The Boyfriend Diaries: A Romance Box Set Collection

by S. E. Law

  I can feel moisture building up between my legs, and before I know what’s happening, Hunter is reaching his hand between us the way he did outside the restaurant, and pulling down the zipper of my jeans. I gasp when I feel his other hand moving under the hem of my shirt, under my bra, to cup my breast. His fingers are cool and deft against my skin, and I hiss in a breath through my nose when his thumb grazes my nipple.

  “Fuck,” Hunter murmurs against my lips, and pulls away. His eyes have gone dark with desire. “Frankie,” he says urgently, “I have to fuck you.”

  I don’t even hesitate.

  “Yes,” I breathe, and then I’m pulling his face back to mine as he starts fumbling with my jeans again, this time with a renewed vigor. The idea of our parents walking in on us hasn’t completely left my mind, but I can feel myself pushing it away, too caught up in my desperate desire for Hunter. I want - no, need - to feel him inside me, to feel the sensations he made me feel at the party, and every second, the intensity grows stronger.

  Hunter’s hand leaves my breast as he tugs my jeans down, bunching them up around my thighs before pulling down my panties. Then his fingers are traveling over my pussy again, already slick with juices as he slides first one, and then two digits inside me. I stifle a moan, glancing towards the kitchen door, as new waves of pleasure begin to course through me.

  “So wet already,” Hunter says, his voice low and husky in my ear as he presses his lips to my neck.

  “Please,” I say, practically begging now, “Hunter, I need you.”

  The sound of my plea seems to send him into even more of a frenzy, as I feel him grip me even tighter, his teeth biting down on my neck hard enough to leave a mark. I don’t care. He could leave twenty marks of his possession on me, and I would be happy because it feels right. I belong to this man, and I’m his.

  Suddenly, Hunter’s hands are on my waist, and before I know what’s happening, he’s spinning me around so that I’m facing the table. Putting his palm on my back, he pushes me gently down, bending me over the table before shoving the chairs out of the way. I can hear him unzipping his jeans, his breaths ragged, and then, suddenly, his hard cock is pushing against me. I gasp at the feeling of him at my entrance, spreading my legs apart to accommodate him, and with one long stroke, he pushes easily inside of me.

  “Ohhhh,” I moan gutturally. “Oh god.”

  For a moment he doesn’t move, letting me adjust to the feeling of him stretching me. I’m still getting used to that sensation, but soon the initial discomfort begins to wear off, replaced by a desperate need for friction. Hunter thrusts forward once, experimentally, keeping a hand on my lower back as he gauges my response. Then he begins to move more consistently, picking up speed as he finds a rhythm. I can hear my mom and George talking in the other room, completely oblivious to the fact that their children are doing the dirty in the kitchen.

  “Fuck,” Hunter murmurs. “You feel so good, Frankie.”

  “You do, too,” I manage, my breath catching in my throat as he hits me at just the right angle, enough to make my head spin with pleasure. My words dissolve into a moan, and I bite down on my arm to keep from drawing the others’ attention. Time stretches on, the only sounds the rhythmic slapping of Hunter’s pelvis against mine and the muffled conversation from the other room. Soon I can feel my climax building, that same unbelievable rush he made me feel at the party coming back like a tidal wave. And then it’s crashing down on me, making my whole body shake with its intensity. It’s all I can do not to cry out Hunter’s name as he continues to claim my curves, trembling from the pleasure of it. My curves clamp and contract on his hardness, squeezing him for more.

  It doesn’t take Hunter long to come as I squirm and moan underneath him. There’s the hot gush of fluid in my hot tunnel as he finishes inside me, continuing at a slower pace as he rides out the aftershocks. He’s still breathing hard, and I feel him reach down and caress my ass, savoring the feeling of our connected bodies as we recover together, hardly believing where we are or how this happened.

  I’m so distracted by the feeling of the climax that I don’t realize it’s gone silent in the living room until it’s too late.

  “Hunter-” I begin, but then I look to my right, and my heart stops.

  Standing in the kitchen doorway are Gertrude and George, their wine glasses in their hands, staring at us with wide eyes. Hunter is still inside me, his hips stuttering as he looks up at them, and for a moment, none of us speak. Then all hell breaks loose.

  118

  Hunter

  I guess it’s my fault for not hearing Dad and Frankie’s mom get up from the sofa and make their way back to the kitchen. I was so wrapped up in what was happening with Frankie that I stopped paying attention to anything else, lost in the feeling of being inside her again after all these hours of ruminating. And god, was it good. She was so hot, wet, and tight, just like I remembered. But then the curvy girl gasps, turning to look towards the door, and when I follow her gaze with my own, my heart sinks.

