Stepbrother's Rules: A 1950's Ageplay Romance

by Rose, Renee

  Her breath turned ragged.

  “I’m going to get you warmed up,” he said, as if he acted only to keep her from catching a chill. His raging libido said otherwise.

  She held still, the trembling changing from the larger shivers of cold to something more internal.

  “You’re being a very good girl,” he praised her. “Daddy likes it when you let him undress you for bath time.”

  One of her knees buckled and he caught her around the waist, pressing his hips against her low back, his erection straining against his wet jeans. He leaned forward and nibbled on the shell of her ear, warming the cold flesh with his breath. Returning to his exploration of her breasts, he squeezed one of her nipples, gradually increasing the pressure until she made a squeak of protest.

  “These little breasts belong to Daddy.” He didn’t even know where the words were coming from, but they sounded so wicked, so right, a surge of lust nearly made him dizzy. He needed more now. How far would she let him go?

  She kicked off her pumps. He unzipped the back of her Capri pants and peeled them down to pile in a damp heap at their feet. She stood in nothing but her panties. He dropped to a crouch at her feet and kissed her calf, then her inner thigh, wrapping his hands around her sweet little backside. Leaning forward, he pressed his face against her panty-clad pussy and bit at her nether lips with his teeth.

  She swayed against his hold, her hands coming to grasp his hair. He nipped again, then peeled the panties down and planted a kiss at the apex of her sex.

  “Brad?” The uncertainty in her voice tugged at his heart.

  His vulnerable little girl. So unsure of herself, so unaware of her own perfection and beauty. Of course he was making a bad girl out of her. He really should stop.

  “Shh,” he said. “Daddy wants to take care of you.” He stood up, turning off the water and taking her hand. “Climb in, baby girl.”

  She obeyed, stepping into the hot water and sitting, leaning her back against the tub and slumping down so the water covered most of her delectable body.

  He stood and looked down at her, drinking in the sight. His eyes roamed from her flushed face and dilated eyes, down to her peach-tipped breasts, which seemed to float on the water, nipples puckered and beaded up from his touch. Further down, her soft belly and the thatch of silky brown curls beckoned to him.

  A devious thought crossed his mind. He opened the cabinet and took out his razor and shaving cream. “Little girls should be bare for their daddies,” he said softly.

  Her eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

  “When you’re all warmed up, I want you to sit up on the edge of the tub so Daddy can shave you.”

  Her cheeks turned a dark shade of pink, which traveled down her neck and across her chest. “I-you can’t.” She shook her head.

  “Do you need a spanking on your bare, wet bottom to remind you who’s in charge around here?”

  Her chin dropped and she gaped at him.

  He knelt beside the tub and dipped his hand in the water, stroking her calf, up the outside of her leg to settle on her hip. “You’re my little girl, and I want to shave you.”

  “But why?”

  He gave her a devilish grin. “It’s what Daddy wants. And daddies always get what they want.”

  He knew he had crossed the line of what was appropriate the moment he began undressing her, and yet touching her felt so right, and the words he spoke seemed to excite her as much as they did him, even if she seemed confused. Of course she was bewildered, poor little pet.

  “My darling mouse. I won’t hurt you. Can you believe that?”

  Her head wobbled on her neck, but it appeared to be a nod.

  “And I promise if you’re a good girl, I will make you feel wonderful after your bath.”

  Her eyes searched his for meaning, but he said no more, continuing to stroke her wet body.

  She swallowed, locking her gaze with his, and climbed out of the tub, sitting on the edge with her knees pressed together.

  He crouched in front of her and pried them apart. “Open for Daddy.”

  She blushed again, her hands fluttering to her face and covering it.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged. “You don’t have to look. Just keep your knees wide open.” He pulled them out as wide as she could handle.

  He picked up the shaving cream and brush and painted it all over her mons, coating her thatch of curls. Using his straight razor, he took his time to shave her mound bare. He pulled her labia closed to protect her delicate bits as he shaved the surrounding area. A tell-tale slickness met his fingers, and he made a point of brushing his fingers lightly over the length of her slit several times as he worked.

  LuAnn remained perfectly silent, holding still for him, but hiding behind her hands.

  “There,” he said when he’d finished. “Climb back in the tub to rinse off the shaving cream.”

  She dropped her hands, cheeks still pink, and climbed into the tub.

  He reached in to run his fingers across her mons, pleased with the smoothness he found there. “Mmm,” he said. “What a sweet little pussy.” He stood up and held out a towel. “Pull the plug, sweetheart, it’s time for bed.”

  She obeyed and climbed out, allowing him to wrap her into the towel and dry her off. When he finished, he wound it around her head, and took her hand, leading her, naked, into his bedroom.

  She hadn’t spoken. He supposed she was as shocked as he was with his behavior. Yet if she wanted him to stop, she would have said something. No, her body told him everything—her nipples were beaded up and pointed, her skin flushed.

  “Lie down.” He pulled the covers back.

  She sat on the bed, twisting her fingers in her lap.

  He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “This is the part where I make you feel good, baby girl. I’m not going to have sex with you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  Was that disappointment on her face? Embarrassment and confusion, certainly, but he thought he saw something else there.

