“Things didn't exactly go well last time you were here,” my mom's saying. Still treating Stick like a guest in hos own home. “I don't know what your Dad will say when he gets home.”
“Mom,” I say, ignoring her spiteful eye flash at me.
“It's okay,” Stick tells me, ever the peacemaker. “It's why I'm here. It's perfect that we're all here right now.”
“Okay, let me make up the room to save you the effort,” I tell my mother.
Anything to get out from under her gaze and run away from my embarrassment at the heated feelings for the stunning man Stick's become.
“Do you remember where the linens are kept?” I ask him.
Before he can answer my mother butts into the smile we're sharing in our eyes.
“I bought an antique press to replace that nasty closet,” she informs us. I can tell though she's relieved to be spared any work on our behalf. “It's on the hallway beside the family bath.”
“Got it,” I grab Stick's hand to lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
And then it hits me. This is his house and I'm leading him around. And we're walking up the stairs to the second floor that we walked up so many times together. Except one other is missing this time and that saddens me.
I let go of his hand like it's on fire, same as my cheeks. He gives me a grin and continues up the steps to the top. His huge feet fill each tread, his thighs so thick and loaded with strength in the army-style pants. I wonder where he's been since he left.
“How've you been, Scher?” he asks as he rummages through the linen press.
“Okay, I guess. Oh crap -”
A pile of fancy lace edged linen that I know is the pricey 800-thread kind tumbles off the shelf to the ground. My mother will get crazy about that and we must have the same thought because we both drop to our knees to pick up the mess of linen.
“You guess?”
I look up from my attempts to smooth out the sheets to their original state of perfection and find Stick's eyes delving hard into me. Questioning, ravaging – and, and, I see something else filling his pupils.
My heart does that crazy leap into my throat thing and it suddenly feels hot in the hallway, like there's no air at all. My breath hitches with every inhalation, trying to keep pace with my racing heart beat. I notice Stick, fit as he is, is also hitching for air. I swallow hard and the tingles in my body move all the way down to my thighs where they alert me to the pronounced throbbing buried in the folds.
Good god, what's happening here?
Stick's eyes never shift so much as an inch. I'm held captivated in his gaze as he trawls through my soul. Like he's trying to determine if it's still me. My tits heave up and down rapidly. They're filled with pressure and the desire for him to cup one in his huge hand.
I shouldn't be feeling this but my body is doing its own thing. I've had no control over this insane rush of feeling flooding every cell since I opened the door to him. Inside I'm shaking violently but on the outside I'm absolutely still, held mesmerized by the depth in Stick's eyes.
The world goes silent, fragile. Only the loud thump of my heart disturbs the moment.
“I missed you,” I whisper before I realize the words have left my lips.
“I missed you too, crazy bad,” Stick husks.
I'm not wrong here. His eyelids are half-lowered with lusty desire. I'm not so delusional and needy as to mistake that. With every breath his lips seem to move an infinitesimal amount closer to mine.
If he kisses me here, now, I have no idea what will happen. Because the way my pussy is clamoring for him, I might just drag him down on top of me, here in the hall, right beside the infamous antique linen press.
“Dammit, what the hell are you two doing?” my mother's harsh voice cracks from the end of the hall.
And right behind her, coming up the stairs is Stick's father, just back from work.
“My God, Son, you've grown. Come here, lemme look at you.”
Our secret moment of being lost inside the other is over as Stick powers his thighs to get to his feet, then helps me rise. His huge hand is clasped around mine for a searing second, before he goes to greet his father.
Chapter FOUR
Stick
My father attempts a bear hug but it's tricky with me being way bigger than him, no longer the skinny runt he once knew me as. We opt for a round of hearty slaps on the back. It saddens me to feel how Dad's losing the virile strength in his body.
“Let's get a beer. My god, how I've waited to share a beer with my son, now at last he's twenty-one.”
“Twenty two,” I remind him.
We head downstairs, my dad leading me, but not before I throw one more glance at Scherri. Just to let her know we're nowhere near done with the catch up.
Fuck, she looks incredible. I guess she was always kinda cute as a kid but now, all grown up, she's a damn sexy, hot one. If my army buddies ever got to clap eyes on her, a new war would break out in the race to conquer her. I'm first defense and they'd have to get through me first. I'd take on anyone to win Scherri, as a man. But what's the likelihood that she'll ever see me that way?
Zilch.
Not after being firmly stuck in the friend zone since we were eleven years old. You never come out of there, right? And I'm not even sure we can call ourselves friends after five years of complete no-go zone.
Scherri seems friendly and pleased to see me again. There's even a hint of something warmer in her eyes, but who can tell how she really feels? She was always considerate of other people's feelings – perhaps she can see how beat up I am underneath my resilient facade. Perhaps she's just being 'kind'. And while that's great, I realize I want so much more from her.
I was a fucking jerk to be so uptight with her about moving. Not wanting to admit the truth even to myself of the extent of my feelings for her. Even five years back I wanted out of the friend zone and to be more to Scherri so her leaving was a kick in the groin. Knowing she didn't feel the same about me was a hurt I'd never let her see. Never let anyone see.
