Fraud: A Stepbrother Romance Read online

  *****

  Alfred had grown into a wonderful companion, and I looked at him as my comfort animal.

  When Derek showed up, they immediately made friends, and from then on, were a kind of small, tidy family.

  Derek took Alfred for walks in the park, while I was working or studying cases.

  When I came home, Derek would have cleaned up my place, and fed and bathed Alfred.

  I wished it would last forever.

  There was only one thing really missing, and I was terrified to bring it up.

  Things were going so well!

  But, my heart ached for Derek, and my skin wanted his touch.

  *****

  Of course, Derek was the kind of man any girl would consider a catch.

  He was tall, athletic, and well-muscled.

  He had a nice brown tan, in the summer, that almost made it through the winter.

  Then, his appearance just became rugged and manly.

  He occasionally sported a mustache and beard, but even when he shaved, he had that strong five-o-clock shadow some men get.

  He had the most beautiful blue eyes, and his dirty-blonde hair was thick and luxurious.

  You wanted to run your fingers through it, and then use it to pull his face closer to yours.

  Those perfect teeth, even and white, gleamed when he smiled. It was enough to make you wet and your legs turn to jelly when he turned those eyes on you and smiled.

  And his strong arms, and legs made all kinds of thoughts run through your head.

  I’d imagine the two of us, stranded on a beach on some desert island, with Derek bringing a fresh catch of some delicious fish to our fire. While it roasted, he’d sit and take my hand and gently tell me all about how he caught it. Alfred would come over and sit and pant and then just get comfortable and settle down.

  Derek would smile and lean over and kiss me with that luscious mouth, the heady scent of him making me wet and my loins quiver inside.

  *****

  Derek often went out for interviews, or so he was telling me, but I thought there might have been more to it than that.

  I never pried, but there were small clues that he was doing some things he didn’t want to share with me. I respected his privacy, and let him come and go as he pleased.

  And, thankfully, it gave me a little alone time to take care of the sexual tension that was always just under the surface.

  He was the star of my self-pleasuring, once again, and always.

  When I would shower, I’d turn the water on full and point the wonderful warm liquid on my pussy, and pretend Derek was licking my lips.

  I’d imagine his tongue working its way in and out, circling my button.

  When I’d masturbate this way, I was always satisfied with a gushing orgasm, calling out Derek’s name to the sound of the rushing water.

  I would have died of embarrassment if he’d walked in on me, so I was careful to lock my bathroom door.

  Sadly, he never was around to interrupt my wild, imaginary escapades.

  Finished, I’d towel off, making a small smile and humming tunelessly, wishing I could have more of him.

  The real Derek White.

  *****

  One night, we watched a movie on Netflix together on the sofa bed where he’d been sleeping.

  It had gotten very late, and Derek was too lazy to move, and I was too tired to argue, so we fell asleep next to each other.

  During the night, I snuggled against him, and he woke up, looking directly into my sleepy eyes.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Megan,” he said, gently stroking my hair.

  “I wish things were different,” he whispered, and then kissed my nose.

  I was so tired, but happy, and pushed my face into his chest, drinking in that heady, masculine scent.

  I fell asleep.

  I remember wishing we could make love, and then had one of those dreams you’d swear was real, where we were kissing and hugging and … more.

  But, the next morning, when I woke up, my clothes were all still on, and Derek had gone off to an interview for another job.

  He’d made coffee and left out the ingredients for a quick breakfast, along with this cryptic note: “Thanks for last night! You’re dreamy!”

  *****

  A week later, Derek had found another gig, this one about six hundred miles away.

  He kissed my nose when he left.

  I waved goodbye, my brain yelling at me to “FUCKING SAY SOMETHING! DO SOMETHING! TELL HIM HOW YOU FEEL!”

  But, Derek just got into his taxi, and drove off, leaving me frustrated, angry and miserable.

  We’d never talked about our feelings at all, save that one inscrutable note.

  I cried myself to sleep for a week.

  Thank God Alfred was there to at least lick my face. He must have liked those salty tears, I guess.

  I really loved that dog! He helped me, once again, to put some much-needed perspective onto the situation.

  There were plenty of other fish, I told myself.

  But, every night for two more weeks, I thought of Derek, and my missed opportunity with him.

  I’d take Alfred for walks, hoping I’d maybe meet someone who could take my mind even more away from my fantasy life.

  No such luck.

  In my dreams, in my fantasies, it was always Derek whose lips touched mine.

  Always Derek who would hold me tight, guiding his massive cock into me.

  Always Derek who made me come, riding and writhing in his strong grip, a ghost lover who never let me down.

  *****

  Just being near Derek made me shake with anticipation.

  Ever since we were kids, I had a crush.

  When we became old enough to know about sex, it was always Derek that starred in my innocent fantasies about marriage and home.

  When I became aware of my sexuality, I’d masturbate to my mental images of him.

  In my dreams, he would kiss me, over and over, everywhere on my body, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. My imagination cost me many soaked panties when I was young and foolish.