  His cock strained at his jeans at the idea of being inside her. But no...he wouldn’t go that far. LuAnn was a virgin. He wouldn’t take that from her.

  * * *

  LuAnn couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what kind of game Brad was playing with her, but she didn’t want it ever to end. Her entire body vibrated with desire.

  Why would he undress her, shave her, and take her to his bed, but not have sex with her? She couldn’t understand it. He had picked up a bottle of something from his nightstand and squirted some kind of liquid in his hand.

  “Lie back, mouse,” he said, his voice sounding deeper than normal. His eyes had darkened, appearing midnight blue now instead of their usual ocean.

  She eased back onto her elbows, watching his movements.

  “This is baby oil.” He tipped the bottle and dribbled some on her tummy. Her muscles jerked and quivered at the sensation.

  Brad grasped her wrists, pulling her forearms away from covering her breasts and pinning them over her head. With his other hand, he began to massage the oil into her skin, his hand hot against her flesh, searing her with his caresses.

  She bit her lips to keep from moaning, closing her eyes. Her entire body trembled, and not just from nerves. Something in her inner core clenched and released.

  He coated her breasts with the oil, circling around her nipples and squeezing them into stiff peaks. Stroking down her side, he rubbed around her flank, his fingertips sliding underneath her to cup her bottom.

  She sighed, waves of pleasure cascading through her.

  He dragged his hand down her thigh, rounded over her knee, then slid up between her legs.

  She inhaled sharply, squeezing her thighs together.

  He made a tsking sound. “Open for Daddy, mouse. I want to make you feel good tonight.”

  For some reason, tears pricked her eyes. Not because she didn’t want him to touch her, but just from the sheer intensity of her emotions—embarrassment an
d desire tangled up in the shock of her first intimacy with a man.

  “Are you scared, mouse?”

  She shook her head.

  “I won’t hurt you, I promise. You can trust me.”

  She did trust him and if she was afraid, it was only of falling madly in love with a man she was pretty sure she couldn’t have. But that was no reason to deny this moment. She relaxed her gripping muscles, allowing him to slide higher, closer and closer to her pulsing sex.

  The moment he touched her there, a jolt of electricity ran through her and her bottom popped off the bed.

  “Shh.” He stroked a finger along her honeyed slit.

  She’d never felt anything like it before. She had touched her sex, but she didn’t remember it being so wet or slick. And she didn’t remember the sensations reverberating through every part of her body the way his touch did.

  Her knees fell open and her head dropped back as she opened to his ministrations. He found a place that made her hips fly up off the bed, her muscles squeezing. Climbing over her, he used both hands now to explore her body. He pushed one of her knees up and out to the side and parted her nether lips with his thumbs.

  She whimpered and covered her eyes with her hand, too embarrassed to look. She wished the lights were out, or the covers were up.

  “What a pretty pussy you have,” he murmured, bringing the pad of his thumb to that sensitive place again and gently rubbing.

  Her teeth clamped shut and she bucked again, a cry stopping in her throat.

  “Do you like that, mouse?”

  An incoherent sound came from her lips.

  He traced the inner lips of her sex, spreading her nectar up to her clit, then slid one finger inside her.

  “You’re so tight, baby girl. I’m just using my pinky finger,” he said. He pushed it inside her and pulled it out again.

  She was a virgin, but it didn’t hurt—it didn’t seem like enough, somehow. She arched her back, begging for more.

  He removed his little finger and slid a thicker one inside, getting deeper this time until she felt him tickling her inner wall.

  She squirmed, her hips dancing up and down.

  He pinned her pelvis to the bed and lowered his head to her sex, flicking his tongue over her sensitive nub at the same time he pushed one finger in and out of her.

  She cried out, trying to squirm under his hold, the feeling too intense.

  “I’m going to count to three and I want you to come.”

  She wasn’t sure what he wanted or what he meant, but he began to count.

  “One…” He shoved his finger deeper, the knuckles of his hand pressing against her entrance with delicious pressure. “Two…” He pumped his finger faster, in and out, while he sucked at her nub.

  She wanted to scream and tear his hair out. She flailed beneath him, frantic for something, but she didn’t know what.

  “Three.”

  She came unglued, her body convulsing, her sex squeezing his finger as wave after wave of release washed over her.

  He held his finger buried deep inside her, but he continued to suck her button until her climax had passed.

  She lay back, limp as a rag doll, her arms and legs splayed open without shame.

  Brad kissed up her belly, to her breasts and neck and finally settled over her, bringing his lips to hers.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck as he gave her a sensuous kiss, his tongue licking against the seam of her lips until she parted them and gave him entry.

  To her great disappointment, he climbed off her, looking somewhat pained. She didn’t miss the gigantic bulge in his pants where his manhood had swelled.

  He pulled the covers up to her chin and tucked both teddy bears in beside her. “Good night, sweet girl.”

  “Am I going to bed?” she asked in a wobbly voice. “I can’t sleep naked—I, uh, need my nightgown.”

  A wicked-looking grin crossed his face. “Daddy put you to bed naked. That means you sleep in the nude.”

