Stepbrother Catfish: The Complete Series (23 page)

I stopped clutching at him and pushed at his chest.

It didn’t budge him an inch.

It would have been so easy to go on kissing him.  To give up, to stop fighting it.

It felt so right to be connected to him as if are bodies had been created for that sole purpose. If the circumstances were different, if we would have met before our parents met, I would have believed he was my soulmate or something.

But reality refused to go away, and it sucked so much, I couldn’t hold it in.

I started crying.

That was it. That was the only kiss I was going to have with the man who could have been the love of my life. What was happening at that moment could never happen again.

Our parents were married and were most likely looking for us.

We needed to give our speeches, we needed to give our blessing of their union.

“Charles,” Edward’s voice came through the speakers.

He sounded miffed.

Charles pulled away from me and cursed. Then he noticed the tears streaming down my face.

“Why are you crying?” he asked with concern and tried to tenderly brush the tears away.

“You need to go,” I somehow found the strength to tell him.

He hurt me by showing me what I could never have. Just looking at his well-kissed lips and his concerned eyes was upsetting me.

He was still touching me and I was still feeling.

I needed it to stop.

He leaned back and peeked around the corner. Then he looked back at me, torn.

He needed to be at that stage, but I could tell he didn’t want to leave me.

“Please go,” I implored him, “I don’t want this to ruin the wedding.”

He cursed again under his breath. Then he squeezed my arms before stepping back.

“Alright, I see what you mean,” he said. “Meet me back at the house after the wedding?”

I assumed he was talking about his father’s place.

I felt suddenly cold without him against me and crossed my arms over my chest as I nodded my head, “Okay.”

He didn’t seem convinced. The tears were giving me away.

“Promise?” he asked.

I knew if I didn’t he’d stay.

“Promise,” I assured him.

He grabbed me and gave me another deep kiss to remember him by before disappearing around the corner.

The tears flowed freely again.

Kissing him had been the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. For a few precious moments, I had been lost in the magic of the night, living my own fairy tale by making out with my prince charming.

But my prince charming hurt me by showing me what I could never have. Now, because of him, I was forever changed. There was no unexperiencing what had just happened.

I would have been better off not knowing. I knew from then on I would always remember and long for his kiss.

He did that to me. He ruined me for any other man.

I didn’t know if I could ever forgive him. I didn’t know if I could ever forgive myself.

I didn’t meet Charles back at the house. During his speech, I took the time to compose myself. I dried my eyes, quickly refreshed my makeup, and reappeared just in time to give my speech.

After that, the rest of the night was a blur. I remember just doing my best to stumble through it.

Charles and I kept a distance between us. If he tried to approach me, I just walked away. I couldn’t be in his space. I couldn’t act as if nothing had happened.

When the reception was over, I got a lift back to my mom’s from one of her girlfriends. I then locked myself in my room and spent the rest of the night hoping I’d wake up the next day feeling better about all of it.

The next day the doorbell rang over and over.

I ignored it.

Then my phone started to blow up. Without looking at it, I just assumed it was him.

My mom and Edward were leaving for their Honeymoon, a two-week tour through Europe. Charles would have to return to college at the end of the week.

Later that day, when the doorbell stopped and my phone stopped buzzing, I left for Hannah’s. I ended up staying with her for the next couple of weeks. Eventually, I ended up moving in with her permanently.

I needed to forget what had happened. I needed to forget all of the feelings I had for him if I had any hope of moving on. I had to forget his kiss. I had to forget his scent.

Avoid him. I had to avoid him.

We couldn’t be together. I couldn’t have him no matter how badly I wanted him.

He was my stepbrother and I was now his stepsister, and that was that.

He sent me emails and left me voicemails. I deleted every single one of them.

The texts were harder to get rid of, it was impossible not to peek at them. It ate at my soul to catch glimpses of his confusion as I swiped them away.

For us, I would be strong. For the family, I would maintain the distance. I could not engage.

After a time it finally stopped. He got the hint or simply gave up.

Our parents returned home. He returned to college two thousand miles away.

I tried to move on.

But mostly, I only pretended to.

If I could stay away from Charles, I was okay. He wasn’t around much while he was away at college, and I managed to survive senior year by sneaking off to Hannah’s when he was.

