Vain: A Stepbrother Romance

by Hunter, Chelsea

  Chapter 1 - Love on the rocks

  I remember that first time we made love, it still sends shivers down my spine. Here is how it happened.

  Ever since we were kids, he was always chasing me around. Man, I hated Mick Anderson. He was the cockiest asshole if ever there was one. His fame came to him only because of his incredible surfing skills, and his friends came to him only because of his money. Even now, I doubt there is anything redeeming about him at all. I don’t like him because he is a child, because he doesn’t value surfing the way I do, and because he is in my place of peace right now. He never had time for my mother when she was alive, so what the fuck does he want with me now? How the hell did he find this spot?

  Watching him paddle out in his wetsuit is just making me angrier. For some bizarre reason, I find myself staring at his body. Man, if I didn’t hate him so much, I would really appreciate his impressive physique. His body just seems to fit into that wetsuit perfectly. I can appreciate his body as perfection of the human form, but he still disgusts me as a person. As Mick starts paddling in my direction, all I can do is hope for a wave to pull me away from him.

  “Good morning. Mind if I surf here with you?”

  Even his small talk and attempts at joking with me are annoying. I can’t even be bothered to respond. I take the very next wave to avoid the interaction. The wave is small and a little hard to ride—thankfully, my longboard keeps me afloat. I look back at Mick, who is watching me. He picks up the wave right behind me. Why is he so persistent?

  He has definitely turned up his game, now that I am looking. There is no denying his talent—I can see why he was at the top of the pro-surfing world. Not paying attention to my own ride, I lose my footing and plunge into the water. A sharp pain pierces my head and darkness floods over my body.

  I wake up, coughing and sputtering, gazing into the bluest eyes I have ever seen. It takes me some time to focus and realize I am staring up at Mick. He’s saved my life. I’m shocked and frightened, filled with a sense of wonder.

  “Are you okay?” Mick asks. He looks angelic. Almost. As I look to him in my vulnerable state, he isn’t only good-looking. There is something human in him, something real. For the first time, I feel like I am looking at a real man.

  I begin to think about what would have happened if he wasn’t there. Truth is, I would have been dead. I would have drowned in the ocean and no one would have known. The moment overtakes me and I lunge up and hug Mick. He doesn’t hug me back at first, but I suppose for him, it’s all a little confusing. After all, we are stepbrother and sister.

  He anchors one arm around my back and holds me. I can feel his strength by his grip. It feels as if he is supporting my entire body with one arm. I slide back a bit, taking a full view of Mick. Neither of us say anything as we stare at each other. There is a tension between us I had never before felt—a spark that ignites in that very moment. I feel a little embarrassed and avert my eyes, my cheeks burning with a hot flush. Mick puts his finger under my chin, lifting my head up, and once more I’m lost in his gaze. His deep blue eyes are so captivating—I feel as if he is staring endlessly into my soul. My stomach lurches as I realize I’m holding feelings I shouldn’t for my stepbrother, and a man I’m supposed to hate.

  Maybe these feelings aren’t real. Maybe I’m lying to myself so I won’t have to deal with the impossibility, the impracticality, of the feelings I have at this very moment.

  Mick holds my chin in his thumb and forefinger. My resistance melts as some unknown force draws me closer to his lips. Magnetically charged, the space between us disappears until I am touching his lips with mine. His mouth is as soft and succulent as it looked. His breath is heavy on my ears, stirring up heat and temptation within me. I can taste the salted water on his lips, despite their sweetness.

  Mick runs his fingertip along my body, grazing my chest. He is trying to see how far I will let him go. As if I had a plan for this to happen. I didn’t.

  But now, unexpectedly, I want him to touch me—I want to feel his hands all over my body. All of this passionate hatred over all of these years have now burgeoned into fiery lust. Without a thought, I tug at the zipper on his wetsuit, pulling it all the way down. Mick stands up, pulling it off and revealing his flawless body. His chest and abdominal muscles are defined in perfect lines—he is almost godlike. At this moment, I feel infinite.

  Mick kneels down, sitting me up on the smooth sand and unzipping my wetsuit. I clumsily try to get out of it myself, but can’t. Mick calmly pulls the wetsuit from my body to let me free. He stares at me with all of my vulnerabilities exposed, raking his gaze from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. It is a little unnerving, but I feel a great comfort in his stare.

  He draws me close and starts kissing my neck. My head falls back in ecstasy and my blood boils. Mick pulls the string of my bikini top, revealing my supple breasts to the open air. Water crashes over our bodies, leaving me short of breath. Mick is not bothered by the cold. He licks my nipples, teasing them with soft pinches and pulls. It sends a shiver through me that lights my soul aflame.

  Mick places his hands on my waist, lifting me to my feet. He slowly peels the rest of the wetsuit from my body, and then with his teeth, he tugs the string of my bikini bottom and lets them drop to the sand. Mick begins to lick further down my body to my most private of areas, causing my knees to buckle. As I stand here, I can feel his tongue masterfully making its way around my gentle flower. I begin to fall to the sand but Mick catches me by my waist, and now I am at his mercy.

