Stepbrother Desires (The Monroe Family Secrets Book 2)

by Branford, Lauren

  STEPBROTHER DESIRES

  Lauren Branford

  First Edition, November 2014

  Copyright ©2014 Lauren Branford

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  The Monroe Family Secrets

  Book II of III

  Table of Contents

  Morning News

  Hidden Desires

  The Other Girl

  Pink Lemonade

  Two Mares

  Croquet

  Greenhouse Effect

  Sibling Rivalry

  Preview of Book III: Stepbrother Affairs

  One Week

  Morning News

  Audrey

  (This chapter is previewed at the end of Book I)

  I awoke the next day to discover that Sebastian wasn’t with me inside of my bed. After wrapping my robe around me, I walked down the stairs, and into the kitchen. The smell of warm, sizzling food permeated the air. I noticed that the chef was preparing some potatoes and ham.

  “Hello!” Lydia called out to me. She seemed to be in an even cheerier than usual mood this morning.

  “Hi,” I said softly. “That smells good.”

  “It’s almost ready,” she said smiling. “You’ll love it. Won’t she, Michael?”

  I walked around the corner to see Michael at the far end of the kitchen counter. Between them was my father who was reading a newspaper. Michael smiled at me with a mouthful of potatoes.

  “It’s delicious, Aubrey!” he said gleefully. I gave Michael a small smile as I sat down next to Lydia at the counter. One of Michael’s best and worst qualities was his ability to act like the terrible events of previous days never existed. While everything went under rug swept, I was also supposed to play along. In this case, it felt less exhausting to go along with it all.

  “How was your day yesterday, kids?” my father asked behind his newspaper.

  “It was great,” Michael smiled. “I beat Aubrey three times in a row at chess.”

  “Then I destroyed you at trivia,” I reminded him as the chef put a plate in front of me.

  “She did!” Michael laughed.

  “Look at this kids, Lyd,” my father said as he reached his hands across the table. “It’s so nice to have everyone here all at the same time.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Lydia looked genuinely emotional over the entire scene. “If only Sebastian could get here quickly, we could have a proper family breakfast.”

  “Did I hear family breakfast?” Sebastian said as he rounded the corner into the room.

  “You’re back!” Lydia shrieked as she stood up from the counter. Meanwhile, I was wondering where he had gone.

  “Having a family gathering without me?” Sebastian was beaming, even more than any time I had seen him before. It was far too early for him to be up, especially with his hair done, and dressed in a polo shirt, shorts, and shoes.

  “I was waiting for you,” Lydia said as she gave him a hug. “Tell him that I was waiting, won’t you, darling!”

  “She was,” said my father as he lowered the newspaper.

  “Well, we can’t have a proper family dinner without this week’s special guest,” he said. “Darla, come out here! She was just taking her shoes off at the door.”

  A girl just a few years older than me came out from in back of Sebastian. She had black hair that came down in waves around his soft, pale skin. Large, innocent looking eyes, and pale pink lips completed her perfectly innocent look. There wasn’t a thing about this girl that wasn’t beautiful, and, there wasn’t anything about her that I could trust.

  “Oh my goodness, Darla!” Lydia cried out as she gave the girl a hug.

  “Everyone,” Sebastian announced. “I’d like you to meet Darla, my fiancé.”

  It seemed as though Sebastian had some more cards up his sleeves. This asshole decided not to tell me that he was engaged to be married. Inside, I was fuming. Of course, I couldn’t tell a soul in the room about our encounter, so this had to be my little secret. This girl might be pretty, but she wasn’t a match for me. Sebastian was the one thing that I wanted the most, and I wasn’t about to give up on my desire.

  Hidden Desires

  Michael

  Swirls of oil poured from the tops of her bare breasts and ran in thick streams down the sides. She loved to begin at the peaks of her nipples, and caress the dark liquid all over her chest. Each day, her tanned body would bask in the garden, just behind the gate. My bedroom window just happened to be able to overlook the white picket fence, and onto her luscious body. Over the past week, I had become obsessed with her figure. The breasts were like two large, perfectly ripe fruit on a branch that was out of my grasp. After all, she was my new stepmother.

  Lydia wouldn’t sunbathe for much time, unlike her son who loved to lie about all day as if it were his profession. She would be there for a half hour; just enough time for me to pull out my cock, and begin stroking.

  In my twenty-five years on this world, I never would imagine myself in this position. Pleasing myself to images of my father’s new wife wasn’t just wrong, but it was exciting. Each time I thought about being discovered watching my stepmom, my heart raced, and my blood boiled.

  My father left my mother when I was still very young for another woman. They married, and right away she gave birth to my little sister, Audrey. I despised my new stepmother. She was a stuck up fashionista with a prima donna attitude. Nothing seemed to phase her, and my presence always felt like a nuisance. For years, I blamed her for the lack of bonding between my father and me. To this day, our relationship has never fully blossomed into much of anything. My mother assured me that one day my father, and I would bud and bloom. However, we always felt less like a flower and more like a pinecone ready to fall into the dirt.

