I wish he’d open up to me a little more. He’s gotten better at it, but he still maintains that dominant silent presence, like he’s afraid it’ll hurt his image. What image? It’s just me, for Christ’s sake. The pilot spoke to us before heading up towards the front and now we’re rolling down the runway in the luxurious private jet Scott calls his own.
It’s got plush tan leather seats with benches in certain sections and even a fairly large screen to watch movies on. It’s off, though. Scott doesn’t often like watching TV. We’ll be there in about five hours Scott says, and then he puts on his headphones and closes his eyes. I wonder if he’s really tired or if he’s choosing to ignore me. I don’t blame him, I shouldn’t have hit him. He’d never hit me.
But he can sure be a fucking dick sometimes.
Then the plane bumps up and we’re flying up into the sky. It’s gray and cloudy and I wonder when the sun will start to shine. Probably in a few hours once we get out west. Yeah, that’ll be nice. I bite my lip and wish Scott would talk to me. I nudge him on the shoulder and smile at him as he peeks at me out of the corner of his eye. He looks so handsome like that, and I like seeing him in casual clothes. He rarely wears them.
He’s got on a button up tee shirt with a small collar and blue jeans on. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him in jeans in years and it’s kind of weird to be honest. I don’t know if I like it but he sure looks good in them. He’s even wearing boots – some expensive looking kind of custom made work boots. He crosses his legs and turns his head to me.
“What?” He asks softly.
“Sorry I hit you.”
“It’s alright.” He says, and he means it.
We’re thousands of feet in the air now and the grayness has been replaced by white billowing clouds that look like. Then the sky turns orange and I can see the sun which had been hidden above all the grayness. It’s gorgeous. Scott’s lip presses softly against my cheek and I turn to him. He’s staring at me with lustful eyes and I know he surely can’t be horny again.
“If we weren’t on this plane I’d fuck you right now.”
“Why can’t you anyway? It’s your plane.”
“One of the pilots might come out and check on us.” He says matter of factly.
“Oh.”
“Why don’t you try to get some rest,” He says without asking, “California’s three hours behind us. It’ll barely be later than it is now once we arrive there, and I plan on taking you out tonight.”
I nod silently and smile at him, feeling distant still. I don’t like it. I wonder what he’s thinking of me and if he’s planning on leaving me or something. Then I remind myself that I’m stuck with him for a week so he’s certainly not planning to leave me. He wouldn’t have brought me if he was planning that.
I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the plane around us. Music plays lightly in the speakers; some kind of relaxing ambient sound that sounds more like water than instruments. It does the trick, and I focus intensely on it as I feel my eyelids growing heavier and heavier. I’m out soon after that.
Chapter 10
Scott
We’re in Los Angeles and got there sooner than expected by about thirty minutes. My limousine was there upon arrival and we crawl in while the driver loads our luggage into the trunk. He slams it loudly shut and hops into the front seat and peers back at me. He puts on a confused face. I don’t like the guy, never did. Maybe he thinks I don’t tip him well enough even though I always give him ten crisp hundreds each time he picks me up.
“Where to?” He asks dumbly.
“You don’t remember?” I ask slowly, “Malibu…”
He cuts me off, “Yeah, yeah. I know the house. I remember now.”
He remembered the whole time but just acted like I wasn’t worth remembering. Fool.
He drives us bumpily and carelessly like most LA drivers. You about have to be inconsiderate, however, because the fucking traffic. We careen down the highway in the fast lane and zig zag through cars as I hold calmly onto the oh shit handlebar above the door’s window. After twenty five minutes of hell the driver makes it to the Pacific Coast Highway and we start plowing down the sloping bridge until we get on the highway itself.
Traffic is crawling at a snail’s pace and I look over at Miranda and admire her beauty. She doesn’t give herself enough credit; she’s fucking gorgeous. Big lips, pale skin, silky hair with lots of volume. I could fuck her right now if I was horny enough – she’d certainly give it to me without hesitation. I could fuck anyone I wanted to at any moment, but all I want is her.
“Good flight?” The driver breaks the awkward silence as we sit in the snail-like congestion.
“Yeah,” I say shortly, “Quick. Felt quicker than this shit.”
He scrunches his brow together as if I’ve offended him and doesn’t say anything. Good, I like when he doesn’t speak. I smile to myself as we pass another collision, and then traffic picks up again. I find myself twisting my neck to look back and see if anyone was hurt. It doesn’t look like it; just a little fender bender. Both drivers were on the road screaming at one another. This time I don’t feel like yelling anything out the window.
After that it’s only ten minutes until we pull up to my Malibu home which sits nestled right on the beach in an area known as Billionaire’s Beach. Fun name, perfectly suited for me.
“Have a nice time in LA, sir.” The driver says hoarsely, and then he perks up a little. He’s unloaded our luggage on the porch and he’s waiting for his tip. I pull out my wallet and hand him nine hundred instead of the usual thousand.
