by S. E. Law
Eventually I throw my sheets off and get up, but that doesn’t happen until after noon. I’m always tired the night after, and I went hard with the curvy girl. Thinking back, I’m a little surprised Frankie was able to keep up with me. I finger comb my hair and pull on some clothes before heading downstairs to catch up on emails and orders - the boring business stuff that no one talks about. That’s the downside to being in the position I’m in: there’s no getting away from the work, even when I’m on vacation.
I’m not hungover, and this is the type of busy work that I would normally be able to get done in a flash, so I’m a little surprised when I look up at the living room clock to see that it’s almost two p.m., and I haven’t even finished reading my emails yet. My mind just isn’t in it. I keep thinking back to the way Frankie’s body felt beneath mine: so soft, so perfect, almost like we were made for each other. The way her silky brown hair felt in my hands, the way I got lost in her dark eyes, as shiny and dark as oceans…
What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m seriously losing it, but the rest of the day is like that. Work that would normally be a breeze feels like a slog. The more I try to put Frankie out of my mind, the more she comes creeping back in. There’s no escaping it. Eventually I decide to throw in the towel, closing my laptop and heading to the kitchen to find a snack.
I have the refrigerator door halfway open when my dad George strides into the kitchen, dressed in a dapper suit.
“Hunter?” He stares at me, brow furrowed. “You’re not dressed yet.”
“Huh?” I look back at him, shutting the fridge. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you forgot.” He runs a hand through his silver hair, groaning. “The dinner? With my fiancée? Did I not tell you?”
Shit. That dinner.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You told me. I just forgot.” Forgot? When do I ever forget things? My head feels like it’s all over the place today. “Let me put something on. I’ll be a flash.”
George nods.
“Thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t remind you. Try to look your best, okay? Gertrude means a lot to me, and her daughter’s going to be there too. We Martin men want to make a good impression.”
“Right,” I say, barely even paying attention. I’m kicking myself for having let it slip my mind like this. My dad told me when I first got into town that he’d met someone while I was away. At first, I dismissed it as another fling, one of many he’s had since he and Mom divorced a long time ago. But then he told me that he’d gotten engaged to Gertrude. Maybe I’m still a little pissed off that he decided to go find himself a fiancée so fast. But is my annoyance really over that? Or am I just reeling over what happened last night?
Food forgotten, I hurry upstairs and pull on a dress shirt and slacks. It’s the best that I can manage in a rush. Taking a minute to run my hands through my hair before I go, I tromp back down the stairs to meet Dad, who’s waiting in the entryway. He sweeps me with his eyes and gives me a brisk nod.
“You look nice. Thank you. This is important to me.”
I smile and nod, wondering if he might actually be serious. The truth is, I think I got so used to George being divorced from Mom that the idea of him marrying someone else seems foreign now. I climb into the passenger seat of his Range Rover and we start heading across town to the restaurant. The whole time, I keep reminding myself to put last night’s party - and Frankie - out of my mind. There will be another party sooner or later, another hookup, and I’ll forget all about the curvy girl. Right?
“You seem quiet,” Dad observes as we pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, a little Italian bistro that probably takes reservations several months in advance.
I shake my head, smiling at him.
“Sorry. I’m just a little tired.”
“Another one of your get-togethers?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. At this point I’m past keeping secrets from him, especially when I’m living at home again, but I’ve never gotten around to telling him just what kind of “partying” I’m into.
I chuckle, looking away and changing the subject.
“So tell me about this fiancée of yours.”
He nods towards the restaurant.
“She’s real nice. You’ll like her. Her name’s Gertrude, as I’ve mentioned before, and I met her after my newest development opened.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, “Her daughter’s a little younger than you, I think. Hopefully you two will get along.”
“Yeah, me too,” I agree, brushing it off. It’s becoming clear that I’m not going to be able to concentrate, so I open my door. “Well, I guess we’d better not keep them waiting, right?”
“No,” Dad says, smiling. “I guess not.”
I follow him across the parking lot, hands tucked into my pockets, feeling a little like a kid again. We reach the restaurant, and a smiling hostess escorts us to a table in the back. We’re apparently the first to arrive, so we order drinks and chat for a few minutes, my distracted mind already casting back to last night.
I’m just getting ready to order another wine when I see Dad glance up.
“Looks like that’s them.”
Following his gaze, I see a tall blonde woman following the hostess to our table with a younger girl in tow. Then I find myself freezing, as if a jolt of electricity has gone through me, as I meet a pair of familiar, chocolate-brown eyes.
Frankie. It’s the girl from the party. She’s my new step-sister?
5
Frankie
“Just relax, honey,” Mom says, noticing me smoothing out my skirt for what feels like the hundredth time. My mind is still in pieces over the party, and the last thing I want to be doing right now is meeting her latest boyfriend. Still, I try to force a smile and forget about it. There will be plenty of time to decompress later.
My calm all falls apart the minute we enter the restaurant, following the waitress to a table in the far corner. Sitting there, looking as cool as a cucumber, is Hunter, next to a man I can only assume is Mom’s fiancé. My mouth drops open as my heartrate accelerates. What?