  When I became an adult, I saw that our lack of a healthy relationship is because my father was simply an asshole. He was the one who decided to leave and start a new family somewhere else. They planned trips to France, Spain, and Italy, while I got the occasion postcard or two from him.

  “Wish you were here, Michael!” read one with a picture of the Trevi Fountain in Rome.

  “Missing you!” said another from Barcelona.

  “Your father loves you,” assured my mother time and time again. Still, he never wrote me an authentic note. It was always just what the postcard had preprinted, and then he would sign and sometimes date it. The entire thing felt like pomp– and court-ordered.

  The surprise came after my I graduated from Harvard University. After years of not hearing his voice, he called me out of the blue on my cell.

  “Michael!” he shouted from the receiver. “It’s Robert– I mean, your dad!”

  He sounded terribly gleeful.

  “Hi, dad,” I said somewhat warmly. He would call me from time to time just to say hello when he was feeling “fatherly”, I suppose. Then he would offer to send me money, which I never felt bad about accepting. After all, he was the one who leveraged me to attend Harvard.

  “What’s going on, little guy?” he asked.

  Little guy? I though before realizing that we hadn’t seen each other in two years. Even then, I was just under him in height. However, after a growth spurt in my senior year in high school, I was six foot, four inches. I worked out all of the time since I came to college. The girls that once started I looked like boy, now follow me around campus. I supposed without seeing me, my fath
er couldn’t possibly known that I would tower over him.

  “I’m doing well,” I replied. “How about yourself?”

  “Great, great,” he answered listlessly. “So, Michael, I have some fantastic news. I’m getting married!”

  Though my schedule conflicted with their wedding, I agreed to come as soon as I was able. The next thing I knew, my father had booked me airfare to visit him for three weeks. Truthfully, I was visiting in hopes that he would wire me some more money. Though I was curious about the type of spoiled mess my new stepmother was, I wasn’t originally very interested in knowing more about her.

  When I met Lydia for the first time at the airport, she wore a white dress that hugged each part of her voluptuous body. She had curvature that I had never seen on a woman. After witnessing her wearing only a bikini bottom the day after my arrival to my father’s estate, I instantly felt welcome.

  As I pumped my cock inside of my first, I would gaze out and create fantasies that involved her naked in front of me. I would envision myself walking down to the garden without a shirt on. She would see me, unfasten the drawstring on my running pants, and begin sucking on my shaft like a newly ripened banana. Just as I imagined her full lips rolling up and down on my cock, I opened my eyes to gaze upon her enormous chest. A real woman, I thought. No, a slut who loved to touch herself outside of her stepson’s window.

  I was battering myself fiercely near the bright window. Tug after tug, I filled myself with pleasure. With one final tight squeeze, jets of my come shot from the tip of my cock, all over my bedroom window. I stood there panting and feeling satisfied as my cream drizzle down the windowpane.

  The Other Girl

  Audrey

  I watched her sip from a clear straw while sitting by the pool. Bright pink lemonade zipped up to her mouth. When finished sipping, she calmly sat her glass on the table, adjusted her black hair under a floppy hat, and sat back on the chair.

  “You don’t like to swim, Darla?” I asked her a she covered some exposed bits of her legs with a sarong.

  “I love it,” she answered. “But the sun is too bright this time of year; I’ll burn quite fiercely.”

  “Shame,” I replied as I gazed toward Sebastian who was making laps in the pool. “He loves the water and the sun.”

  “He does,” Darla agreed drearily.

  “Where is it that you are from?” I asked her.

  “Capitol Hill,” she smiled sweetly.

  “I see,” I said as I gathered my glass. I wasn’t sure where Capitol Hill was, so I probed for more information. “And where did you attend boarding school.”

  “Oh, no,” Darla giggled a little while covering her mouth. “I didn’t attend boarding school.”

  “Private then,” I realized. “Was it live-in?”

  “I went to public school,” she said calmly.

  “Public school?” I couldn’t believe what I heard. All along I believed that I had competition with this fair skinned girl who was nothing more than common. Still, I wondered intensely what Sebastian saw in her.

  A splash of water came from the pool, and my stepbrother, Sebastian, pulled himself up from the sides. Wearing nothing but a tightly fit midcut swimming brief, he looked perfectly debonair. His auburn clung to the side of his face that was perfectly shaven; I assumed because of Darla’s presence.

  “Doesn’t my mother make the best lemonade?” he said walking over to us.

  “She does!” Darla and I exclaimed at the same time. As Sebastian moved toward Darla, and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek, I could see that his query was not intended for me.

  “You’re dripping all over me!” Darla giggled while wiping the water off of her face. Sebastian reacted by giving her a hug, drenching her all over. “Stop it! I only have so many clothes!”

  “You will be fine,” Sebastian smiled at her with his perfect, white teeth. Then he looked up toward me at the other end of the table. “I’m sure if you run out, Audrey has some you can borrow.”

  I wanted to glare at him, but the gesture would have been too obvious. Instead, I smiled back politely.

