Romance: My Stepbrother's Plaything

by Valentine, Annie

  That alone seemed to be enough to satisfy Maggie. After Bridget had entered, kicked off her shoes, and locked the door, she strolled over to the couch that she had previously been on and flopped herself down. She glanced over at Bridget, looking her up and down. She didn’t look any worse for wear. Maggie crossed her long legs, clad only in a pair of tiny booty shorts.

  “How was Angel?” she asked, as though she were trying to be nonchalant about approaching the question.

  What Bridget wanted to say was that her first opinion of Angel was that she was a brat. Even after finding out who Bridget was and why she was there, she had stirred Jack into a frenzy with just a few words. Over on the couch, Maggie patted the couch cushion, and Bridget knew that she was meant to join her.

  Bridget walked over to her friend, feeling a little stiff in her interview outfit still. She had pulled out her best pencil skirt and her best fitted blouse. They looked nice on her, but it was nothing compared to the way that Maggie’s gorgeously, effortlessly tanned legs seemed to stretch on forever. Her hair was swooped back, reminiscent of the way that her father’s had been styled.

  “Like father like daughter,” Bridget said, although she hadn’t meant to say it out loud for Maggie to hear.

  Maggie, who practically pulled Bridget into her lap once her roommate was close enough, raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Angel was a mess?”

  “No—no, that’s not what I meant at all,” Bridget said. “I didn’t get to speak to Angel much, truthfully,” she murmured. “As soon as I stepped off the elevator, Jack was at the door and asking me all sorts of questions to start the process.”

  “It didn’t take that long to go through,” Maggie mumbled. She was fixating herself with Bridget’s hair, running her fingers through it casually. She loved the way that it fell and the softness of it. It was like touching clouds. “Normally, he’s a real blabber mouth.”

  “He said that he had somewhere to be,” Bridget easily lied. It would make sense, coming from a businessman. “He was going to take Angel with him.”

  Bridget could feel Maggie’s hands traveling up and down her spine, sinking lower and lower with each pass of her fingers. Eventually, when her fingers landed on Bridget’s ass, they stayed there. With perfectly manicured nails, Maggie began working the soft, pliant flesh of Bridget’s ass. It made Bridget tense up, but no more than usual. She was used to the antics that Maggie pulled when they were alone together.

  “I’m proud of you,” Maggie murmured, leaning forward and mouthing against Bridget’s ear. She was leaving searing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the back of Bridget’s ear, causing Bridget to squirm.

  With her other hand, the one that was occupied with Bridget’s hair, Maggie moved it from Bridget’s hair and down her body. She loved the way that Bridget looked in that particular blouse. It made her chest look even bigger, and slimmed down her wide waist. Maggie’s hand dipped down to the end of Bridget’s long skirt, and then began to travel back up.

  Bridget turned to glance at Maggie with wide eyes and a dark blush, but the heavy lidded look that Maggie was giving Bridget was all that she needed to know. Just as Maggie ducked down to suck a dark mark onto Bridget’s skin, her fingers brushed between Bridget’s legs. Bridget gasped, but was quick to fall into the touch. Maggie knew exactly what she was doing. She put pressure on her in all of the right places, and sent warmth flooding through her body in an instant. It was amazing, the feeling of being loved so thoroughly by Maggie.

  “I want to congratulate you,” Maggie whispered. She licked at the dark hickey that she had just left on Bridget. She’d sucked hard enough on the pale, delicate skin that she had caused a few drops of blood to come forward and poke through her milky neck. “And I’ll do it in the best way that I know how.”

  Her voice was low and sultry, reminding Bridget ever so much of Maggie’s father. Bridget couldn’t help but think of him as she threw her head back and moaned. Maggie’s fingers were slipping past her underwear and massaging all over, not yet touching anywhere that needed attention desperately.

  When Maggie’s fingers finally brushed against her clit and pleasure soaked through Bridget’s entire body, she wondered just what this would have been like with Jack instead.

