My Mom's Fiance: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  I left them to get in the shower so I could wash the day off me.

  Although I’d had a good time with Jake in a remote bedroom of the apartment, guilt squeezed the air from my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. Because what could possibly justify my actions? Jake was my mom’s fiancé for crying out loud.

  So I tried to put it out of my mind. In the shower, water rushed powerful and fast over my body, soothing my drained muscles. After the delicious session with the billionaire, I was sore in places I’d never been before. The muscles of my thighs burned and my knees and palms were raw. In fact, bruises in the shape of his fingers were already darkening on both sides of my hips.

  God! I was such a slut for the man. When he had me on my knees like that, there was nothing that was off-limits. I’d begged and pleaded, giving him my all. His cock could have touched me anywhere, and I wouldn’t have said no.

  Because before, I’ve never been that horny for a guy. In fact, until meeting Jake, it was easy to ignore boys altogether, focusing on school instead. It was nice. There were no ups and downs, I’m a good student and top grades have always come easy.

  Except now, I was on a rollercoaster. I hadn’t cracked a book in weeks, and my emotions were a hurricane, powerful and all-consuming, overwhelming my frame and leaving no room for anything else.

  I groaned with shame and sagged against the cool tile of the shower. Oh god, oh god, what was going on? How could this be happening? Because school is my way out. If I did well in my classes, maybe that’d be the path to a well-paying job. And then I could move away, and leave all this behind.

  But instead, it was all going haywire. I was distracted and moony, failing to go to class. My grades were for sure going to drop, but the thing is, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t even care. All I could think about was Jake Mason, and what he did to me, my heart going soft, insides even softer.

  Oh god, oh god. The way he’d licked my ass in the bedroom had been amazing. His tongue had slid so deep, wet and teasing, prepping me for that giant cock. And when he finally slipped into my behind …

  The bathroom echoed with the sound of my moan. It was too good, and I was too hungry. Reaching back, I experimentally tested my sore asshole. Oh yeah, the flesh was soft and tender, but more than ready to take that big dick again. My finger circled the pleats the same way Jake done …

  And going with it, I moaned again and slipped a finger inside my ass, squelching into Jake’s cum. Unnnh, so good. My pussy tingled, moistening, and it wasn’t from the shower. What would Jake do if he was here in the shower with me? Would he bend me over and use my ass again? Would he make me get on my knees and beg him? Because I’d do it, all that and more.

  “Oh, shit...” was my tortured cry.

  Moaning, I filled myself with another finger and started to fuck myself in the ass, first slow then hard just the way Jake did. I bent over with my cheek pressed against the tile and rammed my fingers into my anus over and over while my other hand played with my clit. It felt so good. My thighs tightened, pussy gushing.

  “Jake!” His name sprang like a prayer to my lips. “Oh god, Jake!”

  And it happened then. The big man brought me to my knees without even being there. My legs dropped out from under me and I fell on my ass in the tub, shaking all over, crying and screaming at once. Because what fucked up situation was this? What disgusting girl pummels herself in the ass while dreaming of her stepdad?

  But there was nothing to be done. Alone and crying, I hunched on the floor of the shower stall, body reverberating with the shock of my orgasm.

  But my brain kept rolling, emotions a tidal wave.

  Because I was pathetic. That was the ugly truth. I was completely and utterly pathetic, a one hundred percent loser.

  And my control broke then. Tears sprang anew, blending with the droplets already streaming down my cheeks. Because I was in love with the billionaire. I was in love with my future stepfather … and there was absolutely no hope for us.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jake

  What the hell?

  First a joint bridal shower now a simultaneous bachelor and bachelorette party? All this togetherness was going to drive me up the wall. Is this how Amanda runs her real life? I hope to god not because there’s nothing worse than being joined at the hip with that woman. Thank fuck she’s not going to be my wife for real. Life does have its silver linings.