I was a coward, but I was surviving.

During the day, it was easy to forget him.

Forget the attraction, it had only been my imagination. Forget his kisses, it had been the heat of the moment…

It was at night that was the problem.

I’d lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, but haunted by what transpired between us. When I wasn’t feeling tormented by the way I treated him, I was torturing myself by wondering what might have been.

It was as if he was magic the way his faded memory was enough to get my blood pumping.

I imagined what it would have been like if he had kept kissing me. If his kisses had grown deeper and more desperate.

I remembered how hard he had felt when he pressed into me. I wondered what that hardness looked like beneath his pants.

I’d toss and turn in my sleep, becoming tangled in my blankets. The blankets would bunch between my legs and a throbbing ache would pulsate between my thighs.

Some nights the only way I could get any sleep at all was if I touched myself until I reached an orgasm while I imagined it was his strong fingers rubbing my clit.

To help me move on I got a boyfriend though I probably would have been better off buying a vibrator.

Max was considered quite the catch. He was handsome, popular, on the varsity football team, and for some reason he was interested in me.

The first time Max asked me out, I was flabbergasted. I swear my jaw literally hit the floor.

I wasn’t popular, but I wasn’t unpopular either. I was happy going unnoticed. Being asked out by one of the most sought after guys in school just seemed to be too good to be true.

I should have trusted my gut.

Max and I started dating, and once I got over the initial surprise and awe, I was left even more confused by the situation.

On our first date, we went to a movie and sat next to one another trying not to touch. We had uncomfortable silence after uncomfortable silence during the drive home, and he didn’t even try to kiss me. There wasn’t a smidgen of chemistry or physical attraction between us.

The entire date had been a drawn out ordeal.

The next day he asked me for another.

I accepted.

I used Max. Max and I officially became a couple in the eyes of everybody. During school hours, it felt as if his arm was always around my shoulders.

We played the part well.

We could get away with not kissing, get away with not being physically affectionate because of school policy. It was assumed we snuck off to have our fondles and kisses.

But at night, when we tried to pretend we were on a date, we couldn't even fool ourselves much less anybody else.

That was okay with me. In fact, not being attracted to Max was kinda perfect.

It would be hard to develop feelings for someone when I still had all the feelings for Charles.

I just couldn’t figure out what Max was using me for…

Until I walked in on him making out with the star quarterback.

Suddenly it all made sense.

I was a mess.

I wasn’t hurt that Max turned out to be gay, but I did have to take a good hard look at myself and my own deep secret.

Max’s secret was safe with me, but I didn’t feel comfortable continuing to date him. He’d have to find another girl to use as a front.

On top of discovering Max’s secret, my mom used her uncanny knack for guilt to pressure me into coming home for Thanksgiving. 

I couldn’t avoid him. Charles was back.

Thanksgiving was a nightmare.

I had to field questions from my mom and Edward about my new boyfriend.

What was he like? Who were his parents? How did we meet? When would they get to meet him?

With Charles staring at me darkly, I was about to crack.

I was embarrassed about what was going on with Max so I just answered their questions as vaguely as I could, and as if we were still dating.

That night, when I thought everyone had gone to bed, I snuck into the kitchen and helped myself to a bottle of wine from Edward’s personal stash.

A girl could only take so much.

It was either get sloppy drunk and cry it out or do something stupid I’d be sure to regret.

I was so in love with Charles I had dated a gay guy and hadn’t even realized it.

What would have happened if I hadn’t walked in on Max with the quarterback? Would we have continued to pretend, using each other as a front until eventually we got married? Would we have managed to squeeze out a couple of kids to try and make it legit?

Then what would have happened? I probably would have ended up lonely, pining away for the love I could never have while Max snuck out to be with a man.

By the time Charles found me in the kitchen, I was sobbing and on my second bottle.

I didn’t even notice him until he asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I was so surprised I dropped the bottle and then sobbed louder at my clumsiness.

“Shit,” Charles said and then he stepped around the red puddle and broken glass.

I was sitting on the counter, next to the refrigerator.

Charles took up the broom and dustpan. Then he squatted down to clean up my mess.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again as he swept up the dark green shards.

