Romance: Yes, Stepbrother!

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Romance: Yes, Stepbrother! Page 19

by Annie Valentine


  Even though Al and Richie were busy getting to adjust their trip plans to now just have Al go off to school, Danielle still had hope that Richie would change his mind. He was going to drive up to school with Al anyway -- why not stay at school?

  In some ways she had hope that what they shared would maybe encourage him to move on. She had no shame or guilt about what transpired between them, but it wasn't something they could pursue. Not out in the open. Not because of the nature of their relationship. But more or less because of the timing of it. She knew her beloved husband would not judge them; she just didn't want others to.

  Richie texted her to let her know he was spending the night at Al's house. Al's mother had made them a special dinner. Richie said she was emotional in light of the impending trip to school. They were going to spend some time with her.

  The one night at Al's turned in to a few days. In the middle of his last night away, Danielle received another text from Richie. The contact from him lit her up brighter than it did the telephone.

  "Miss you," he wrote.

  Danielle cuddled her pillow. A quiver of aching for him twitched her core. If he were here, she would have him inside her. She didn't mind being awake for this. She turned on the light in her bedroom, dimming them just so. She held the camera above her taking a semi clothed selfie to send back.

  “Mmmm,” he wrote.

  She propped the phone camera on the pillow and posed. It was a shot of her buttocks. She flexed her muscles so that her body looked its optimum. It was an amazing shot, if she did say so herself.

  “Perfection,” he replied.

  “Please delete,” she said.

  “Never,” he replied. “Hard for you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Danielle smiled and rolled over, fully embracing her pillow. She missed him too. One more time, she relieved the unreal, amazing sex that they had shared that day. The feeling of the incredible orgasms that she experienced. She thought about them until she was satiated. She didn’t want to think about them anymore, for now.

  She drifted off to sweet sleep. She slept so soundly that she didn’t even dream. After weeks and weeks of sleepless nights when her late husband had suddenly been struck so ill, the sleep was so incredibly welcomed.

  She was awoken by a handsome prince. Richie had come home earlier than he said he was going to. His beautiful mouth brushed her cheek until she stirred.

  “Hi there,” he said with the warmest of smiles. “I have something I have to tell you.”

  Danielle got way ahead of herself. She was imagining all sorts of things that he could be getting ready to tell her. She imagined that someone who shouldn’t found out about them. Whatever it was, it had to be super important if he drove over before the crack of dawn to tell her.

  She started to get out of bed. She threw back the covers and revealed a satin teddy short set. He paused.

  “My God but you're beautiful. Don't get out of bed. Here,” he handed her a cup of coffee.

  “What a sweetheart,” she said and cozied back up against the pillow.

  He had his own cup. The room smelled amazing. “What do you have to tell me?” she asked patiently.

  “I am going back to school,” he said.

  He was very proud of his announcement, she could see. They each took a sip of the wonderful coffee that he made.

  “Oh! I am so glad you came around!” she shouted with glee.

  She was careful not to get too excited with the full coffee cup in hand.

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked her. “I mean when I am not here?”

  “I absolutely promise,” she said. “And you’ll come home for school break. I mean sometimes, right? When you’re not traveling the world looking for that perfect wine technique?”

  There was a pang of disappointment but she didn't dare tell him that. It was a mild hope not grounded in reality that he would stay and that they could carry on in the magic realm of her luxury home.

  “I certainly will,” he smiled. “I miss you already. But now that mention it, the south of France doesn’t sound half bad. Maybe Sonoma? Hmm, I may have to think about this.”

  He teased.

  “Please go to school,” she said in a small voice.

  “I am going. I already put a call into my advisor. He thinks we can work something out given the circumstances,” he said.

  “I am so proud of you,” she said.

  And she was. Warmth bloomed in her heart for him. As much as part of her wishes she could keep him to herself forever, she was proud and happy to let him go. She would never forget what they share -- neither would he, she knew that -- there was nothing real about what they had shared. It was literally out of this world.

  Each partner was different. She made no comparisons between Richie and Jerry. Jerry was so amazing in all ways that were he alive today, she would never even think about straying. But he wasn’t there anymore. And Richie was here and now. It was important for her to separate from her own desires to let him go on to what he needed to do. Danielle resolved to support him in every way she could. She knew in her heart of hearts, this pleasure that they had known -- that she and Al and he shared -- would never be shared by the three of them or even the two of them again.

  He reached over and stroked her thighs. His hand was lovely and warm from holding the coffee cup. His fingers started to stray but Danielle caught them. She simply held his hand affectionately.

  "How about some breakfast?" she asked him.

  It would be the first meal in days that didn't come out of a box. It felt kind of good to create. She wrapped an apron over her satin teddy and cooked. She whipped up biscuit dough for him first. He nibbled her neck while he watched her work. He placed his hand over hers as she divvied up the dough into portions.

