A Taboo Romance With A Billionaire Part 2 of 2

  A Taboo Romance with a Billionaire

  Part Two

  Stephanie Brother

  © 2015 Stephanie Brother

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  Kindle Edition

  Amelia

  When I leave the store, it is with so much more than what I had set out for. Enough to surprise Mac for months on end.

  My next stop is the shoe store, where I pick out a pair of white heels fit for a hooker. It makes me question my own sanity—a question I'm happy to leave unanswered.

  With bags in both hands, sweaty from the nerves that are gearing, I announce my return by yelling, "I'm home!"

  "Took your sweet time too," Mac yells back, not disparaging but amused. My shopping-fever, as Mac calls it, has always been a source of bewilderment for him and he has never made it a secret how he just can't understand how I—or any woman, for that matter—can find enjoyment in spending hours going from one clothing rack to the next.

  "Shopping like women do is psychological torture for a guy," he'd say, and repeat whenever the topic came up, which was often. "We guys? We know what we want and we just go for it. In and out. Fast. Efficient. Easy on the psyche. But you women…" He'd roll his eyes at that point and look up to Heaven to express his bewilderment.

  "I bought something for you too, Mac," I say, struggling to sound casual. If only he knew that we women know exactly what we want too, and this one is going for what she wants without holding anything back, nerves and fear be damned.

  "A paddle for that spanking?" Mac yells. He really had to say that. In the state I'm in, it’s all it takes for a deep moan to break to the surface, my horny young snatch contracting powerfully and my toes curling as I press my thighs together hard.

  "Chinese takeout," I yell back from the kitchen after pulling myself together enough to sound semi-normal. Placing my hands flat on the counter, I hang my head and take several deep breaths in the hope that it can calm me down. It doesn't. My heart rate is still outracing that of a galloping horse and the searing heat between my legs is threatening to set my soaked panties on fire.

  "What? No fresh vegetables to help the patient back on his feet?"

  "Mac?"

  "What?"

  "I'm a nurse, not a chef." My cooking is another topic that regularly passed revue. Mom was a great cook, and Mac isn't too shabby in that department either, but any food I prepare is like a lethal weapon to the taste buds, with the potential to send anyone straight to the ER.

  "Excuses, excuses."

  "Mac?"

  "I'm listening."

  "If you don't behave then there won't be any dinner for the patient at all," I say, imitating Nurse Ratchet as best I can.

  "What? You wouldn't!"

  "I Googled Nurse Ratchet, Mac."

  "Oh."

  "Amazing what you can find on Youtube, isn't it? I think Nurse Ratchet is going to be my role-model from now on."

  "I created a monster!"

  "But you still love me, right?" A question I've asked a thousand times before. This time, however, there is a hidden question beneath the surface. What I'm really asking is if he loves me the way a man loves a woman, not just as his sister. Stepsister, I quickly remind myself.

  "Sometimes," Mac yells back.

  "Mac!"

  "What?"

  "You might want to remind yourself of the vulnerable position you're in."

  "Amelia?"

  "Yes?"

  "I love you every day of the week," Mac says, with a depth of feeling that makes my heart flutter in my chest and gives me hope. The hope I need to go through with this craziness.

  "Thanks, Mac!" Going to my room, I still can't quite believe that I’m actually going to dress up like a wet dream. I mean, that in itself is crazy enough. What makes it crazier is that I kept my V-pass in mint condition and I have zero experience in this department. What makes it triple crazy is that he is my stepbrother.

  "Amelia?"

  "Yes, Mac?" I say, throwing the bags on my bed.

  "Some days I love you more than others, though."

  Mac

  As sorry as my situation is, leave it to Amelia to cheer me up with her teases and jokes. But the sadness of never being able to tell her the truth is there, as always, in the background, sneaking up on me.

  "But you still love me like crazy, even on the worst days, right?" she yells from her room.

