His Stepson Wears Lace

by Kelex

  One of his favorite servers, Becky, came to take their order, and he focused on her bouncy blonde hair and ready smile—anything but the unknowing seducer across the table. She was the daughter of another attorney he knew well and a student at the local community college, if he remembered correctly. About Jereme’s age, he guessed.

  “Slow night?” he asked, peering around the dining room.

  “Big football game over at Garfield High. We’ll be slammed once it’s over,” Becky said before smiling at them both. “Hey, Jereme… long time no see.”

  “Hey,” Jereme mumbled, his face growing even more red.

  Becky didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, or didn’t want to bring attention to it. It was one of the reasons Anson liked her so much. She seemed able to quickly read a room. Or more to the point, Gloria’s often mercurial moods. I won’t have to put up with those much longer.

  “Can I get you guys started with drinks or are you ready to order?”

  “I think we might be ready,” Anson asked before eyeing Jereme.

  His stepson nodded, averting his gaze away from Anson.

  “I’ll have the lasagna. Side salad. And a bottle of the house red.” He glanced at his dinner date. Date? Jesus Christ. “What do you want, Jereme?”

  “I’ll have the Chicken Alfredo, please. And a Coke.”

  “No Mrs. Parker tonight?” Becky asked.

  Anson cringed. “Nope. I don’t think there will be a Mrs. Parker anymore.”

  Becky’s eyes widened some and she nodded. “Oh.”

  “I’m here to celebrate,” Anson added. He wasn’t sure why he was telling the girl his private business… other than he was still in a mild state of shock.

  Becky looked between them before taking a step back and pasting on a smile. “Well, okay then. I’ll get those orders in and be back with your drinks and some garlic knots in just a few.”

  Silence washed over the table in the moments after her departure. There was a low rumble of conversation from the handful of other diners, but they were far enough away that Anson couldn’t hear anything in particular. He was glad for the space. He and Jereme needed to talk. Perhaps public wasn’t the best option, but he wasn’t sure what might happen next if they had this conversation at home.

  “You read the note, I assume… so that wasn’t news, right?”

  Jereme nodded, not looking at Anson.

  “Wow… a picture of her husband getting a blow job from her son… if Gloria had one of those, she’d make a killing in the divorce.”

  Jereme’s head whipped up, his eyes wide. “You think I tried to seduce you on purpose?”

  Anson could see the earnestness on Jereme’s face. He’d sensed the fear and the shame, too… and was almost certain the guy hadn’t been in on anything nefarious. But he couldn’t assume anything. “From my perspective… and you being raised by Gloria… what am I supposed to think right now?”

  Jereme frowned. “I… like… dressing in women’s clothes. I was terrified you’d beat me if you realized it was me. I wanted to run… but I froze. I couldn’t move.”

  Yet he had moved. He’d moved in all the wrong ways…

  All the right ways, too.

  Anson forced down the groan of pleasure bubbling up. He was so fucking confused and about to say something wrong, he was sure of it. Luckily, Becky returned with their drinks and prevented him from saying it. He thanked her and she left quickly. Already, business was starting to pick up and he knew he had little time to say much more.

  “I hadn’t planned anything. I was somewhere I didn’t belong and terrified of being caught. Things… things just happened.” Jereme’s stare searched his. Tears shone in his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry… please don’t be mad. Please.”

  The terror in Jereme’s eyes did things to him—as much as the shine of tears. It made a protective instinct roar to life. The fact he’d just asked questions that may have caused more fear made him want to kick his own ass.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you… but I had to know what your motive was.”

  “There was no motive. Other than wanting to…” Jereme looked away, his face blood red. A tear slid down his cheek. “… look pretty.”

  And pretty he’d been. Gorgeous. “I want you to know that… I’m okay… with whatever it is… cross-dressing? I mean… if you’re gay or… trans…” Anson took a deep breath. He’d heard a lot of different labels over the past couple of years but really hadn’t paid too close attention. Labels often forced people into boxes that didn’t always fit. All he wanted Jereme to understand was that it was okay. Whoever Jereme loved. Whoever Jereme was. It was okay. “I’m not going to judge you for who you are. I promise you that. And I don’t need explanations if you don’t want to give them.”