  As Mick holds his hand out, I look into his eyes and smile. It feels as if that is the only part of my body I still control. Taking my hand, he leads me out into waist-deep water. I follow his chiseled frame, unable to take my eyes off his statuesque body. He’s remarkable. Mick turns to look at me with his devilish smile, confirming the ensuing moment of ecstasy. The water is cold, but a fiery warmth burns deeply inside of me, and the coldness fades away.

  Looking back at the beach, I notice it is still empty—it feels as if we are the only people on earth. Mick reaches down for his board leash and pulls it towards us. It comes to him as if this was all part of his master plan. He lifts me up and places me, naked, on the board. The sun, still hanging low in the sky, feels warm against my back. The wind gently licks my body, and everything seems so surreal, so ethereal; in that moment, so perfect.

  Mick enters me as only he can: relentlessly and full of passion. His big, hard cock thrusts inside of me, stretching my walls to their limits. I have never felt anyone like him. He lifts me off the board, holding my legs, my arms hanging around his neck. He makes love to me in that position while fighting the forceful waves and gravity threatening to tear us apart, pull us under, separate us from our moment of bliss. He stands as powerfully as Poseidon himself.

  I kiss him passionately, bent almost in half as he takes me—the feeling is so intense that I am already about to come. My eyes begin to close involuntarily and my body tenses. Mick increases his pace, taking my cue. I can’t hold back any longer as the rush of adrenaline and ecstasy converge. With a squeal, I come harder than I ever have before.

  And with me, Mick finds his release. He fills me with his seed, panting as he convulses to a stop. We stare into each other’s eyes, our chests heaving, our bodies still bound by one another’s flesh. Then the next wave crashes over us both, displacing us from our feet and each other. The water carries us to the beach as I once again catch view of Mick. If that wave hadn’t separated us, I don’t think we would have ever been apart.

  When we emerge, Mick walks close to me, taking my hand. We look outward together at the sea and the sunrise. There are no words required, no looks that need to be exchanged.
What has happened, happened as it should, and now before us lies nothing but peace and tranquility.

  Mick turns and walks with me to an unknown destination. We arrive at his car and sit inside, still without the need to speak. It is as if speaking will ruin the moment and the moment only calls for silence.

  I will never forget that first time I fucked Mick Anderson, and I cannot fully say it was without regret. This is the road less traveled by, and I am most certainly all the wiser.

  Chapter 2 Samantha

  As I step out into the cool morning air, the scent of the ocean permeates my senses. I look at the sun breaking over the horizon, the warming glow hinting at the weather of the day. I take a deep breath to inhale the openness and tranquility that accompany a morning by the sea. The view is one that I will never grow tired of. It provides the opportunity of complete solace. I love everything this view and hope to never leave.

  The recent events in my life have come to pass because of John, so in some ways, I suppose I should thank him. If he wasn’t as despicable as he was. I just might have expressed that gratitude, but he has no idea where I live—I made sure of that. Once I left John, I was liberated in many ways. There were a lot of decisions that needed to be made, and none of them easy.

  I decided to start my own business. I had taken a great deal of time to make the decision—both decisions. Leaving John and starting my own business were two of the most difficult things I had ever done. The fear of failing in both love and business were very frightening concepts at first, but it soon became clear that they were the best decisions I have ever made.

  I left John because of the abuse. What a fool I was. It took a great deal of strength to fully understand the toxicity of our relationship, and once I knew I deserved better, I left. Before John, I thought women who couldn’t leave an abusive relationship were weak. When I was immersed in one, I realized just how hard it was to leave. The experience left me wanting to help others, yet all I knew was surfing. I made it my goal to try and empower women through teaching them how to do it, too.

  As an employee of one of the many surf schools in Huntington Beach, I saw so many ways to improve the way people were being taught. After my ordeal with John, I hated the idea of working for someone. It felt like they were in control of my life. So with a maxed-out credit card, I opened my school in the very competitive Huntington Beach market. I was ready for the battle.

  The US Open will be coming here soon, which should greatly benefit the school. The US Open is one of the most highly regarded surfing competitions in the world. The event could bring thousands of tourists wanting to learn how to surf. Even though Huntington Beach doesn’t have the best waves in the country, it’s the place where surfing was born—everyone wants to be in Surf City, USA.

  At this time of the year, Huntington Beach is alive with people. Throngs of tourists and locals crowd the beach all day long. With this number of people, I am bound to have a successful summer.

  I walk back into my house to get ready and head out for the day. Looking over at the clock, I see it is already six a.m. I grab my wetsuit and stop by the mirror to take a look at myself. The bags under my eyes are indicative of the long hours I have been putting in to get this business off the ground. My blue eyes still look beautiful, I say to myself. Go get a surf in, you will feel much better.

