I hated the girl I had never met for throwing herself at him, until I remembered that I had done the exact same thing. For all I knew, this girl might have felt the same way about me when I spent the night with Caiden, and this was her way of getting revenge.
Caiden had been telling the truth about another thing as well. I lay in bed that night and thought of him while I touched myself. After the frustration of the last few days, I’d been desperate for some release, but with Caiden in the room next door it hadn’t been possible. Now he wasn’t here and yet I still couldn’t orgasm.
I tried to think back to the night I’d spent with Caiden, but all I could do was picture him with another woman. I imagined her as tall, blonde, and with large firm breasts that he could bury his face in. I hated my tiny breasts and knew Caiden preferred women with bigger bosoms.
The imaginary blonde woman knew how to keep Caiden happy in bed. She screamed like a porn star and rode him silly. I pictured him spanking her and taking her aggressively from behind. I’d been surprised and a little disappointed that Caiden hadn’t done that with me. My magazines led me to believe that was most men’s favourite position, and yet the third time we had sex we just went back to the missionary position. Caiden had moved slowly and while I loved it at the time, I now worried that he had actually been bored.
That third time was my favourite. The first time I had come with Caiden he had been eating my pussy and while the orgasm was violent, I also felt a sense of shame for coming in his face. I’d only ever come by myself between the sheets before and didn’t know how to handle the experience with a man.
The second orgasm had been when I was riding him and this time I looked away and tried to lose myself in the moment. The third time, the orgasm had built up slowly as Caiden thrust himself in and out while grinding his hips against mine. The slower, less intense orgasm reached every muscle in my body as I gripped hold of him and looked him in the eyes while coming. He finished while I was still shaking and the glow on my body lasted until I arrived back at my dorm the next day.
I shouldn’t have gone to the pub with him yesterday. I’d been furious at my father for the way he had forced his plans upon me without any consideration for my feelings, so when Caiden suggested a visit to the pub I jumped at the chance. It might not have been so bad had I not sat so close to him. As I’d been going to sit down, I’d spotted some chewing gum on the seat and scooched over a little bit to avoid it. I ended up sat just a foot from Caiden and had a view of his cock I would not have had if I was sat a little further away.
I couldn’t help but glance between his legs. I hadn’t been looking, but out of the corner of my eyes I saw movement in the crotch of his jeans and realized that his dick was growing right in front of my eyes. I assumed he was aroused by the dirty text messages from the other woman, because it had nothing to do with me, considering I just wore jeans and a cheap strappy top that I usually wouldn’t wear out of the house.
I still had regrets about that night with Caiden; mainly not at least attempting to give him a great blow job. I had only seen his cock as it pounded in and out of me, so I didn’t have a great picture it in my mind as I tried to masturbate.
Even by Caiden’s shockingly low standards, the brazen way he took my hand and placed it on his cock shocked me to my core. We were in a pub—a public place where we could be seen by people who might even end up attending my dad’s wedding to Caiden’s mum. He just didn’t seem to care what people thought about him or about us and it freaked me out.
When my hand came down on his cock, it pulsed and twitched under my touch. My mind screamed at me to pull my hand away, but my fingers started to close around it. My eyes were transfixed on my hand as if it belonged to someone else, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Nicole banged two glasses against each other by the bar and it snapped me out of my trance. I snatched my hand away in case Nicole came over, and stopped rubbing my step-brother’s cock through his jeans.
Touching his pulsing member and then the shock of being caught sent my heart racing and my mind into panic mode. I got out of the pub as soon as possible and practically ran home. I nearly ran into a man in tatty clothing as I rounded the corner without looking where I was going. He looked like he must be homeless and I felt guilty for worrying about my relatively minor problems when I had an otherwise comfortable life.
Caiden didn’t come home until about one o’clock the following afternoon. He had brought back a few bags full of clothes from the penthouse, but before I could get too excited about him only going to London for that reason, I caught sight of the box of condoms he bought when they fell out of his bag.
I couldn’t see how many were left in there, but the seal had been removed and the box had been opened. It didn’t make much difference whether he’d just fucked her once or ten times. I could have been the one he used those condoms with, but I’d panicked and turned him down.
I was doing the right thing, but dammit, the right thing was boring sometimes. Why couldn’t I just live on the edge like he did and have some fun? You know why, I told myself. The last time you lived on the edge and had some fun you fucked the man who will be your step-brother soon. Some people are good at living in the moment; I was not one of them.
“I was hoping you would stay away a little longer,” I said to Caiden as he unpacked his bags in his room with the door wide open.
“Don’t you worry,” he said, keeping his back turned to me, “I’ll be going back there again soon. It’s so nice to spend time around women who aren’t afraid to admit they want me to fuck them.”
“So you spent the night in a brothel then?” I asked.
Caiden ignored me, so I walked downstairs to the kitchen and flicked through some of my cookbooks—although not any of the ones written by Sheri—and found a few recipes I planned to cook with Gemma this afternoon. If I could find a way to get out of Mandarin lessons then I would be spending the summer developing my own recipes, but for now I was more than happy with just cooking others. Especially if it meant I got to spend time with Gemma.