  Jereme finally met his stare again.

  “I just wish you’d been honest before you let things go too far. We crossed a line we shouldn’t have, and it was unfair of you to lead me on, letting me think I was with someone else.”

  Had he truly thought that, though? As he replayed the closet scene over and over in his head, he’d sensed something was different. It hadn’t felt exactly as it had the many times before, but he’d pushed those errant thoughts to the side and reveled in the pleasure. Hell, he’d felt something that didn’t feel quite right, either, but he’d gone with the flow. Gloria and he hadn’t fucked in some time, so he hadn’t given things a second thought. Was he just as much to blame for what happened due to his chosen obliviousness?

  And what did it say about him that he wanted more now that he knew the truth?

  He already felt the urge to buy more lacey things… things that were Jereme’s alone, without the strings attaching his stepson to Gloria.

  I didn’t raise this boy… he was barely around after we married. He’s nineteen… an adult…

  I’ve got to stop calling him ‘my stepson.’

  Yet that was another taboo that burned in his blood. His daddy. One of Anson’s past relationships had been one of his professors. The man had loved playing daddy to him… and Anson couldn’t stop thinking he was now seeing himself as just that. Inside his mind, he could already see that word coming from Jereme’s lips while they fucked—and it did things to him. Under the table, he was still semi-hard. The more he thought about Jereme and that lingerie, the harder he got. He was depraved… he shouldn’t want what he did. Anson closed his eyes and pushed the errant thoughts from his mind.

  He toyed with the stem of his wine glass before lifting it to take a drink, inwardly berating himself for thinking what he was thinking. “I liked it more than I should’ve.”

  Jereme’s stare whipped to his.

  “You looked… beautiful.”

  Jereme’s lips parted, and he was about to say something more… but just then the hostess seated another party directly beside them. There would be no more talk of the incident. Not there. Not then.

  Their food came swiftly, and they ate in near silence. Until the end.

  “You said you were celebrating. Are you truly happy Mom’s gone?”

  “Happy?” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t exactly say happy. I didn’t want a failure of a marriage… but I can’t help but feel a sense of freedom that she’s found someone else to torment.” Anson sighed and sat up a little straighter. “Sorry. She’s your mom, and I shouldn’t speak ill of her. At least not when you’re around.”

  “Honestly, I know who my mother is and what she does. Tormenting isn’t exactly wrong or the worst thing I’ve ever heard to describe her.” Jereme pushed his barely eaten food around his plate. “But I would appreciate you not trashing my mother in front of me.”

  “I would never trash her. We married under crazy circumstances and I was stupid enough to think we could make it work. But that was impossible. Now it’s finally over and we can move on. Hopefully we can end things quickly and painlessly.” Anson tilted his head. “Which is another reason for us to keep this between us. If she found out? My gods… I don’t
know how much hell she could make for the both of us.”

  Jereme nodded. “Agreed.”

  Anson put his fork down, only eating half his meal. He had little appetite… though he was certainly enjoying the wine. He poured himself another and noticed he’d finished the bottle himself. “You might have to drive us home.”

  “Your Audi?” Jereme asked, looking a little excited by the prospect.

  The smile on his face did something inside Anson’s chest. “Yeah… why not? I’m about to finish this wine, so I have no business driving us back. You do have your license, right?”

  “I drove here from campus. Didn’t you see my car?”

  Anson shook his head. There hadn’t been any other car in the driveway. Seeing anyone there had been a bit of a surprise. “Actually, no. I didn’t. Did you park on the street?”

  Jereme nodded. “Yeah.”

  He leaned back, a languidness spreading through his limbs. The wine was hitting him and he liked the fuzziness it caused, especially as wound up as his brain was. “You’re not eating much.”

