"Oh, he wants you alright, Cass," Stacy says for what must have been the twentieth time. She must hope that the more often she says it, the higher the probability I'll start believing it, and she is right. Lifting my glass for another sip of the vile substance that is giving me the courage I need to just have this conversation, I steel myself against the vile taste and drink because I want to believe she is right, and that isn't going to happen without some help. The booze is like magic, burning my throat as it goes down, leaving me feeling mellow and high on words that I'd never expected him to say. He thinks I'm beautiful, lalala, I sing with my inner voice while allowing Stacy’s words to wash over me.
The more Stacy talks, and the more I drink, the more I can convince myself that she is right. So what if he’s my stepbrother? Who cares! I mean, he isn't blood related, and if he wasn't my step than it would be alright anyway. So why wouldn't it be now? Still, I can't imagine he could fall for a skinny girl like me. Not a guy like him. My stud, I think and giggle.
"He has the hots for every girl," I say with a slight slur and too loud. I say it just so Stacy can reassure me that she is right and I'm wrong.
"I never saw him look at a girl the way he looks at you," she says and takes a swig from a bottle Coke. She refuses to join in on getting shitfaced, convinced she needs her sobriety to help solve my stepbrother-issue once and for all. "Ready to jump you, to give you a good pounding." She makes a face and sound like a cat, clawing in the air, and I start laughing.
I laugh until tears stream down my face, images flashing by of him: his eyes on me and the feel of his body against mine. Warmth rises to the surface to spread all over, and I feel great. For the first time in ages, I feel happy and alive. But I'm drunk, and the small part of sobriety that I have left tries to warn me that fantasy isn't reality.
"Shame I never saw him look at me like that."
"Hopeless," Stacy declares, shaking her head.
"Truth. I think we need a taxi," I say reluctantly, not really wanting to leave.
"No, you need to get laid," Stacy says, in a matter-of-fact way. Smart and perceptive Stacy. My voice sticks in my throat and my virgin pussy throbs at the thought of it as my nipples tighten. "And I know just the guy for the job."
God, she makes it sound so vulgar and cheap. But it has an effect. The memory of the feel of his hard cock pressing against my ass returns and my pussy spasms longingly. Excitedly. The only thing stopping me from getting up is that I like the haze I'm in, and I’m afraid to do something that might lead me straight back to Heartache City.
"I'm just going to lie here and snore," I say. Taking another sip, I make a face. But the bitterness is forgotten the moment he comes staggering out the backdoor, a girl in his arms who is beautiful, all smiles and giggles. That and dressed to seduce. I hate her already.
"Slut," I hear myself say. Jealousy and disappointment hits me, and I want to throw my glass at them both when I see his arm around her waist. That should be my waist, the silly girl in me screams, my heart breaking when he brings his face close for a kiss. But then his face changes when he notices me. Blinking hard and fast, as if trying to wake up from his drunken haze.
"Cass," Stacy says tentatively, her hand on my arm, but I'm not listening. Breaking away, I get up. Not thinking, not even aware of the tears in my eyes or the stares I get, I walk up to him.
"Pig," I snap, our faces almost touching and my teeth bared in a snarl. Then the nausea hits and instead of striding off with at least a figment of pride intact, I double over and throw up all over a flower arrangement that I bet looked great in daylight.
Stephan
Grateful that all the lights are off, I enter like a thief in the night. Taking my shoes off, I sneak to my room, holding my breath. After rushing away, frustrated and angry, I did what any idiot does: I drank myself into a stupor. Enough to forget for a moment why I'd decided that getting drunk was a good idea. But one look at Cassandra brought it all back. One look at her heartbroken expression, that is. That was enough to sober up.
Feeling like a total dick when she threw her guts up, I only made it worse by lamely offering a ride home. That's when Stacy slapped me in the face, nailing me with unadulterated anger, asking me sarcastically if I didn't think I'd done enough damage already. So, I stayed. Watched Stacy recruit help from some guys to put Cassandra in her car and watched them drive off feeling empty. I left right after, not caring about the looks and whispers.