  "Kinda," I yell, my voice stuck in my throat, and to my horror my cock wakes up.

  Cursing under my breath, I try not to panic. After she left, I had to wait for what felt like forever for the damn thing to calm down, unable to rub one out and eliminate future humiliation simply because there was nowhere to discreetly deposit the jizz. All the while I mulled over what Amelia had said, unsure if the perceived hidden message wasn't just the product of my own wishful thinking. My sense of morality wants it to be, but every other part of my being hopes that I read her right.

  "Kinda? Geez, Mac, you really know how to charm a girl's heart." Charm a girl’s heart? What I wouldn't give to charm hers like she charms mine.

  "I'm not really hungry after all," I lie, eyeing the growing bulge.

  "Mac, you need to ask yourself this one question."

  "That being?"

  "Would Nurse Ratchet put up with that?"

  Shit. Desperate, I pull my pillow away from under my head. Placing it over the bulge only succeeds at make me feel that much more of a fool.

  "Still there?"

  "I'm thinking," I say. I am. Thinking about how to explain that hardness once she finds out about it. Racking my mind for possible excuses, I realize that I don't really want to hide the feelings she brings to the surface. Part of me wants to be caught read handed. But then what? I ask myself, my heart sinking at the thought of how that would make me look—a guy with feelings for the one woman who is off limits; forbidden ground, according to the morality that I'm trying not to impose on myself but can't shake.

  All because of the hope she gave me by leaving the impression that she wants me as badly as I want her. But what if I am wrong? What then? Miserable, I stare at the ceiling, a scene coming back to me from the past.

  Rose's, Amelia's mother, voice comes back to me as clear as day. "One day you will have to stop treating her like a younger sister," Rose said, only days before the plane crash. At the time, I didn't know what to make of it. But seeing the scene replay itself in my mind with a clarity that is complete, I'll swear Rose saw this day coming clear as day. Saw it and approved of it, with that gentle smile that was all her own and an advice that only now falls into place. "One day you will have to see her as and treat her for the woman she has become."

  I had just nodded, shocked too much by her approval to even allow the words to sink in, missing the message completely. Days later, the crash happened, and I never gave those words another thought, not until now. Obviously Rose had noticed my feelings for her daughter and instead of shock, she had given her approval as clearly as she could without scaring the hell out of me.

  "Amelia," I say, my voice unsteady. I’m still not one hundred percent certain I am doing the right thing, "I guess I'm hungry after a
ll." I am. Starving. But not for food. Starving for the affections of the woman I learned to think of as my very own sister. Calmer, I feel myself relax and surrender to whatever lies ahead, trusting Rose and Amelia to know better than me. What do I know, after all? I'm just a guy.

  "There’s a good boy!"

  "Boy? I thought you said I'm an old guy."

  "That too!"

  "You recall that spanking I mentioned?"

  "Eheh."

  "I can see it clearer and clearer," I say, pretending the way my cock pulsates at the thought of frying her ass is perfectly acceptable.

  "I can't wait, Mac," Amelia shoots back, with a huskiness in her voice that brings me hope that maybe I'm not imagining things after all.

  Amelia

  Ready to faint, I look in the mirror at the woman that stares back at me with a deep blush on her cheeks. I wasn't wrong about how I look in Stefanie's uniform. I'm all tits and ass and long legs that end in white high heels that could cause vertigo, wrapped tightly in a nurse uniform that covers less than I imaged it would.

  Shorter than I had imagined, it leaves the bottom half of my bubble ass bare as the day I was born. That is with me standing as straight as my trembling legs allow for, my heart pumping so hard that I can hear it pounding in my ears, and the fever that owns my horny little snatch reaching new heights.

  Eyeing the garter belt and stocking that are laid out on the bed, I can't find the courage to go that far. No way. I'm already pushing things as they are. With the stockings and garter belt, I might as well join the ladies of the night by the side of the road. I'd probably cause a traffic jam.

