by Lexi Duval
And soon, he'll be my stepfather...
For the first week, I hear nothing from Tyler aside from a few text messages. He tells me he's incredibly busy with work and is traveling around the country, but will be back soon.
When he returns, he lives up to his promise of making the most of our time together. Almost every night I go into Manhattan and stay at one hotel or another with him. We fuck each night like it's our last, falling into a rhythm that I never want to end.
Every time I wake up the next morning, his hard, bronze body lying next to me, I feel a deep pang of sorrow at the thought of what's to come. At the thought that each day, we're getting closer to our parting.
Gradually, something more that sexual attraction develops. I realize that one evening, about a week and a half out from the wedding, when we meet, as usual, at a hotel room near Times Square.
That night, we order room service and relax watching movies that we both loved during our childhood. We drink and laugh and realize that we have far more in common than just the amazing sex between us.
When we go to bed that evening, we don't even sleep together. I lie in his arms, listening to his heartbeat, and everything just seems right. And when I fall asleep, still lying against his chest, I do so with a wide smile that sticks to my face until morning.
When we wake, we kiss, take a shower together, and wash each other's bodies without having sex. And all the time it begins to dawn on me that I'm falling for him hard.
And what makes me even more happy is that I can see he's doing the same.
Those moments of happiness, however, are naïve and ignorant of the pact we made. We're both falling into the trap we laid out ourselves, developing feelings that are going to make it so much harder to part when our parents tie the knot.
Yet neither of us mention it. Neither of us do anything about it. We just bathe in the bliss, shut everything else out, and pray that when the time comes we'll have the conviction to follow through.
About a week before the wedding, Stephen throws a party at the Four Seasons in Manhattan. He hires out the banquet hall, puts on an amazing spread, and celebrates with hundreds of friends, family, and business associates.
I feel quite in awe of it all, and wonder why exactly he's holding such a bash only a week before his wedding.
“Abby my dear, I want to celebrate this union as much as I possibly can. This event is merely the warm up. You'll see what I mean in a week's time.”
The evening is quite lavish, the ballroom bathed in gold and covered in flowers. Stephen does the rounds, meeting and greeting everyone and introducing them all to my mother.
I suspect that the main reason for this event is for that very purpose: to let my mom meet everyone before the big day itself. Weddings can be stressful and nerve-wracking enough without having to worry about meeting powerful businessmen and women, politicians, celebrities, and even the odd head of state.
I can tell my mom is slightly overwhelmed by it all, but she holds it all together. Meanwhile, Tyler mingles confidently, the charm of his father shining through, and helps to ease me into proceedings in the same way that his father is doing with my mother.
The evening is filled with merriment, and gradually turns into a party, the dance floor slowly filling with plenty of 'dad' dancing and middle aged women trying to recapture their youth.
By this point I've drunk plenty, and when Tyler whisks me off away from the hall and into an unused and dark meeting room, I don't question it.
We fuck in the dark, the music of the party faint in the distance, our bodies, poisoned by alcohol, ignoring the fact that we might be disturbed or stumbled upon.
“No one will come here,” Tyler tells me, as though he's got some inside line and knows the schedule of the room.
I don't question him, or care. I only care about feeling the thrust of his dick inside me.
He sits on one of the many chairs covering the floor of the room, and I hitch up my dress, pull down my panties, and straddle him so hard the chair almost tips over. I twist, letting him see my ass as I sit on his lap, bobbing up and down like a cork in the ocean as his cock impales me.
Our moans are hidden by the music of the distant party, our lust secret and forbidden and hopelessly irresistible as a result. It's something neither of us can escape or control, a desire that we want to explore over and over before it's too late.
So we fuck there, in the dark silence, and do so without a word. When we return to the party, our absence has not been noticed by the sprawling masses, many of whom are now half cut and making fools of themselves on the dance floor.
We slide beside each other in a corner of the room, and laugh and giggle and watch the entire event play out.
Knowing that it's all just the calm before the storm.
Chapter Three
“This is it,” says Tyler, his chestnut eyes locked on mine. “The big day.”
I'm dressed in a beautiful light blue gown while he's in a tuxedo that wouldn't look out of place in Bond movie. His hair is perfectly slicked back, his face cleanly shaven, his teeth seeming to shine whiter than ever.
But in his eyes there's a hint of turmoil, something brewing in the background.
He takes my arm and leads me through the grounds of the Black Estate, strolling around the front lawns as my mother rushes upstairs to prepare herself for the ceremony.
Up there, a team of stylists and make up artist will be waiting to make her look even more beautiful, like a old Hollywood starlet from the golden era of film, graceful and alluring and stunningly beautiful.
“I can't be long. I need to be with my mother.”
“I understand,” says Tyler, and we continue to walk in silence.
A weight has dawned between us, one that had been building inside me for the last few days. Now it's crushing on my shoulders, and I feel tense and strained and burdened with nerves.
