by S. E. Law
I’ve been moping around the house for the past week, feeling both numb and vaguely ill. My head is spinning with embarrassment and humiliation, yes, but also with uncertainty. What’s going to happen now? Will I ever see Hunter again? Neither of us has contacted the other since it all happened, and part of me wonders if this is all just too much for him. For all I know, he could be going to more sex parties, having forgotten about me already. Or maybe he’s flown back to New York. Would it really be that hard to understand, if he wanted to get away from me? Our relationship so far - if you can even call it that - has just been one curveball after another. He probably doesn’t want to see my face again after what happened.
Outside of the most basic conversations, Mom and I haven’t talked since the blowup. We’ve been making an effort to avoid one another, both of us too embarrassed to discuss what happened. I could see this going on for a long time - until the summer’s over, even - but I’m terrified of approaching her to talk it over. It was obvious that she didn’t want me around Hunter, and the last thing I want to do is cause problems for her and George.
I turn off my music and put my phone to my ear.
“Hey, Jenny.”
“Hey,” she says, sounding subdued. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
I sigh.
“About as well as you’d expect, considering everything.”
“Mm.” She hesitates for a moment, and then says, “Look, I just wanted to apologize again. This is all kind of my fault.”
“Come on, Jenny, no it’s not,” I reply. “I made those choices myself.”
“Yeah, but I was the one who took you to that party,” she protests. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have hooked up with him!”
“Don’t blame yourself,” I tell her. “I’m a big girl. Nobody forced me to hook up with him. And as for the rest… Well, I guess I’m just the world’s unluckiest person.”
She sighs.
“Look, if you need anything, though…”
“I’ll let you know,” I reassure her. “I promise.”
That’s when there’s a knock at my bedroom door. It can only be my mom.
“Honey?” Gertrude calls quietly, her voice muffled by the door. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Who was that?” Jenny asks.
“My mom,” I reply, my heart already sinking. “I have to go.”
“Okay,” says Jenny. “Good luck.”
We hang up the call, and I tell Mom to come in. She’s tentative as she enters my room and perches on the edge of my bed. Her hair is frazzled, and I can see bags under her eyes.
“I think it’s time for us to talk,” she says at last. “We’ve been avoiding one another.”
Feeling a lump in my throat, I nod.
“Okay.”
Gertrude takes a deep breath, like she isn’t sure where to begin.
“I wanted to apologize,” she says at last.
My jaw might as well have hit the floor.
“Huh? What for?”
She sighs, looking weary.
“For everything, I guess,” she replies, watching me earnestly. “Mostly for my reaction the other day. I was caught off guard, and I… I panicked.”
“Oh,” I say, swallowing. “I see.”
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you I was sorry for yelling. That just escalated things, and at the end of the day, Hunter was right. It’s not my business who you spend your time with.”
My eyes widen.
“Even though he’s your future stepson?”
Mom bites her lip.
“That’s the other thing,” she says. “George and I have decided not to get married after all.”
“Mom,” I protest, “come on. That’s not… I mean, you can’t just… Did you break it off because of us?”
Gertrude waves her hand vaguely.
“We had a long talk,” Mom replies. “We’re still on good terms, and there wasn’t a fight or anything. But our children will always be our top priorities, and we’ve decided that if you two want to be together, then the right thing to do is to let you. Without the complications of being step-siblings.”
For a moment I’m at a loss for words.
“But Mom, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to make you guys break up! Neither did Hunter! We were confused, yeah, and it was awkward, but… but…” I’m babbling, the shock of the announcement almost as surprising as her sudden change of tune.
“Shh, honey,” Mom says, pulling me into a hug. “It’s okay, Frankie. I don’t want you to feel bad.”
“How could I not feel bad?” I ask. “You guys broke up because of me!”
“George and I are going to take it slow,” Gertrude replies, patting my shoulder. “We’re not going to put labels on it. The truth is, it was a bit of a rushed decision anyway, getting engaged without our children meeting first. In a sense, this was partly our fault, too. None of this was what we were expecting, but I think, at the end of the day, it could be a good thing. For all of us.”
I pull back to look at her. Gertrude’s expression is sincere enough to make my heart melt. It feels like everything has changed again, at the drop of a hat. Guilt, happiness, and confusion swirl through my mind, as well as a tinge of hope.
“Do you mean that?” I ask her quietly. “You really want me to be happy?”
“Yeah, Frankie, I do,” Mom replies. “Besides,” she adds, grinning, “four marriages would have been too many for me, anyway.”
We both begin to laugh at that, and for the first time in a week, I wonder if maybe everything’s going to be okay after all.
It’s strange to find myself sitting across from Hunter at a fancy restaurant again. Except this time, our parents aren’t here. It’s just the two of us.
It turns out that he spent the last week throwing himself into his work, which was the only thing he could think to do in the aftermath of the disaster at my house. I had been fully prepared to never hear from him again, so I was surprised when he answered my phone call this morning on the first ring, and agreed to meet up so we could talk. His voice sounded calm - optimistic, even - and when I arrived at the restaurant to see him as handsome as ever, smiling his cocky smile, I felt an overwhelming sense that we were past the worst of it. Whatever “it” was.