Dad tosses me a beer and heads for the TV lounge. The place he and I spent my formative years hanging after Mom died. I pass mine to Scherri and she takes it with a 'thanks'.
“Ah, right. Of course, you just turned twenty-one too Scheherazade. I almost forgot.”
Dad opens the fridge again and tosses me a second beer with a wistful grin. I guess he was hoping for some alone time together, just me and him like the old days. But those days disappeared the instant he began his affair with Scherri's mom.
I knew what they were doing long before they knew I knew and it was the first time I kept anything secret from Scherri. I had no idea how to tell her I had a pretty damn good idea of why her mother was uninterested in her own family and acting snotty with her husband. And there was no way I'd be the one to dump that pain on her. In a way I aided and abetted their relationship, covering up for them that time Scherri dropped by when her Mom was in my dad's office and some heavy panting was coming through the door, trying to keep Scherri from finding out.
The old den has been spruced up a little now. More than a little. There are even some weirdly incongruous embroidered pillows, that no way in hell my dad chose to add to the masculine décor.
Scherri bends over to grab first one, then another and toss them, face down, at the end of the sofa. One flies off onto the floor and she reluctantly goes to retrieve it.
I can't keep my eyes off her. It's like she's an industrial strength magnet and I'm the tiny iron filings drawn toward her. She has me locked on and loaded. And then, she bends all the way over to grab the pillow and her short denim skirt rides up her sweet thighs. All the way up to the crease at the top where I receive a flash of her pink panties and my heart drops to my nuts. My cock is unfurled in a second and that big bastard starts thumping to be let out.
Without my permission, the image of placing a hand on Sherri's lower back fills my head. Pinning her in that position while the other yanks her
panties to one side and slides into her wet spread. So hot, so soaked and slippery with her desire for me already in place. Her little clit swells hard with need for my fingers stroking across the sensitive point but I can't hold back. Not after waiting for her so fucking long. Hearing her hitch of breath, in a nanosecond I've shoved one finger, then another, inside her pussy and felt that tight tunnel tug with lust for more, even while she gasps with surprise.
Holding her immobile, I unhook my belt, lower my zipper and free my burning hot steel. The round head sits so perfectly in her dripping pussy mouth and with a firm thrust I glide all the way up her channel, feeling the divine relief of her snug embrace the entire length of the beast.
“So it must be nice for you two – to be step siblings,” Dad says and I feel my dick instantly soften.
Jesus fuck.
“You were so tight for so long, you must feel like real brother and sister,” he continues.
Yeah, totally curled up and died. Thinking of being balls deep inside my 'sister' ruins the mood faster than the thought of old grannies.
I steal a glance over at Scherri and see her cheeks are a hot pink that she tries to disguise by taking a long slug from the bottle. She's just as embarrassed by the thought of us as siblings as I am, but why?
“So we've all got a bunch of catching up to do,” Dad blithely carries on. “What've you been up to the last five years, Son?”
My eyes snap back to Scherri and I see she's seated on the sofa, her legs folded up beneath her, affording me a delectable view up the length of her smooth thighs. She's fixed on my face, round-eyed, but I have to tear away from her.
It's too much.
My cock starts shifting and rising uncomfortably and I can hardly resettle the bastard, sitting here in front of my father and my, my – Scherri.
She was my best friend but I will never think of her as my sister. Our parents may have bonded themselves into a family unit but that has nothing to do with Scherri and I. We've never even lived in the family home together. Unless this is me digging in mud looking for justification of my filthy fucking feelings for her.
Tension fills the spacious room. Partly both of them waiting expectantly for my deets, partly some electrical buzz flying between Scher and me. I don't know what it is, not from her side at least. But something assures me she was just as turned on as I am.
“After I left here, I joined up,” I announce and wait for the sharp intakes of breaths from them both.
“So that's an actual army uniform you're wearing?” Sherri breathes.
“Yeah, no fashion statements from me.” I grin.
“Wow.”
Dad has a bunch of questions about my deployment and I do my best to fill him in on the sort of shit he needs to hear. About hunting down the enemy and being heroes in the field. All the while Scherri never takes her eyes off me once. Her gaze burns into the heart of me and plants a permanent claim on both that and my constantly pounding dick.
Chapter FIVE
Scherri
We order in pizza for dinner. When Stick's dad calls out to Mom about dinner, he receives an abrupt response.
“I wasn't ready for unexpected guests, Darling. I only prepared a salad.”
“Salad?” he says, a look on his face like she said leech stew.
“Well, I know Scheherazade is always watching her weight. She has a tendency to pudge so easily.”
“Nonsense,” Stick's dad insists.
“Yeah, she looks pretty near perfect to me,” Stick adds shooting me a grin
I smile silent thanks across the room at him, feeling my cheeks pinken a little. He never lets me down. Still there to offer support right when I need it. It would have been great to have him around growing up, like the brother I never had. But no way I can think of him like that now. Not with my pussy throbbing eagerly just by looking at him.
