Out of Line: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

by Juliana Conners

  “Hello there, hello there,” says my stepmother. “Come right on in. I hear you’re looking for a princess.”

  I can hear him say, “I’m looking for my Princess, yes.”

  I’m right here in the closet, I want to say, but I don’t want to mess things up yet. The timing has to be just right.

  Just like it was yesterday when I completely ran into him. This is my Prince charming and I’m going to get him as soon as I can.

  Chapter 14 – Gregory

  The next house I carry my Princess’s shoes to is quaint and unassuming. It has brick and siding and blue awnings. I knock on the door still thinking about how ridiculous I fucking look, carrying two mismatched size shoes around with me everywhere. To perfect strangers’ houses.

  The woman who opens the door to this house looks positively thrilled to see me.

  “Come in, come in, hello there, hello there,” she crackles. There are two young women behind her smiling and saying “Oh so good to see you,” “hello, come in.”

  Word has definitely gotten out. Everybody wants to be my new princess. But these ladies seem particularly overeager in a way that’s off putting. I almost just turn around and leave. The girls are cute enough but not as cute as they think they are. Plus, they have boring personalities to match her flat asses.

  I know that neither of them is my princess. But something makes me pause. “Is there anyone else who lives here?” I ask. “Or anyone else here at all right now?”

  “Nope, no one,” they all say, shaking their heads, but they look suspicious. I peer around but I don’t see anything. I need a reason to continue being in this house.

  “I’m looking for a certain someone who fits these shoes,” I say, kneeling down and holding them up. “Would it perchance be you?”

  I look at one of them— the brunette one— and give her my best flirty smile. She practically melts, I can tell. I bet she wants me so bad. But there’s only one woman that I want and I’m not stopping until I fake marry her.

  “Oh let me try it on and see,” she says, moving over to a chair in the corner. She sits down and I put the shoe on her left foot and it actually kind of fits. It’s a little snug but she wiggles around in it acting as if it fits her perfectly. But I know the next shoe will be the test.

  “Okay and what about this one?” I say, holding up the odd size shoe.

  “Of course,” she says and tries to put her foot into it. No, her foot is way too big.

  “It fits just fine,” she says hobbling around the living room looking ridiculous.

  She looks down and seems to realize this.

  “I think it does, don’t you mother?” she insists, continuing the charade.

  “I do,” her mother says. Of course.

  “I don’t really think it does,” says the other one.

  “I have to agree with you,” I say. “Should we see if they fit you?”

  “Oh yes,” says the second one, sitting down where the first one had just been and holding out her foot for me. I take it gingerly because I don’t really want to touch it and I put the first shoe on her foot. It’s actually a little big on her and she stretches her toes to try to act like it fits better.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her but then for shits and giggles I decide to see how she pretends to fit the other one.

  “Here you go try this one.”

  I put the other one on her and it’s also too big. She nearly falls and breaks her ankle as she stands up.

  “I can do this; it’s just fine,” she says.

  She slides as the shoes around her as she drags her feet across the floor to make sure they don’t fall off.

  “I think that one definitely fits,” the mother says but the other sister starts bursting out laughing.

  “Oh mommy don’t be ridiculous,” she says. “They don’t fit her at all. They fit me better. I’m the one you’re looking for,” she tells me. “Let’s go get married.”

  Geez, women in America are fucking forward. Or maybe it’s just these women. They seem to have a screw or two loose.

  All of a sudden I hear a ruffling and a crash from what looks to be a pantry or broom closet to the left of the chair.

  “What’s that?” I ask them all.

  “Nothing,” says the mother.

  She comes over and puts her hand on my back, which is not a welcome gesture. I move away.

  “Well, are you going to marry one of my daughters or should you be getting out of my house now?” the stepmother demands.

  “No need to rush him,” says the one whose feet were too big for the shoes, sashaying up beside me barefoot, and batting her eyelashes at me. “You can really have me if you want.”

  She shakes her boobs in my direction as if that’s going to convince me.

  “I’d like to see what’s going on in that closet in there,” I say, ignoring her. “I thought you said nobody else was here.”

  “We did say that. She’s just our cat,” the mother says.

  I hear banging and a muffled sound, as if someone is saying, “It’s me.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a cat,” I say, walking towards the closet door. “Unless you have a magical cat who can talk.”

  I take another look at them and realize that might be entirely possible with these crazy people.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave or I will call the police,” the mother says.

  I hear the sound of breaking wood and the door opens just a crack. A small but strong voice shouts, “I’ll try on the shoes.”

  “Fuck,” says the older lady under her breath and I gasp, surprised at her foul language. It takes a lot to surprise me when it comes to foul language but she manages to do it. I wasn’t expecting it out of someone her age.

  “Hello,” I say and pull open the door.

  Here is my Gothic Cinderella. I’m sure of it.

  But she takes the slippers from my hand which I had retrieved from the one with the feet that were too small for them, and she places them on her feet perfectly.

  “Look,” she says with a laugh. “I told you my shoes are two different sizes. How embarrassing.”

