Stepbrother Billionaire(13)
Author: Colleen Masters

My body has never been this alive with want. Not with anybody. Moving with him feels intuitive in a way it never has with any other guy. I grind my hips slowly, feeling him grow even harder beneath me. His hands slide down over my ass, running along the firm rise in my jeans. He pulls me tighter, letting me feel just how much he wants me. In a moment of daring, I close my teeth around his bottom lip, tugging gently. He looks up at me in wonder.

“Where the hell did you come from, Abby?” he breathes.

“I’ve been here all along,” I smile, running my hands through his chestnut hair. “You just haven’t noticed until now.”

“Please,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around the small of my back, “You honestly think I never noticed you before?”

“Well…you never said a word to me before our parents met,” I point out, bringing my lips to his scruffy throat and kissing deeply.

“Why would I? You were way out of my league,” he replies, running his down my sides. “I didn’t want to risk making an ass of myself.”

I start laughing so hard that I nearly topple off of him. “Now that is hilarious,” I crow, steadying myself. “Me? Out of your league?”

“Of course,” he says, “Can you seriously not see that?”

“All I can see right now is you, Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous Lacrosse Star,” I smile, feeling emboldened by his words. “And since we’re being honest, here…I’ve been carrying quite the torch for you these past four years. I’ve sort of been crushing on you from afar since…oh…the minute I saw you in school for the first time.”

“No shit?” he grins.

“No shit,” I assure him.

“How messed up is it that we only figured this out because our parents started boning?” he laughs.

“Ughh,” I groan, rolling off of him onto the couch, “Please don’t talk about our parents having sex right now. Or ever, for that matter.”

“Fine by me,” he says, shifting his body my way. Without another word, he lays me out on the sofa, lowering his muscled body onto mine. He runs his index finger along my jaw, tipping my chin up toward his face. “I don’t want to talk right now anyway.”

He kisses me again, his hands roving all over my body. My back arches as he cups my breasts through my thin cotton tee shirt, letting his thumbs brush over my hard nipples. As he kneads and caresses me, a low, pulsing pressure starts to build in my core. I can’t remember the last time I got off without my handy dandy vibrator. It’s been ages since I’ve hooked up with anyone, and the intensity of the pleasure Emerson is bestowing on me is almost too much to bear.

Almost.

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” I sigh, letting my head fall back against the couch cushions. “You have no idea, Emerson…”

“Oh, I think I do,” he chuckles, pressing his hips against me, letting me feel that staggering length. “Is that the secret you were going to trade me for?”

“W-what?” I stammer, my eyes springing open.

“You know. A secret for a secret. Like we said,” Emerson clarifies, propping himself up on his forearms.

“Oh,” I say softly, feeling the wonderful peace this evening has brought slipping away as the moment of my big reveal approaches. “Um. No, I—”

“Shit,” he mutters, brushing a lock of hair away from my face, “I’m sorry. I’m totally killing the mood, here. I can’t be trusted not to fuck up something as awesome as this.”

“You haven’t fucked anything up,” I insist, but it’s too late. I can already see his expression darkening. I need to backpedal, right things before it’s too late. Deep Dark Secrets can wait for a spell. I need to show him that we’re on the same page. And like Emerson says, better to show than tell. Without a word, I reach for his belt buckle, whipping it open with a metallic clank. Emerson’s eyes go wide as I slowly ease down the zipper of his jeans. I guide him onto his back, climbing on top of him as I work to release his member from his jeans. His hardness strains against the thick denim, ready to burst through—

We both sit bolt upright as the sound of keys in the front door lock ring through the empty house. Giddy giggles sound from beyond the door as Emerson and I look at each other in abject horror. No more playing house for us. Deb and Dad are home.

“Shit,” Emerson fumes, buckling in his staggering erection and covering his lap with a throw pillow. “Fucking shit.”

“It’s OK. They’ll never know,” I assure him, smoothing down my hair. “How would they ever even guess, right? I’ll still be right down the hall, you know. This isn’t over.”

We trade wary smiles as the front door bursts open. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that our parents are absolutely trashed. My dad all but carries Deb over the threshold, humming some sort of ridiculous—vaguely familiar—marching tune. But taking a closer look, it’s plain to see that they’re just excited, not drunk at all. Thank god for that. A two-for-one relapse is not what we need right now.

“Abby! Emerson!” Deb squeals, kicking her high-heeled feet in the air as Dad spins her around the foyer. “I’m so glad you’re both here!”

“You seem…glad,” Emerson says, his brow furrowed as he takes in the sight of our giggling parents. “What’s, uh…what’s going on with you two?”

“Did you win the lottery or something?” I wager a guess, trying not to think of what would have happened had they come home just a few seconds earlier.

“We did win the lottery, in a way,” my dad beams, setting Deb down at last.

Emerson and I trade baffled looks, overwhelmed by our parents’ behavior, and the bizarre turn this evening has taken. Between our mutual confessions and whatever’s going on with Dad and Deb, I, for one, can’t seem to get my bearings.

“You tell them the good news, Baby,” my dad urges Deb, wrapping an arm around her slender waist.

“OK Honey Bear,” she squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Abby, Emerson. Bob and I…Well. Let’s just say we finally figured out what to get you guys for your birthdays.”

“And what’s…that?” Emerson asks cautiously.

In answer, Deb simply holds her left hand up for us to take a gander at. For a split second, I’m totally at a loss. That is, before I catch the sparkly glimmer shining off her ring finger. There on her hand is a rock the size of Rhode Island. An engagement ring, by the looks of it. The implications of her new accessory wallop me as I sit beside Emerson, staring in horrified silence.