Gemma had been best friends with my mum before the accident and I knew they still kept in touch although, like me, Gemma wasn’t able to speak to Mum anymore as much as she would have liked. I credited Gemma with helping my mother and me get as close as we were. I hated to admit it to myself, but at one point I preferred Gemma to my own mother.
Gemma was a barrister and worked in the City like my father. She made more money than she could spend in a lucrative and prestigious career, while my mother was effectively a housewife. Even when I was old enough to go to school, my mother never went back to work because my father wanted her home to keep the house and have his dinner on the table when he arrived home after work.
I wouldn’t have blamed my mother for that, but she had such potential, and in my eyes she had wasted it. She had a law degree from Cambridge—where she met my father—and became a member of the bar after a few years of training. However, after she got married and had me she quit her job and never went back to work.
Once, when I was about eleven years old, I’d had what could only be described as a temper tantrum and had screamed at my mum for something so silly and petty I couldn’t even remember what it was. I’d accused her of wasting her life and asked why she couldn’t be more like Gemma. I stormed off, but not before I saw the tears in my mother’s eyes that still pained me even today. If Gemma hadn’t talked to me the next day I might have still hated my mother when she had the accident.
Gemma had waited until my mum left the house to go shopping and showed up with a box of files. She sat me down and made me swear that I would not tell anyone else what she was about to tell me. It was confidential and she could lose her job and her law license if anyone found out. I quickly promised, as any eleven-year-old would when asked to keep a secret that sounded exciting, and Gemma started taking files out of the box.
One by one, she went through the files. They were legal documents about people facing tr
ial or those who had already been found guilty but were appealing the decision. Gemma opened the first file and explained that the man in the file had been convicted of killing his wife, but there had been no evidence linking him to the crime other than an unreliable eyewitness.
“How did he get convicted?” I asked. Even at the age of eleven I had heard of the phrase “beyond a reasonable doubt” and knew it was supposed to protect people from bad convictions.
“He was subject to what could politely be called ‘advanced interrogation techniques,’ ” Gemma explained, “but what I would call torture. He eventually confessed, but the confession should not have been read to the jury.”
Each file contained a similarly horrifying story where someone had been convicted in cases where procedures had not been followed and, in some cases, the police acted dishonestly with evidence.
“Why are you showing me these?” I asked at last. While my eleven-year-old self had found it disturbing, this hadn’t quite been the cool secret I was expecting.
“These are all cases my office agreed to look at on a pro bono basis because these people cannot afford legal representation. ‘Pro bono’ means without charging anyone.”
I was even more impressed by Gemma than I had been before. Now I knew that not only did she make a tonne of money, she also did work in her spare time to help those who couldn’t afford it. It was just a reminder of what my mum could have been.
“These must keep you busy,” I said.
Gemma shook her head. “I don’t work on these cases. No one in my office has any time and, frankly, we’re all too obsessed with chasing more money to do this work. But I do know a qualified barrister who is happy to work for free without getting any credit for it.”
“Who’s that?” I asked. I guess I’d been dumb as a kid.
“Your mother, Victoria,” Gemma replied. “She told me about the argument you had with her yesterday. She’d kill me if she knew I was here and I could get in a lot of trouble for showing you these files, but you need to know that your mother is not ‘just a housewife’ as you put it. For one thing, when you’re older you will realize that looking after a child is a hell of a lot of work, but you probably won’t appreciate that until you have one of your own. However, even on top of all that, she is responsible for freeing at least seventeen people from unfair convictions and she is working on many more.”
“Shit,” I exclaimed. I’d just learned a new swear word at school, but forgot I shouldn’t be saying it in front of adults.
I expected Gemma to yell at me for my choice of words, but she burst out laughing. “Don’t let your father hear you speak like that,” she said. “God, you sounded just like your mother than.”
“My mother swears?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Gemma said. “Listen, you can’t tell your mother I showed you these, but will you promise me to show her more respect?”
I nodded. “Maybe I can help her with these one day?”
“Sure, maybe. But I don’t think your mother wants you to become a barrister. Why don’t you spend time together some other way. I know you look down on it, but she really enjoys cooking, especially for you. Why don’t you do that together?”
Thanks to Gemma I had five years to really appreciate my mother and spend time cooking with her. We never spoke again about the argument, so I didn’t know whether Gemma told her about our discussion, but it didn’t seem to matter. I never formally apologized—something I still regretted—but I liked to think that I made it up to her by my actions.
Gemma only lived a few minutes away and she was scarily punctual, so I was not in the least bit surprised when she knocked on the door at exactly one o’clock. At the same time, I heard the heavy footsteps of Caiden running down the stairs.
“I’ll get it,” I yelled, running to the door trying to beat Caiden there. The last thing I wanted was for Caiden to inflict himself on Gemma. I heard the sound of the door opening as I rounded the corner to see Caiden had just beaten me there. He was carrying a duffel bag packed full of clothes and looked ready to leave.