  She stared up at him, eyes round as saucers, trying to understand. He wasn’t going to sleep with her, but he wanted her to remain naked...it didn’t make sense.

  Brad switched off the light, leaving her lying in the dark, feeling about as small as a four-year-old put to bed by her Daddy. Small in a cherished and loved sort of way. Her entire body radiated warmth from his caresses and her climax. Her sex still pulsed, slick and swollen from his ministrations. As satisfying as it had been, she still wanted more. She wanted Brad naked, covering her body with his own. Golly, she’d never felt more aroused in her life. And confused. She rolled to her side, tucking both teddy bears against her chest. She wondered what it would be like to sleep with Brad instead. Would he pull her into his muscled chest the way she held the bears? She imagined how safe and cared for she’d feel.

  Why had he simply pleasured her and left to sleep on the couch? Nothing about her sexy stepbrother made sense, did it?

  Chapter Four

  Brad sat across from the Jones Architecture client and listened as Jeff Jones, his boss and the owner of the company, tried to upsell the poor client a million features in his new home that he didn’t need.

  The way he’d been trained, the true art of architecture was designing the most functional and beautiful structure and still remain in budget. He remembered his professor had said, “Anyone can design a palace to perfection with unlimited funds. However, it takes true talent to make it fit in your client’s price range.”

  The annoying part of it all was that Mr. Jones was in cahoots with the builder, who provided him kickbacks for recommending or insisting on unnecessarily expensive building materials.

  The client, Mr. Washburn, sat sweating. The cost of his home had crept up each time so that now he was looking at almost one-third again what he’d originally set as his high-end cap. And Mr. Jones had a remarkable way of selling things to Mrs. Washburn so that her husband became the bad guy every time he said no.

  She was a pretty young wife, with ribbons in her hair and a crisp, cherry-print dress. Of course, Washburn wanted to give her everything she dreamed of. And he thought it was horrible that the man was being diminished in his wife’s eyes because of this house.

  These were the things that made him want to start his own business. He would run it with integrity. He would give his customers the very best possible product and not try to rip them off with foolish notions.

  “Jonathan, wouldn’t the breakfast nook be lovely?” Mrs. Washburn cooed.

  A knock sounded on the conference room door and Miss Frank, the secretary, poked her head in. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Jones, but your wife is on the phone and she says it’s an emergency.”

  Mr. Jones frowned, but quickly recovered. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you in Brad’s capable hands for a few minutes.”

  Mr. Washburn spoke the moment the door shut, as if he’d been waiting for a chance to speak with him alone. “You did the original design, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you approve of all the upgrades Mr. Jones recommends?”

  He hesitated. It would be very bad form to say anything negative about his boss or the way he ran his business. If he valued his job, he would keep his mouth shut.

  “Come on, you can tell me the truth. What would you do, if you were me?”

  Brad drew in a deep breath, looking toward the door as if Mr. Jones might pop back through it at any moment. “To be perfectly honest, sir?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m asking.”

  “I would insist on using the original design and nothing more.”

  Mr. Washburn straightened his spine. “That’s what I thought. I’m glad to know my instincts were right about you and about him,” he said, lifting his chin toward the door. “I think I will take my business elsewhere.”

  Brad jolted in his seat. “Oh, no, Mr. Washburn. There’s no sense in starting over. We already have a design that worked for you.”

  “I know,
but I can’t work with someone I don’t trust. Don’t you worry, I won’t tell Jones what you said to me. And if you want to design my house for me on the side, I’d be happy to pay you to do it.”

  Brad stared at the man, waffling between loyalty to his employer and the golden opportunity laid before him. But having one client didn’t mean he could sustain a business, and he’d have to quit to take this job, because it would surely come out when they arrived at the building phase, and then he’d be fired on the spot.

  Washburn slid his business card across the desk. “Think it over, sonny,” he said and stood up. “I’d like to give you the business, and I’ll be sure to tell everyone I know how honest and trustworthy you are.”

  Brad took the card and dropped it into his jacket pocket, clearing his throat. Before he could answer, Mr. Jones entered.

  * * *

  LuAnn walked out of her interior design class filled with ideas. She wondered if Brad would mind if she redecorated his apartment. Despite the fact that he was an architect, the place had few, if any, decorative touches. It sported a Davenport, sitting chair and a television—a new one, twenty-one inches—which must have cost a fortune. Nothing on the walls besides the hooks to hang hats and jackets.

  She supposed he just paid attention to structure. Or maybe he just didn’t bother for his own place.

  “Hi, Lu,” a friendly voice sang out.

  She turned around to see Beth walking toward her.

  “How’s your man?”

  She blushed, remembering the things Brad had done to her the night before. How had she gone from a good girl pretending to be fast, to a very naughty girl overnight? She didn’t even feel ashamed, although she ought to. She just was incapable of saying no to Brad.

  “He’s good, I guess.”

  “Where are you headed now?”

  She shrugged. She didn’t have to rush home, because she’d given herself extra wiggle room by telling Brad she had another afternoon class. “I was just going to go to the library. How about you?”