“I’m a little short today, hope that cuts it.” I clench my teeth together in a phony smile.
The piece of shit has the nerve to actually count the money in front of me. When he gets to the last bill he pauses and then gets a funny look on his stupid face. He quickly recounts the bills and then opens his mouth to speak but closes it quickly. He wipes the sweat from his forehead and makes a little grunting noise and then storms towards his limousine and slams the door shut once he’s inside. I smile to myself and feel pretty good about my decision. I still gave the ungrateful bastard a big tip.
I watch him peel off and kick dust from his tires in our direction, still smiling at him. Then I wave like a dick and shift my gaze to Miranda once the car is out of sight. She’s staring at me with a warm smile on her face, yet also a curious one.
“I just don’t like him. Don’t ask.” I say bluntly.
I pick up her bags and carry them in both arms up the steps, heaving them up so they don’t get stuck on the stone stairs and breathing like an out of shape bastard even though I’m in great condition and have the chiseled body to prove it. The fuck did the woman bring in these suitcases? Bricks?
“Wow,” She finally says, “Quite a view.”
I set the suitcases down on the porch and walk over to where she is, at the corner of the porch. The ocean’s tide barrels in quickly and ravenously.
“Wait til you see the other side.”
We take the bags inside and leave them by the front door which I close before pouring myself a glass of water. I sip it lightly and watch Miranda’s curves bouncing up and down as she walks towards the ocean view. She steps out onto the porch and holds her arms out wide and lets out a big burst of laughter. I cringe, slightly. What’s so great about this? I ask myself.
Then I step out onto the porch of the thirty million dollar home and remember. I shake myself a little as I suddenly realize how much fucking money I have, and the fact that it bothers me disturbs me greatly. You should be used to this by now, Scott. It’s not that fucking special.
I set my glass down on the stone railing and smile as I look over at her, “It’s quite special, isn’t it?” I ask.
“That’s saying it lightly.” She laughs.
“Come inside,” I say, “I want to show you the house.”
I take her in and give her the tour of the house. I’m proud of myself when I say it’s the
first girlfriend I’ve given a tour to. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had other girls in there… But they were just whores from one night stands. Those playboy days are over. For now I’m just with… Oh god that sounds so wrong… I’m just with my stepsister.
Don’t let her get to you so much, Scott. You’re turning into a bitch.
We sit down on the leather sofa and flip on the television. Miranda lies on my lap with her head pressed firmly against my crotch and I stroke her hair as I light a cigar. It’s hard not to get a stiffy with her mouth so close to my cock, but I refrain myself from doing so. It’s not all about fucking, anyway. It’s about you and me, babe.
She suddenly looks up at me and her warm loving look drowns out the sound of both the television’s noisy weather report and the waves out the window. Her eyes are soft and look like they could be fake. They’re slightly watery and dilated; the big blues disappearing in an expansion of darkness as the pupils stretch out.
I lean down and press my lips against hers. My tongue rolls out into her mouth and presses against hers. I swirl it around and feel her lips tightening against mine, and then she’s twisting onto her stomach and grabbing for my dick.
Before I know it she’s riding me; bouncing up and down on my throbbing cock as I thrust my waist up and down and grit my teeth. Her tits bounce up and down and I slide my tongue out and caress the nipples each time they pass me, then I shove my face between the voluptuous breasts and squeeze them around it so that I can barely breathe.
She’s fucking wonderful. She’s the best.
“Suck my cock.” I mutter.
Her mouth opens on command and she swallows me whole. I have to steady myself as I damn near buckle my knees and fall backwards. Her lips tighten around my and her tongue swirls around the base of my shaft as she goes back and forth with her sweet wet mouth. After a moment I pull away, feeling like I’m about to fucking come already.
Not yet, I tell myself.
I walk around her curvy body and stop once I get to her backside. My mouth is dripping saliva as I stare at her big cheeks which are practically begging for a fucking tongue. I crouch down quickly and slide my tongue across her cheeks and then into her crotch where I tongue fuck her pussy for a moment before rising to my knees and mounting her from behind. This is where the collar comes in handy.
I reach for the two loops and grab onto them with both hands, clenching my jawline in dominance as I pull her head back and listen to her moans, “Tell me what the fuck you want, baby.” I rasp.
“You cock, master.” She moans.
“That’s good,” I say, “That’s real fucking good.”
I slip the rubber on and then thrust myself viciously inside of her and feel my heart thumping a mile a minute. My cock is throbbing harder than before and I’m pounding her senseless as she digs her nails onto the couch and uses the other hand for leverage on the smooth marble floor. I ram into her harder and harder with each thrust and pull back on her hair until her moans have a vibrating quality that echo throughout the room.
“Yes…” She mutters, “Fuck yesssss.”
She wants me to own her, and in those moments I do. She wants me to be her master, and in those moments I am. She wants me to seed her, but I refrain from doing so…. It’s not time for that, don’t get careless, Scott.