I might as well tell him, I decided with my drunk logic. Maybe part of the truth would be enough.

“My boyfriend is gay,” I sobbed out and wiped my nose across the sleeve of my shirt.

He paused for a moment then had the nerve to ask, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” I informed him and then pathetically sobbed out, “I walked in on him and the quarterback.”

Charles straightened. He carried the dripping dustpan over to the garbage can.

“So get a new boyfriend.”

I groaned and shook my head which was a mistake because it made me very dizzy. I grabbed on to the edge of the counter and had to wait a moment for the world to right itself.

Then I told Charles, “I don’t want a new boyfriend.”

“Why not?” he asked as he scraped the dustpan off into the trash.

The words just popped out of my mouth and it was too late to take them back, “Because I love you!”

I must have been drunker than I thought because I didn’t even remember seeing him walk over to me.

He was just there. Rigid, intense, and holding me by the shoulders.

“Because you what?” he asked as he bent forward, his intense eyes filling up my space.

I knew I fucked up. I was scared. His reaction was freaking me out.

I was freaking me out.

I couldn’t say it again. I couldn’t believe I said it!

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. I closed my eyes hoping this was a nightmare. Maybe he’d disappear.

“Look at me, Lauren,” he demanded and gently shook me by the shoulders.

He had asked me to look at him when we had danced at the wedding.

And look where that got me.

“Please, Lauren…”

The desperation in his voice nearly broke me.

I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

Maybe if I refused to look at him, refused to say it again, he’d have no choice but to leave me be.

But he had to go and say, “Lauren, I love you.”

And the next thing I knew he was kissing me.

Did I start the kiss or did he?

I couldn’t be sure but I was eagerly kissing him back.

I moaned a needy, desperate sound as his mouth fell upon mine. His lips were demanding and hungry. There was no mercy.

Our first kiss had been sweet, a caressing exploration as we tasted each other and learned each other.

This kiss was like fire.

Each slant over my mouth burned with pent up longing, and as his tongue met mine it was like an explosion rocked through me.

All of our want, all of our pent up desire, all of our repressed feelings were being expressed in the kiss.

And there may have been even a little bit of anger in there.

I had to grab on to him. If I didn’t, I felt as if the force of what was coursing through me would have sent me flying right off of this planet.

He pushed his way between my legs and I was lost in his control, spreading my thighs for him.

It was all I could do just to clutch at his shirt, holding on as if I could fall off this ride.

So many sensations, so many feelings were running through me. I couldn’t hope to process them. I couldn’t cope with them.

His tongue led my tongue in a deep, savoring kiss. His hand roamed across my thighs and then up, spanning my stomach.

It felt so right to touch him. It felt so right to kiss him.

He had been what I had always been missing and being in his arms was like being reconnected with my other half.

He tore his lips away from me and I cried out in dismay. I tried to pull him back.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he growled.

I was too buzzed with alcohol and too drunk with him to process it.

He growled again, “If you don’t wrap your legs around me, I’m going to take you right here in the kitchen.”

My heart leapt in excitement and I felt myself grow warmer in my lower areas. My fuzzy brain finally processed the information and I wrapped my legs around him.

Oh, God. Something hard pushed up against my sex and I wanted it.

My core clenched and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Then I was spinning as he lifted me up and carried me from the kitchen.

I knew he was carrying me to his bed and if I had had any brain function left, I would have been terrified of it.

However, when he laid me down on his mattress and came down on top of me, I was out of my mind, consumed with the need of him.

“You are so beautiful,” he said with reverence looking down at me.

He was beautiful too and I wanted to show him by kissing him.

I tried to pull him back down to me, but he resisted and shook his head.

With one hand, he removed my arms from around his neck. Then he took my wrists into his hand and pinned my arms above my head.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice light and airy as if I had been running.

I wiggled my fingers and tried to pull apart my wrists.

He held me.

“Every night since I’ve met you, I’ve dreamed of having you beneath me, in my bed.”

His head dipped down and he stole a quick kiss from my parted lips.

“Now that I have you here, where you belong, I want to savor it.”

This could not be real. This had to be a dream.