“Oh, hello,” Gemma said startled, as she came face-to-face with Caiden. “You must be Caiden.”
“Yes ma’am,” Caiden replied. “Has Vicky told you all about me?” Apparently Caiden could be polite when he wanted to be and for some reason that annoyed me as much as him being rude.
“No, I heard the news from Victoria’s father. I’m a big fan of your mum’s though. In fact, I think Victoria and I are going to cook one of her recipes today.”
“Great,” Caiden replied. He still sounded polite, but I caught the hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Well, I’m off back to London so I will leave you ladies to it. Look after Vicky for me. She seems to be a little tense right now.”
Caiden turned back to look at me and grinned before walking out of the house and getting into a taxi that had just pulled up outside.
“Come in, come in,” I said to Gemma who was still standing on the doorstep.
“So that’s the new member of the family, is it?”
“Not yet,” I said, as if that made a difference. “But yes, it looks like I will be seeing a lot more of him.”
“Well it’s a good job he’s easy on the eye than.”
“Gemma,” I exclaimed. “That’s disgusting. He’s going to be my brother.”
Gemma frowned. “No, he’s not. He won’t be anything like a brother. Don’t tell me you can’t see the appeal there?”
“No,” I said, far too quickly. “He has tattoos and he’s rather vulgar. That polite thing was just an act.”
“Good,” Gemma said. “Who wants polite? I wouldn’t dismiss him too quickly if I were you. That is a man who knows exactly how to treat a woman, and I don’t mean holding doors open for them.”
“Gemma, he’s half your age.”
“So, he’s nineteen and legal. I have needs as well and I’d be willing to bet he could satisfy them with ease.”
“Well, you’re welcome to him,” I said.
“I don’t mean to pry into your personal life, but I’m guessing you don’t have too much experience with this kind of thing. You don’t have to say anything, but let me give you a piece of advice. In a few months you will be going to Cambridge from what I hear. I’m sure they have some great professors there, but what you need this summer is someone who will teach you about some of the more basic things in life. Caiden looks like a great teacher.”
“My dad would go mental,” I said.
“That just makes it all the more fun,” Gemma said with a wink. “Anyway, your dad won’t be happy unless you stay a virgin until you’re married, and even then I think he’d rather you only did the deed for procreation purposes.”
I laughed. “Come on, let’s go cook. I wasn’t planning on cooking any of Sheri Ramsden’s recipes today though.”
“That’s okay, I was just saying that to be polite to Caiden. I’m sure whatever you pick is fine.”
I had all the ingredients laid out alongside all the pots, pans, and other utensils we would need for the meal. My father had informed me that he would be eating out with Sheri tonight, and with Caiden now gone Gemma and I would just cooking be for the two of us.
We still made a full three course meal, although as always most of our attention went into the dessert. Baking was by far my favourite type of cooking, and it was just a fortunate coincidence that desserts were also my favourite type of food to eat.
“How are you handling the news?” Gemma asked. “I mean, I guess having a fine specimen like Caiden around helps, but are you okay with your father marrying another woman?”
“It doesn’t bother me that much. I know it’s supposed to, but Dad moved on a long time ago and Mum’s in a difficult place right now. Have you spoken to her recently?”
Gemma paused and didn’t answer immediately. She found it difficult to talk about Mum’s condition and often got teary-eyed when I brought it up. She could talk about Mum in the past tense and was al
ways happy to give me information about what she was like before the accident, but everything after that was difficult.
“Not recently,” Gemma replied quietly without looking at me.
“I haven’t spoken to her in a couple of weeks either,” I said. “But I’m speaking to her tomorrow. It’s all organized. Apparently our discussions leave her feeling upset and emotional, so we have to limit them to once every two weeks. I do hope she gets better soon. I want to tell her about Cambridge. Do you think she’ll be pleased to hear about me going there?”
“She’ll be very proud.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Victoria, your mum wants you to live your life. Your own life. So long as you are doing what you want to do she will be proud and happy for you. Do you want to go to Cambridge?”
“A degree from the University of Cambridge will set me up for a great career,” I replied.
“That’s not what I asked,” Gemma said, parroting my words back to me.
“You think I’m just going because of Dad, don’t you?”
“You know how I feel about your father.” Gemma could be polite and cordial to my dad when she had to be, but she always asked me whether he would be at home when we were spending time together because she would rather not see him if she had a choice.
“I think Mum regrets going to Cambridge.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s where she met Dad. I don’t think she was ever entirely happy with my father. They made a great couple on paper, but I’m not sure they really ever loved each other.”
“They had an unusual relationship,” Gemma admitted. “But if your mother hadn’t met your father then she would never have had you. I guarantee you, no matter how difficult it was for her at times, she wouldn’t have swapped it for the world. You meant… mean everything to her.”
“I just wished she could have met someone that really kept her happy. She still might of course. The doctors say she is getting better, and fingers crossed she’ll regain all her mental faculties one-day. I just hope it’s not too late by that point. Do you think Dad cheated on her?”
Escape: A Stepbrother Romance Page 8