  Chapter Five

  The next day, Bridget woke up tangled within Maggie’s arms. At some point during the night, the two of them had transitioned from gentle touching and kisses into Maggie’s bedroom. Bridget stirred herself until she was able to sit up and looked around the room, bleary eyed and quite honestly ready to go back to sleep. Luckily, it was a day off for her. She didn’t have any classes, unlike Maggie, and all that she had to do later that day was arrive at Jack’s house and look after Angel for a few hours.

  As Bridget tossed her long, pale legs over the side of the bed, she furrowed her eyebrows as she thought about it. Was she actually going to watch Angel? After everything that had happened with Jack—more like everything that hadn’t happened—she wasn’t quite certain what her true job description was.

  Bridget stretched her arms over her head, and then gathered up some of her clothes that had been scattered all around Maggie’s room the night before. She gathered it all up into her arms and then went into her room. Once there, she tossed her dirty, formal clothes into the dirty laundry hamper and pulled on a clean shirt and a pair of shorts. She didn’t have the same confidence as Maggie did, but she could still admit that she looked good.

  Once she had dressed herself appropriately, Bridget plodded into the kitchen and set up a pot of coffee to fast brew. Too occupied the night before, neither she nor Maggie had set it to brew a fresh, piping hot cup for them for when they woke up. Bridget turned to the kitchen and pulled out their carton of eggs.

  Thanks to Jack, who provided small sums of wealth to them every month, the two of them never struggled the way that their fellow college students struggled. They never once had to fret about rent or not having enough to eat for that month. It was easy for them to get by. If they ever ran out of money, then Jack was there for them, providing them with more.

  Now that she had a face to put to the name, Bridget appreciated Jack’s actions far more than she had before. Even just the thought of his name brought his picture back to Bridget’s mind. Tall, lanky, broad, and the most handsome man that Bridget had ever met. She grinned as she cracked the eggs onto a sizzling pan.

  What she wouldn’t give to be with Jack even an hour earlier or later when she went over that night. She would kill for the opportunity to really get to know him, perhaps when he was better dressed. Maybe when he wasn’t dressed at all.

  Bridget blushed at the horrible, prominent thought in her head. Jack had been suggestive with her, but that didn’t mean that he was truly looking for anything. She was a college student. Certainly Jack had many more opportunities lined up for him.

  “What are you blushing about?” Maggie teased.

  Bridget jumped at the sound of Maggie’s voice, and then at the feeling of Maggie’s freezing fingers pressing against her waist. Maggie, always far more touchy and cuddly than Bridget had ever been, rested her cheek against Bridget’s shoulder. Bridget continued to cook, wanting to get something into Maggie’s stomach before she took off like a shot and didn’t have more than a simple cup of coffee.

  “I’m not blushing,” Bridget objected. She was indignant that Maggie had caught her fantasizing about her father. Of course, Maggie couldn’t have known for certain whom it was that Bridget had been imagining, but it was still shameful. Shouldn’t she have felt far guiltier for lusting after her best friend’s father?

  “Were you thinking about last night, maybe?” Maggie sang into Bridget’s ear. The tip of her tongue curled along the cartilage, and Bridget shivered. “I know that I was thinking about it all night—dreaming about how pretty you are,” she crooned.

  “Maggie, I’m trying to make your breakfast,” Bridget scolded, although there was a lighthearted laugh in her tone. �
��Are you going to let me, or are you going to try and seduce me on the kitchen floor?” she asked.

  Maggie’s full lips broke into a grin, and she stepped away from Bridget to allow her to continue cooking undisturbed. “I was just messing with you,” she said.

  When the coffee pot beeped to let the two of them know that it had finished, Maggie was the first to jump on it. Just after she had added her obscene amounts of milk and sugar to her coffee, Bridget set a plate of eggs and microwaved sausage in front of her. Jack gave them money, but it wasn’t enough to allow them to eat gourmet every day of their lives.

  “Are you excited for work tonight?” Maggie asked as she blew on her piping hot cup of coffee. “I mean, after all, you are going to be working for Jack Gordon. My dad. People would kill for that position, you know,” she said, as though Bridget wasn’t already painfully aware of just how lucky she was.