The gardens are already starting to fill, cars arriving up the main front driveway, wonderfully dressed men and women stepping out. I recognize many of them from the party the previous week, gazing around the grounds and up at the mansion with impressed looks.
Some even stare in wonder, perhaps not so used to this grandeur, old friends of my mother's and Stephen's from the days before he got rich. They stand around with startled eyes, too spellbound to speak.
But my attention is on little else but Tyler, his arm locked to mine, knowing that we've depleted the last of our lust as our pact and promise told us to.
We reach the house and Tyler slips his arm from mine and gives me a tender kiss on the cheek.
“Go tend to your mother, this is her day more than anyone's,” he says. “I'll see you at the ceremony.”
And with that he turns and walks toward the mingling guests, ready to do his duty as his father's son and best man.
My mother granted me the same privilege, asking me to be her maid of honor as soon as we got back from St Barts a month ago. I'd said yes immediately, but now am regretting it slightly and feeling woefully out of my depth.
Over the last two days, my nerves have built to such a degree that I'd been let off delivering a speech. I don't know if it was pride or stupidity, but I told my mother I was adamant that I'd say at least a few words.
My toast will be nothing more than a congratulations, though. I certainly don't have the same oratory gifts as Stephen or his son.
I climb the stairs in the main hall of the mansion and find my mother being attacked on all sides by a series of women, painting and shaping and configuring her look.
“Abby, darling, have some champagne.” My mother calls me without turning her head, and I can hear the nerves in her voice.
I take a glass and sit in front of her. Her eyes are filled with apprehension and I can see that her chest is rising a little more forcefully than normal.
“How do I look?”
“Beautiful, mom. Perfect.”
“Thanks sweetheart.”
We talk as the woman co
ntinue to transform her, and I put all of my efforts into keeping her distracted the entire time.
In truth, the distraction is intended for me as well. Tyler continues to cling to my mind and refuses to let go, always ever present and taunting me with his perfection.
So I talk, and make sure to drink at least two glasses of champagne to shut him up, and soon my mother is standing in front of the full length mirror, ready to wow the world.
“Breathtaking.”
“Stunning.”
“Gorgeous.”
The stylists and make up artists rattle off their compliments, but my mother is only really only interested in mine.
“Perfect,” I say, just as before, and she gives me a hug.
Then we step out together, down the stairs, through the back of the mansion, and down the long corridor leading to the rear gardens.
Beyond, I can make out the sight of chairs set up on the lawn beyond the courtyard, a magnificent stage and altar erected where the groom waits, Tyler by his side along with various other groomsmen.
The place is filled, and busy, and bustling with the sound of excited chatter. We get closer, and I feel my mom's hand grip me tight.
“Wish me luck,” she whispers.
At the end of the corridor stands her father, pride in his eyes. I haven't seen him in some time, and he looks much older and more frail than he used to. Still, there's a sparkle inside him and a smile on his face that helps to draw his age back again and snatch away a few years.
“Susan, you look...” He seems to choke up, unable to finish his words.
“Thanks dad. So, shall we?”
They join arms and wait as the music begins to fill the air and everyone stands from their seats. All eyes switch around and turn to us as I walk forward with the other bridesmaids, my mother and grandfather bringing up the rear.
I catch eyes with Tyler as I near the front, a stoic look on his face that soon breaks into a smile as my mother joins his father at the altar.
The ceremony begins, and the motions are gone through, and everyone claps as they kiss as man and wife for the first time.
And right then, right at that moment, when everyone's eyes are on the happy couple, mine and Tyler's are the only one's that aren't.
We're looking at each other, and our eyes are both sad. Because the union of our parents means the end of our secret relationship.
And from that moment on, we can be nothing more than stepbrother and stepsister.
Chapter Four
Beyond the altar and the stage and the hundreds of chairs where the ceremony was run, giant tents are set up further down the lawns toward the wooded areas at the back.
Above, the sky, which had threatened earlier to unload its contents down onto us, has miraculously cleared and is now shining a bright shade of blue as the sun continues its slant toward the horizon.
The day has been humid and warm, and large air conditioner units are working the inside of the tents, making sure the guests are all kept suitably cool.
The catering staff, meanwhile, rush between tables, delivering drinks of various kinds to anyone who requires one. From my perch on the top table, I watch the entire evening unfold before me, but my thoughts and my mind are elsewhere.
In the center of the long top table sit my father and mother, facing everyone like the King and Queen of the banquet. I'm to my mother's left, and Tyler is to his father's right, and ever since we caught eyes at the ceremony several hours ago, we've had no further contact.
Maybe this is how it will be now? Silence and avoidance.
By the time the speeches come, I've hardly had an opportunity to grow nervous, preoccupied as my mind is. So, I stand almost without thinking, deliver my toast on autopilot, and return to my seat as the applause rings out.
None of it registers.
Then Tyler speaks, and I watch him closely. Yet still, he never makes eye contact with me, looking intermittently between his father, my mother, and the crowd in front of us.
