by B. B. Hamel
“Interesting. How’d you get into that?”
“I was a SEAL for a long time, and when I left the military, it just seemed natural.” I shrug, looking at her. “What about you?”
She glances away and I get the sense that I touched on a sore spot. “I took a year off from college,” she says. “I don’t know what I’m doing, though.”
“I wish I did that,” I say. “I went from high school straight into the service. Must be nice to have some time to yourself.”
“Maybe,” she says. “Though everyone I know is moving on. Except for me.”
I step closer to her, interested by her story, though I can’t say why exactly. It’s not something unique, but I’m drawn to her anyway, completely engrossed in her. I want to tear that fucking black dress from her body and feel her milky skin under my rough fingers, but I have to keep myself under control. I have to remember why I’m here.
“I suspect you can do whatever you want,” I say.
“The problem is finding out what I want.”
“I think you could figure it out easily.” I stand close to her, staring at her, daring her to ask me what I think she wants.
She cocks her head, a small smile on her face. “Why’s that?”
“You seem very... capable.”
“Do I?” She smiles. “Well, if you say so, Mr. SEAL.”
“Please, Mr. SEAL was my father. Call me Connor.”
She laughs at that old stupid joke, and I love the sound of it. I want to make her laugh so much more.
But I don’t get the chance. Julia appears at my side, slipping her hand under my arm. “There you are,” she says. “What are you two talking about?”
“Connor was just telling me about his time in the service,” she says.
“Well, not really,” I say.
“I’m glad you two are getting along. But it’s time for the ceremony.”
“Wonderful,” Sydney says, though it doesn’t sound like she means it.
“Shall we?” Julia asks, and I nod. We head over toward the gazebo where everyone is gathering. The priest is already standing there, looking out over the crowd.
It’s real, it’s really fucking real. I’m about to marry this woman, this total stranger, for the chance at a fuckton of money.
But if I’m honest with myself, that’s not why I’m getting involved here. As insane as it may be, Sydney is the reason I’m here. Sydney is the reason I want to move into this house. I’ll be her fucking stepfather, though not really, just legally. She suspects that something is going on, and I want to tell her, though I know that I can’t.
Still, there’s something in the way she looks at me. I know it’s there. I’ve seen that look on many faces in my life, and it always means something buried deep down. She wants me, maybe as much as I want her, but she’s going to fight it.
All I have to do is unlock that feeling, get deep under her skin. So eventually, I can get deep inside of her, and take what I’m really here for.
It’s crazy, it’s sick, it’s wrong. But my blood is hot and pumping in my ears, and it’s not because I’m getting married.
It’s because I keep picturing my soon-to-be stepdaughter’s dress torn off her body as I fuck her tight pussy rough and make her beg for more.
4
Sydney
The wedding went off without a hitch, and afterward, my mother went on her honeymoon with Connor. They went to Jamaica, the place where they first met, or at least that’s what they told everyone.
I stayed home, obviously, since I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel at my own mother’s honeymoon. But something still bothers me about Connor and Mom, and nothing I do really makes the situation any clearer.
They say they’ve been dating for almost a year. But I’ve been home and in that time, I haven’t seen any indication that my mom was seeing someone. True, she could have been lying to me about working such late hours, but I don’t think so. She always came home in work outfits looking exhausted. I can’t imagine she was able to juggle a full time relationship and her job all the while hiding the fact of his existence from me, the only person she actually talks to.
It’s just so implausible. On top of that, when Connor looks at her, when he talks to her, I just don’t see any spark. There’s no connection there, no closeness, no comfort. It’s hard to say exactly what I see when they’re together, because of course they laugh and kiss and act like any other couple. But I know my mother, and I know she doesn’t usually behave that way. She isn’t interested in the normal couple stuff.
It just feels so... forced. I don’t know how or why, but it does.
Fortunately, I have a week to forget all about my mother and Connor. I spend my time home alone applying to internships, colleges, and basically anything that might have a shot at getting me out of the house. I even apply to a few local part time jobs, because I desperately need to start earning some pocket money and get some solid experience on my resume.
It’s time for me to figure my shit out, and my week alone is the week of getting things done.
Maybe that’s a little optimistic. I still spend too much time by the pool, and when Connor and my mother finally come home, I realize just how little I’ve gotten done.
It’s around three in the afternoon on a Sunday when my mother and Connor come back. I’m sitting in the kitchen eating a yogurt and reading a magazine when the two of them suddenly burst in through the door. I’m a little surprised, since I didn’t expect them until later.
“Honey!” my mom calls.
“In here,” I answer.
The two of them walk in, dragging their suitcases behind them. Mother has a nice, healthy tan, which isn’t normal for her. And Connor looks perfect, of course. He smiles big when he spots me, which surprises me a little bit. He seems genuinely excited to see me, and I suddenly get that feeling back in my stomach, the one that I felt at the wedding.
“How was it?” I ask.
“Fantastic,” Connor responds.
“It really was.” Mom kisses him quickly on the cheek. “We had a great time. Connor, would you mind unpacking upstairs?”