  “There’s nothing embarrassing about it,” I tell her, grabbing her to me and kissing her. We kiss for as long as we can before the mean lady who had her trapped in the closet comes up and practically pulls us apart.

  “I knew you had deceived me,” the woman says. “I knew you went to the Ball last night and someone helped you pull it off. Probably your father’s awful sister.”

  “You leave dad out of this,” my Gothic Princess says. “And Aunt Ashley too. I don’t have to worry about you anymore. Or at least I won’t, very soon.”

  “What does that mean?” the old lady says and I can tell she’s very upset by this. I can also tell that my princess is not used to standing up to her but she is right now for me or maybe for her father or both of us. Either way I’m proud of her

  “Nothing,” she says. “I have a royal marriage to attend. My own.”

  She smiles at me and I take her hand.

  “If you leave then say goodbye to the business,” the lady says, making a grab for her as I try to pull her out the door. Something falls to the floor with a clink and my princess looks down and gasps.

  “My pumpkin necklace!” she cries, picking it up.

  “What’s wrong?” I say, and take the trinket from her hand.

  “Oh good the chain broke but the pendant is solid and it will be okay. It’ll definitely be okay,” I reassure her and although she was starting to cry she smiles.

  “I need to have this with me at our wedding,” she says. “This was from my father.”

  “I have the perfect solution,” I tell her.

  “You certainly are a planner,” she jokes. “Always having the best plans and solutions.

  “Not really,” I admit. “I just make things up on the fly and try to figure out the rest of it later, as I go. But right now, we have to hurry up or our guests will be long gone.”
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  And with that I whisk her away from this awful life she apparently lives and into a whole new fairytale world.

  Chapter 15 – Ella

  You know how sometimes you have a dream about something you didn’t even know you wanted but the dream is so amazing and great that you never want to wake up and have it end? That’s how this feels.

  I never thought the next time I heard Pachelbel’s Canon in D played at a wedding, it would be my own. I never thought I would get married any time soon, even if it’s just a fake marriage.

  But as I look at my handsome fake groom as he waits for me in front of the alter, I know this was meant to be. He has a few of his groomsmen by his side— obviously Kevin was nixed as his best man. And coming down the aisle before me and now waiting up there with them are my Aunt Ashley, Nikki and Sharon of course.

  I look down at my bouquet, where Gregory had fastened the pumpkin pendent. I know my dad is with me in spirit and that he’s with my mom. Wherever they are, they’re happy together and they know that even though this is the craziest idea I’ve ever carried out, that it makes sense in some weird way.

  Meredith’s dress fits me perfectly, although Gregory says I look a lot better in it than she would have. Thanks to him I’ve come to love and appreciate my body and not compare it to anyone else’s, especially not my awful step sisters’.

  When I get to the front I realize that no one noticed I’m not the same fiancée as the one he was with last night at the rehearsal dinner. Or maybe they do but no one says anything. As the ceremony begins and continues on, I note that the officiant doesn’t ask if anyone has any objections to this marriage. So maybe it’s just that they don’t have the chance to say, “I object on the basis that it’s a different bride.”

  Gregory and I hadn’t had much time to talk on our way here but he told me that the officiant was a friend of the family and had been sworn to secrecy. This ceremony is just for show; no marriage certificate will be signed or filed. Once Gregory gets back to Ambrosia, he’ll figure out what to tell his mom and what to do about a substitute, longer term fake princess.

  On our way here is also when Gregory finally found out what my name is. It’s funny how much you can experience with someone without him even knowing your name. I also told him about the situation with my stepmother and my father’s business. I have good credit so maybe I could get a loan and by her out of her part of the business and then I’ll be free of her.

  When it comes time to say our vows, Gregory surprises me by saying he wrote his own.

  “I never thought I’d meet my bride in Denver of all places,” he says, but then, he meets his mom’s eyes and clears his throat. “I mean, that I’d be marrying you here.”

  Oh yeah, I think. Meredith is from Denver but he met her in Florida. No wonder his mom probably looked confused or suspicious.

  “But life has a way of bringing two people together who are meant to be,” he says. “You are my fate, my destiny, the most real and genuine person I’ve ever met, and I’m so happy to be marrying you today.”

  “Awww,” the guests say, and Gregory leans over to kiss me.

  “Tsk tsk,” says the officiant, looking confused. I’m sure he’s wondering how those were such heartfelt vows if this is a fake wedding. He must think we’re really overdoing it. “Wait until I say you may kiss the bride.”

  “Sorry,” Gregory says. “Just a little bit over eager.”

  “And now you may repeat these vows back after I say them,” the officiant says, to me. “Unless you’ve also chosen to write your own.”

  “Yes,” I say, surprising Gregory, my wedding party, and myself. I am not usually much for public speaking and I have crowd phobia and social anxiety. I’d usually rather be curled up at home with a book than saying anything at all in front of people. But I was touched by what he’d said, and wanted to return the gesture.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day I met you,” I say, winking, since it was last night. But I mean every word of it. “I’m completely spellbound and captivated by you. It’s like magic. I’m honored to be standing up here with you today, and I look forward to whatever our future holds.”