  But now I’m in Vegas for a shindig with all the folks who are gonna be in our wedding. People always talk about how Vegas is the place to have the time of your life. To have the wildest sex, the craziest experiences, all the while gambling like a high-roller. But for me, it’s always been a let-down. All hype and no follow-through. Plus, you just feel dirty afterwards, like there’s gunk in your teeth and slime under your fingernails.

  But no matter. On the stage in front of me, a stripper rubbed her tits while swaying back and forth, giving me the eye. Earlier, she’d walked past and fumbled for my dick, whispering a price in my ear. Yeah, right. Please girlie, you’re talkin’ to a guy who’s an expert at this stuff. I’ve paid five times more for women a lot classier than you.

  But still, there was no reason to be rude, so I sent her on her way with a friendly pat on the ass. But hey, these chickadees can smell money because here she was on stage now, still trying to get my attention. Then again, you gotta respect a girl who knows how to make a buck.

  Sipping from a glass of scotch, I sat at my table in the middle of the club, one of nearly two dozen of Amanda’s “family and closest friends.” The place was packed wall to wall with New Yorkers, most of them with us. In my mind, complete boredom ruled, my brain a lifeless line of zzzzz.

  But Amanda was having the time of her life. A bunch of male and female strippers pranced around half naked on the club’s biggest dais. They gyrated and fucked the air with their hips, simulating sex with each other. Other strippers worked the floor near my table, touching customers that looked willing to party or least pay top dollar for a lap dance.

  God, was this supposed to be a good time? It was boring as hell, but hey, I’m the groom. So I slapped a jovial smile on my face, even if my heartbeat was flatlining. Kill me now.

  And the life of the party as usual, Amanda practically molested one of the strippers jerking his junk around to the music on the mini stage in the center of the ladies’ tables. The stripper was sweaty and oiled up, gleaming under the lights. Just my fiancée’s type, going by the way she was cooing and touching his muscles, not to mention openly eyeing his package. Fucking disgusting if you ask me. Seriously, the dude was obviously on roids, with his acne-ravaged skin and overly developed legs. Moderation, buddy, moderation’s the name of the game.

  But the chicks didn’t care. They screamed and clapped, egging Amanda on. And she started dancing to the music, wiggling this way and that. Her tight tube dress barely covered those saggy gazongas, the material riding up her skinny bottom.

  And then my fiancée did it. Even though she’s forty, the woman bent over and tried to twerk, jerking her hips back and forth awkwardly. Shit, Miley Cyrus is fifteen and even she looks bad doing it. You think you’re gonna be better?

  But her girlfriends were all over it, cackling and screaming like hyenas, whooping wildly. And Amanda went with it. Swaying unsteadily in those high heels, she literally jumped on the platform then, practically pushing the male stripper out of the way. Gross. Her hand came away dark with spray tan, probably some toxic shit.

  But the dude saw money, and obligingly started to sway in time with her. Tellingly, the smile on his face was stiff, his dick limp and soft.

  “Come on, big boy!” Amanda screamed at the stripper while dragging down the top of her dress to flash her tits. “Come on, whoop whoop!”

  Fuck me, this was so embarrassing.

  This was my fiancée for crying out loud, acting out Girls Gone Wild.

  But shit, my bride to be’s forty, not eighteen.

  No matter, because Amanda
grabbed the guy by the waistband of his tight leather pants and dragged him closer. Looking like a deer caught in the headlights, he let her pull his hair and force his head down to her chest, motor boating those plastic balloons, like he was gonna get a mouthful.

  Of course, the dude didn’t want a mouthful, male strippers are almost always gay. But Amanda went wild, pushing a giant tit between his lips, the poor guy’s eyes opening wide even as he jerked, startled.

  But it was too late. When my fiancée gets what she wants, she goes wild. Because the woman groaned, eyes closed in ecstasy, male stripper sucking at her tit. And then she bent over backwards to give him more room, still moaning and carrying on like a bitch in heat. Her friends laughed and one of them jumped up behind Amanda, screaming, “You go girl! Work it, work it!”

  Holy fuck.

  I should be embarrassed. I should be dragging that dude off her, punching him in the gut.

