SAVIOR: A Stepbrother Romance

by Ora Wilde

  That day, I was planning to jog a hundred laps around the floor, work up some sweat to improve my stamina for the upcoming fight. But first, I had to take a bath and wash the blood off my body. Some of the wounds haven’t closed yet and they were staining my shirt which I have already taken off.

  Just before I could proceed to the showers, however, she arrived. Alone. She was wearing a pretty yellow dress, appropriate for Sunday mass. Her skin became more radiant with the color of her clothes. Her face, though, was just as angelic as ever.

  But her eyes...

  Hey eyes were filled with confusion and concern...

  Oh fucking shit!

  Did she discover the truth about last night?

  “Hey!” she greeted me.

  “Hey,” I greeted her back. “What brings you here? Don’t you have classes? Those brats must be missing you already.”

  “They’re not brats,” she defended them. “And we don’t have daily classes. Only MWF.”

  “Oh... lucky rascals.”

  “Please... stop calling them those names,” she said with a serious voice. She wasn’t in the mood for humor.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied. “You know I hate kids.”

  “Yet you almost sacrificed your life to save Zoe.”

  I fretfully looked around to see if anyone heard her. I placed a finger over my lips to tell her to be quiet about that matter.

  Finally, she giggled.

  “You look funny when you’re all agitated like that,” she remarked. “It’s so... not you.”

  “Oh... you’re an expert on me now, huh?”

  “Maybe. You’re easy to read.”

  “Hmmm. Let’s put that to a test,” I answered as I threw the towel that was draped over my chest on the bench. “What’s your reading about me right now?”

  She actually gasped when she saw my bare torso. I wanted to smile, as I discovered I had that kind of an effect on her. Normally, I would’ve capitalized on that knowledge.

  But not with her.

  She swallowed some air before opening her mouth to speak. But no words came. She swallowed again before she was able to utter a sentence.

  “I... uhm... I think you’re tired from the day’s training and you want to rest your weary... uhm... body?”

  I wasn’t tired at all. I wanted to keep going, to keep training, to be better. I could’ve trained for a few more hours but Coach Mikey said that I should practice restraint so that I wouldn’t peak too early.

  “You’re right!” I lied, and I saw the sparkle in her eyes.

  “Really?” she giddily said. “See? I told you, you’re easy to read!”

  “I guess I am.”

  Awkward silence followed. We avoided each other’s eyes as if we didn’t want to reveal what we were thinking... as if our eyes would betray what was in our hearts and in our minds.

  “So...” she said to break the stillness.

  “So...” I repeated the word to express that I wanted to move on from the discomfort of the quietness just as much as she did.

  “I’m gonna go to Bakersfield street to do some errands, then I’m gonna go home. Want a ride?”

  I grinned.

  “Yeah. Yeah I do,” I confirmed. “Would it be alright if I’d take a shower first, though? I wouldn’t want the people at Bakersfield to think that a desert guy would actually smell like the fucking desert.”

  She chuckled.

  “Of course, of course. I’ll just wait... here... I guess,” she told me as she pointed at the bench.

  “Okay, I’ll be quick,” I said as I picked up the towel I dropped earlier.

  I proceeded to the shower area which was just at the bend of the rear corner of the room. I took off my jogging pants as well as my boxers and turned the valve, looking for the right temperature that would refresh my body. Not so warm, just a little bit cold. It only took a couple of seconds before I got the right mix.

  Dribbles of water came sprinkling on my head. It felt good. I closed my eyes and savored the relaxing feeling the bath provided. I turned the valve further and water came cascading down on my body... calming my nerves and reinvigorating my senses.

  Then I thought of her.

  Her beautiful face. Her silky smooth skin. Her unforgettable smell. Her warm smile.

  The way she made me feel.

  I wanted her.

  I wanted her so bad.

  But I knew I couldn’t have her, for reasons that bordered on morality and etiquette.

  Yet, those reasons made me covet her even more.

  I shook my head as I tried to snap out of the wrongful thoughts that plagued my mind. The more I tried to forget, however, the more overwhelming they became.

  How would it feel like if I could hold her a little bit longer, I wondered?

  How would it feel like if I could stroke her hair and touch her beguiling cheek?

  How would it feel like if I could kiss her?

  How would it feel like if I could make love to her?

  Rough or gentle? Fast or slow? Careful or dirty? All of the above? All for the rest of my life?

  They were beautiful thoughts...

  Enchanting...

  Disarming...

  Consuming...