  “Hard to eat right now,” Jereme answered as he continued to push his food around on the plate. “I’ll just take mine to go.”

  “Want some dessert?” Anson asked, eyeing Jereme over the rim of his glass.

  “Nah.”

  If he recalled correctly, Jereme had always loved the desserts at Carlo’s. He waved Becky over. “Two boxes… and if you don’t mind, two pieces of tiramisu, to go.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Parker.”

  “Two pieces? Hungry?”

  “For later,” Anson answered. “Maybe you’ll want some… once you’ve calmed down a little more.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be calm again,” Jereme said before looking at Anson pointedly.

  Heat bubbled up inside him. He held Jereme’s stare and felt his body flare to life. When was the last time he’d wanted something so bad?

  Was it because it was so wrong of him to take what was obviously being offered?

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t.

  “By tomorrow morning… you’ll feel better. After a good night’s rest.” Hilarious. As if I’ll sleep a wink tonight, knowing he’s in the bedroom down the hall.

  Jereme eyed him, a look saying the guy knew he was full of shit.

  Soon, the boxes were brought. Leftovers were taken care of, as well as the check. They walked out, a bag in Jereme’s hand. Anson turned to him once they were at the car. He fished his keys out of his pocket and held them aloft. “Trade ya.”

  Jereme moved closer, reaching out for them.

  Anson didn’t move, making Jereme lean in to get them. He took the bag from his stepson’s hand, letting his fingers graze over Jereme’s.

  Jereme lifted his stare…

  They were in kissing distance, and Anson desperately wanted to lean down and capture the boy’s mouth… to see what it felt like without lipstick and lace between them. Lust flared within him again…

  But he held back.

  One mistake didn’t need to turn into two… but if he didn’t stop flirting with the edge, one mistake might turn into five-hundred. Jereme took the keys and gave Anson the bag with their leftovers and dessert. After putting it in the back, he slid into the passenger side and buckled in. “I don’t think I’ve ever been a passenger in this car before.”

  “I get to burst your cherry,” Jereme said jokingly… and then seemed to realize what he said. Wide-eyed, he turned to look at Anson.

  Anson eyed him closely… hungry for that kiss he’d denied himself. Electricity sparkled between them. He felt goose bumps rising on the back of his neck and his arms. He wanted… and couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted someone as much as he did then. Yet, he turned away again, trying to do the right thing.

  Jereme started the car, and they were soon out on the road toward home. Anson cracked the window, letting in a light breeze… anything to stop from scenting the way his stepson smelled. It only reminded him of the closet… of that lingerie-clad body.

  Once they were home and inside the house, Anson poured himself a drink—something stiffer than wine. His nerves were shot, and alcohol absolutely wasn’t the answer, but he couldn’t keep thinking the thoughts he was. He needed to drown them out.

  “Can I have a sip?”

  Anson turned to see Jereme at his elbow. “I think I’ve already contributed enough to your delinquency.”

  “I’m not a minor. I’m an adult.”

  “An underage adult,” Anson corrected.

  “Well… if you won’t let me taste it there, I’ll taste it here,” Jereme said.

  Before Anson could figure out what his stepson meant, Jereme was on his tiptoes, with his hand behind Anson’s head—pulling him in for a kiss. The minute Jereme’s lips were on his, something snapped inside Anson. He pushed Jereme up against the counter and commandeered the kiss. He was starved for it… and greedily took what was offered.

  Until his overthinking brain interfered again.

  He pushed back and lifted his hands. “We can’t do this.”

  “You said I looked beautiful. Did you mean it?” Jereme demanded.

  “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question. Did you mean it?”

  “Of course I meant it,” Anson spat.

  “Earlier… in the closet, I knew I should’ve stopped. But I didn’t want it to stop.” Jereme’s eyes widened, his brow furrowing. “I pretended I was the one you wanted… that you knew it was me… that I was dressed up for you… and I wanted to know what it felt like to be with someone. I’ve never been with anyone before…”

  A virgin. He’d just been Jereme’s first encounter? Oh fuck.

