Stepbrother Beloved Page 4

  Anyway, I drove home and delivered the cranberry sauce to my stepmother and then got the hell out of the kitchen. I wondered if Maggie had calmed down, if she was still mad. Maybe we could go for walk around the neighborhood, shoot some baskets, I don’t know. I just wanted to hang out with her and have her tell me how things were going at school. Catch up.

  Yeah, right. So why was my pecker starting to swell as I climbed the stairs to her room?

  She wasn’t there.

  “Margaret?”

  No answer. I stepped into her room, which I’d barely ever been in because the parents only moved to this house last year. They do this thing where they blame all their problems on whatever house they’re living in, and pack up and move. Their problems only keep multiplying, so they keep moving. It sucked when we were kids, I’ll tell you. We’d get settled, get to know the neighborhood kids, and oh, sorry, goodbye, we’re moving across town where Maggie and I knew nobody.

  “Mags?” I called again, softly, even though it was clear she was gone.

  It was easy to tell this was her room. There was a stack of textbooks sitting on her desk, and also a bunch of candles on the windowsills—she loves candles, especially the really smelly kind. On the wall was a poster of a giant sequoia, which surprised me. I’d have expected a photo of New York at night, or something like that.

  Everything was neat and orderly. Her clothes were put away, there was only a lipstick and a small bottle of perfume on the dresser. I stared at them. It seemed so feminine, so womanly, and I got turned on thinking about Maggie swiveling that lipstick up and putting the red on her lips.

  I glanced out the window but I guess everyone was inside watching football and eating, or getting ready to eat. The street was dead quiet. I wondered where Maggie had gone. At least her duffel was still there so I didn’t think she had run back to school.

  Not that I’d blame her, really. That kiss last night…and then this morning, we’d almost…and I keep changing my mind. Or no, it’s not that, it’s more like I lose control, and then I get it back. Just barely.

  I opened up the closet. I knew I was snooping, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It was like I wanted to be with her so much that just being in her room around her stuff was better than nothing.

  I’m so far gone. I need to get back to my own life, to running my company, to the mountains.

  But I didn’t leave. I flipped back the lid of her laundry hamper that was neatly tucked into her closet, and right there, right on top, was a pair of panties. Maggie’s panties, light pink cotton with a strip of lace around the top. I snatched them up and pressed them to my face. I inhaled, then quickly again, the crotch covering my nose, and I was swamped with the smell of Maggie’s pussy, the deep, sweet smell of her.

  I couldn’t help it, I reached a hand down my pants and touched my boner. Oh Maggie, oh Maggie….

  At least I didn’t beat off, not right then in her room anyway. I stuffed the pink panties into my pocket like the contraband they were and walked quickly out of Maggie’s room and into mine, and shut and locked the door. I’d have run after her if I only knew where she was. I was completely in the grip of wanting her again, of feeling like I had to fuck her that minute, and we’d figure the rest out later.

  I love that girl. That is never, ever in doubt.

  Okay, I admit, I wasn’t behind my locked door for five minutes before I had taken Maggie’s panties out of my pocket and buried my face in them again. I slid out of my jeans and sat on the edge of my bed, her scent on me, filling me, my erection throbbing against my boxer briefs.

  I spend so much time in the wilderness, with no women around at all, that I’m used to beating off as a regular thing, a way to relieve tension. For me it’s just part of the routine: brush my teeth, stretch my hamstrings, spank the monkey. But that afternoon, in the slow hours before Thanksgiving dinner, when I was alone except for the smell of Maggie—that afternoon it was a whole different thing. A romantic thing, actually.

  I let my fingertips touch the head of my cock and pretended it was her tongue giving me short licks. I laid back on the bed and wrapped one hand around my shaft, imagining it was her hand, then her tight pussy, and I swear it was almost like I could feel her lying on top of me, and hear her giggling in my ear.

  Everything fell apart then, because I got so excited that I rushed it and my mind sort of exploded and then I was lying on my back on my bed, covered in cum, but no Maggie.