Since I've known him, he's always seemed adept at controlling his emotions. At flipping switches in his head that allow him to take what's in front of him with the right mindset.
Right now, he's delivering a fantastic speech, and seems in no way distracted or perturbed by anything that's going on inside his head. It's a fine quality that I haven't yet developed and probably never will. Perhaps it's just a guy thing, the ability to shut off and do what you gotta do.
I can't do that.
My mind is racing with thoughts of him, even more so now that I'm watching him there, commanding everyone's attention with his pitch perfect oration. He seems so far from the cocksure, arrogant boy I met in that hotel room only five weeks ago.
Once the speeches are finished, the event opens its doors up and people begin to swap tables and mingle and dance. They spill out into the evening air to sip their drinks on the lawns under the setting sun, the sky glowing with an ethereal orange and purple hue.
Stephen departs outside with Tyler and his other groomsmen, and they light up stogies and toast the groom with the finest bottle of whiskey money can buy. I watch Tyler as he passes by in front of the table, still not looking at me, and feel my insides ache for a need to kiss him, touch him, talk to him at least.
I can't bear being ignored, as if suddenly now that he's my stepbrother he can treat me so differently. Treat me as if I'm a burden to him and nothing more, an unwanted addition to his family that he'd rather wasn't around.
“What's the matter, Abby?”
My mother's voice breaks me from my thoughts. I turn to her to see concerned eyes that seem to be able to look right through me.
“Nothing, mom.”
“Are you sure, honey. You've been quiet all evening. I'm your mother. I can always tell when there's something wrong.”
I change the expression on my face and lift a smile out of my solemnity.
“Really, mom, it's OK. I just feel a little dizzy, that's all. You know how nervous I get talking in front of people. That toast took it out of me.”
My mother nods and tells me she understands, but her eyes don't carry a look to suggest she believes me.
“Baby, go and have a lie down inside for a little while. The night is still very young. Take a break and come back when you're feeling better.”
I follow her orders, happy for an excuse to leave the party without my absence being questioned. I pass the lawns and the courtyard and go into the mansion, returning up the main staircase to the room I slept in the first night I came here.
I lie on the bed and listen to the festivities outside, and a tear begins drifting down my cheek for all the emotion inside me.
For a while I lie there, on my side, just listening to the world outside and feeling increasingly like I don't want to rejoin it. When I hear the door open behind me I assume my mother has come to see how I am.
And then I hear Tyler's voice.
“Abby?”
I roll over and look into his eyes, hooded and written with a tender countenance at the sight of my feeble frame.
“What's wrong?”
He paces quickly toward me at seeing my expression, dropping down next to me on the bed and stroking my hair.
“Nothing...I just didn't expect to feel this way.”
“What way?” he asks quietly, eyes burrowing into me.
“You know what, Tyler.”
He nods, and runs his thumb across my eye to catch a tear.
“We made a pact, Abby. You made a pact.”
“I know, and I know we have to stick to it...but it's hard.”
“Do we?” he asks quickly.
A frown drops over my eyes.
“What do you mean?”
He shuffles his weight, his body language turning almost defiant.
“I mean, do we have to stick to the pact. Why the hell should we, anyway. We should do what makes us happy, and to hell with anyone who disagrees.”
“That's not what we agreed.”
&nbs
p; “I don't care.” His words build in ferocity. “I care about you, Abby, much more than what someone might think. I think we should just tell them and face whatever stupid moral consequences are thrown at us. I know our parents will understand when they know the details.”
“The details! What, the fact that we met online and fucked in a hotel room the day before officially met each other! I don't want anyone to know those details.”
“Well we'll make something up then, whatever. What matters is the way we feel about it each.”
His voice holds a seriousness that it never has before. His face an expression of rebellion against anyone who''d stand against us.
“And...how do you feel about me?”
His jaw suddenly tightens, his posture straightening as if the question makes him uncomfortable.
“You know how I feel about you.”
“No...I don't.”
I lift my hand to his cheek, and turn his eyes back to mine. The stoicism inside them melts, his expression betraying him.
He takes a breath, his eyes shifting this way and that, before finally settling on mine.
“I've never said it before,” he says, and my heart thuds.
“Say it,” I whisper.
“I...love...you.” He's almost unsure of his own words, stuttering them out and losing all his usual poise, all his occasional arrogance and charm and ego and allure all falling away, stripping him to his core.
I smile and feel another tear forming, this one of joy.
“I love you too.”
And then we kiss, and I know that things have only gotten more complicated. And that somehow we're going to have to make this work, we're going to have to figure this out.
Because right now, I'd rather die than be without him.
Chapter Five
“What is this?”
I'm torn from the spell of Tyler's lips, and watch as his eyes spring wide open. Over his shoulder, my eyes raise to see the form of my beautiful mother, perfect in her wedding gown, looking at us with her face plastered in shock.