  Next was the bacon. Together they set up the pan. He reached around her, separating the strips in the pan. He got her vegetarian bacon and cooked it in a separate egg pan. She took the bacon out to drain it on a paper towel and just as he was about to drain the grease, she smacked his hand playfully.

  “No no. You have to wait and see,” she said.

  “I do, do I?” he said.

  She fried the biscuit dough in the bacon grease. Once again, Richie ensconced Danielle with his tall big body and his long arms. It was a flirtatious cooking session but nothing came of it. They just had such tremendous affection for one another.

  After all was said and done, they put together eggs, biscuits and bacon and enjoyed a fat breakfast out in the sun room. The warmth streamed through the windows and it was luscious. The view outside of their equestrian lawn was spectacular. Danielle was filled with gratitude.

  Of course it was easy to be grateful when she was a thirty something stepmother being fed a delicious full meal by her sweet nineteen-year-old stepson. Despite all that had happened, life was good.

  “So we were thinking you might like to drive up with us,” he said. “Nothing more than having your wonderful company. I promise no fun stuff.”

  He winked. They were both on the same page. In another place and time, she and Richie might have been super good together. For now it was clear they were just friends. If the time was right again, she would welcome the experience.

  “I will think about it,” she said. “Not decided. I am not sure I know what I want to do with myself. I was thinking this is a super big house and I might like to get a roommate. You know maybe a girlfriend to share the place with. One of the women who likes riding horses.”

  "I think that's a fine idea," said Richie.

  He leaned across the table and kissed her. It was a simple, chaste kiss. They finished their breakfast and went about their days, separately.

  The Naughty Teacher

  By: Naughty Nicole

  The Naughty Teacher

  © Naughty Nicole 2016 – All rights reserved

  Published by Steamy Reads4U

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including elec
tronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to the seller and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Warning

  This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.

  If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.

  Chapter One

  Every morning at 6:00 am Tricia woke up and made her husband the same thing. He wanted hard scrambled eggs, slightly blackened toast and thick black coffee. He didn’t want jam or butter and he certainly didn’t want cream or sugar.

  She moved expertly through the pristine bedroom and into the bathroom where she brushed her teeth, threw in a bit of mouthwash and put her shoulder length blond hair in a ponytail. At 50 years old, Tricia had managed to maintain most of her good looks, her athletic body and her soft complexion. She was a worker. She walked downstairs and maneuvered through the kitchen performing her mindless tasks until about seven when her husband, Rick walked downstairs with tired eyes and a robe. Rick wasn’t a worker.

  “Good morning, sweetie.” She set down a glass of orange juice in front of him.

  He slammed it and yawned loudly without responding. She softly set the plate down and gave him the newspaper she’d brought in earlier.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  His mouth was full, but he nodded his head. She looked at him and smiled then walked back up to the bedroom to change and shower. When she got downstairs, he was still eating and he only had an hour to get to work. She decided to pick up the kitchen.

  “You almost done, sweetie?”

  He didn’t say anything. He just kept his head in the newspaper.

  “You only have an hour to get to work, you know.”

  He slammed the paper down and glared at her. “I’m not going to listen to his every single morning, Tricia.” He stood up and slammed his plate into the sink before he ran upstairs to mope and get dressed.

  She leaned against the counter to take a breath. She didn’t want any of this to be happening to her, but it was like this every single day. He was constantly yelling at her and mocking her. He’d have that sour face and that mocking tone. It was terrible. She didn’t know what she was doing wrong.

  She decided to walk upstairs and try to talk some sense into him. She tried to open the bedroom door but it was locked. She knocked and there was no answer. She knocked again and he screamed, “Go away!” It sounded like he was close to the door so he must’ve been just sitting on the bed.

  He had no work ethic, no sense and he had a temper like a lion. She wasn’t going to put up with it for very long. There was $800 taped to the bottom of the driver’s seat in her car, and soon she would get out, but first she was going to burn his entire world to the ground and piss on his grave. He’d pushed her so far, with his bitter attitude and his slave camp home life, that she knew for certain that there was nothing in the world that could stop her from tearing his life to shreds.

  She wasn’t going to burn his clothes or destroy his car. She couldn’t burn the house down no matter how much she wanted to. Those things would make her look crazy, and she wasn’t crazy. She was driven. The man she loved, and she did love him, had trampled over her for more than six years. She had to make sure that he looked back and regretted every bit of it, and she needed to break his heart good.

  If she did something that made her look crazy, he would write her off and move on with his life, and he wasn’t allowed to move on. She understood why Diana left him, and his daughter refused to speak to him for years. The man was incorrigible. She was bitter, hateful and he didn’t care one bit about her.

