Stepbrother Tormentor 2 of 2
Page 6
I can't say I'd blame him if he were to reject me, I'm his stepsister after all. And I'm certain that despite having turned eighteen last month, he probably still can only perceive me as the girl he met for the first time only three years ago, not the young woman that I've become.
So yeah, I know where I stand and what I'm up against. I'm also ready to throw all my resources in the mix to come out as the winner, his heart the trophy that I'm after. All false modesty aside, I know I'm hot. The kind of hot that makes guys, and some girls too, do a double take when I walk in the room. At five feet and five inches, I'm not exactly what you'd call tall, but I have curves that more than make up for it, all thanks to mom passing her killer genes on to me.
Genes that express themselves in the form of a classical hour shaped figure with the kind of tits and ass that make girls envious and guys drool, and me proud. Add to that a thick mane of dark red hair that I just spend over an hour on trying to get just right, a pair of bright blue eyes that can't help but sparkle, and a pair of full lips that emit the passion and sensuality that I would love to unleash on him, and you have a package of pure teenage sexiness that I am counting on to help me get what I want.
For convenience's sake, I'm ignoring the fact that so far Jimmy has treated that same package with a coolness that is off putting. Other than that, my aching heart is providing me with the courage that I consider my biggest ace. The courage that allows me to dress up more shamelessly than I've ever done before just to show off what could be his if he wants it, all with the hope that once I have that killer body of his secured, his heart will surrender too.
"Sis, you coming?" Jimmy yells from the foot of the stairs, my heart skipping a beat when I think about what I'm setting out to do. Part of me loves that he took up the habit of calling me Sis from day one, another part cringes. If only he knew that I want to be to something far different to him than just his stepsister.
"I'm coming," I yell back, instinctively thrusting my chest out as I give myself one last look in the mirror. I'm wearing a pair of cut off jeans that hug my hips and bubble ass like a second skin and a low cut pink tank top that allows me to display my flat stomach, as well as a serious case of cleavage, and my favorite Nikes.
Sweeping my hair to one side for what feels like the hundred time, I scrutinize the curvy locks that frame my face and cascade down one shoulder, and the lips that are painted a rouge that the add promotes as "uniquely decadent", a perfect match to the deep blush that are a permanent facial feature these days whenever Jimmy is around. Deciding that I look as seductive as I can get, my confidence receives the little boost I need to offset the pounding of my heart and the way my stomach is tied into knots.
"Well, hurry up, will you? I don't want us to be late," Jimmy yells. Me neither, but I am so nervous that part of me wants to hide and pretend I am not feeling what I am feeling. Fake being indifferent to him, not dying on the inside to reach out and wrap my arms around him, our lips touching. But faking indifference is not an option, I wish.
A final deep breath and I tear my eyes away from the mirror, assuring myself I have every reason to feel confident. With legs that feel weak and hands that have a tremble to them, I leave my bedroom, determined to make it happen. We are supposed to meet friends at the mall for a movie. With a little luck, we'll never get there.
The thought of having Jimmy all to myself in a luxurious suite is more to my liking.