  After learning that applying makeup with unsteady hands is a bitch, I cast one last look in the mirror. My blonde mane is piled up and pinned the way I like it, and my lips are painted a deep sensuous red that complements the smoky eyeshadow that makes my blue eyes stand out like crazy, dilated pupils and all.

  What also stands out is the cleavage that is the result of being unable to button up fully. With the top four buttons undone, and a stubborn refusal to wear more than the sexy transparent panties that are already soaked with my juices, my breasts are free to swell with each breath I take, the stiff nipples hard trying to poke little holes in the material. Concretely, that translates into my breasts looking like they are trying to spill over the fabric that is barely keeping them contained each time I take a deep breath.

  Altogether, I have to hand it to myself; for a virgin I sure succeed at dressing up like a very sexy nurse. Eyeing the garter belt and stockings again, I can't help but laugh, releasing tension. Maybe I'll wear them next time.

  Entering Mac's bedroom on legs that feel like rubber, I ask how my favorite patient is doing; my strategy is to just play stupid. What? My tits shake and jiggle all over the place? Oh my, I didn't notice, Mac! And what do you mean my uniform is too small and why am I not wearing a bra? This is standard, Mac! Duh! And no, those high heels are not impractical. The thoughts go through my mind as I bravely stride to his bedside with a tray that shakes as badly as my legs. With a little luck, I'll trip and end up recuperating right next to him.

  Eyes cast down, I bend over and place the tray on the nightstand. My aching and throbbing pussy is high on the forbidden excitement that floods me when I feel my uniform move up to reveal more of my ass and legs. Standing straight, I push my chest out and deliberately take a deep breath, ignoring the growing sense of vulnerability in my chest.

  "You've never seen me before in uniform, have you, Mac?" I say. One fast shy look is enough to look down again just as fast, the heat in my stomach spiking. Mac looks like he's been struck by lightning, wide-eyed and his square jaw hanging. Better yet, I'd swear that the pillow that he placed over his crotch moved.

  "Eh," is the best Mac can come up with. Smiling, pleased with myself, I sit down at his side, fully aware that if I get up now, I'll leave a wet spot.

  "Are you alright, Mac?" I ask with a casualness that, given the circumstances, should get me an Oscar for best actress. Biting my lip, I bravely look up. Locking eyes with Mac, the heat between my legs grows as much as my blush. Be calm my beating heart. My face must be as red as a lobster by now.

  "Eh…yeah," Mac says. After long silent seconds, Mac tears his eyes away, silently allowing me to place a napkin over his chest; happy to lean over as far as I can without toppling over to give him a good hard look at the tits that want to feel his hands on them.

  Mac

  "It is just that?" I say. What else can I say? That she just blew me away? Knocked the air out of me? That I want her so badly it hurts? Pausing to gather the courage that I need to say the words that I don't want to deny her, not after she has put herself in this vulnerable position.

  Any doubts I had about her intentions vaporized the moment she walked in the room. She didn't dress up like this just because. No woman would. And I cannot even imagine the courage it took her to go out on a limb like this, to make me realize what she wants.

  "Yes?" Amelia says. The intensity of her expression betrays the intensity of her feelings and the longer I stay silent, the more despair takes possession of her finely chiseled features.

  "I think you look breathtakingly beautiful, Amelia," I finally say. Seeing her face light up, I know I said the right words. That's not saying I'm not in shock over seeing my stepsister dressed like this, though. Like a stripper ready to make her appearance on stage. Ready to entertain her audience with her killer body and knockout curves, and those legs that take my breath away. Long legs in dangerously high heels that make me wish I could just pry them apart and put her pink pussy on full display, sink my hard cock deep inside her.

  Giving me a playful wink, Amelia tells me I don't look too bad myself.

  "Right," I say, still grinning like a happy kid. When I try to say something, anything, I come up empty. I just watch her, all tongue-tied. Amelia is taking me into unfamiliar territory and I need time to acclimatize. Get used to not thinking of her as my sibling.