“So,” I say, taking a sip of water, “that’s where they stand. Just friends for now, I guess.”
“Dad told me the same thing,” Hunter rumbles. “Looks like we’re not going to be step-siblings, after all.”
“For now,” I correct him jokingly. “I mean, you never know, right?”
He chuckles.
“I guess that’s true. But at least if we’re dating before it happens, I think it makes it a little less weird.”
I feel my heart flutter, and I raise my eyebrows.
“Dating?” I ask teasingly. “Who said anything about dating?”
“I did,” Hunter replies, grinning. He eyes me with his piercing blue eyes. “Was that the wrong thing to say?”
“No,” I say. “I just… I wasn’t sure if… I mean, I…” Damn it. My nerves are getting the better of me again. He still has me tongue-tied every time I see him.
Hunter chuckles.
“You’re adorable, sweetheart.”
I shake my head, rubbing my forehead.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“So what do you say?” he asks, reaching across the table to take my hand. “Do you want to try this? You and me, as a real couple?” A thoughtful expression crosses his face. “I never thought I’d hear myself ask a girl that.”
“I never thought I’d get asked that,” I respond. I squeeze his hand, meeting his gaze, and whatever nervousness I felt before melts away as I look at him. “But the answer is yes, Hunter. I’d like that.”
He grins and leans across the table, capturing my lips with his. I close my eyes and lean into the kiss, not caring about the fact that we’re in a restaurant, not caring about the fact
that we were almost step-siblings, not caring about any of it.
It’s time to move forward together, and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Our lips meet, and my heart sings. Who would have guessed? I’m now dating the handsome man I met at a naughty party, and together, Hunter and I will explore the future.
Epilogue
Hunter
“How are you feeling?” I ask Frankie, glancing over at her. We’re sprawled out on the couch in my Manhattan apartment, the late morning sunlight streaming in through the window. It’s a Saturday, and I’m done with work for the weekend. Having an assistant has made my life so much easier, and it’s given me more time to spend with Frankie.
My wife.
It still doesn’t sound real when I think about it, and we’ve been married for almost six months. I guess that’s how most newlyweds probably feel, but most newlyweds didn’t have the rollercoaster of a relationship that we did.
“I feel pretty good, actually,” Frankie smiles, looking up at me. “No morning sickness today.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I say, reaching out to put a hand to her stomach. The only thing crazier about being married is expecting a baby. Once, not long ago, the idea of settling down with a woman seemed like a foreign concept, the kind of thing other, more normal people do. People who don’t go to taboo parties.
Then again, that’s all in the past. Neither Frankie nor I ever went to another illicit party after we became an official couple. Her friend Jenny did, and still does, as far as I know – she’s a wild one, but the scene suits her. But the two of us are past that stage of our lives.
“What are you thinking about?” Frankie asks, closing her book and setting it on the coffee table. “It’s not more work stuff, is it?”
I chuckle.
“No, thankfully. Actually, I was just thinking about how we met.”
She smiles with pleasure.
“It’s hard to believe that was two years ago. I was still in college then.” Shaking her head, she lets out a sigh. “Weird, how time flies.”
“Our parents would say the same,” I say, grinning.
“Oh, god,” she says, making a show of putting her head in her hands. “Don’t remind me.”
“Hey, at least they waited for us to get married before getting engaged again,” I remark. “It feels a little less odd now.”
“I think it helps that we tied the knot before them,” she says, nodding. “Either way, I’m happy for Gertrude and George. They seem like the real deal this time. They’ve made it this far, after all.”
“I hope so,” I say, sweeping her with my eyes. She’s glowing, with the baby and with love. “I know that we’ve made it, and we’re the real thing.”
“Gee, you think?” she asks teasingly.
I cock an eyebrow at her.
“Why? Do you want me to prove it to you?”
“Hmm.” She bites her lip coyly, and I feel that inevitable stirring of desire in the pit of my stomach. “I wouldn’t say no,” she says, giving me a mischievous smile.
“Your wish is my command,” I reply, smirking, and lean in to kiss her. The curvy girl sighs happily, melting into my touch, responding to my movements the same way that she did two years ago, that first time at the party. Except this time there’s no nervousness on her part, no self-consciousness about her body, and nothing but love as she begins to tug at my t-shirt. I let my hands wander to her breasts, pausing just long enough to pull her shirt off and toss it onto the floor.
No bra. I can’t resist leaning down to let my lips close around a perky nipple, and she sighs with pleasure as I slide my other hand between her legs. She’s already wet for me, and her panties come off easily, allowing me ample time to tease her clit with my finger.
“Fuck,” she moans, throwing her head back as pleasure begins to sweep through her.
“I’m sorry,” I say, letting a finger dip into her as I continue my ministrations, “I didn’t catch that.”
She laughs.
“You’re such a tease.”