Hunter’s sapphire eyes meet mine for a moment, and I feel my face heat up.
No way, I think. It’s not possible.
Seemingly oblivious to my shock, Mom pulls out a chair next to the stout, silver-haired man at the table.
“Frankie,” she says, turning to me, “This is George Martin, my new fiancé.”
My cheeks flame and I curse internally.
“Nice to meet you,” I mutter, deliberately looking away from Hunter and hoping the look on my face doesn’t betray my panic.
“Likewise,” the older man says, extending a hand to me. I give it a limp shake. This has to be a dream, right? Some kind of strange, sexy dream that’s slowly turning into a nightmare. And still I feel Hunter’s gaze on me, wolfish and perceptive. “This is my son, Hunter,” George continues, turning to Hunter, completely unaware of how intimately we’ve already been acquainted. “Hunter, say hello to your new sister Frankie.”
Hunter smirks and I could slap him. Literally, my fingers twitch at my side.
“It’s a pleasure,” Hunter says smoothly, giving me a long, appreciative look as he reaches across the table to shake my hand. I have to fight not to do something crazy. I hope to god nothing seems off to either of our parents. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Frankie,” Hunter continues slyly, and before he lets go of me, I feel one of his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist. It sends a delicious shiver up my spine and bite my lip to keep from gasping.
I look around and realize too late that the only seat left at the table is the one right next to Hunter. Feeling stiff and on edge, I drop into the chair, acutely aware of his presence next to me. How is he so composed?
More importantly, how am I supposed to get through this meal, let alone the rest of the summer? Hell, the rest of my life, if things between my mom and George are actually serious? I can’t believe this is my
new stepbrother.
As if reading my mind, Hunter turns to me and smirks, that same crooked smile he had on his face last night. He looks like he’s about to say something when Mom says, “So, Hunter, tell us a little about yourself. Your dad says you’re an entrepreneur?”
He gives her a polite smile and nods.
“That’s right. I founded a company called Revival Footwear. Maybe you’ve-”
She cuts him off, her face lighting up.
“Oh my god, you’re kidding! I have four pairs of your shoes, I think. Frankie, can you believe this?” She turns to me, but before I can answer, she’s back to fawning over Hunter. “So successful for someone so young! How old are you, anyway?”
“Thirty,” Hunter replies. If I thought my cheeks couldn’t get any redder, I was wrong.
“You know, Frankie here is a junior at Berkeley,” Mom is saying. “Maybe you could give her some advice about transitioning to post-college life.” She looks between the two of us, me staring at my lap and Hunter, as cool and composed as ever, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Go ahead, Frankie. Say something. I have a feeling you guys are going to get along well.”
Too well, I think, and that’s when I feel Hunter’s hand on my thigh.
I start, jerking in my seat like I’ve been given an electric shock. But Hunter’s not even looking at me. He’s looking innocently at my mom, like nothing’s wrong.
“I agree completely, Ms. Fordham,” he says. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you guys.”
“Please, Hunter, call me Gertie,” Mom says, flapping a hand at him. “We’ll be family soon; no need for the formalities.”
“You’ve got it, Gertie,” Hunter says, and as he speaks, I feel his hand travel further up my leg. I turn to look at him, and he meets my eyes, his eyebrow quirking up just a little. I could swear I see the hint of a smile on his face, but it’s not enough for either of the adults at the table to notice. I can feel my face heating up again, only just having cooled down from the initial shock of seeing him here, and his blue eyes are like fire in the dim light of the restaurant.
“So, Frankie,” George says, turning to me. It’s my turn to be interrogated now, and I couldn’t be in a worse position if I tried. “What made you decide to come back to Granite Heights for the summer?”
Struggling to keep my composure, I reply.
“I guess it’s mostly because my friends from high school are here. I figure I’ll see all of my college friends when I get back in the fall, so this is a good opportunity to-”
I gasp, my eyes going wide. Hunter’s hand has slid up higher, and is resting dangerously close to the hem of my skirt. Why did I wear a skirt? More importantly, why am I not moving his hand? I can feel his eyes on me, under heavy lids, that same almost-smirk still on his face. He’s teasing me, I realize in shock.
“Are you okay, Frankie?” Mom says, peering at me closely. I turn to her, acutely aware of how warm Hunter’s hand is. “You’ve gone red.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, struggling to keep my voice level, “I just remembered something. A… a summer reading assignment. Talking about school reminded me.”
“Oh,” says George, brow furrowing. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought it up.”
“Yeah,” I say, giving him a strained smile. “A really good thing.”
The rest of the meal continues that way, with both of our parents asking us questions and talking excitedly to one another, completely oblivious to my embarrassment and Hunter’s dirty touches. His hand remains on my thigh the entire meal, just grazing the hem of my skirt, and I don’t once try to move it. I would be lying if I said the danger wasn’t sexy.
What the hell is going on with me, anyway?