  And as water dripped from the top of my head down to my neck and to the rest of my body, I found my hand reaching towards my hard cock... an attempt not to verify if it was indeed erect, rather, why it was engorged...

  No...

  That would be a stupid excuse...

  I wanted to hold it...

  I wanted to rub it...

  While thinking of her...

  But before my fingers could touch my dick, a gentle kind of force squeezed it. And then I felt her body pressing on my back. Her other hand wrapped itself around my chest as she rested her cheek against my shoulder blade.

  She was there. In the showers. With me.

  And she was stroking my cock...

  Her motion wasn’t the smoothest, her fingernails failed to avoid the sensitive skin of my manhood. Her pace was far from being masterful as there were sudden divergent motions that broke her rhythm.

  But it was beautiful.

  Her face, though behind me, was close. I could smell her... that sweet, sweet scent I could never manage to forget.

  She was still wearing her yellow dress, which was quickly getting drenched.

  “You’re getting wet,” I whispered to her as I caressed her forearm.

  “Yes... I am,” she replied with a hint of naughtiness.

  And with her answer, she stroked harder and faster. I felt my entire body harden as a rush of exhilaration took over me. My eyes closed. My heart pumped faster as if it wanted to explode out of my chest. The water was cold, but my skin was simmering with turbulent heat.

  “You like this?” she asked, almost mischievously.

  I could only nod.

  “I have waited for this for a long, long time,” she continued to say as she squeezed even harder.

  “Me... too...” I found it difficult to reply as my throat clogged up with excitement and delight.

  “Do you want to fuck me, Conner?” she asked and my eyes widened in shock.

  Did I hear her question correctly? For a few seconds I was stunned in silence.

  “Do you want to fuck me, Conner?” she repeated.

  Oh hell yes I do, I wanted to say. I wanted her. I wanted her so bad that thoughts of her haunted me every second of every day. And at that instance, she was inviting me to have sex with her? I was staggered by her invitation.

  So staggered that I failed to answer it.

  Her grip on my cock tightened, making it fiercer with anticipation.

  “Do you want to fuck me, Conner?” she asked again. “Answer me...”

  Answer me...

  Answer me...

  “Answer me, Con! Where are you?”

  Her voice - her real voice - yanked me into consciousness. Oh fuck! I was daydreaming! In the fucking shower!

 
Her voice... her voice was so near. It seemed like it was coming just over the bend going to the main area and...

  “Conner? Where are you?”

  The voice came from behind me. She was already there.

  Instinctively, I turned around... and true enough, she was standing right at the bend with a look of horror on her face...

  For there I was, in front of her, dripping wet and naked...

  And still stroking my throbbing cock...

  Chapter Thirty

  MEG

  “Uhm... I guess... uhm... this is our first stop...”

  As I pulled up the car at the corner of Bakersfield and Main, I was still ruing what transpired earlier and the awkwardness that ensued. We were both quiet the entire ride, interrupted only by simple questions that aimed to start some small talks... all of which failed miserably.

  “I guess,” he said, his gaze was still focused on the road. Not once did he look at me since we left the building. Or maybe he did. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t looking at him, as well.

  We went out of the vehicle and proceeded to Eternity Stones, the only jewelry shop in town.

  “Why’re we here?” he asked as he looked at the sign.

  “I’ll check out some accessories,” I answered.

  “I see. Is there an occasion forthcoming?”

  “Errr... yes? My wedding, remember?”

  It’s a reminder I wanted him to know. It’s also a reminder that I wanted myself to know and never to forget. I was getting married...

  I was getting married!

  Whatever thoughts I was entertaining about any kind of romantic possibilities with Conner should cease. I love Lucas, and we’re about to start a new life together.

  Conner’s lips twirled into a repentant contortion.

  “Oh... right!” he exclaimed. “You’re getting married. To that guy who looks like someone from that Walking Dead show...”

  “Walking Dead? You mean the zombies?”

  “No, not the zombies... the one who tricked them to going to Washington... the guy with the mullet...”

  “Oh... Eugene?”

  “Yeah! That guy!”

  “Conner! Lucas doesn’t look like Eugene!”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  His attempt to compare my fiancee with that fictional character actually made me snicker. He saw my laugh and he smiled. It was a handsome smile... the way his well-chiseled cheeks became even more prominent, the way his beard swayed when his mouth curled upwards, the way his eyes glistened...

  Oh, snap out of it Meg!

  “Let’s go in,” I invited him, partly because I wanted to check out what was on sale, and partly because I didn’t want to dwell on my misguided fascination any longer.