  “Thank you for getting this job for me,” Bridget said in lieu of a proper response to Maggie’s question. “It really means a lot to me, Maggie.”

  “I know it does,” Maggie teased.

  As Bridget set about making herself breakfast and coffee, Maggie wolfed down her food. By the time that Bridget finished cooking, Maggie had already finished and was getting herself ready for school.

  Bridget sat in front of the TV, figuring that she would have a laid back and relaxed morning. With the dread ahead facing her like a looming beast, she wanted to enjoy her free time while she could. Maggie finished readying herself nearly half an hour later, and sprang out into the living room. After a quick nod of approval from Bridget, Maggie left to go to her classes.

  Bridget was left alone to dread and ponder the night that she was going to be experiencing all too soon. If she had the power, she would have put it off a few more hours.

  Chapter Six

  For the first half of her day, Bridget lounged on the couch and watched bad reruns of bad TV shows. She had seen half of them already, but she had to hand it to them. They were excellent distractions from the horrible stress that she was undergoing. She could only imagine that absolutely everything was going to go wrong. Jack wouldn’t like her, Angel wouldn’t like her, or maybe she wouldn’t like them.

  Bridget knew that she was overreacting, but the fear in her chest was starting to consume each of her thoughts. She was normally a very confident person, and this sudden change in heart was making it hard for her to cope with doing anything that a normal person would do.

  After starting the dishwasher three separate times with the same load of dishes in it each time, she finally gave up on trying to do that. At about two thirty in the afternoon she began to get ready for the evening ahead of her. She wouldn’t dress up as much as she had the night before, but she certainly wouldn’t allow herself to slip and fall just because it was her first day. In fact, she couldn’t let her standards slip because it was her first day.

  Jack was the kind of man who looked for perfection, and Bridget would make sure that he got it from her. Even if it meant abusing her hair with straightening irons and putting on just a little too much makeup, she would power through it.

  At four o’clock sharp, Bridget tapped on the Gordons’ door. That time, she was allowed right through the lobby of the building without question and sent herself up to the top floor without hesitation. It was exhilarating, knowing that she was important enough and already so well known after one visit that she could get away with walking through the lobby as though she were hot shit.

  Angel was the one to answer the door, clad in a cute hoodie decorated with bunnies and pajama pants that were far too big for her. She was smiling this time, and Bridget admired the way that the happy expression looked on her. Angel was far too young to be as serious as she had been just the day before.

  “Hi, Angel,” Bridget greeted, smiling back just as wide at Angel.

  “Hello, Bridget. Do you want me to get my dad?” she asked, looking Bridget up and down, as if analyzing each of her features.

  Even though she knew that Angel was a child, Bridget felt herself squirming under the girl’s scrutinizing glare. Her expression was unreadable, despite the fact that she was still beaming from ear to ear at Bridget.

  “I think you can come inside this time,” she said, stepping aside and inviting Bridget in.

  Bridget, with Angel’s permission, stepped into the giant penthouse. Honestly, there was no other way for Bridget to explain it. With the way that Jack lived in such opulence, she wouldn’t past him to call it his personal penthouse.

  “Your home is beautiful,” Bridget murmured, looking around the front hallway.

  The interior of the penthouse was just as amazing as the hallway that led up to the front door. Deep mahogany flooring with stark white walls, dotted with the occasional painting or photograph. To the left, the hallway branched off into another hallway. To the right, the hallway branched into the kitchen, dining room, and living room. A huge TV was plastered to the wall, and the kitchen was twice the size of her and Maggie’s apartment.

  “This is amazing,” Bridget gawked, spinning around in circle after circle as she took in the place and all of its glory.

  “Stay here,” Angel ordered, going down the hallway to the left.

  Bridget was tempted to follow her, but she stayed put where she was. The last thing she wanted was to set off some futuristic security system, or break something that would cost double than she could ever afford in her entire life. So, despite her mounting curiosity and her need to explore the hallway to the left, Bridget stayed put and fidgeted in place until Angel appeared around the corner again.