We sure gave them something to gossip about, and gossip they will. They'd be crazy not to. Nothing ever happens in this shit town. Taking the long route to postpone entering what feels like a lion's den, I waited outside the house for several smokes before finally entering.
The house is as silent as it is dark, and I'm grateful for it. But that all changes when I enter my room. I'm not alone. She is there. Bathing in moonlight. Fuck. My heart shifts into high gear when I see her, her hair still wet from what I presume was a drunken shower, and it only serves to intensify my shame. But then again, what was I supposed to do? Call her ugly? She isn't. She's perfect.
She snores lightly and for some stupid ass reason I find it endearing, her chest rising and falling gently beneath the sheet that is loosely wrapped around her, and I'm caught between the impulse to leave and the desire to stay. So I stay, frozen in place next to my bed, and watch her in her sleep, my cock hardening fast when I can't help but imagine what it would be like to slide my hand under the sheet, her flesh warm and smooth against mine.
I don't know how long I stand there but I know it was a big fucking mistake to stay and watch when I take off my shoes and lie down beside her, fully dressed, too drunk to care about consequences. Trying not to wake her, I hold my breath when she moves and—to my joy and horror—rests her face against my chest, my heart burning. Fast asleep, she snuggles up against me, draping one slender leg over mine and her belly against my painfully restricted hard on.
Not thinking about what I'm doing, I place an arm around her shoulder and realize that she is even more beautiful in her sleep then she is awake. Relaxed and innocent, the finely chiseled features free of the stress that is always there when awake. I feel bad when I think that I'm probably the cause of that, and wonder what she was like before I came into her life. Carefree? At least not having to put up with the coldness I throw her way.
Eyeing the alarm, I promise myself I'll leave in fifteen, leave her to her beauty sleep. I'll go and crash on the couch and tomorrow I'll try again to stop fucking things up. But each time my fifteen minutes are up, I postpone.
"You sure look gorgeous, girl," I finally whisper, my voice strange in the silence that is wrapped around us. "Sure wish you were mine," I add with a sigh. My heart stops when I see Cassandra open her eyes. They twinkle and tell me I've been had.
Cassandra
If I hadn't been such a mess, I'm certain Stacy could never have talked me into this. But being a mess, it was easy for her to pressure me into this insane plan of hers. After convincing me that she is right and I'm wrong—"Your stud is as much of a moral knight as you. If you weren't his stepsister, he'd be all over you. Trust me, for once. That look on his face he had? You'd have to be blind not to see what he's going through."—and then convincing me that he isn't really family, it became easy to envision Stephan as fair game. Of course, thinking of it as a last ditch effort didn't hurt. Not that I didn't protest.
"Are you certain this is a good idea?" I asked hesitantly after along shower that cleaned me up but did little to regain full sobriety.
"Cass?" Stacy said, hands on her hips, giving me that look. The one that tells me she thinks I'm slightly insane. She's given me that look on too many occasions for me to not know what it means. I know I’ll give in after a long and lengthy protest, or I can just give in now and save time. But this is totally different. So I protested. She protested right back, and there was the memory of him pressed against my body again, the memory of his warm breath on my skin, and the smell of musk and booze and cigaret
tes. Between all that and my heart desires, I never stood a chance.
"I still think this is insane."
"Let me tell you what’s insane," Stacy said, brushing away strands of hair from my face, concern in her eyes like I'd never seen before. "Going on like this as if nothing is the matter."
I didn't have to argue with that. Still.
"What?" Stacy asked when I didn't reply. Sitting on my bed, my best friend facing me and my hands in hers, I swallowed hard and sighed. Taking another moment before bringing up another topic that I'd have preferred to avoid, I knew she had me convinced when I said, “You know how I, eh, never…" I trailed off, my face burning.
"Oh, that!" Stacy blurted, obviously relieved that it was nothing serious. Not to her, at least. I wish I could share that view.
Yeah, oh that. The virgin thing. Not that we haven't talked about it. It just never seemed as much of a thing as it does now when maybe her crazy-as-hell plan might actually work. "Your day will come, girl," she always said. "No worries. And it will be magic. Not like mine. That one was a disaster. Almost put me off sex forever."