  Oh shit. Our parents are standing in the doorway, staring at us. My jeans are unbuttoned, and Frankie’s are all the way down around her thighs. I’m still buried inside her, my hand on her gorgeous ass, and it’s clear that there’s not going to be any explaining this away.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, when the silence in the room has become unbearable. “Dad,” I say, nodding first to him and then to Gertie. “Gertie.”

  They look like they’ve lost the ability to speak. Gertie’s mouth is hanging open, and Dad has gone bright red, averting his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at what’s happening. Finally he speaks, his voice quiet and monotone.

  “Hunter,” he asks, “what are you doing?”

  Gertie turns to look at him, her eyes wide.

  “Is that all you have to say?” She looks from him to me to her daughter, disbelieving. “What the hell is going on? Why are you…” She swallows, seeming almost embarrassed to say it. “Why are you two doing this in my kitchen? Don’t you know that you’re going to be related soon?”

  “Mom,” Frankie begins, still bent over the kitchen table, “I can explain-”

  “What the hell do you mean, you can explain, young lady?” Gertie cries. “Explain what? What are you…? Why are you…?”

  “Gertie,” I begin, but she rounds on me.

  “Don’t call me that,” she snaps.

  Realizing this is escalating, I pull out of Frankie, tucking myself back into my pants and zipping them up. Beet red and moving like she’s in a trance, Frankie straightens up and pulls her jeans back up, not meeting her mother’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “This is… Well, I mean, it’s not… It’s not what it looks like.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what it looks like,” Gertie snaps back. “It looks like you were fucking your future stepbrother!”

  “Gertie, please,” Dad says, putting a hand on her arm, his expression pained. “Language.”

  She shakes him off, taking a few steps closer to us and pointing at me.

  “We leave you two alone for five minutes and this is what happens? How long has this been going on?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fordham,” I say, holding up my hands, “but that’s none of your business.”

  “Like hell it isn’t! Is that why you were being so weird at dinner, Frankie? What the hell are you two doing?”

  “Hang on,” I say, keeping my voice level and cool. “You’re overreacting.”

  “This isn’t overreacting, son,” Dad chimes in, looking at me. “Do you have any idea how crazy this is?”

  “Yes,” I reply calmly, “and I’m sorry that you guys had to see that. But you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

  “You’re my daughter, Frankie!” cries Gertie. “You’re an innocent! And now you’re taking up with your stepbrother?” She’s gone pale in the face.

  “Mom,” says Frankie sounding both ashamed and terrified, “I’m sorry. But can you
please just calm down for a second?”

  “No, I won’t!” Gertie snaps. “Not about this!” she glares at us, looking from one to the other. “I don’t want you two seeing each other again.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, “but that’s not going to happen. I’m thirty years old, and Frankie’s twenty. We’re both adults, and what we do with each other is our business.”

  Frankie looks at me, and I can see tears in her eyes. Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

  “Hunter, stop,” she says. “Let’s just…”

  “I can’t believe this,” storms Gertie, running a hand through her platinum hair. She turns to Dad.

  “George, say something, for god’s sake!”

  “What do you want me to say?” Dad demands, throwing up his hands. “What can I say? Obviously this isn’t the first time they’ve done this!”

  “No, and that’s the problem!” Gertrude rounds on Frankie. “Was it that party you went to the other night? The one with Jenny? I knew that girl was a bad influence.” Before either of us can reply, she’s already starting in on Dad again. “What the hell do you teach him, anyway? Your son has no morals!”

  “Excuse me?!” Now my dad’s voice is rising. “You think I taught him to do this?”

  “You’re his father! You should be setting an example!”

  They continue to argue. I turn to look at Frankie, who’s started to shake again. Her face is bright red, and as she looks from me to our parents, I can see the panic building on her face. She glances at me one more time, looking like she wants to say something, but then turns and runs out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  I watch her go, wondering if I should follow her, but then shake my head. What a mess. Not wanting to stick around for whatever blowup is coming, I push past Dad and Gertie and head for the front door, bursting out of the house and onto the street. I don’t have keys to my dad’s car, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t really care where I go, as long as it’s away from here.

  119

  Frankie

  I reach for my phone, which is vibrating on my nightstand. It’s Jenny calling, of course. Part of me doesn’t want to talk to her – I don’t want to talk to anyone right now - but I’ve been ignoring her calls all day and I know if I don’t deal with this soon, she’s going to send out a search party. I gave her the most basic details that I could about the ill-fated wine and cheese date, which, at the end of the day, was all I could bring myself to talk about. Thinking back to that moment in the kitchen when our parents walked in makes me feel sick to my stomach.

  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,” s
he 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?”