  “Dad’s working,” she said. “He’ll visit us later for dinner.”

  “Okay,” Bridget murmured. What exactly was she supposed to do?

  As if Angel had read her mind, the young girl continued to speak, hardly missing a beat. “He wants you to make dinner and make sure that I do my homework. No dessert until after eight o’clock. Bedtime is at nine o’clock, but I always stay up later than that. Who goes to bed at nine o’clock?” she scoffed. Before Bridget could interrupt, Angel continued. “After I go to bed, he wants you to stay around. I think he wants to talk to you.”

  Bridget gulped hard around the lump in her throat. Whatever could Jack want to talk to her about? Her first thought was that she had already done something wrong. With a man like Jack employing her, she knew that there was no room for mistakes. He wouldn’t stand for it to happen within his company, and Bridget knew that he wouldn’t stand for it to happen in his home, either. After her moment of panic, though, Bridget forced herself to calm down. Jack would probably want to talk to her about Angel and about how the day had gone. That wasn’t anything that Bridget couldn’t handle.

  “Okay,” Bridget agreed, a smile coming back to her features. “What would you like to eat for dinner, Angel?” she asked. “I’m sure Jack wants you to eat something healthy.”

  “Normally we just have pizza,” Angel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We don’t ever eat things that are really healthy unless we go out somewhere. Usually if we go out somewhere, we’re with the people who have him in trouble.”

  “In trouble?” Bridget parroted, furrowing her eyebrows at Angel. “Why would Jack be in trouble?” she asked.

  “I think it’s my fault,” Angel said, her voice nearly a whisper.

  Chapter Seven

  “What do you mean it’s your fault?” Bridget asked. She walked over to Angel, and kneeled in front of the young girl. Angel was looking away from her, but Bridget could see the emotion in your eyes. “What would be your fault?” she asked, looking Angel up and down. When Angel refused to speak, Bridget reached out and passed her fingers through Angel’s silky soft hair. “You can tell me anything, Angel. I won’t tell anybody else. I won’t even tell Jack if you don’t want me to tell him.”

  “You promise?” Angel asked. She finally glanced up at Bridget, with those same, stunning blue eyes that her father and sister had. Her voice was choked
, and Bridget could hear the restrain of emotion. She felt bad for such a young girl having to try so hard to compose herself.

  “I promise,” Bridget agreed. She stood up, and put a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go into the living room and sit on the couches?” she offered. “It’ll be a lot more comfy, and we can even watch a movie if you want to. I don’t mind ordering pizza for dinner for us.”

  “Daddy always gives me his card to buy pizza,” Angel said. She sniffled loudly, and wiped her eyes on her forearm. The sight of it absolutely broke Bridget’s heart. “You swear that you won’t tell anyone?” she asked again, looking up at Bridget and furrowing her eyebrows.

  “I swear, Angel,” she assured. “This is something that stays between me and you. It won’t matter if someone tries to torture me for it, I will keep this information a secret for now and forever.”

  At that, Angel broke out of her sour mood. She smiled up at Bridget, and followed the college student into the living room. Angel plopped herself down in the middle of the couch, and Bridget followed suit. She had been expecting the crappy, uncomfortable couch that was in her apartment with Maggie. Her expectations couldn’t have been farther from reality. When Bridget relaxed in the couch, she practically sank into it, as though it were butter and she was a hot knife. Bridget groaned gratefully as the couch sank under her body. It was the most comfortable thing that she had ever experienced. She could only imagine how good the beds were, if this was how good the couch was. Bridget blushed, ashamed that she was thinking such things in front of a nine-year-old girl.

  “So why do you think it’s your fault, Angel?” Bridget asked, turning to Angel and raising an eyebrow. Angel was fiddling with the hem of her sweater, and her eyes were focused on her fingers. “Is it about Jack?” Bridget pressed, lowering her tone. She didn’t want to think the worst, and Jack certainly didn’t seem like that type of guy, but there was no way for her to be sure. “Is there something that he’s doing to you that’s bad?”