I pummel myself forward into her warm pussy which drips juices all over my crotch. She feels so hot, so wet… Even her body is drenched in a thick layer of sweat that drives me fucking wild. I grow harder than ever as I fuck the hell out of her and then I pull her hair back with tremendous effort one handed as I spank her big ass cheek with my other hand.
Her body twitches and she begins to come, and so do I.
“Fuck.” I moan through the orgasmic climax.
Chapter 11
Miranda
He’s amazing. He just is. It keeps getting better and better and I hope he knows how much I like it. I don’t want him to hold back. I want him to be my master and I want to be at his beckon call during those times. His cock is… I don’t know how to describe it, but I know it’s perfect.
I’m watching him rest on the couch. He’s dozing lightly but doing it in an ever so soft manner. Scott never snores, and he sleeps so soundly, but if I said a word right now his eyes would open and he’d glance back at me. I half want to, half don’t. He needs his rest before we go out tonight.
I walk towards the kitchen as carefully as I can but then I hear his voice speak softly, “Where are you going, sweets?”
Sweets. I love when he calls me that.
“Getting a drink and a snack, if you have anything like that.” I say.
“No, hold off on that. We’re going out in a few. In fact,” He yawns, “I need to get some clothes on.”
Just stay fucking naked, you look incredible. He stands up and stretches his muscular arms out as I stare at his cute little ass. He’s so lean and nimble, and so physically fit. I wonder where we’re going and what it’s going to be like. I wonder what he’s thinking at this very moment. I wish I knew, but I don’t, and maybe I never will.
He’s a fucking mystery to me and I love it.
He steps into the bathroom and I hear the shower run for a few minutes, then I hear the squeaky knob turning it off and a few seconds later he’s back in the living room toweling himself dry.
“You don’t need to throw anything crazy on, we’re just going to a restaurant down the road. It’s nice, but don’t overdress.”
“Okay,” I say, “Can I wear my slacks.”
“No, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t like those slacks?” He pauses as he ruffles his hair with the towel, “In fact, I’m going to buy you some new slacks this week. A whole week’s worth of them. Tight and form fitting. You don’t show your cute ass off enough.”
I laugh, “You want other guys to see it?”
He pauses and looks at me sternly, “Sure. What does it matter to me? I know they can’t get in your pants because you’ve got me.”
“Babe, I was kidding.”
He ignores me, “Wear that blue dress; the aqua one. It’s the one that fits tight around your waist, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“Good.”
****
We’re at the restaurant down the road, and he wasn’t kidding when he said it was literally down the road. He’s shaking hands with people as we walk to our table and looks annoyed, but he’s hiding it well with a fake smile. He’s so good at those, but I always know when he’s faking it. Others don’t seem to, or they don’t mind. Either way, it doesn’t matter does it?
The hostess seats us and gives us our menus. I glance at the prices and do a double take. Christ, I couldn’t imagine dining in a place like this a week ago. I look at the menu and can’t decide what I want. The dishes are so fancy that they’re practically in another language to me. Scott notices this and sets his menu down and then waves the waiter over.
“We’ll start with scallops, and we’ll both be having the Lobster thermidue for our entrees.” He says coldly.
The waiter nods his head and bows before walking off. I watch Scott and notice his expression is stern and cold. I wonder what’s eating him and why he’s being so moody lately. Then I remind myself that he’s always like this and that I know exactly what’s eating him. Me.
You’re breaking his demeanor and he doesn’t know how to handle it. He doesn’t know what to do and he doesn’t feel like he’s in complete control.
“Are you okay, Scott?” I ask.
He smiles, “Never better, Miranda.”
“Order a drink with me.”
“You know I retired from drinking.”
“Come on.”
Scott slams his fist on the table loud enough to startle me but not loud enough for anyone else to notice. I stare at him wide eyed and frightful. What did I do?
“I told you I can’t drink.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it…”
“It’s fi
ne. Drop it, babe,” He smiles warmly at me, “I knew you were struggling with the dish so I ordered for you.”
Before I can say anything a woman walks up. She’s tall, thin, and as blonde as one could be, with blue eyes similar to mine and a figure much better. Scott ignores her until she taps him on the shoulder, completely ignoring me. I feel my blood starting to boil and I wonder who this is.
Scott glances back and his eyes don’t change. He seems to be unphased despite the woman’s unannounced and sudden presence. Who is this bitch?
“Jessica, how are you?” He asks.
“Good, I thought you’d never be back in California!” She smiles and reaches down to kiss him. Her lips press his cheek and I do everything I can to stop myself from hurtling over the table and tackling the slut. Does she not see me? Helloooo, bitch, I’m right here.
“Well, you know. Business.” Scott says.
Is he ever going to introduce me?
He doesn’t have to. The woman eyeballs me for a moment and then asks, “Who’s this?” In a cold tone.
Scott glances at me and smiles, “This is my girlfriend, Miranda.”
Stepbrother: No Boundaries Page 4