And I can't stop gaping, marveling at the man he's become. What a man. The same thoughtful, solid guy but now, oh my god, solid in other ways. Ways that send rippling frissons of something decadent flying through me every time he meets my glance. His bulging chest pulled up to the table makes me clench thinking about trailing my fingers, and my tongue, along every last swell and ridge.
I have my heart set on Stick now. Maybe I always have. Now fate has put him in my way, knowing that I secretly always wanted him to be my first. I'm not oblivious to the way he's looking at me either. Every time I look over, his eyes are on me, exploring, ravishing me with his stare.
No hot-blooded girl with a crush and a need to get laid at last could miss the powerful vibe hurtling around the room. I don't give a shit if our parents got married. More fool them. I don't owe them anything and certainly not playing brother and sister for their dream of happy families. My time has arrived. My time to be Stick's girl for real.
He's been through so much though.
“Yeah it wasn't all easy sailing,” he replies to his father's insistent queries about his deployment to Syria. I can tell he's not wanting to go into all the details. The pain behind his eyes is ever present. “I saw a bunch of stuff I wish I hadn't, but whatever doesn't kill you, right?”
“Right, we can talk about it later, Son,” his dad nods, clearly assuming Stick's reticence is on my account.
As Stick answers all his father's questions with his typical good-natured vibe, I can tell there's something up with him. I'm pretty sure I know him better than anyone, same as he knows me. And there's more lying beneath the surface than he's letting on.
“So is your term done now? What's next?” I ask breathlessly, stupidly hoping that somehow his 'next' includes me.
Even though we just set eyes on each other again after five whole years.
“I did a three year stint, then was released to on call for the second three year term.”
“What have you done for the last two, where are you living?”
“I've been studying, catching up on life. Went out with the Guard for a couple of stints.”
His father frowns at that but the sound of the door chime interrupts us and he gets up to pay the delivery guy.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
I ought to go help with plates and stuff but I'm more interested in being alone with Stick for just a few seconds.
“Yeah. Better for seeing you. I can't believe you're here. Same time as me, I mean.”
“I know, what are the odds? My mother called me, all dramatic that my grandmother is on her last legs and will likely die soon. I don't know whether I even believe her.”
“She wouldn't lie about something like that surely.”
I roll my eyes at him. This is my mother after all.
“Right.” He nods, the memory of all the past stuff coming back. Then he grins. “I'm sorry about your gran but I'm glad you're here and that we can – you know – get back to where we were.”
“Friends you mean?” I ask, trying not to let my disappointment show.
“Holden, Scheherazade, do you want any dinner this evening or shall I feed it to the dog?”
Stick's face falls and I know what just flew through his mind.
“I can't believe she said that.” I say.
So mean, especially as they don't even have a dog. I won't let him face that loss without a comforting hug.
“I miss him too,” I add, as I throw my arms around his waist. He stands solid, his arms splayed out at his sides before he finally curls them around me.
The biceps enveloping me feel like a pair of steel bands. A delicious sense of security almost overwhelms me, as I savor the strength of his embrace. How I'm held totally protected in his powerful arms.
“Yeah, this place quickly stopped being home for me. First you gone, then Stone right after. But you're back now.”
He breaks the hug and all I want to do is hurl myself back there.
“I haven't had the chance to hear anything about you, I've been hogging the limelight here.”
I know why he separated us. The massive bulge gro
wing in his pants and pressing against my tummy was too enormous to ignore.
Or resist.
The urge to grind against the rock hard swell was unbearable. My pussy twitches and clenches with eager need for more. All I want is Stick inside me, filling me, stretching my walls to their utmost limit. I have no idea what that would feel like, never having experienced a man all the way inside my secret inner chamber, But now I know without doubt the man that penetrates me first has to be Stick.
“That's it, Scheherazade. If you and your brother aren't at the table in ten seconds, dinner is canceled.”
“Why do I feel six years old?” I hiss.
“Love hasn't made her any happier then?” Stick says, taking my hand to lead me through to the newly redecorated formal dining room.
“She hasn't changed one bit unfortunately,” I tell him. But I don't care because Stick is here and my hand feels so small and safe inside his huge paw. The tingling sensation running from his hard fingers all the way through me down to my toes is inspiring an insatiable desire in every pore. One I don't think I can control much past dinner.
I've had the hots for guys before, of course. Usually the hunky ones, because the kind and caring ones that reminded me of Stick, turned out to be wimps I didn't want close to me. Now I realize how every other guy fell short in my unconscious comparisons to my old pal. How I held off. Waiting, hoping for the man that really moved me to be the first. Now I understand what I was waiting for.
He palms his free hand in the small of my back, to press me gently in front of him into the dining room. His hand on me, the brush of my arm, the side of my breast against his rock hard swell of pectoral muscle, makes my knees go so floppy I have to grab for the chair to hold me erect.
I tumble somewhat awkwardly into the seat and the squelch of wetness between my thighs makes itself plain. Oh my cotton socks, I am dripping with lust for my stepbro.
Chapter SIX
Stick Page 2