Eventually George pays the check and we all stand up, filing out of the restaurant. Hunter shoots a glance over his shoulder at me, making me duck my head, and I see a satisfied grin cross his face as we head out the door. Back in the parking lot, my mom spreads her arms to Hunter.
“This is so exciting,” she enthuses. “Come here, Hunter. Can I give you a hug?”
He smiles politely. “Sure, Mrs. - I mean, sure, Gertie.” He goes to her and gives her a brief hug, his eyes flashing at me as he does so.
George extends a hand to me, smiling warmly.
“It really has been nice to meet you, Frankie. I’m glad that we could finally get together like this. I want this to work out, and I would have been disappointed if we couldn’t all see how we got along before your mother and I tie the knot.” He nods at me approvingly and then turns to Mom so they can debrief on how the meal went.
“Well, Frankie,” Hunter says, deliberately exaggerating the sound of my name. That wicked glint is back in his eyes, and he spreads his arms. “It was great to meet you.”
“Great to meet you too, Hunter,” I say, and even though I feel tentative at first, I can’t stop my feet from moving and crossing over to him. I want to feel his toned abs against my body again, and the feeling of his hand on my leg has been at the forefront of my mind. Hoping I don’t come across as too casual with someone I’m supposed to have only just met, I wrap my arms around him in what I’m guessing will look like a friendly hug.
It’s fine. He’s huge and warm, and I lean briefly into his embrace. Then, I move to pull away, but Hunter holds me close, his strong arms still wrapped around my back. I glance over at Mom and George, who are still in their own little world, talking animatedly to one another. They don’t seem to notice the fact that their soon-to-be step children are embracing like they’ve known each other a lot longer than one evening.
Then I gasp, hissing as my body spasms. Hunter’s hand has dropped between us and gone under the top of my skirt. My eyes go wide, and I pull back to look him in the eyes. His expression is unreadable, and he’s still aggravatingly calm as he slides his hand lower under the fabric, his body obscuring what he’s doing - both to our parents and to everyone else in the parking lot. I suck in a breath as I feel him toying with the hem of my panties, and after a moment’s consideration, his hand slithers further in so it’s flush with my exposed pussy.
My cheeks go red for the millionth time in the past hour when I realize that I’m soaking wet, all just from being near him, from feeling his hand on my leg. And now, Hunter can feel it, too.
The corner of his mouth turns up and I feel him run his hand over me before dipping a finger between my lips and sliding it back up the length of my womanhood. His finger settles on my clit and remains still for a moment that feels like a lifetime before beginning to move in slow, tight circles. I feel taser shocks racing up and down my body, going weak in the knees, and all the details of where we are or who we’re with have gone out of my mind. I’m paralyzed, lost in the sensation of him fingering me, and I have to stifle the noise that comes out of me when he dips a finger inside me.
Fuck, I think. Oh, fuck.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning, the area below my stomach heating up, struggling not to move even though I’m desperate for more friction. How is he doing this? How is he managing to make me come undone at the seams, without even breaking a sweat? And why doesn’t he seem to care that our parents, who are going to be married soon, are standing less than ten feet away from us, capable of turning around at any minute?
But there’s something sexy about the danger, and that’s why I don’t pull away. Still, I feel like I’m coming unglued from the pleasure that’s shooting through me, the same pleasure he made me feel last night, for the first time, ever. I’m frozen in time, unable to bring myself to move.
When I feel climax building, threatening to come tumbling down on me at any moment, Hunter withdraws his hand from my panties. He holds it in the air between us, glistening with my fluids, and he looks down at it appreciatively before saying in a low, husky voice, “This is going to be fun.”
And then he’s turning back around to join his father, who has finally finished his goodbye to my mom.
“Well,” Hunte
r says, still unbelievably cool under the circumstances. “Are you ready, Dad?”
George nods and claps his hand on Hunter’s back.
“Let’s go.” He raises a hand to me once more, smiling politely, and then they turn and make their way towards a silver Range Rover that’s parked not far from Mom’s car. After they zoom off, Gertrude turns to me with a bright smile on her face.
“Well?” Mom asks, turning to me and putting her hands on her hips. “You were pretty quiet back there. What did you think of George and Hunter?”
Oh, Mom, I think. If only you knew.
6
Hunter
I’m quiet during the drive home, and I think Dad notices.
“What is it?” he asks finally.
“Hmm?” I turn to look at him, not having been listening to his question. “What is what?”
He gestures at me with a hand.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You seem really distracted, Hunter. I know you said you had a long night last night, but still. What’s going on?”
“Dad,” I say. “It’s fine. Is there something else on your mind?”
George snorts impatiently.
“Nothing,” he replies. “I guess I was just worried you wouldn’t like them. That’s all.”
“What?” I raise my eyebrows. “No, no, no. Dad, don’t worry. I like them just fine.”
“Then why were you so quiet during the meal?” he asks. “You’re usually the life of the party, so to speak.”
I clear my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just really wanted to listen to Gertie and Frankie. I figure if they’re going to be family, I should probably learn as much about them as I can, you know?”