“Of course,” he says, hefting the suitcases up. He carries them easily into the hallway and upstairs.
I look at my mother, trying to read her face. “So,” I say. “You’re married.”
She smiles, nodding. “I’m married.”
“And you went on your honeymoon.”
“That’s right.” She gives me an uncertain smile.
“And you’re in love with him, with Connor? Who you’ve been dating for a year?”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Yes and yes,” she says. “What are you implying?”
I shrug a little bit. “Nothing. It’s just weird that you never mentioned him before.”
She sighs and sits down. “I didn’t want to burden you with that.”
“Burden me?” I laugh, shaking my head. “Mom, I’m literally sitting around all day, doing nothing. How can you burden me?”
She frowns and chews her lip slightly, which is what she does when she feels bad about something. “I just didn’t,” she says finally, standing. “Connor is here now, he’s a part of our lives. Please, try and get along with him.”
“Sure,” I say softly.
She looks at me and smiles again. “It’s good to be home.”
“Yeah. I’m glad you’re back. Tell me all about it.”
Mom sits down at the table and starts to regale me with the details of her trip. I listen to everything she says, but in the back of my mind I just keep thinking about Connor coming to live with us.
I barely know the man. It’s insane to think that this total stranger is going to be living in my house. More than that, he’s a sexy, gorgeous, older man that looks at me like he wants to strip me down and take me. I don’t know if Mom’s noticed or not yet but... oh, it’s not like I mind.
Connor slowly moves his stuff into the house for the rest of the day. I quickly get out of their
way, heading out to apply to a few local places that might be hiring. I decide to go see a late movie after that, and by the time I get home, it’s past midnight.
I walk into the house, still thinking about the movie, and stop in my tracks. I’m completely caught off guard to find Connor sitting up on the couch, glass of whisky in his hand, television tuned in to bowling.
He looks over his shoulder at me and grins. “Your mom wanted to wait up for you, but I told her to get some sleep. You know she’s going to work tomorrow?”
I stare at him for a second before putting my bag down at the kitchen table. “I’m not surprised,” I say. “Did you wait up for me?”
He shakes his head. “No. This bowling match was just really engrossing.”
I smile. “You don’t strike me as a bowling guy.”
“I’m not.” He sips his drink and shrugs. “But there’s something exciting about this.”
“Looks real exciting,” I say, sarcastic.
“You’re not a sports girl, I can see it.”
“What makes you think that?” I walk over and sit down on the chair near the couch. Connor is wearing a tight black t-shirt that shows off his muscles and a pair of thin workout pants, and for a second I think I can see the outline of his bulge, but I quickly look away.
He shrugs. “You have more of a hippie vibe about you.”
I laugh again. “Hippie? No way.”
“Well, the modern version at least. All the fashion without any of the drugs and politics.”
“Who said I don’t do the drugs?”
He laughs and toasts me. “Good point.” He sips his drink.
“I prefer to think of myself as myself.”
He smirks at me. “Okay then, yourself. But I think I can maybe convince you of the merits of being physical.”
I pause, eyes slightly wide, heart hammering in my chest. Is he flirting with me? The look he’s giving me says he might be, but that’s crazy. He’s my stepfather and we’re sitting in my mother’s living room, his wife’s living room. There’s no way he’d flirt with me.
And yet I think he is.
“Who says I don’t already know?” I ask him. “You’re making a lot of assumptions about me.”
He laughs softly. “Fair enough. Maybe you’ll enlighten me.” The way he’s looking at me is driving me crazy. “How would you handle these balls?”
I gape at him, shocked, not sure what to say. If he’s asking me what I think he is, well, we just crossed so many lines that it’s crazy.
“Uh, what?” I stammer, not sure what else to say.
He cocks his head at me, giving me a strange look. “Bowling, Sydney. How would you handle this?” He nods at the TV.
I look up and watch as the camera pans along a set of balls, each one a different size. The announcer is talking about the differences in ball weight and how it affects the way it moves in the lane, but I missed all of that.
“Oh,” I say, blushing.
“What did you think I meant?” His grin tells me he knows exactly what I was thinking, and he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Nothing,” I say. “I mean, I don’t know anything about bowling.” I can feel the heat pooling between my legs already and part of me wants to get up and run away.
“That’s a shame,” he says. “It’s actually pretty fun. I’ll show you sometime.”
“Sure,” I say stupidly. “That’d be fun.”
He sips his drink and looks back at the television, but I can feel his eyes still glancing back at me. After a minute or two I get up. “Well, see you in the morning,” I say.
“Night,” he answers, not looking at me.
I hesitate then quickly leave, heading up to my room. Once there, I shut the door and collapse into bed, breathing fast and deep, excitement coursing through me.