  He opened the door for me. Inside, we were greeted by Mr. Oscar, the proprietor of the shop since like forever. He was already there when I was a child. He was still there to help me choose some jewelries for my wedding.

  “Why, hello Meg!” he welcomed me. “Glad to see you here today.”

  “Glad to see you, Mr. Oscar,” I returned the pleasantries.

  “And you have company...” he stopped as he adjusted his spectacles while looking at my stepbrother. “Oh... it’s you.” The change in his voice, from pleasant to utterly cold, was unmistakable.

  A lot of people were already familiar with Conner, owing to his status as an elite XFC fighter. But after the press conference two weeks ago, everyone in town - including those who didn’t follow mixed martial arts - started to know him quite well... for all the wrong reasons.

  “Hello to you too,” Conner replied with a sarcastic grin.

  “What kind of trouble did you stir up recently, I wonder,” Mr. Oscar grumpily asked as he eyed Conner’s bumps, bruises and gashes.

  “The kind you wouldn’t want to know about, grampa,” Conner rudely answered.

  “Okay, okay,” I tried to break up the tension that was threatening to spoil that meeting. “Mr. Oscar, I want to see some of your collections, if possible?”

  “Oh, sure Meg,” Mr. Oscar responded, the smile was back on his face. “For what occasion, if I may ask?”

  “Uhm... for a wedding,” I shyly said.

  “Ahhh... Chantelle’s getting married already?”

  “Errr... no. It’s actually for... for my wedding, Mr. Oscar.”

  He gave me a puzzled look, before his eyes darted towards Conner and back to me.

  “No, no... I’m not marrying him,” I hurriedly corrected what I felt was the assumption forming in his head. “Me and Lucas... we’re engaged.”

  “Ah,” Mr. Oscar’s face lit up. “Lucas, he’s a good boy...”

  Conner groaned and he didn’t even try to suppress it, prompting another stare from Mr. Oscar.

  “As I was saying,” Mr. Oscar continued, “Lucas is a nice lad. You young ‘uns are lucky to have each other.”

  “Yes, we are,” I agreed happily.

  Conner yawned, again, without even the slightest hint of hesitance.

  “Is this... this... this brother of yours going to your wedding, Meg?” Mr. Oscar questioned impatiently. “You will have to think about that really hard. He might just ruin what should be the best day of your life.”

  I was about to answer when Conner broke out into hysterical laughter.

  “No, you old geezer,” he uttered in between his cackling. “I’m not invited to her wedding. No one is.”

  Sadness suddenly engulfed me. I was reminded of something that I forgot... of something that I wanted to forget. It wasn’t the wedding I have always dreamt of. All of the preparations I had in mind... they were all moot.

  Conner noticed the rapid change in my mood, and he stopped laughing.

  He grabbed my hand and started to walk towards the door.

  “We have to go. Be seeing you around town, pops,” he bid Mr. Oscar farewell as he led me out of the shop.

  I was too dazed and too weak to resist, but eventually, I mustered enough composure to pull my hand away from his grip.

  “Hey, what’s that all about?” I asked him, perplexed and vexed.

  “There’s no point staying there,” he said.

  “They’re just... jewelry. It doesn’t matter if no one will be at my wedding. I can still wear them.”

  “No,” he stated unyieldingly. “They’re not just jewelry. They’re your dreams. And I can’t bear watching you yearn for dreams that will eventually crush your heart.”

  I looked at him as my eyes began to swell... not because of anger or hatred or guilt... but because there was truth in his words. I always longed for a nice wedding. It didn’t have to be grand. It didn’t have to be expensive. But I always wanted it to be eventful... memorable... to be shared with my loved ones.

  I wasn’t getting that.

  And the accessories of silver and gold that I wanted to look at? They may just be fragments of a shattered hope that I instinctively clung to.

  And with that realization, my tears began to drop. In trickles at first, but soon enough, I bursted into a sob.

  He grabbed my arms and drew me closer to him. I didn’t resist. He hugged me tight. I found comfort in his embrace.

  It should’ve made me feel bad... to find repose in another’s man’s arms.

  But it didn’t.

  And I cried.

  I cried and cried until the pain lessened.

  And he just stood there, unwavering... and I found strength in his resilience.

  He stood there until the last of my tears dropped.

  And when I stopped crying, I looked at him and he met my gaze with a smile. A warm, sincere and gentle smile.

  “Let’s go home,” he whispered.

  “Let’s,” I agreed as I smiled back. It wasn’t a smile of joy for I wasn’t happy. It was a smile of appreciation.

  He didn’t leave me.