  "Let me get you another pillow, sir," Amelia says, all nurse now, openly eyeing the pillow that hides the cum-leaking diamond-hard erection that is dying to break free.

  "Great," I mumble. Self-consciously, I watch her stride to the closet, her hips swaying seductively. My hard-on stirs when I see the bare part of her round ass. Opening the closet that covers most of one wall, she needs to stand on her toes to reach the pillow on the shelf. Reaching up, her uniform rises up too, revealing more leg and ass for my eyes to take in.

  Standing there in the sunlight, she looks ethereal as she turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder, asking me if I want one or two pillows, seemingly oblivious of the way her ass is pushed out in my direction; the innocence of her youthfulness and open facial expression stands in stark contrast to the sex her body openly advertises.

  "One," I croak, no longer certain if I know my stepsister at all. Her return to my bedside is as sensuous as every move she's made so far, and my cock is killing me, its hardness extreme.

  We don't say anything of substance as she spoon feeds me, not a word of what should be said. I am grateful for it. Grateful for the time she is giving me to adjust to this new reality. Although, having her sit next to me dressed like the sexiest nurse in national history, my eyes feasting on her cleavage and the thighs that I want to feel and kiss, is already a huge leap forward. After my meal, she leans over to place a soft kiss on my forehead.

  "That is for being such a good patient," Amelia says, placing a hand on my stomach, which feels hot, my abdominal muscles instantly tensing.

  "Right, an old guy you will probably surprise on his next birthday with a walker with his name on it," I say, nervous about where that hand might go.

  "Oh, I have a very different surprise in mind for you, sir," Amelia says, each word loaded with the horniness that I can smell in the air and see in the big blue eyes. She looks at me so hopefully. Her words freeze me up at the reality she is offering right here, right now; not tomorrow or the day after. Now. T
oo fast! You are going too fast! I want to say, but I stay frozen instead. Silent.

  Slowly running the tip of her tongue over her full lips, like she did before, Amelia's face turns a scarlet red when I answer the gesture with more shocked silence. Before I can stop her, she jumps up and is already on her way out.

  "Just holler when you need me," Amelia says, her heartache right there in each word.

  If my voice wasn't stuck in my throat, I'd reply.

  Amelia

  Out of breath, feeling I just climbed the highest mountain and the air is so thin—no matter how fast I breathe, I can never get enough oxygen—I throw myself on my bed and bury my face in the sheets. Sobbing. Angry. Hurt. Kicking. Broken.

  Covering my mouth with my hand, I focus on pulling myself together, not wanting to think of the look Mac gave me when I did what I just did. "Fuck!" I finally scream into the sheets. Angry and heartbroken, I just lie there for long silent minutes, my heart in ruins and slowly accepting defeat. The shocked expression on Mac's face was like nothing I've seen before.

  I can only hope he'll forgive me and that this won't ruin our relationship, or that he thinks I'm some sort of freak for going after my own stepbrother like that. He must think I've lost my mind for assuming he could possibly be interested in going all the way. I should be happy he indulged me as much as he did.

  I've never felt so stupid. So I give him a hard on? So what? He's a guy! Guys get hard over nothing all the time! I'm such an idiot.

  Mac's voice pulls me out of my reverie, fear striking me cold at the thought of having to face him so soon after that royal fuck up of such epic proportions.

  "Yes?" I say, my voice as screwed up as I feel.

  "Can you come here for a minute?"

  "Just give me a minute. I'm cleaning up!" Yeah, I'm going to have to clean up the mess that my face must be by now.

  One look in the bathroom mirror shows me I was right. My eyes are puffy and red and my makeup has run, creating a look that is a perfect for Halloween. Cleaning up, I ignore the way I'm dressed, now feeling as stupid and embarrassed about showing all that skin as I felt excited about it earlier.