  No Maggie.

  I had had enough.

  I got dressed. My stepmother was banging pots and pans in the kitchen like she was making a grand feast, but I knew that was never going to happen. I swung by to tell her I was taking off, and to see just how bad this Thanksgiving was shaping up to be.

  Something was burning in a saucepan. Dirty dishes from last night were piled in the sink. A bottle of gin was on the counter, open, halfway gone.

  “What are you looking at?” she snarled at me.

  “Not a thing,” I said, backing out of the kitchen and then racing to my car and driving off. It was almost noon, stores were starting to close up for the day, so I didn’t waste any more time.

  This year, I was going to make sure Maggie and I had a decent holiday. No, fuck that, a great holiday.

  I had some stuff to pick up first. And then I had to find her.

  It was unusually warm that Thanksgiving, the kind of beautiful weather where you can play touch football in a T-shirt easily, maybe even taking that off if you’ve run around for awhile. So when Maggie was still not home after I finished my errands, I drove around looking for her, thinking she might be out walking in the nice weather.

  I knew she was avoiding me, and I didn’t blame her. But I was going to do my damnedest to make it up to her, to make sure this Thanksgiving wasn’t a pile of crap—and for starters, that meant not sitting down with her drunk mother who was wallowing in self-pity because my dad was off somewhere and failed to come back with the cranberry sauce. Not spending another holiday trying to pretend everything was okay when it absolutely wasn’t.

  I checked out the neighborhood playgrounds, thinking she might be on the swings or something. I checked out a trail along the river I knew she liked. But no Maggie. No Maggie anywhere I could think of.

  I headed back home and parked in front of the house but I couldn’t make myself go back inside. It was poisonous in there, except for Maggie, and I’d already had enough of my stepmother for one day. For all days, actually.

  The back seat was filled with shopping bags and I reached into one and cracked open a drink, one of those healthy sodas made with carbonated water and fruit juice that I knew Maggie liked. I put on some tunes. And I settled in to wait.

  Look, I do love being out in the wild and having to manage with only the barest necessities. Spending time that way is part of who I am. But I’ll tell you right now, this fucking Lexus? If you’ve gotta sit in a parked car for a long stretch, you could do a lot worse. The seats were fantastic, the sound system awesome. Maybe Maggie was a little bit right, wanting some nice stuff. You know, as long as you’re not totally overdoing it just to impress people.

  I waited for two hours. It was 1:00 before I saw her ambling down the sidewalk, a stick in her hand, hitting and poking at things as she walked along just like she used to do when we were kids, although now she was clearly a grown woman, and a striking, sexy one too. The sight of her walking along like that, looking so lonely, absolutely broke my heart. All my worries and concerns about all the bad things that might happen if we got together evaporated and all I wanted to do was make things right with her.

  And give her a Thanksgiving full of love, instead of what was waiting for her inside that house.

  I jumped out of the Lexus and trotted down the sidewalk towards her. She saw me and grinned, and then the smile fell and she looked wary. That right there broke my heart even more.

  “Just this once,” I said to her, my voice as gentle as I could make it, “just this once do what I
say.”

  She still looked wary, but not mad. I thought I had a chance, however slim.

  “Get in the car.”

  “To go where? Dinner is at 5 and we better not be late,” she said.

  “Just get in.”

  Thank god, for once she wasn’t stubborn. She climbed in and I drove fast, wanting to get where we were going while the sun was still warm. We didn’t say anything on the drive, but I reached for her hand and she let me hold it, even though she didn’t give mine a squeeze or anything. She was just barely going along with me, and I knew if I made a wrong move she’d run off like a skittish filly.

  But this time, I wasn’t going to make a wrong move.

  “Okay, now close your eyes,” I said when we got close. I turned off the main road onto a dirt road that was almost totally hidden by a lot of underbrush. The Lexus handled the rutted road like a champ, and before too much longer, we got to the end.

