“Do you want to come inside?” I asked.
“Sure!” he exclaimed.
“Okay,” I said, the calmness of my voice in stark contrast to my racing heart. I wasn’t sure if I was making the right decision. But I had to pop my cherry sometime, right? Why not with my loving boyfriend?
We got out and walked up to the front door. It was a bit cool, and I wished Nate would put his arm around me, but he didn’t think to do that. My key slid into the door and it creaked open. I froze for a second, the wheeze of the door hinges filling me with fear that my mom might hear. When all was quiet, I guided Nate through our dark kitchen and living room, down the hall and into my bedroom.
He plopped down on my bed, scattering a pile of books I had left there. One of them fell to the floor with a thud.
“Shhhh!” I scolded.
“Sorry!” he whispered.
Nate perched his narrow butt on the edge of the bed, and I sat down beside him. Side by side, not talking or looking at each other, we stared at my Taylor Swift poster on the wall. When Nate made no move to embrace me, it was incredibly awkward. I looked at his face, and he turned toward me. I saw the uncertainty in his brown eyes. Well, if hewasn’t going to be a man and kiss me, then I would have to wear the pants in this relationship.
My head tilted and moved closer to Nate. He followed my lead, and we kissed. From the way I was hunched over, the waistband of my jeans dug into my side. It kind of hurt. For some reason, Nate grabbed my roll of flab, caressing it. His hands touching me there made me feel self-conscious, but I pushed through my own feelings of anxiety and gently placed a hand on Nate’s crotch. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I kind of massaged him, and suddenly I could feel the swelling tightness in his jeans.
Touching his little cock turned me on, and I sensed the heat rising between my legs. Nate moaned, turning me on even more. I got on my knees, kneeling before him, and fumbled with the button of his jeans, until he got impatient and pulled his jeans and boxers down to his ankles in a single tug.
My eyes widened. Never in my life had I been in such close proximity to a naked dick. It kind of reminded me of a bent hot dog wienie. I couldn’t tell if I should be turned on or revolted by the sight of the hard pink thing staring back at me.
“Kiss it,” Nate said.
I hesitantly leaned forward and gave a little peck to the tip of Nate’s dick. It instantly sprang to attention and a ragged moan passed through Nate’s lips. He seemed to be having a seizure.
“Oh,” he kept moaning, “oh, oh, oh.”
My lips had barely grazed him! I had no idea that I could wield so much power over him, a mere kiss driving him wild. Nate’s body was twitching, his loss of control intensifying. With a mix of horror and curiosity I watched the swollen tip of his dick, bright pink like a melted popsicle.
He groaned again.
“Quiet!” I scolded.
He groaned even louder. I had no idea what came over him, but he wouldn’t shut up. I was still kneeling there, unable to move, like the witness of a slow-motion car wreck. His body lurched forward and his hands moved to cover his dick, but it was too late. Something hot and sticky spurted from the tip, spraying my face, at the exact instant that my door opened and my bedroom light flicked on.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
My mom’s irate voice thundered from my open door. In a panic, I tried to wipe away the cum from my nose and chin, but it was so sticky it gummed in my fingers.
“Why, you little tramp!” my mother said, her voice rising in anger. “How dare you defile my house with some boy off the street?”
Nate gasped and scrambled to cover himself with my pillow, smearing the quickly drying cum all over my bed.
“That’s not some boy,” I said defiantly. “It’s Nate, my boyfriend. We weren’t doing anything you haven’t done.”
Anger flashed in my mom’s eyes. She turned to Nate.
“Young man, put on your pants and get the hell out of my house.”
Nate hopped from the bed, hysterically pulling up his jeans. He tripped and fell to the floor, but was back on his feet in half a second. Mom stepped aside as Nate barreled through my bedroom door, abandoning me with my evil witch of a mother. Way to be my knight in shining armor, Nate.
“And don’t come back,” Mom called after him as he rushed out the front door. “As for you,” she said, turning back to me, “you are not to leave this room until further notice.”
She slammed my door shut, and I heard her footsteps as she stomped away.
III.
When I woke up the next morning, my pillow was crusty from Nate’s cum. How romantic. As I lay in bed, recounting my experiences of the previous night, I wished that I could bury myself under my covers and disappear forever. As a lover, Nate wasn’t even a one-minute man. Then the whole encounter with my mom was absolutely horrifying.
I knew she told me to stay in my room, but I was a legal adult with a mind of my own. I wasn’t some kid that she could ground anymore. Even so, it was probably better not to antagonize her right now. I crept out of bed and eased open my bedroom door. Down the hall, from the kitchen, I could hear my mother’s shrill voice. She had someone on speaker phone.
“I don’t care if he’s indisposed,” my mom was saying. “This is his wife, do you hear me? His wife, Marsha. I need to speak to him right away.”
Mom was calling Trent? I couldn’t believe it. As far as I knew, they hadn’t said more than a few words to each other since the divorce was finalized.
To my surprise, the woman on the other end of the line capitulated. “I’ll see if it’s possible to disturb Mr. Paine at the moment,” she said in a slightly distressed voice.