"Looks like your day has come," Stacy said, and I can't help but smile.
"Jeez thanks for making it sound so romantic," I said. But the excitement was there and growing fast. Heat was building between my legs, as intense as the beating of my heart. The same heart that I've tried to no avail to command not to dwell on doomsday scenarios while I lay waiting in his bed, as per Stacy's instructions. What if he kicked me out of his room? What if he offered me that smirk of his? But he didn't. He lay down beside me instead.
"Hey, no worries. You got this, I tell you. He's got it as bad for you as you for him, all you have to do is refuse to take no for an answer." She made it sound so simple.
"Right," I said, wanting to believe her. I was grateful the effect of the booze hadn't worn off yet; I was certain that if it had, this conversation wouldn't be taking place.
That's how I ended in Stephan's bed tonight, not mine. In my sexiest pajamas, if I'd had my way, not that I have sexy pajamas. Of course, Stacy talked me out of that too. "You don't fuck with your panties and bra on, girl," she said all sage-wise. So, I'm as naked as the day I was born. When Stephan lay down beside me, I was ready to stroke out. Sweating, my heart palpitating, and wetter than ever.
"And remember, all is fair in love and war."
"Got it," I said, wondering if I'd run to my room after she'd left or if I'd be crazy enough to stay.
"And take pictures, OK? I have it from a reliable source that he's hung. Like, really hung. Lucky girl." If she hadn't winked, I'd have sworn she was serious. Instead of telling her that I already knew he was hung, I just grinned back self-consciously, pulling the sheet up to my chin.
"And if he panics, you just say you were so drunk that you entered the wrong room." The excuse that I needed to push me over the line and go along with Stacy’s insane plan.
"Right. All is fair in love and war, refuse to take no for an answer, and present a field report to the commanding officer in the morning. Note to self: include pictures. Anything else, Ma'am?"
"Just a really happy face in the morning."
Well, I don't know I look right now, our eyes locked, his blood engorged member pressed against my thigh, but I do know how he looks. Shocked. Speechless. And with desire burning at the center of his eyes. Gorgeous as always, with his lips dangerously close. Unable not to, I lick my lips in anticipation of tasting him.
I'd actually dozed off a bit when I heard him enter his bedroom. But hearing the door open and close, adrenaline entered my system and my heart pounded so badly that I feared he might hear it when he drew in his breath sharp. Praying for a miracle, I didn't semi-relax until he'd lain down beside me, the familiar scent of musk, nicotine and booze filling my nostrils and my foolish heart swelling. It was booze induced courage that made me cuddle up against him, a pang of excitement shooting through my pussy when I felt him grow hard against me, my nipples tightening.
At that point, Stacy would probably have opened her eyes wide and said something Stacy-like. Something like, "So, are you going to fuck me or are you just going to stare?" But I'm not Stacy. Not even when I'm a tad intoxicated and hopelessly love struck. I know my way around books, and I have a self-imposed study-schedule that has put me at the top of my class, but when it comes to painfully handsome guys with hard cocks, I'm in Terra Incognita. An explorer charting new ground. I could use some help here, but I already know that I'm on my own unless my stepbrother decides to lead the way.
So I didn't open my eyes. Instead I savored the feel of him against me, high on the warmth in my chest and the growing heat between my legs. And I would have been happy just to have that experience. But then he said the magical words, "You sure look gorgeous, girl." A loaded sigh following. Altogether telling me that I'm not a silly girl after all. Then I struck gold. "I sure wish you were mine."
He could deny it, but that would be all it was. Denial. Behind that facade of disinterest, he wants the girl he's holding and now I know it for certain.
Our eyes bore into each other for an eternity, as if hammering out a silent agreement that we aren't ready yet to formulate out loud. And then it happens, without a single word spoken, his head comes down and our lips collide. He tastes exactly like he smells: manly. And there is nothing timid about the way his tongue claims mine or the way I welcome his kiss. Hungry and almost desperate at first, hard, the fear of rejection still lingering in the background. I hear myself moan and press myself hard against him and the bulge that I'm running a fever for. Sliding his hand down my back, he rolls on top of me, and his hips push down as if he wants to fuck me through the sheet. I push my hips up just as hard; it is like we are trying to merge physically, and our kiss becomes a slow dance.