  I place my wetsuit into the van and load my board inside. As I set the board down, I begin to think where my life was when I bought that board. So much has changed. When I first moved to the area, I was living in a much harsher part of town. That was when I was running from John. The past was a vicious cycle that was hard to break away from, and so whenever I look at my board, I look at a point in my life where things were becoming better.

  As I drive to San Onofre, astounding views of picturesque mountains and rolling hills fill the California sky. This is what the surfing experience should be like. For me, it’s one of the most meditative, spiritual pursuits one can have. My love of surfing came to me when my parents separated. Something about it was so liberating, so captivating, so effortless. Swimming out into the ocean with nothing but a board and my soul is like heaven to me.

  I continue my drive to the state park, the state park that reside on the ocean and one of my favorite places to surf. I am actually going to the military base portion of the park. The Department of Defense has certain designated areas all over the country that are military campgrounds. These are reserved for friends and family, as it was explained to me. Normally, the park is closed to the public, but thankfully I have a military friend who gets me into the beach anytime. That allows me to surf when there were very few, if any, people there at all. I pull up to the gate.

  “Good Morning.”

  The guard smiles. “Morning, Samantha. Go right in.”

  They haven’t asked me to wait here for months. I have met most of the guards at the gate, by this point. I park my car, throw on my wetsuit, take out my board, and head out to the surf.

  What a glorious day, I think to myself. The waves are long and low, the tide steady and welcoming. These are the conditions I love to surf in. I catch my first wave and it takes me all the way to shore. The gentle push of the ocean and the sun glistening off the waves is my idea of perfection. I feel free at San Onofre, gliding over the water with grace and ease. This place, these waters—they have carried me through many sad times.

  After catching some great waves I peek down at my watch. I could stay here all day, but I need to get home and be sure I am ready for my first lesson. I am a business owner, after all.

  I pull back into my driveway just as my phone rings.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Samantha?”

  I frown. The voice sounds concerned. “Yes?”

  “It’s Jim over at Corkey’s Surf School. Listen, I would never ask this of anyone else, and I know you don’t know me that well, but something terrible has happened that I need to attend to. I have no one to take my nine a.m. lesson. Is there any way you can take the lesson for me? You can keep all the money. I just hate to disappoint my customers.”

  Honestly, this is the moment I have been waiting for. I want to show the commercial surf world that we, as instructors, create a community of surfers. Despite the competition for business that goes on between us, I want to show all of them that we all have a love and respect for the sport.

  “Jim—no problem at all. Send me the particulars. I have a class at ten a.m., though, so it may be tight. If you could let your client know, I would be happy to help out. After all, we are fighting the same fight—and there is lots of business to go around.”

  Jim seemed overjoyed. “You are a lifesaver! Thank you so much. Can I text the client’s information to this number?”

  I do not hesitate. “Absolutely. I hope it all works out.”

  “Thanks again, Sam. I owe you one.”

  With no time to lose, I hop back in my car and race to Jim’s spot on the beach. I meet with his client, an older man of about fifty years who always wanted to learn to surf. For a man of his age, he is quite nimble and very capable. Throughout the lesson, he keeps telling me how much he is enjoying himself. For me, moments like these are the ones I live for. The rest of my day is packed with back-to-back lessons of both kids and adults. I always make sure that people know my philosophy on surfing—all ages, all generations can surf. Most importantly is, surfing is not a competition. Surfing is personal. No judgement allowed, ever.

  Exhausted after a long day in the sun, I make my way to the local pub on the beach. I pick a spot in the back of the bar to avoid being bothered. As soon as I order my beer, I see Mick and he is coming over to harass me. Mick is my overly successful stepbrother. He has made his money by somehow becoming the best professional surfer in the world. When we were kids, if you would have asked me if I thought he would amount to anything, the answer would be no. All he did was smoke pot, drink beer, and surf. Who knew that would be training for his career? I hated Mick. I hated Mick like oi
l hated water.

  “Hey there, young lady.

  I am less than amused. “What do you want?”

  “Can a guy not come over and say hello to his sister?” He smirks.

  “You have said ‘hello,’ now go away.”

  As always, Mick is persistent. “How is your surf school going?”

  “Going great Mick, thanks for asking.” I say sarcastically.

  He laughs. “I can’t believe you are teaching surfing. I am a way better surfer than you.”

  “Mick, surfing and teaching surfing are two different things. You don’t have the intelligence or patience to teach.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Anyone can do it. In fact I am sure I can do a hell of a lot better than you.”

  I take a step back so I don’t lose my cool. “Okay, then. Put your money where your mouth is.”

  “Gladly, what’s the bet?”

  “I bet I am a better instructor than you. How about this: if I can teach more people how to stand up on a board tomorrow than you can, then you have to publicly endorse my surfing school.”

  “And what do I get if I win?” he asks.

  I hesitate. “Well, what do you want?”

  The corners of his mouth curl up in the most unnerving of ways. If I didn’t know better, I could swear he is undressing me with his eyes. I am starting to feel naked and uncomfortable.