“Tell him it’s an emergency,” Mom said. “An emergency!”
The receptionist or whoever put Mom on hold, and generic music played. I could hear the click-click-clack of Mom’s nails against our wooden dining room table as she waited impatiently.
“Marsha.”
It was Trent’s voice, his deep voice, like music from the distant past, when he and Mom were still married.
“Oh, hi!” Mom said, the vitriol gone from her voice. “Hi, Trent! How are you?”
“What do you want, Marsha?”
“What do I want? Can’t I just call you sometimes?” she asked. “Maybe I miss the sound of your voice. How long has it been? Two years already?”
There was a pause before Trent spoke.
“I’m very busy, Marsha. My assistant said there was an emergency of some kind.”
“Yes, a real emergency,” Mom said, suddenly sounding desperate. “It’s about our daughter. She’s out of control, and so disrespectful. Last night I caught her … experimenting … with a boy that she snuck into her bed. Can you believe it? She’s probably trying alcohol and drugs, too. Who knows? I need your help, Trent. You were the only one who knew how to get through to her.”
“Ava’s not my responsibility,” Trent said. “Not any longer. You and your lawyer made that abundantly clear.”
“Wait, Trent! Don’t hang up,” my mother begged. “Listen, I was wrong. She may not be your real daughter, but you’re just as responsible as I am for the way she was raised. You divorced me, not your little girl. She needs you. I need you. Please.”
“What do you want me to do?” Trent asked in an impatient tone.
Although I could not see my mom, my overactive imagination helped me picture her playing the damsel in distress. She was probably twirling a strand of her short hair, her brown eyes glistening with the hint (or threat) of impending tears.
“Would you take her in, Trent? Just for a little while? I truly believe a strong male role model would succeed where I have … not succeeded. Surely you would be willing to provide for her, at least until she leaves for college this fall. I hear that you have the means …”
“You read the article,” Trent said flatly, cutting her off from discussing his newfound wealth. He took a deep breath. “Yes. I’ll take
Ava off your hands. Tell her to be ready by 3 o’clock this afternoon.”
IV.
At 3 p.m. a sleek, black limousine pulled into our driveway. I ran outside to greet Trent, thrilled that he had come to rescue me from my mother. The driver, a nondescript white man in a tuxedo, got out of the limo.
“Hi, Ava,” the driver said. “I’m Barney, Mr. Payne’s personal assistant. Can I take your things?”
“Where’s Trent?” I asked.
“Mr. Payne sent me to bring you back to his estate,” Barney replied. He must have seen how crestfallen I was, because he quickly added, “Mr. Payne will see you tonight, I’m sure. He’s a busy man these days.”
Barney opened the door for me. I turned and saw Mom standing in the doorway, watching our encounter. I didn’t say goodbye, and neither did she. Too much negative feelings that hadn’t had time to cool off, I guess.
After I had crawled into the spacious backseat of the limo, Barney loaded my suitcases into the trunk, and he drove me away. A couple of hours later we arrived at the most impressive home I have ever seen. A mansion, really. Barney pulled the limo up to an elaborate wrought-iron gate and within a second the gate was opening automatically.
“Home sweet home,” Barney said.
I stared out the window, marveling at my stepfather’s estate. The manicured lawn, a gurgling three-tiered water fountain. The house itself looked to be at least four stories tall, with huge windows framed by dark blue shutters. Behind one of the windows on the second floor I thought I saw movement, but I looked again and the window was dark and empty.
Barney parked and escorted me from the limo and through the wide double doors, then through a vast hallway lighted by a crystal chandelier. I stopped to stare, but Barney motioned for me to follow him up a spiral staircase, down a hallway lined with large postmodern paintings, and into a dimly lit room at the end of the hall.
“Ava,” my stepfather said.
His voice startled me, and I jumped a little. I swung around and saw him by a window, sitting at a chess board made of marble. Trent noticed my jumpiness and his eyes shone with amusement, which made me blush.
“It’s been a long time,” he said. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I replied.
Trent was even more handsome than I remembered. The past two years had treated him very kindly, though hints of gray were beginning to fleck his dark hair around the temples. When he stood up, I noticed he was wearing a dark and expensive-looking suit perfectly tailored to his frame.
He put his arms around me and gave me a hug. I loved the feeling of his big, hard body pressed against mine. For some reason I thought of my boyfriend Nate just then. When hugging his scrawny body I sometimes felt self-conscious about being bigger than him, but there was no reason to worry about that with Trent. He was 6-foot-2 or 6-foot-3, and built like a Roman god. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and his rugged jawline was pleasingly rough like sandpaper against my forehead.
His body was so firm and warm, and I noticed that I was getting wet with desire. Snap out of it, Ava, I scolded myself. He’s your stepfather.
Trent gave me a quizzical look, then asked me to take a seat in one of his leather chairs. He sat down in an identical chair next to mine.