  “Oh course,” I said before returning to sip my lemonade. The sting of the lemon juice seemed to work viciously with the acids churning in my stomach.

  “That’s settled then,” said Sebastian giving Darla another squeal-inducing embrace.

  “Thank you,” Darla said to be through heavy breaths. “If only he’d stop loving on me so much, I could walk to the horses!”

  “We better get going,” said Sebastian as he reached his hand down for her. “I’ve planned an entire day of activities around the property for us.”

  “Sounds fun,” Darla said with a beaming smile. I adjusted my sunglasses as I watched Sebastian grab her hand, and led her away from the poolside. “See you later, Audrey!”

  “Yes,” I replied succinctly. “See you.”

  They walked with their hands firmly clasped together. He looked like too much of a man for her. From my personal experience, Sebastian needed a lot of attention, especially in the bedroom. I could only imagine Darla lying there like a dead fish while he pummeled away at her. She wouldn’t know how to keep a man like Sebastian happy forever. Then again, I wondered, how could a common girl like her have any sort of chance at lasting with him that long?

  Pink Lemonade

  Michael

  A few hours after gazing at Lydia’s luscious figure in the garden, I started on a book from my childhood. This particular read was a favorite that my father enjoyed reading to me before he and my mother split. The tale detailed the trek of a wolf that desired rabbits in a field. Though he had never tasted them before, he was sure that they were the best of the meats. After many failed attempts to catch a wild rabbit, the wolf found a hutch in a farmer’s yard. Using his intellect, he broke past the farm’s gates and ate the softest, most delicate rabbit in the hutch. The rabbit’s meat was not only delicious, it was more savory than he could have ever imagined.

  Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. Likely, it was one of the many maids offering to turn my bed. I was nearly finished with the book, so I decided to ignore it. After a few moments, there was a knock again.

  “Michael?” said Lydia’s voice from the other side of the door. “Are you in there?”

  Quickly, I jumped up and tossed the book to the far side of the room. The fabric of my unbuttoned shirt spread open away from me as I briskly moved toward her voice.

  “Hello,” I greeted her as I opened the door. She was wearing a bikini top that was so tight against her breasts that they nearly spilled over onto me. Below, she was wearing a translucent sarong that displayed the small amount of pink fabric that covered the rest of her.

  “I brought you some of my fresh brewed lemonade,” she said as he handed me a glass. I was so distracted by Lydia’s attire that I hadn’t noticed the large glass of bright brink liquid she was holding in her hands. “You do like lemonade don’t you, Michael?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said looking the glass over.

  “How do you like your room?” she asked.

  “I enjoy it very much,” I replied as I opened the door wider. “Come in.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia said as she strolled inside the room, glancing over at the yacht themed décor, and cerulean walls. “I’ve lived her for a year now, but we’ve traveled so much that I haven’t been able to look at all of the rooms.”

  “This was the one I always stayed in as a boy,” I explained.

  “All of this manly yacht business,” she smiled as she touched a metal anchor lying on the corner across from my bed. “Doesn’t look very suitable for a boy’s room.”

  “But it is,” I replied as I walked over to a black and white photo above her head. “Look at this picture.”

  Lydia stood up and moved toward me, pushing her hair back behind her ears. I stared at her breasts as she neared me. They were evenly tan and perfectly delectable. I imagined them filling my hands with the smooth skin spilling over in ri
pples of juicy breast.

  “Is that you?” she asked, completely unaware that I was studying her every womanly move.

  “Yes,” I replied. “And that is my grandfather. We would sail twice a year from when I was ten years old until he passed. I love boats, sailing, and the seas.”

  “Look at you,” Lydia gawked. “You were tall then, too. How old are you in this photo?”

  “Fifteen,” I answered boastfully. “However, not nearly all of the height that I am now.”

  “I can see that,” she said looking at me from the corner of her mascara-lined lashes. “I think you must have known you would turn out so handsomely. This may have been built by a boy, but it was intended for a man.”

  “You could say that,” I smiled. Then I held the lemonade up to my mouth and sucked on the straw. A bitter, tart flavor filled my mouth. I didn’t want to be rude, so I lied. “This is delicious.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Lydia said looking at me. “Sip from the side, where all of the sugar is on the brim.”

  “Alright,” I followed her instructions, tilting the glass toward my mouth. “What’s the straw for then?”

  “Stirring,” she laughed. “You’re silly.”

  I drank the lemonade. Sweet and sour, the swirl of flavors collided together in my mouth.

  “You must have them together,” she explained. “Mixing in the sugar wouldn’t have been the right amount for the flavor.”

  “This is the absolute best lemonade I have ever tasted.” That wasn’t a lie. I continued to gulp down the pink drink until half of the glass was gone.

  “Good!” Lydia said clasping her hands together. “I love it when a man likes my pink treats.”

  I wondered if this was a Freudian slip. Had Lydia been smarter, I would have assumed that the phrase was intentional. However, the next thing that happened was a surprise to me.

  “Hopefully, I can get the recipe,” I said to her.