I don’t know what the hell that was. I think he was flirting with me, or at least I’m pretty sure he was, but it can’t be. The worst part is, the really messed up thing, is that I enjoyed it. I wanted him to flirt with me, to make dirty comments, to be cocky and funny and strong. I wanted him to look at me like he wants to tear my clothes off and fuck my body until I scream.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. Now that my new stepdad is living with us full time, I’m going to have to figure out a way to deal with these feelings. For tonight at least, I’m going to bury them deep down inside of me and pretend that I’m not intensely attracted to him.
I can’t act on anything, not ever. I care too much about my mother to even consider it. I’ll just have to avoid him as much as I can and move on with my life.
Hopefully soon. Because I don’t know how long I can last.
5
Connor
I want to fuck my stepdaughter so badly it almost hurts.
That first week I’m living with Julia, I throw myself into my work just to avoid having to see too much of Sydney. Julia couldn’t care less, since this whole thing is fake, and at least when I’m working I can distract myself from picturing what I’d do to Sydney’s young, tight body.
I want to dominate her, completely and totally. It’s the only thing I can think about these days, that and the lie that I’m living. I asked Julia early on why we don’t tell Sydney the truth about what’s happening, but she was adamant we don’t. She doesn’t want her daughter to become the kind of person that she’s become, willing to fake a marriage for her own gain. I suspect she’s actually worried that Sydney will blow the whole thing.
She’s not a good actress, that’s pretty obvious. Every time I flirt with her, she teases right back, although I’m not sure she’s even aware that she’s doing it. The fucking worst part of this all is that she knows she wants me as much as I want her, but we can’t do anything about it.
She’s probably freaked out that I’m her stepfather. She definitely can see through this little ruse Julia cooked up, but she’s keeping her mouth shut about it, at least for now. For my part, I don’t let myself get too close to her.
After a week of living together, Julia comes to me early in the morning on a Monday. I’m still groggy but it’s better if I get up and get moving, since Sydney doesn’t get up until around nine.
“Connor,” Julia says from the bathroom. “Come in here for a second.”
I grunt and step into the bathroom, leaning against the frame. “What’s up?”
“We need to go see my father.”
I pause a beat. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. It’s been long enough. It’s time.”
I nod. “Okay then. It’s the whole reason we’re married, I guess.”
“Good. Tonight?”
“Fine. What time?”
“Six. He’ll be asleep by seven. Meet me here at five thirty.”
“Fine. See you then.” She nods and goes back to putting her makeup on. I retreat, get my work clothes on, and head off to my job.
It’s a simple security gig for a local college, but it pays well and it’s easy work. I get to spend the whole day worrying about meeting Julia’s father instead of imagining Sydney naked, at least.
The father wasn’t at our wedding for obvious reasons though he was invited of course. He’s very, very sick, and the strain of getting out of bed is enough to send him into coughing fits, at least according to Julia. He knows about me, but I haven’t met him, mostly because she wants us to feel like we’re definitely ready before doing it.
I don’t feel definitely ready, but I have no choice. The whole point of this marriage is to fool this dying man into believing that his daughter is giving in to his wishes, and so I have to meet that man in order to trick him. I wish I could do it some other way, but this is the job I signed onto, and I don’t leave a job unfinished.
The day speeds past and soon I’m forced to head back home, although it’s not exactly my home, not really. It’s a job that I’m forced to live.
Julia is already there by the time I walk in the door. She frowns at me and glances at her watch. “Late,”
she mutters.
“It’s two after,” I say.
“Late,” she repeats, her frown deepening. “Go get changed. Put on that gray suit.”
I sigh. “Yes, dear.”
She doesn’t smile.
I head upstairs and get changed. I hate wearing these suits, but I know I have to. The world Julia lives in expects this kind of clothing, although it’s uncomfortable and totally impractical. When I’m dressed, we head out the door. Julia drives, which doesn’t surprise me, and fifteen minutes later we’re parked out front of her father’s mansion.
Mansion is maybe an understatement. It’s more like a compound. The main building is enormous, at least three stories, maybe four, with what are probably over a hundred rooms.
“Now, be polite,” she says. “My father is going to want to know about you. Stick to the military service.”
“Understood.”
“You’ll be fine.” She glances at her watch. “He just took his medicine. So he likely won’t last long. Ready?”
“Let’s go.” She nods and I follow her out of the car. We head up the steps and enter the absurd building.
Just like I guessed, there are more rooms in this place than I can count. It would probably take me a month just to explore the whole thing completely. There are staff members wandering the halls, people that clearly cook and clean, although I don’t know why. As far as I know, only one person lives in this enormous old house, and it’s an old dying man.
Mitchell Hall, the scion of the Hall family, lives in a single large room on the first floor. It looks like it used to be a library, but now it has a large fireplace with a fire going and a big hospital bed with Mitchell himself on it. He’s being read to by a nurse when we walk into the room.
“Wall Street Journal?” I mumble to Julia. She gives me a tight smile and nods once.
We head close to Mitchell and he looks up, his eyes deep blue and alert. He’s frail and old with thinning gray hair, a thin, gaunt face, a large hooked nose, and gray whiskers on his cheeks. The nurse stands and leaves as soon as we reach his bed.