?
I gripped my towel and let my gaze stray to his package.
Stop it, Carmen. You shouldn’t. But... oh who cares he’s already made this moment horrific. Just get a quick look.
“Like that, baby.” Adrian shoved his big cock into his closed fists. His buttoned-down sky blue shirt crumpled up in disarray near his abs. Adrian’s gray jacket hung off his shoulders as if he’d been in a rush to take it off and then just gave up. His pants rested at his ankles, exposing muscular thighs and designer socks.
I’d never seen him so unraveled and exposed. Usually, he was an intelligent conversationalist and wicked flirt.
Not today.
In this moment, he was something else. My short’s fabric moved with his stroking. There was rhythm in each motion, so delicious. It was hard for me to look away. He’d enclosed the material around that lengthy erection and commenced to having a good ole time in my bedroom!
“Yes, Carmen. Right there. All over that pretty face. That’s where I’ll paint you.”
I could step back into the bathroom, but then... will this stop or... wait a minute. Why am I hiding? He’s the crazy person!
“Please, Carmen.” He rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting harder and harder. Sweat streamed down the side of his face. “Oh yes. Right there. Don’t play with me, baby.”
My body hummed with lust. How could it not? I had never witnessed such desire, not directed at me.
“I dreamed you’d feel this good,” he whispered.
Dreamed? Me? Okay. This has to stop.
Yet, I chanced another glance at that lovely cock.
It was wrong.
I knew this about myself, understood that sometimes the most dangerous or twisted situations got me hot and bothered. And that lovely tool in his hands represented a masterpiece. Most thought that women waited outside of Adrian’s door, dropped to their knees, widened their hungry mouths, and sucked his cock anytime he craved it.
I knew the truth. Although Adrian had fans, he remained in his father’s mansion writing, reading, and spending his few private moments chatting it up with me. I figured he hung out with me in order to bump into his father, Nick, a man who’d been pretty distant with the both of us lately.
Okay, Carmen. The show is over. Stop this madness.
I gripped the towel that was wrapped around my wet body.
What do I say? Hey, buddy. Are you done? Do you need some privacy? Yes? Then go in your room with this mess!
I'd just taken those shorts off after running and jumped into the shower. Even worse, I had no idea Adrian had still been home or... none of that mattered, he shouldn't have been in my bedroom doing this.
Sure, he flirted more than he should have for a stepson. At times, it seemed like his flirting had gone into full gear once his father proposed to me.
I don’t need this right now.
Adrian masturbating in my room couldn’t have come at a worse time. I’d stupidly rushed into a relationship with his father. We’d barely known each other for a month before Nick got on one knee and asked me to be his wife. Nick was fifty and I am thirty-five. Another month went by, and Nick moved me into his mansion with him and his son, Adrian, who’d just finished Harvard’s graduate business program. Now we were three months into the relationship and Nick barely came home at night. Meanwhile, his son remained by my side every minute... flirting.
I’d planned on talking to Nick about slowing our whole situation down.
Now we’ll have to talk about his son, too. Anyway, I have to stop this.
“Out now!” I yelled. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Fuck.” Adrian opened his eyes, their color shifting from green to hazel then right back to green as if his emotions directed the shades.
“I know. I’m sorry. Fuck.” Cursing to himself some more, he rushed to zip up his pants while gripping my shorts in his hand. “I may have lost my mind a little bit.” He raised his hands.
“You did lose your mind.”
He grimaced. “I can explain.”
“I doubt that.”
“Fuck.” He stuffed that big cock back into his pants but never let go of those shorts. “Carmen, you must think I’m crazy. I'm so sorry for... doing this in your room. I mean. This is...”
I decided to help him out. “Inappropriate. Creepy. Wrong. Disrespectful. Immoral. Disgusting. Have I said perverted yet?”
He cleared his throat. “No, not yet.”
“And this is just too much. Flirting with me occasionally until I have to tell you to chill out is one thing. Masturbating in my bedroom like a madman is a whole other animal.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Madman?”
I opened my mouth in shock. “Are you trying to say this is the action of a normal man?”
“Good point.” He zipped up his pants.
“Enough is enough.” I pointed at him and stepped into my bedroom. “You're my stepson.”
“Look I’m sorry, but...”
“But what?”
“I’m not your stepson. Let’s stay in reality.”
“You will be my stepson when your father and I marry.”
“Fine, but I’m not your stepson in the traditional sense. I’m not a child.”
“You’re young.”
“I'm ten years younger than you.” He pointed at me. “You’re thirty-five. I’m twenty-five.”
“You’re young, Adrian.”
“It’s not like you’ll be taking me to soccer practice.”
“That’s beyond irrelevant. Stop changing the subject.”
“Hey.” He raised his hands. “I’m not saying I’m not a douchebag for doing this. I’m just saying I’m not as much of a douchebag. There are levels to this.”
“Levels?”
He tucked his wrinkled shirt into his pants. “We're both adults, and let's face it. I doubt there will be a marriage between my dad and you. Even worse, if anyone is fucking a child it’s my dad who’s fifty to your very young thirty-five years old.”
My chest burned with rage while my heart broke a little inside. There was nothing I hated more than having the hard truths of my love life thrown in my face. “Fuck you, Adrian.”
“You just saw me fucking your shorts.” He stuffed the garment into his back pocket. “Are you sure you want to say fuck you to me right now?”
“Get out of my room!”
Sighing, he bit his lip. “Okay. I know you want me to leave, but can we discuss this first?”
I held my palms out. “What is there to discuss? This doesn’t happen again. There’s no need to sit down and bring up the specifics.” I shook my head. “You see this huge space, Adrian? This is the non-jacking off area of your beautiful home. When in this private place, which we can call my bedroom, you are not to take your penis out and do things with it.”