  But now, with Derek off to who knew where, I just felt alone.

  I tried to throw myself into my work, and forget all about the silly fantasy of being able to live with him forever.

  *****

  Then, I’d heard that Derek had found a girl.

  I was crushed inside.

  The information came from an email I’d received from Peg.

  That bitch!

  You could tell she was relishing every word that sunk the knife deeper and deeper into my heart.

  I was completely heartbroken, but what could I do?

  Derek had shown no real interest in me. He’d lived with me for months, and didn’t make any moves. Why should I be surprised?

  I was just being foolish, wasn’t I?

  But, my love for him still wouldn’t be silent.

  I tried to see if he’d put any pictures on-line, to see my ‘competition’; but Derek didn’t have any social media presence that I could discover.

  The only thing that came up on a search engine was an obscure article about some Naval exercises where a SEAL team had apparently had an accident.

  One of them had almost died, and the other five members of the team were rescued because the one who’d almost drowned had held out as they were helicoptered to the rescue ship.

  I saw the photo in the article, and nearly had a heart attack!

  Derek was the SEAL who’d nearly died!

  He’d rescued all the others, and was given a Medal of Honor for his valor.

  That son of a bitch had never said a word to me!

  Or anyone else, that I could tell…not even Peg.

  *****

  After that, I fell into another depressed state.

  I worked hard, and my new job gave me plenty of reasons to not be able to think about Derek.

  And then, I had to find another place for Alfred, because I simply
no longer had time for him. I cried harder than any time I could remember in my life, promising him that I’d be back, once I finished getting myself to where I needed to be.

  He looked at me with those sad eyes, but he licked my face.

  Luckily, I had a beautiful co-worker, Leslie, who was good with animals, and had the space and time to take Alfred in. I arranged for his upkeep, and she assured me that Alfred would get along just fine with her cats, lizards and one creepy tarantula. That last pet made me wonder about her sanity a bit, but she took it out and let it walk on my arm. I just about crapped my pants, at first, but soon realized it felt like a big, hairy mouse. A mouse with eight fucking, hairy legs, but a mouse nonetheless.

  His name was “Peter Parker”, which just wasn’t right, you know?

  Anyway, Leslie promised to look after Alfred, and she did.

  So, I busted my ass, won case after case, and ended up with a very respectable record in the courtroom. My rate of conviction was almost 95%, which was good enough to catch the eyes of the partners in the firm.

  I was made a junior partner, and the money and perks piled up.

  My love life was non-existent, because I was concentrating on my career.

  And, to be honest, none of the men I was meeting could hold a candle to Derek.

  Oh, I tried to go out, for some social interaction, a few times.

  I didn’t want any rumors going around that I was a lesbian, or an old maid or anything.

  But, none of the dates I went out on amounted to anything more than killing time.

  I didn’t drink heavily, and I was easily bored with discussing work or office politics.

  I managed to get a few men almost into bed, but at the last minute, Fate would intervene, and my cell phone might ring, or theirs would.

  There were promises to hook up later, but they always were just mere words.

  Chapter 3

  MEGAN

  One day, I found myself having too much time on my hands, and I did some soul-searching.

  The end result of that was for me to leave the firm, and start my own practice.

  I went back to Leslie, and Alfred was only a bit older, but still happy to see me.

  I loved him so much, and luckily had managed to visit him often enough to keep him happy.

  Leslie said goodbye to him, but I could tell he still was mine!

  We moved out of the small place I’d had, and then started to travel around.

  I wanted to see where I would settle, and lived all over the country.

  I liked Seattle, after Boston, but the weather was too damp and dreary for me.

  The city was beautiful, and there was plenty of work, but Alfred wasn’t happy there.

  So, we moved to Boulder, and I rented a cabin for a while.

  *****

  Alfred loved Colorado, and we stayed and played while I worked.

  We’d walk the trails and meadows, and he’d roll in the grass and chase rabbits.

  And, it was there that he passed away, one fine spring day.

  He was almost seven, but he’d had some health problems. There wasn’t any pain.

  One morning, he just didn’t wake up.

  *****

  I was sadder than I’d been in years, with the loss of my best friend.

  I buried him in the meadow where he’d love to chase the rabbits.

  There was a stream, and flowers in the field.

  I knew he was going to love it there, forever, always running and having a wonderful time.

  “Goodbye, Alfred!” I cried.

  My eyes blurred, and I sobbed, missing him so much.

  Only, this time, there was no one there to lick away my salty tears.

  *****

  As the weeks wore on, the memories of Alfred got to me, so I decided to not renew my lease.

  I kicked around for a while, working down my cases, and finally went to Minneapolis.

  All during that time, Derek was in the back of my mind, but only as a shadow. I had no idea what he was doing, and even though I knew he was living his exciting life, I secretly wished he’d just appear in my doorway, one day.

  No such luck.

  My career was all-consuming.

  For the next few years, I worked harder than I had ever worked at anything.

  I won every case I had, and my client list grew.