My heart thundered in my chest and my belly felt like it was boiling with liquid lava that wanted to gush right out of me.

All of his weight briefly came down on my trapped wrists while his other hand yanked up my shirt.

I should have told him to stop. I probably should have come up with some kind of protest.

But the look of reverence on his face when he caught his first look of my exposed breasts left me speechless.

It was all new to me, I had never gone that far with a guy before. I was excited but frightened.

I ended up paralyzed with inexperience.

He took my breast in his hand and I arched my back off the bed.

Without warning, the heat of his mouth was sucking on my puckered nipple.

“Oh!” I breathed out in a moan.

Having him sucking on and worshipping my breasts was better than anything I could have ever imagined while touching myself all those nights alone in my bed.

Back and forth he paid them both equal attention.

I could hardly stand it.

He’d squeeze one breast while sucking on the other.

His tongue swirled around my areola, then flicked the tip of my nipple.

As his fingers flexed and kneaded, he’d suck me into his molten mouth and the hard pressure of his suck would make me rise off the bed.

“Charles,” I groaned out when I couldn’t take it anymore.

I felt as if my entire body was one consuming throb of need.

Reluctantly he let my nipple slip from his lips. My nipple was left drenched with his spit.

Then his dark eyes locked onto me.

They were filled with heat and power as he said, “Call me Charlie.”

My stomach flipped. Something about the look of darkness in his eyes frightened me, excited me.

“Charlie…” I said slowly, getting a taste for it on my lips.

He had just been sucking on my breasts but calling him by his nickname somehow felt more private, felt more intimate.

Hearing me say it must have affected him as well.

His head came back down, he was staring at my stomach as he told me to, “Say it again.”

He started kissing a trail down my stomach as I breathed out, “Charlie.”

His fingers fumbled with the button on my pants.

“Again,” he said as he yanked my pants down my hips.

He groaned a rumbly sound as he took in the sight of me and the lack of my panties. I rarely wore them.

“Charlie,” I moaned out as he spread my legs open.

I wanted him, more than anything I wanted him.

My heart raced and my breathing had been reduced to quick, shallow pants. My body was flushed with heat.

My sex ached and clutched at itself.

My clit felt engorged and swollen. It wouldn’t stop throbbing.

But being exposed to him left me feeling extremely self-conscious and vulnerable.

He was right there, staring at me. He could see everything.

I wanted to close my legs and hide myself from him. I was afraid he’d be repulsed by me or something.

“Please,” I pleaded. “Please, Charlie.”

Again, I tried to escape his grasp, I tried to move my wrists.

He must have taken my plea as me asking for something entirely different.

He let go of my wrists but before I could do anything to stop him, his head dropped there and he licked me…there.

It was just the tip of his tongue lightly sliding over me, but the jolt of sensation that came after was the strongest sensation I had ever experienced.

And then he did it again.

“Charlie!” I cried out.

He flattened his tongue and then lapped at my clit.

Oh, my God, I was dying, that was the only way I could describe it.

Pulsing intensity. The throbbing need growing and growing.

I was soaking wet and he was making hungry noises as he dug right in and devoured me.

I doubt I lasted more than a minute. I couldn’t hold anything back.

He licked and sucked me in such a rhythm, my body exploded with a pressure I couldn’t contain.

I exploded. I exploded all over him, all over me.

Waves of pleasure rolled through me, left me gasping and quivering, and he kept working on through them.

He wasn’t going to be satisfied until he consumed all of me and drank every drop that came out of me until I had nothing left to give.

I gave it all to him.

I twitched and spasmed, and then he rose above me, grinning triumphantly. His lips glistened with my wetness and I was still trapped and powerless.

As the last tremor of pleasure fled me, I had a full moment of pure bliss before the sickness set in.

I had just experienced the best orgasm of my life with my stepbrother. My stepbrother!

Between the alcohol, the pleasure, and the realization of what we just did, I couldn’t handle it.

Thankfully, though, I had a small warning. A painful rumbling started in my tummy.

“I think I’m going to be sick!” I warned him.

I don’t think I’d ever seen someone move as fast as he did.

Thanks to his quick reaction, I was able to get myself to the bathroom where I could puke in the toilet instead of all over his bed.