  “Can I open my eyes yet?” she asked, and I could tell she was curious about what I was up to. “And listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you, where the hell did you get this awesome SUV? Did you borrow it from a rich friend or something?”

  I smiled. “I’ll get to that in a minute. You can open your eyes now, I need some help if we’re going to make this happen before it gets too cold.”

  “Make what happen?”

  “Thanksgiving dinner. Our own. You and me. No crazy parents allowed.”

  And god, it was already worth it, seeing her brilliant smile. We carried the shopping bags down the trail and then off it, to a special little spot I had found on one of my rambles. It was a protected little bower, surrounded by cedar trees so it smelled fantastic. The sun was beaming down on it so our timing was perfect.

  I spread out a tarp, then a fleece blanket, and set a few more fleeces nearby. Then we sat down and opened up the boxes of food.

  “Holy shit,” said Maggie, biting into some still-warm smoked turkey.

  “Oh yeah,” I laughed, digging a spoon into a carton of mashed potatoes that were almost as good as my mom’s. “That place on Aspen Street—they whipped this feast together in a half hour,” I told her.

  “That place costs a freaking fortune,” she said.

  I nodded. Was this the moment to tell her that my financial picture had changed? I decided to wait. “It was worth it,” I said. “And Margaret, listen. We’re adults now. There’s no law that says we have to suffer through yet another disaster of a holiday with those two. They’re so wrapped up in their own bullshit they probably won’t even miss us.”

  “Tanner? I don’t give two craps if they do.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  The food was spectacular and I had gotten ten different dishes. We ate and ate and ate, and yet, for me anyway, I was still hungry. Hungry for my Maggie, my beautiful, funny, sexy woman.

  I closed up the containers and put them back in the bags. Maggie was lying back on the blanket, her face in the sun, smiling with her eyes closed. I lay down next to her and put my hand on her cheek.

  “You,” I murmured, stroking her rosy skin.

  Her eyes flew open. “Don’t ruin it,” she said. “This has been so lovely. Please don’t do that hot/cold thing with me anymore. Really. Don’t.” She sat up and gave me the I mean it stare.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I said.

  “Oh, brother,” she said, rolling her eyes, all sarcastic. Our eyes met and and we started laughing. We howled with laughter out there in the woods, our arms going around each other, our connection tighter than ever.

  “I want to be with you, Maggie,” I said, taking her face in my hands. “No more hot and cold.” It seemed like the tiny flecks of gold in her brown eyes glowed for a moment. I leaned my face close, then closer. Maggie opened her beautiful mouth, just a little, and I kissed her.

  This time no holding back.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MAGGIE

  TANNER’S LIPS were salty and tasted like…Tanner. All bacon and woodsmoke. His tongue was touching mine and then backing off, irresistibly. His arms tightened around me and it was unbelievable to be held like that, our mouths hungering for each other, with the sun on our faces and the freedom of being alone in the woods.

  “Tanner,” I whispered, just to say his name.

  “Mmm,” he said, lifting my hair and kissing my neck. “You smell so good.”

  “I was just thinking that about you.” My hands ran down his chest, bumping over his abs, down to his lap. I wondered: if I touched his cock, was he going to pull away again? Really, I knew he wasn’t going to. I could tell by the way he held me, by the tone in his voice—that this time, it was for real. It was for keeps.

  My Tanner.

  He lay back on the blanket and pulled me on top of him. My hair draped in his face so I leaned on one elbow and pushed it to the side, leaning down to touch his lips again again, both of us smiling into the kiss, as our bodies start to move against each other, finding a rhythm. I felt something inside me get loose, and then let go all the way. My panties were wet and I felt a wave of so much pent-up lust—I mean, we’re talking years now, years of aching for this man—that it was all I could do not to rip those jeans off him and finally get a look at his cock. A taste of his gorgeous cock.

  It was finally happening. Oh god, my stepbrother, my beloved, beloved stepbrother, was finally going to pop my cherry.