  “I’ve always felt attracted to you. I kept my distance because I thought you were so handsome.”

  Anson shook his head. “Don’t say another word.”

  “And you said you thought I was beautiful.” Jereme frowned. “I want to feel beautiful… for you.”

  Anson growled in warning. He was nearing the edge, and he couldn’t allow them to cross the line, no matter how much he wanted them to.

  Chapter Four

  “No one’s ever wanted me like that,” Jereme continued, seeing a war raging inside Anson. It was as plain as the nose on his face. His stepfather wanted him… and Jereme wanted to experience that desire. Without deception. It would be the two of them with no subterfuge. “And I won’t feel bad for wanting you.”

  Anson took a step forward. “One day… one day you’ll meet someone who wants you like that. I’m not the man for you. We both know it.”

  Jereme did know it. Anson was absolutely right. But we always seem to want what we can’t have.

  What we shouldn’t have.

  Before he could say another word, Anson gathered his face with two hands and claimed his mouth. The kiss was different than the one in the closet. There was more want in it. More desire. Anson was consuming him, and Jereme feared he might get lost in that kiss and never find his way out.

  A little part of him wanted to be lost. Lost in the hands of a man who seemed to be accepting of who he was. He mewled against Anson’s forceful lips and even stronger hands. The man tugged him closer. Demanding. It made Jereme want to surrender.

  The kiss created a greater need, spiraling like a tornado within. Engulfing every part of him.

  This time, it was different.

  Anson wanted him.

  His stepfather urged him back to the entry and up the winding staircase, kissing the entire time.

  “Go to your room,” Anson said moments after pulling away. “Put the lingerie back on. Fix your face. No wig. And come to bed. Your bed,” Anson said before spinning and heading toward his bedroom.

  No wig? He frowned, not understanding completely. Jereme stood there another moment, shocked at the turn of events. His whole body shook, and he wasn’t sure he could move one inch without his legs going out from under him. But m
ove he did. He rushed back into his bedroom and pulled the discarded lingerie back on. Struggling a bit with the garters, he hopped toward his bathroom as he worked the clip. He then eyed himself in the mirror.

  His skin glowed rosy—flushed with desire. His lips were kiss-swollen and red even without lipstick on. Jereme lifted a hand and rubbed the bottom bow, sighing at the tenderness of it. His cheeks were red from Anson’s stubble.

  Jereme reached into the panties and caressed his hard cock. Seeing himself like this… it was a turn-on. But there was an even bigger turn-on coming to his bed. Quickly, he tried to put the fake eyelashes back on… but didn’t have the tools he needed.

  “Thought you might need these,” came from the door.

  Jereme turned to see Anson holding the makeup he’d used earlier and left on the bathroom counter. He took them, his hands shaking…

  “Why can’t I put the wig on?”

  “You looked too much like…” Anson looked down and shook his head before lifting. “It’s you I want.”

  He reached out and caressed Jereme’s cheek. Jereme wanted to melt into that touch.

  Anson leaned in to give him a brief, firm kiss before walking back into the bedroom.

  From the gap in the bathroom door, he could see Anson peeling off clothing one piece at a time. A muscled back came into view… and then a toned, firm ass. Anson was all male—muscled and strong. Jereme’s heart sped up even faster, his stomach a bundle of nerves. After replacing the eyelashes and the lipstick, he gave himself a look in the mirror.

  It will have to do.

  There was no more waiting. It felt as if he’d waited for that moment his entire life. To have a man in his bed who wanted to share in his fetish. Someone who would cherish that part of him. His whole body trembled as he contemplated what came next. He was about to have sex with his gorgeous stepfather. Jereme had no right to the man. He knew it was wrong. But he wanted… and he was too far gone to stop now.

  Once he was ready, he exited the bathroom and waited for Anson to turn around and notice he was there. He held his breath, waiting for the moment Anson saw him.