“I know,” I say, pressing my lips to hers for a moment, savoring the feeling of her tight kitty around my finger. I could keep doing this forever, basking in the sensation of having her close to me, moving my mouth to her neck to suck a hickey there. But I can tell as she begins to buck her hips that this isn’t enough for her, and I’m happy to oblige.
Pulling my hand away, marveling again at how wet she is, I wriggle out of my boxers, already rock-hard underneath. She lies back on the couch, and I urge her legs apart with my hand as I line up between them. My eyes flash up to meet hers for a moment before I push inside her, eliciting a delicious moan as she feels me stretch her open around me. I groan at the sensation, savoring it for another moment before beginning to move.
Frankie locks her legs around me as I pick up the pace, not having to worry about being too rough, since she’s only a few weeks pregnant. Continuing to thrust into her, I lock my eyes on her face, tracing over her cheek with my hand, down to her perfect red lips.
“Hunter,” she moans, bringing a hand up to tangle in my hair.
I let out another groan in response, waves of pleasure already coursing through me. It’s not long before her breaths have turned into gasps as she desperately pulls me against her, tightening around me more with every moment that passes. Soon she’s coming, moaning my name all the while, and the sound of my name on her lips is enough to make me come undone, too.
“Fuck!” I roar. “Oh shit!”
I come inside her in a rush, my hands everywhere on her body, my movements stuttering and ragged as the climax hits me all at once. Hot seed shoots into her, and like a good girl, she drains me of every drop. We remain motionless for a while, catching our breaths before I pull out of her. Slowly she sits up, running a hand through her dark brown hair.
“I guess you meant it, after all,” she says teasingly.
“Damn right, I did,” I agree, pulling her body against mine. Our skin is flushed and sweaty, but it couldn’t matter less. “And I’ll say it as many times as I have to. Meeting you changed my life, Frankie Fordham.”
“It changed mine, too,” she says quietly, looking at me. There’s a pause before she speaks again, sounding thoughtful. “Not your typical love story.”
“No,” I agree. “But it’s ours.”
With that, our lips meet again because this woman and this baby are mine. We began as stepsiblings, but that ran its course, and now I’m proud to call Frankie Fordham my wife, my love, and my everything.
More in the Sweet Treats Series
Who falls in love with her friend’s dad and stepdad? Read Marni’s story in Her Honey Pot, available here.
Even worse, I decided to fall in love with both of my mom’s ex-husbands. It’s filthy, but I still like calling them Daddy. About My Daddies is available here.
The two cherry farmers are plucking Courtney’s cherry this season in Her Juicy Cherry, available here.
It was a Prom Night gone haywire, but the handsome alpha male came to my rescue in Forbidden Fruit, available here.
Getting pregnant? A big deal. Getting pregnant by your handsome, hands-on personal physician? An even bigger deal. And don’t forget, he has a business partner who loves being in on the action as well. Playing with Her Doctors is available here.
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Next up: A Sneak Peek of Sugar and Spice. I was a romance author who had never been with a man until I meet a handsome cover model at a romance convention.
Sneak Peek: Sugar and Spice
Jane
Shy romance author Jane meets her match in Kade, the handsome male model hired to be on the cover of her latest bestseller.
It’s an odd thing – to be a romance writer with no real roma
ntic experience. But here I am, a twenty-five year-old wallflower finding success in writing steamy erotic romance novels. I have an active imagination that is fueled by reading quality erotica and watching a dirty video online every so often, so I’m not completely ignorant as to what happens between the sheets. Given that I’m doing relatively well in the world of erotic literature, I’d venture to say that my readers enjoy what I imagine. The super-hot, crazy billionaire with an alpha-male personality is always romance gold. Heck, I’d like to meet someone like that myself one day.
But over the years, I’ve learned that readers are often quite curious about the authors they read. If they like you, then they’ll eat up your biography and buy every one of your books. But if they found out that Jane Morgan, erotic romance writer, is an inexperienced virgin … well, that would be very interesting, to say the least.
Which is why I’m a little nervous to be at this romance convention in Vegas. It’s going to be filled with hard-core readers who know exactly what they’re talking about.
“How do you find inspiration?” or “Is there someone that gives you ideas for scenes?” are questions that I know I’ll be fielding at this convention, but I can’t exactly tell them that I’ve never so much as seen a man’s rod in person, let alone deep throat it. I’ve thought about making up a boyfriend – he’s absolutely gorgeous in my mind – and telling the convention goers that he’s the source of my inspiration. But what if it goes wrong? And if I’m being honest, I find it hard to believe a truly handsome man would go for a thick and curvy girl like myself. Not many men go for the plump body that I sport because it’s a far cry from the stick thin figures gracing the covers of magazines.
Sure, I’ve come a long way from the lonely student that wrote steamy fiction in her spare time, or even from the dead-tired waitress that stayed up well into the night crafting filthy scenes from the depths of her mind, but the potential questions really make me nervous. What if readers ask detailed questions about my experiences in bed? What will I say?