“Okay. Clearly, you don’t like me doing this.”
“Clearly, I don’t like you jacking off in my room. Yes. That would be correct.” I pointed to his back pocket. “And those are my favorite shorts. Please give them back.”
“I don’t know if I can give them back.” He made no move. “Because we have something in common.”
“Excuse me?”
He offered me a weak smile. “These are my favorite shorts too. I’m keeping them.”
“Get out!” I stormed to my dresser, maintaining several feet between us.
“Can we talk first?”
“No. And this is my bedroom. You can’t just come in and out just because you live on this property too. You’re invading my privacy. In fact, this is your father’s and my room.”
“Dad barely sleeps here.”
“That's none of your business.”
Blowing out a long breath, he ran his fingers through that thick wavy hair that I did my best to ignore. It had lushness to it, and sometimes my fingers craved to touch those strands. But not in an intimate way or, at least, that was what I told myself.
“Why are you still here?” I asked.
“Because... ” He adjusted his suit jacket and tightened his tie. This entire incident would've been easier to deal with if he hadn't been so damn gorgeous and knew it. He was also too damn cocky to understand how disrespectful he'd been.
“I feel like we should talk about this,” he said.
I snorted. “I feel like you should talk to a therapist.”
“Fine.” He displayed a wicked smile. “I already have a therapist that I talk to.”
“Good.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So then you should rush off and talk to your therapist today. Surely, you have some things to confess.”
“She knows I masturbate in your room. We're working on it.”
I tensed. “This is not the first time you've jacked off in my room?”
With a straight face, he admitted, “No. There've been a few times I've waited for you to leave and I came in your room, lay right here,” he pointed to my side of the bed, “and enjoyed myself.”
A shiver of fear ran up my spine and then warmed into irrational lust. I wasn’t used to this sensation of a war igniting within my body. Lust and disgust. Feelings of anger as his action stroked my ego because, in the end, he wanted me. Real bad. And no matter how I tried to push that thought out of my head, his ignorant desire ignited heat inside of my body where it had only been untouched and cold since moving in with Nick.
My fiancé will barely look at me these days, but here is his son, jacking off to me like a pervert. What the hell is going on with my life?
This entire situation was wrong and unethical. I’d heard rumors about Nick and Adrian, raunchy stories about how they shared women. I never thought Adrian was really that type of guy.
My relationship with Nick’s son had been a growing friendship. We’d recited Edgar Allan Poe, line by line, late into the evening one time. Just us sitting by the fire, sipping whiskey, and yelling out all of the dark poetry we’d remembered from our younger, dorkier days.
Oh God. I’d lead Adrian on, maybe. Being his friend wasn’t a good idea. I need to give us space.
I looked at Adrian. “You need to leave.”
“Sometimes when you go on your run, I sit on your bed and smell the sheets.” Adrian licked his lips. “I breathe you in, and then I can’t help but take my dick out and touch it.”
“Y-you definitely need to see someone.”
“I’m seeing someone.”
“A therapist?”
“I told you I was.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
Silence settled around us.
I leaned my weight onto one foot. “Are you going to be leaving or am I to wait for you to finish jacking off in my bedroom?”
He looked away. “I think we should talk.”
“We don’t need to.”
“I think we do.”
“Maybe you think we need to talk because you’re crazy.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to never—”
“Do your best? Never come in my room again. This is…I don't even know what to say. Don't do this again. You're invading my privacy—”
“With my dick.” He shoved me off the path I’d been verbally walking on.
“What? No. Not your dick.”
“So I'm not invading your room with my dick?”
“Fuck you, Adrian.”
“I already told you about that word.” He took a step forward.
Okay. Stern stepmom is not working. Now I need to pull up my big girl panties and whip his ass.
“Adrian, you come near me, and I'll dig your balls out of your groin.”
He covered his crotc
h.
Good boy.
“And I'm telling your father about this. It's outrageous.” I stormed out of my room, realized I only had a towel on and returned to my space. “Okay. Please, get out of my bedroom.”
“Yes, Mommy,” he muttered.
“Fuck you, Adrian.”
He headed out. “I'm sorry, Carmen. I shouldn't have done this.”
“Just go.”
“I really am sorry.” He turned around and backed out. “I went too far. How can I solve this?”
I slammed the door in his face.
“I'm sorry,” he called out on the other side. “I could buy you some new shorts if you would like. Tighter ones, of course.”
“Fuck you, Adrian.”
“Okay.”
I stood there, leaned into the surface, and hoped I would hear his footsteps going away. Quiet greeted my ears.
I called out, “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” he called back like a loon.
I frowned. “Why?”
“I–I'm not a pervert. Well...okay. I am a pervert, but I'm not like one of those rapist type of perverts.”
“Okay,” I yelled back. “Note to self, Adrian is a special type of pervert.”
“Exactly! I’m the harmless kind of pervert.”
“Great. I’m comforted in that.”
“Carmen—”
“There is nothing else for us to discuss. All of this is for your therapist and you to figure out.”
“Carmen, I don't hurt women, but I do act differently where you're concerned. I’ve done some weird things since meeting you.”
“Please tell me there isn’t more to confess.”
“Look. I’m a bit more odd when you’re around.”
“That doesn’t make me comfortable in the least.”
“Me either. That’s why I sought therapy.”
I didn't say anything. What did one say after all that had already occurred?
Adrian’s footsteps sounded as he probably headed off to his room that was only three doors down.
I scanned my lavish bedroom for any more signs of Adrian’s nastiness. The door to my walk-in closet remained closed. Nothing else appeared disturbed. The thick, ivory carpet only displayed my footprints. The crimson red blankets on my bed had not been disturbed, nor my jewelry covered dresser.