  But the thing is, I don’t care. She’s not really my woman, so the blonde’s free to do as she likes.

  Alone at my table, I sipped my scotch and watched some more. The other guys all evaporated, probably doing the nasty in some dirty corner. Again, boredom struck me like a hammer to the head. This place was full of skanks. No way would I touch these girls with a ten foot pole.

  Especially not since meeting Lacey.

  The scotch burned going down my throat.

  How fucked up was this. At my own bachelor party, I was dreaming about my fiancée’s daughter. That’s right, in a club filled with woman flesh, all I could think about was the brunette’s innocence. Those big caramel eyes. The way she smiled and laughed, even when my jokes weren’t funny.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I’ve done fucked up things in the past, but this really took the cake.

  My future stepdaughter? Arrest me, now. Lock me up, because I deserve it.

  And it’s only getting worse because Lacey’s on my mind all the time. Not just when I’m alone, but also in the most unlikely of places. At a business meeting. During conference calls with investors. Sometimes, I’d blink, and Lacey was there, big brown eyes shining, both shy and knowing in the way I loved. Just one look from her made my dick hard. And another look made me want to put my arms around her and protect the female.

  Oh shit.

  I’m so fucked.

  But the crazy part is that she’s here too. I’ve been aware of her presence since minute one, as soon as I stepped into his hellhole. It’s like that with us now. We can sense each other at all times, the electricity a live wire running between our bodies.

  So discreetly, I turned to look over my shoulder at a booth in the back. And sure enough, there was my girl, seated with her aunt and a couple other older ladies.

  Don’t look, my conscience woke up enough to growl at me. Turn away now.

  But I couldn’t. In this cesspool, Lacey was a much needed breath of fresh air, sweet and innocent, filling my lungs with goodness.

  Because she looked uncomfortable. The brunette stared at her hands before shooting a glance at her mom and then quickly averting her eyes again. Hey, I don’t blame her. Amanda practically had her dress off now, bucking wildly against another oily male stripper. If she were my mom, I too would be humiliated.

  Damn, I was starting to hate my own fiancée.

  Why was she doing this to her daughter?

  Hell, I can take it, you can’t embarrass me. But Lacey’s young and innocent. Why would you do this in front of your child?

  Another quick glance Amanda’s way showed me that my wife-to-be was grinding on yet another stripper with her dress scrunched around her waist. None of her friends looked worried that she was doing anything wrong. Shit, obviously she didn’t think she was doing anything wrong.

  Acting like a shameless whore a few days before your wedding while your fiancé sat only a few feet away? Normal for Amanda. This was wedding number four, after all.

  Hell, maybe I’m the one who was old-fashioned.

  My stepdaughter wasn’t old-fashioned though. Just classy. The dress she wore wasn’t especially sexy, but she filled it out just right. The material had a high neckline and went all the way down to her knees, but the way it draped over her big boobs and lush ass made my mouth water. Oh yeah, the right girl in the right dress can do it.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw her throw back her drink and then grimace. Poor thing. Trying to get drunk to block out the pain that was her mom. I looked again to see if Amanda was getting bored with her temporary boyfriends yet.

  Nope.

  Not by a long shot.

  On the little stage, the blonde had made herself the center of a man sandwich, grinding her ass back into the package of the guy behind her while grabbing the crotch of the dude in front of her. The music was Top Forty and getting louder by the second. If Amanda wasn’t my future wife, maybe I’d even admire what she was doing because hey, public sex was hot. After all, I’d done Lacey in the middle of a crowded club and that’d been fuckin’ amazing.

  But this was some trashy shit, not the same at all. These guys were paid to grope her and act like they enjoyed it. Couldn’t she tell?

  Suddenly, a soft voice sounded over my shoulder. Even with raucous cries of the crowd, Lacey’s voice was like a bell in my ear, soft and sweet.

  “Hi.”

  I turned, eating up that curvy form. Shit, she was beautiful, enticingly shy, and completely out of place. Hell, she was even shaking a little, this joint got under her skin. And yet I found it sexy. I’ve known lots of women, younger and older. But something about that sweetness, about the female’s giving nature, made me come to attention.