“You’ve grown up quite a bit since I saw you last,” Trent said, looking me up and down. “I’m glad you came. You can stay here as long as you like, so make yourself at home. I realize I’m not your stepfather any longer, and I regret that I haven’t been a part of your life these last couple of years. But I hope it won’t take long for us to renew our family ties.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
Trent nodded. “You’ll be given an allowance,” he continued. “Barney can arrange for whatever else you need to live comfortably. I only have one rule.”
“Yes, sir?” I asked. “Name it.”
“Stay out of my bedroom. It’s the only part of my house that is strictly off limits. If you follow this one simple rule, we should get along just fine.”
He was right. During the first week that I stayed with Trent, I don’t remember the last time I was happier or was more pampered. From spa treatments to meals prepared by his personal chef, I had never lived in such luxury. But Trent’s only rule piqued my curiosity. Why would he care so much that I stay out of his bedroom? Maybe it was because he was a man, with a man’s desires, and I was a young and very available woman. It wouldn’t be proper for his virginal stepdaughter to be alone with him in his bedroom. Not that I would have minded.
But something told me there was more to the story. Late at night, I heard strange and unexplainable noises coming from Trent’s room. Sometimes the noises woke me up. Other times I was already lying awake in bed, unable to sleep. Then morning would come, and it was like nothing had ever happened.
After a particularly raucous-sounding night I slept late, then found Trent looking very well rested and chipper at the kitchen table. He was wearing boat shoes and a cream-colored cashmere sweater draped over the shoulders of his white collared shirt. Very preppy.
“Good morning, beautiful!” Trent said, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. “Sit down and eat up! Barney made his special eggs Benedict today. You’ll need a big breakfast if you’re planning to accompany me today.”
“Okay,” I said, not sure what Trent was talking about. “Where are we going?”
“Barney didn’t tell you? God damn it.” An irritated look flashed across Trent’s face, but only for a second before the smile returned. “My secretary cleared my schedule, and I’m taking the yacht out to the harbor. Should be a beautiful day for sailing. Care to join me?”
We took Trent’s helicopter to the harbor where he kept his yacht, a long and sleek white vessel named the Queen Nano. Trent showed me how to handle the rigging as the wind caught our sails and swept us out to the middle of the harbor. Gulls flew overhead and the sun shone on the water. We steered into a headwind, making our way through the harbor and toward the ocean.
Trent’s cheeks were ruddy in the salty breeze, and I could see my own reflection in his expensive sunglasses. The view in the reflection was distorted like a fun-house mirror, exaggerating the hourglass shape of my figure. My boobs were big and round in my bikini top, and my hips were even rounder, veiled by a flowing sarong knotted just below my belly button.
Trent looked at me without saying a word. I couldn’t read his eyes through those dark sunglasses, couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw. He had loosened a couple of buttons of his shirt, which whipped in the breeze. I could see more of his chest than usual. His skin was deliciously tanned with a patch of fuzzy hair that I wanted to run my fingers through.
A smirk spread across Trent’s lips, and he casually re-fastened one of the buttons of his shirt, blocking my view of his chest hair. I blushed when I realized he had caught me staring. Feeling embarrassed, I turned and watched a shrimping boat sailing in with its morning catch.
“What a pretty day,” I said.
“It’s glorious, isn’t it?” Trent replied. “This is where I come when I need to get away from everything and clear my head. I thought maybe you could use the same thing. Do you want to tell me why your mom sent you to live with me?”
If possible, my face reddened even more. The words began to spill out. It’s like I had been holding onto all my grievances ever since Mom divorced Trent in the first place, just waiting for the opportunity to unleash them now. She was selfish and conniving, thinking only of herself. It was obviously her fault that she and Trent broke up. “What that bothers me most is when I allow her hateful attitude to rub off on me. That’s my biggest fear, you know? That I will grow up to be just like her.”
Trent pocketed his sunglasses. His blue eyes were full of emotion as they searched mine.
“Listen to me, Ava,” he said, taking my hands in his. “You are not your mother. You are nothing like her. You are an adult now, and you can be anyone you want. You can go to any college you want. You are your ow
n person—a beautiful person—and no one is going to change that.”
Trent reached up and swept away a strand of hair that had fallen across my face. The tips of his fingers gently brushed my skin, the merest touch sending tingles through my body. God, why did he have to be so handsome? I felt so much gratitude to Trent for knowing exactly what to say. He had taken me in when he didn’t have to, and now he was helping me come to grips with my fraught relationship with my mother.
His lips were dry from the salt in the air. I wanted to kiss that mouth of his, to lick the salt and taste him. My tongue ran along my lips, wetting them, as I fantasized about things I shouldn’t. At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that Trent was my stepdad. I had completely forgotten about the mysterious issues regarding his off-limits bedroom. I just wanted him to hold me. I leaned forward, and Trent opened his arms and took me in his warm embrace. My face was buried in that firm chest of his as I breathed in his manly scent. Being in Trent’s arms calmed me and filled me with confidence. His strong hands ran up and down my back, the way a real father might hug his own daughter.
Too Big Taboo Bundle: Naughty Brats, Forbidden First Time, Man of the House Page 6