  Now the wedding guests begin cheering and the officiant says, “Okay, you may kiss the bride.”

  Gregory kisses me deeply, but I can tell he’s restraining himself. He wants to do more, soon. And so do I.

  “By the power invested in me by the state of Denver…”

  The officiant hesitates here, obviously wondering if he could get in trouble for performing this part of the fake wedding ceremony.

  “Well, you’re husband and wife, he says. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Prince Gregory and Princess Meredith Carrington.”

  Everyone cheers and claps. It’s not real, and it’s not even my name, but I don’t care. I feel great. It must be contagious because as we walk down the aisle Gregory holds our hands straight up into the air and shouts, “Yeah, we did it! We tied the knot,” as if he thinks it was real.

  The wedding guests blow bubbles at us as we head towards a small gazebo where champagne is set up for the guests. Due to the extravagant party last night, there’s no reception.

  Soon our wedding party joins us and a servant brings us champagne on trays. So far I’m really liking this whole being a fake princess thing.

  “Cheers, to the prince and princess,” Nikki says.

  Aunt Ashley gives me a hug. “I love you so much,” she says.

  “I love you too.”

  We all down our drinks after everyone toasts.

  “So is there an after-wedding party or something?” Sharon asks. “Or no?”

  “You guys are welcome to hang out in the Ballroom or the bar at our expense,” Gregory says. But I need to take my princess somewhere private. We just got married and I’m in a hurry to do everything that entails.”

  He looks at me and swings me around, as we do our own little wedding day dance.

  “Let’s go,” he tells me. “Our time together is short and I want to spend every second of it that I can devouring you.”

  “Woah woah woah,” says Aunt Ashley, pretending to cover her ears. “We get your drift. Go get your room, you two.”

  “Bye guys,” I say, blowing them kisses, as Gregory leads me to what I’ve been looking forward to the most: our room at the resort, where I’ll no longer be a virgin, for real.

  Chapter 16 – Ella

  As soon as we get to Gregory’s room at the resort, or get to their, he picks me up and carries me across the threshold.

  “Wow, I really do get the whole royal wedding treatment,” I tell him, laughing.

  The room is huge and lugs are luxurious. But I really wouldn’t expect anything else. I’m thinking he’ll throw me down on the bed but instead he carries me out onto a balcony.

  “Thank you for marrying me,” he says grabbing a hold of me and kissing me.

  “Thank you for asking me,” I say. We stare deep into each other’s eyes and I try not to find it significant that there is no mention of the word fake when we talk about marriage and his proposal.

  It’s probably just getting old by now and we already know the joke, I think.

  He stands behind me and wraps his arms strong arms around me. He begins kissing my neck and unzipping the back of my dress.

  “You looked absolutely beautiful today,” he told me. “And I’m not just saying that because I appreciate you doing me the favor. You were stunning. It felt… So real.”

  With that, my dress falls off of me and he glances down at my naked body, except for my panties and those infamous shoes.

  “I’m so glad you came and found me,” I told him.

  “I couldn’t let you get away,” he says. “You’re my princess.”

  He takes my ass in his hands and squeezes it.

  “I want to take your virginity,” he tells me. “Right here. Outside.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, laughing. “I mean I know this is a pretty priva
te balcony in our own private suite but can people see us?”

  “I don’t think so,” he says, “but that’s part of the fun, thinking that maybe they can, right?”

  “I suppose so,” I say, laughing. But my skin is tingling from the excitement.

  He takes off his pants but first he retrieves a condom from his pocket.

  “You know, Ambrosia is right on the Baltic Sea,” he tells me. “We have beautiful beaches and you’ve never had sex on the beach until you’ve had sex on the beach of the Baltic Sea.”

  “Well I’ve never had sex on the beach at all,” I laugh. “Or any kind of sex at all, as you know.”

  “I’m just saying,” he says, as he presses up against me, his cock hard and ready. “Just pretend we’re on the beach having outdoor sex and then it will be even more exciting.”

  “I don’t need to pretend anything,” I tell him. “I’m done pretending. I just want to enjoy my very first time having sex for real.”

  “Of course,” he says, cupping my breasts in his hands, looking down at them and kissing my neck again. “I’m ready to enjoy this, but let me know if I’m too rough okay?”

  “Okay,” I tell him although I don’t think that’ll be a problem.

  As I lean back into his strong chest I know that one of the things I love about him is that he doesn’t hold back. Oops I just thought the word “love.” How silly of me.

  He spreads my ass cheeks open wide and then moves my panties over to the side. Then he spreads the lips of my pussy, getting a full view of every inch of me before pressing the head of his cock up against my pussy.

  Using his hips he pushes me forward a bit so that I’m holding onto the railing of the balcony. He spreads my legs a bit wider and says, “Hold on tight because I want you to take a wild ride on my cock.”