  But this wasn’t the time to let it show.

  "Hey," I drawled lazily. “What’s up?”

  Lacey cleared her throat, all nerves, uncomfortable as multi-colored lights painted that curvy form in rainbows.

  "How are you?” she asked, looking down then up again.

  I almost laughed. We were in the middle of a crowded club, half-naked strippers gyrating all around. And yet the female as so innocent, asking “how are you?” like this was just another party.

  So I went with it.

  “Good,” I drawled. “Could be better, but good, considering.”

  She blushed.

  “I know, this is a little weird right?” she asked, gesturing to the naked figures on stage. One guy literally popped his dick out then, and the brunette jerked her eyes away, fixing them on mine, lips trembling.

  I almost laughed.

  “Real weird, sweetheart,” I agreed over the din. “Real weird. Not too many co-ed bachelor parties these days, but what do I know?” I shrugged. “This is my first time getting married.”

  Lacey blushed again wildly. Because yeah, I’m an engaged man. To her mom, for what it’s worth.

  But she bit her lip, trying to move forwards.

  “Jake, I wanted to ask you,” she said, taking a deep breath. "What’s going on between us?”

  The words rushed out of her in a whoof, like they’d been bottled for ages. "We can’t keep doing this," came her soft voice.

  Holy shit, were we going to have this conversation now? Right here, with a disco ball flashing and blaring music? With guests all around?

  But the thing is, no one could hear, and frankly, no one cared. People were too busy doing their own thing, ogling naked bodies, getting freaky and enjoying themselves.

  So I looked the brunette straight in the eye.

  "No shit," was my deep growl. “We can’t keep going on like this.”

  Because it was true. What were we doing? Who falls for their future stepdaughter? This is shit that only happens in movies.

  And Lacey agreed. Taking a deep breath, she looked me in the eye again.

  "So what’s next?" came her soft voice.

  She edged closer then, that sweet perfume wafting into my nostrils. Shit, the woman smelled good, all purity and innocence compared to the trash around us. “Because I’m going crazy,
Jake. I really am. Something has to give.”

  But I didn’t have any answers. Because what the fuck was I gonna do? On the one hand, I needed Amanda’s rolodex, and the fastest way to get access was by marrying her. As depraved as it sounds, I run a multi-billion dollar business, and I’m not above doing shit like this to make the dollars roll.

  But now there was Lacey. I never expected to meet this sweetness, everything about the woman blowing me out of the water.

  So I shrugged nonchalantly.

  "We’ll see," was my low rumble. "We’ll see."

  I didn't even know what the fuck I was talking about. I was way over my head with this girl. Yeah, this all started on a whim, but now we were swimming in the deep end, waves as high as a two-story building, threatening to crush us in one fell swoop.

  But Lacey wasn’t satisfied.

  “So you don’t have a plan?” came her low words.

  I shrugged my shoulders, relaxed to the max. But every inch tingled, sizzling with awareness of the female.

  “Naw, no plan,” I drawled carelessly. “Sometimes you just have to roll with it, baby girl. Can’t plan for everything.”

  And she pulled back then, like I was poison.

  “You can’t say that,” were her low words. “You can’t do that.”

  I shrugged again.

  “I’m forty-five honey. Been doin’ what I like for a long while,” came my lazy drawl. “Old dogs don’t got new tricks.”

  And that was it. The girl whipped around so fast that those curls flew in the air, skirt swirling.

  “Then goodbye Jake,” were her low words. “Goodbye.”

  I sat there, stricken for a moment. Goodbye? Just like that? A rush of thoughts crowded my mind. Because no way was I ready for goodbye. I figured we’d talk a little, maybe fight, and then make-up with a down and dirty session. Goodbye? Now? Holy shit, I wasn’t ready.

  So I reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling that curvy form to a halt. Fuck, she smelled so good, and I inhaled deeply, chest expanding. I could smell her all day, especially in a cesspool like this.