  Even now, she was crouched against the bedroom door, with tears streaming down her face. She was mourning what could’ve been and what would never be. She loved this man and she could try. She might still try to make it work, but she knew it wouldn’t. He hated everything and everyone that ever came into contact with him.

  She closed her eyes and tried not to think about that candlelit dinner at Vito’s when he handed her a bread stick and with a silver band encrusted with diamonds in the center. She couldn’t take it off. It became a slave’s collar that she couldn’t take off from around her finger, and no matter how hard she tried, it simply wouldn’t go away.

  The door flew open and she fell to the ground. Her eyes were wide and his sour face was staring down at her. “Get up! Stop, Tricia, just stop,” he barked. He was acting like she was doing something to him, but he was the one that made her life a nightmare.

  He stepped over her and barely missed her hand. He ran down the stairs and slammed the door without even apologizing or telling her that he loved her. She’d never felt this kind of despair before, and she knew that she couldn’t allow herself to feel it again.

  She didn’t know if she had the strength to do it. She loved him too much to let him go. It started small. She’d take a few dollars from his wallet when he was sleeping or get a bit of cash back when she went to the store. She’d make up excuses and tell him that things were more than they should’ve been. Over time, the money started to add up.

  That was about six months ago, but she wasn’t going to stop there. She’d earned a lot more than a thousand dollars working for this man. She had a full time job dealing with him. She cooked all of his meals and polished their sterile cookie cutter house. All of her devotion and all of her heartache were worth more than he made in ten years.

  She vacuumed and scrubbed until her hands were raw. He worked her ragged. He used to sit at the kitchen table or on the couch and point out stains for her to clean for him. She did it too. She scrubbed the baseboards and the carpets. She scoured the countertops in the bathroom and the kitchen. She was still devoted to him; even now after all these years.

  Tricia got up and hopped in the shower. She let her worries and pain wash down the drain and soaked in the hot steam and refreshing body wash. It was her morning ritual. After their usual fight and her ensuing sadness, she would comfort herself, even run her fingers where his would never go, and then she would towel off and look in the mirror to find the tired face sitting in front of her. She would get through—she always did.

  Once her hair was dry, she dawned her t-shirt and track pants. She laced up her running shoes and headed out into the balmy east coast cold. She got her blood pumping by stretching then running in place then she made her way down the steep driveway and onto the sidewalk where she headed out down the hill. She loved to have the cold air passing over her.

  Running was her comfort. It kept her going and allowed her to be alone with her thoughts. When Tricia ran she could do anything. She was the master of her destiny. She could stare at a spot in front of her and say that that was her finish line and she would get there and then she kept running. It told her that she could overcome any obstacle—no matter how hard.

  Chapter Two

  “No.” Jake was standing firm on his position. Nicole didn’t want to hear it. This was the sixth time she’d called him, and all he was doing was sitting at home and playing Kingdom’s Journey. He was going to their house if she had to drag them there.

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Just throw some old clothes in the washer real quick and I’ll help you with the rest.”

  Nicole checked to make sure her short black hair and bright red lipstick was perfect then
she grabbed her luggage and headed over to Jake’s in her new black sedan. She knocked on the door, which was partially open and he didn’t answer. His 2nd floor one bedroom was filled with smoke and the pungent smells of old gym socks. He was a 27 year-old frat boy and he didn’t plan on changing. She just walked in like she always did and she found him on the lime green couch with a cigarette in his hand and a beer in the other hunched over and continuing his never ending quest to level 99. The click of the controllers was the only sound when she walked past into the kitchen to find a pile of rancid dishes and a black suitcase already filled up on the ground.

  His charcoal hair was already spiked in the middle and he’d changed into his good black gauge earrings. He was ready before she even called. “Seriously,” she yelled out from the kitchen as she stepped over a pile of pizza boxes from the living room. He took a quick slurp of ramen so he didn’t answer right away. She stared him down. He wasn’t going to get out of those six phone calls worth of trouble. He went back to laying and pretended not to hear her. But she walked straight in front of the television and he gave her the look of death.

  “What!?”

  “Don’t you what me!” She had her hand on her hips like a mother scolding her son. “You said that you were staying and you hung up on me six times knowing just how important this was to me. She needs my support, Jake.” She noticed that he had a clean shirt on, fairly clean pants and he’d showered and put on his shoes. He was ready the entire time.

  She had him and he knew it. “Fine. I knew you’d make me go so I put up a fight just in case I could get out of it then I got ready so I wouldn’t have to fight forever with you while I got ready.”

  This was typical Jake. He was always prepared so he could be as lazy as possible. Nicole never knew whether to slap it out of him or foster it, but she knew for certain that it was the strangest quality she’d ever seen.

 

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