It isn't until we break our kiss that I notice the tears that are running. But they are the good kind of tears to shed: tears of happiness and relief. Running my hand over his cheek, I smile and savor the sexy feel of his stubble, and I'm flooded by another dose of hormones that I don't need. Putting me in a state of need that almost painful, the fire burning between my legs spreading until I feel like I'm running a fever.
Stephan's sexy voice is even deeper and lower than usual when he says my name, and I wrap my arms around his back and my legs around his waist. The intensity in his eyes sends a pang of fear to the surface, only to be followed fast by lust. The virgin in me isn't certain she is ready for the guy who conquers women like Ghengis Khan conquered lands: without mercy and never looking back.
We kiss again and it is just like the first: hungry and greedy, leaving me clinging to him as if for life itself, grinding my hips against the bulge that moves in response. The scent of my sex penetrates the air to mix with the scent of musk and booze and cigarettes, my moans and his deep breathing bouncing off the walls while our lips and tongues and limbs explore each other. Our parents are fast asleep under the same roof as we indulge in our forbidden desire for each other.
We come up for air again and I want to ask him if he loves me or if I'm just another girl. But he kisses me again, with a passion that equals mine, before I can utter a single word. The last remains of uncertainty burned away, I roll on top of him, the sheet falling away to reveal myself at my most vulnerable. His hard on pressed against my swollen lips through his jeans.
Stephan
The small voice of my conscience yells at me to run, but it’s hardly any competition for the feelings that hold me captive: love and lust. I'm no stranger to the later, but I am to the former. Together, they make me want her in a way that I've never wanted anyone before, and it’s giving me pause. If it weren't for that, I'd have already torn the sheet away and spread her legs wide in front of me.
Blown away by her nakedness, radiant, she bents forward. Wrapping her fingers in my hair she kisses me, her breasts pressed against my chest as her tongue, fresh and smooth, plays with mine. Her moans increase when I cup her ass and push my hips up, for a reward she p
resses herself ever harder down. Ignoring how wrong this is, I hold her head in my hands and drag the kiss out for as long as I can, until the voice of my conscience has been swamped by the warmth in my chest and the lust in my damn loins. For once I don't want to think about consequences. For once I don't want to run from the woman I love.
"No," I say when Cassandra pulls away. I want to keep her close, but don't. This is her call to make. Her cheeks flushed, she looks like an angel in the moonlight, her eyes shining bright when she sits up and rocks her body slowly. My eyes narrowing, I grunt and my cock stirs when our eyes meet.
Unable not to, I buck my hips and watch how she arches her back, throwing her head back. Eyes closed, a high pitched moan escapes from her between her soft lips and my hands shoot up with a will of their own to grab her tits, which shake so invitingly. My thumbs circle around the hard nipples and Cassandra moans again, and bites her lower lip, her beautiful face a mask of barely contained lust. The rocking of her hips over my bulge speeds up, her eyes tightly closed and her blush spreading down to her neck.
My eyes travel down her flat belly almost hesitantly, and my conscience returns with a vengeance when I see the red and swollen lips that are crowned by a little tuff of blonde hair, reminding me how fucked up this is.
Cassandra
Telling myself not to think about what I'm doing, I feel great. Better than great. Like I'm high on hormones and my heart dancing in my chest. Sweat beads run down my temples as pleasure builds between my legs the longer I grind my leaking honey pot over Stephan's hard on. But I want more and my heart jumps when I realize that we are really going to do it.
Opening my eyes, one look at the set jaw and the furrow between his eyebrows is enough to know Stephan is fighting himself. Fighting to contain his desires for me, and my heart warms even more. No, I'm definitely not just a girl to him. He'd have already claimed me if I were. Stacy was right, and she will never let me forget it. That is good enough for a smile to break through. It all makes sense now, his behavior, and I'm overjoyed that he isn't the contemptuous asshole that I always thought he was. It was all an act to protect me from him. To scare me away.
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