  It felt so right that I wasn’t more than a tiny bit nervous. I didn’t want it to hurt, obviously, and I didn’t want to disappoint him, either. But those were just little grains of worry, minuscule in comparison to how blissed-out I was for Tanner to be kissing me, and to feel him hard and pushing himself into me. We loved each other so deeply, and nothing else mattered, not anymore.

  He rolled over so we were lying side by side, and he started, slowly, to unbutton the buttons of my shirt. I started to tremble with excitement.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, his voice a little raspy.

  Tenderly he reached around and undid my bra and slid it off me. Tenderly he cupped my breasts, leaned in to kiss them, first one and then the other.

  “You are so beautiful, Mags,” he whispered, and my eyes filled with tears. My nipples were hard and I arched my back, wanting him to lick them and suck them, and Tanner and me, we understood each other without words, and so that is exactly what he did.

  A thunderbolt of sensation went jaggedly through my body, right down to my pussy. He swirled his tongue around one nipple while caressing the other breast and catching the other nipple between his fingers.

  We both moaned, loud like animals, out in the woods with the November sun on us.

  He lifted his mouth from my nipple with a *pop*, and then moved down my body, spreading kisses as he went, and undoing my skinny jeans. He took my panties in his teeth and growled, making me laugh. I was so wet, so ready, my passion for him making me wild.

  “Fuck me Tanner,” I said, and then growled back. We smiled but the time for laughing was past. I pushed up my hips so he could slide my jeans off, and then he dipped a finger underneath my panties, slowly, so slowly, exploring my folds, and finding my clit.

  Oh god.

  I was on my back and Tanner was in control. He rubbed my clit until I swear it was about to start crying out his name. He was up on one elbow, kissing my face, then my breasts, then my belly, all while his fingers went inside me, rubbed that place past my vagina, and back to my clit. An intensity was building like I’d never felt before, but I didn’t want to come like this, not the first time.

  “Wait,” I said, getting up on one elbow and pushing him on his back. I reached down and rubbed my palm on his erection, feeling its thick outline through his jeans, and then quickly I undid his jeans and he slid out of them and tossed them on top of the shopping bags.

  I will tell you right now that Tanner’s hard-on poking out of the top of a pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs was one of the wonders of the world. I bent down and gave the tip a quick lick
—the first time I’d ever done that. He wrenched off the briefs and I got on my knees, wanting to give his swollen cock my full attention.

  Oh, it was so gorgeous. Almost purple on the head, with veins running down it, long and thick and hard because of me. It made me so happy, seeing the effect I had on him. I had no idea what I was doing but at the same time, my body was pushing me forward and I just went with it. I wrapped my hand around his cock and he groaned, closing his eyes. I leaned down and licked all round the head, around that ridge, tasting the salty droplet waiting on the top like a bit of icing.

  Then I just went for it. I folded my lips over my teeth and took Tanner’s shaft into my mouth, sucking hard and then less hard, moving my head up and down, trying to get him as deep into my throat as I could.

  “Oh god, Mags, that’s so good,” he moaned, and the sound of his excitement made a little spurt come out of me down below. He was pumping into my mouth and I loved being so close to his rising excitement, I could feel his cock thickening and the head swelling, and then he pulled me up and kissed me on the mouth.

  “Wait—“ he breathed, sort of short of breath. “You’re…you’re sure you want to do this?” He rolled on top of me and I could feel his hard-on pressing on my clit and I moaned Ohhh. And said, “I’ve wanted this for years.”

  And he said, “Same.”

  I brought my legs up around him, squeezing tight, and he guided his cock up to my opening. I wanted him to thrust into me, to pierce me, to fuck me so hard.

  “This might hurt a little,” he said gently. “Just tell me if you want me to back off.”

  “Fuck me, Tanner!” I said, a little too loud.

  First he probed just a little way in, and when I didn’t freeze up, he went further into my slippery wetness, and then all the way inside me.