  I found a favorable reputation as a hard, but fair attorney, who missed nothing.

  I managed to rack up the wins, but it also increased my case load.

  My bank account grew as well, but my time was given over to work. I was literally married to my career!

  Hah!

  I would never have imagined that.

  *****

  One week, a case brought me south to Florida, and I liked the weather and excitement of SoBe so much I made a decision.

  I looked over the real estate ads, and took about a month to find a new home.

  I had enough money, so I bought an expensive apartment in Miami, on Brickell Avenue.

  Life was almost perfect.

  So, I got another dog.

  His name was Nigel.

  Nigel was one of those Yorkie kinds of dogs, all hyper and yappy and fun, and always happy and ready to play. His favorite toy was an old t-shirt that he’d grab and shake and wrestle like it was the world’s most dangerous snake, and he had to defeat it.

  Watching Nigel tear that thing up made me laugh.

  It felt good, to finally be getting out of my blues.

  *****

  And then, the Robert King trial reared its ugly head.

  King had somehow managed to bilk almost a billion dollars out of his clients, prospects and not a few rich socialites.

  I threw myself into it, and as the facts presented themselves, knew I was going to win it.

  It was a slam dunk.

  There was absolutely no doubt.

  The evidence was incontrovertible, and the IRS had records that had come up in discovery that proved fraud beyond the shadow of a doubt.

  King was going down…

  *****

  Imagine my surprise, then, when I found out Peg was ‘dating’ Robert King…

  *****

  I’d never really cared who Peg was fucking.

  After Dad had passed, I wanted as little to do as possible with her, and that little bastard, Blaise.

  The way Peg had gone out of her way to make me miserable, I owed her nothing.

  But, her attachment to King made things different.

  I wasn’t sure if I needed to recuse myself from the case, now.

  But, there really wasn’t any legal reason to do that.

  After all, she wasn’t my biological mother, and I could be professional, right?

  I could submerge my hatred of her for the duration of the trial, right?

  After all, this was my biggest case, and I had it in the bag.

  What was there to worry about?

  *****

  And then, just like that, “Ike” Turner had taken my victory and snatched it from me.

  Oh well, next case, I guess.

  Fuck.

  I really hate to lose…

  Chapter 4

  MEGAN

  About three weeks after the King fiasco, I was rummaging around some old boxes I had stored when I came across some photos of Derek and me when we were kids.

  It was an unexpected thing, and caught me a little off-guard.

  I remembered the place where we had been staying, and I also remembered the other people in the photos.

  But, in the background of one or two of them was a fuzzed-out man who seemed to resemble King.

  I figured maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me.

  I wasn’t really sure I wasn’t just projecting my recent defeat onto every little thing in my life, so I carefully put the photos into my scanner and then enhanced them.

  The man might have been Robert King, but if it was, he still had hair.

  And, the way he sto
od next to Peg made me feel queasy inside.

  How long had she known this man?

  The event had been some kind of company picnic my father and Sam had put on for their employees. It was the typical affair, with cornhole and beer and a bunch of boring attempts at fun that we kids always hated.

  There was a lake with some inner tubes, and a rope swing. Good old-fashioned fun, as they say.

  It bored all of us, and you could tell, because almost all the kids had their faces buried in their phones, in most of the pictures.

  I suddenly laughed out loud, because I had just figured out how weird it was that I had been looking at photographs, and not digital images, of the event.

  Who the hell used film, anymore, anyway?

  There were even dates printed on the photos.

  The event had taken place about twelve years earlier, when I was just fourteen.

  (And, when I was about fifty pounds lighter, I shrugged.)

  Nigel came bouncing around the corner, happy to see me, as always, and wanting his ass rubbed.

  It’s weird how all dogs (and most men, I suppose) like a good ass-rubbing.

  I smacked his bottom a couple of times for good measure, and then he came over and licked my face.

  His dog breath was its usual horrible smell, but I just sighed until he was finished and then went into the bathroom to wipe my face and hands.

  “A ladies’ hands proclaim her habits”, after all, and I didn’t want to meet up with a client later on with my mitts smelling like dog poo.

  Once I came back to the computer, I checked my schedule.

  Hmmm.

  Four more appointments until I could call it a day.

  I had just enough time to make the next appointment.

  I went back into the bathroom, and primped and brushed my hair.

  I avoided the scale, which beeped at me menacingly.

  I had stepped on it about four days ago, and was dismayed to see I had added another two pounds!

  So, doing the only thing that made sense, I had kicked it then.

  It slammed against the toilet, then the bidet, and then the wall, and had sat there since, beeping its creepy beep.

  The wounded scale seemed determined to remind me that I was ‘pleasantly plump’.

  Only, it couldn’t spare that many syllables; it just kept on making that incessant beeping.

  “Fat.” “Fat.” “Fat.” “Bitch.” “You.” “Kicked.” “Me.” “You.” “Fat.” “Bitch.” “Eat.” “Me.” “Fat.” “Fat.” “Fat.” …