CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Katherine
My father and Ella are back at the lake house full-time now. The Senate broke for the summer three days ago. Three days ago, the house was turned into a flurry of activity in preparation for the wedding, the house flooded with people: the wedding planner, caterers, stylist, managers, decorators, baker, and my father’s entourage of political advisers.
I’d have expected the wedding to disrupt my father's campaign, but it all seems to fit in nicely. It helps, I suppose, that Ella runs her wedding planning with the same kind of military precision with which my father attacks his re-election campaign.
Caulter and I are no longer just fucking. I mean, we've been fucking. But now we're fucking like rabbits. We've been screwing all the time.
When my father and Ella were still in DC, Caulter made good on his promise to take me in the dining room one night after Rose was gone, spreading me out on the table and burying his face between my legs.
We've had sex outside on the dock in the evening, beside the lake.
In the boathouse.
In the car on the way to get ice cream, and then again when we got back, after Caulter said he couldn’t watch the way I licked the ice cream cone and not want to put his cock in my mouth.
In our rooms -- so many times, in our rooms.
We're having more sex, but it's no longer just sex. Something happened the night of the engagement party, I think -- Caulter became less irritating. He's growing on me. Which is weird.
It's also upsetting. It was one thing when we were sneaking around when our parents were gone, but it's different now that they're back. And that they're getting married. Soon we really are going to be step-siblings, and then what's going to happen?
There's also the other thing I keep thinking about -- and it's all Caulter's fault for planting the thought in my head, the possibility that I really might be able to go to UCLA. Now I keep wondering what would happen if I did.
It's all Caulter's fault for making me feel happy. That's the thing about being happy - it makes you want more of that feeling. And happiness is dangerous, because it never lasts. Life has taught me that much.
I look in the mirror, straightening the stray tendril of hair that refuses to stay in the slick high ponytail. I look like a fucking PTA mom, I think, in my pastel colored suit and nude pumps. Or an Easter egg.
We’re about to go downstairs for an interview, all part of my father’s re-election campaign but not really. It’s a national news station that doesn’t care all that much about the incumbent from New Hampshire who’s predicted to win by a landslide vote; what they really care about is the wedding. And the family drama.
They’re going to want to know all about how Caulter and I are getting along. Luckily, we’ve been prepped. We have stock phrases to use. None of those stock phrases involve we're fucking like rabbits, or his cock makes me so wet I practically drip when I’m near him.
“Hey.” The door from the balcony slides open, and his voice makes me jump.
“Shit, Caulter,” I whisper. “Stop scaring me like that.”
“You look like an Easter egg,” he says.
“I do, don’t I? That’s exactly what I was thinking. Is this orange or pink?” I ask, smoothing the skirt. I think it’s a linen fabric of some kind -- I think I should be playing canasta in Florida in this dress.
“Coral,” Caulter says, walking up behind me and placing his hand on my rear. “It does make your ass look great, though.”
“Hands off,” I order. “No hanky panky.”
“Aw, you get in a pastel suit and you start acting like a grandma,” Caulter says, looking past me to his reflection in the mirror. “Even more than usual, I mean.”
“Ha ha.” My eyes trace down the length of him. “Are you supposed to be wearing a jacket?”
“Nope, just a collared shirt,” he says. “The stylist picked it out. Apparently I can't be too formal, you know. I’ve been told my brand is ‘tamed rebel’.”
I cringe. “Did she really say that? Is this the same stylist who picked out all the new clothes after you burned mine?"
"Same one," he says. "Not the panties, though. That was all my doing." He reaches for the hem of my dress, remarking more softly now, “Let me check to see if you’re wearing them.”
I swat his hand away, but he slides it between my legs. “Stop, seriously, we’re about to go down there. You shouldn’t even be in here.”
“We have time for a quickie,” he says
I laugh. “Get away from me, asshole.”
He doesn't seem too put off by my rebuff, even as he pulls his hand back and smacks me lightly on the ass. “I picked out every single pair of those panties, by the way. The 'tamed rebel' thing is from your father's PR person or whoever she is, though."
“Mona,” I say, rolling my eyes. “She’s a tyrant.”
“She says I'm a tamed rebel,” he says. “It sounds exciting. Maybe I should mention who tamed me when we’re on camera.”
I swat at him, but he ducks out of the way, heading for the balcony door. “You’re a total rebel,” I say, watching him light a cigarette. “Are you seriously going to do that right before the interview?”
He blows smoke off the balcony but looks at me. “Do you want me to get through the interview?”
“Whatever,” I say. “As long as you play along.”
“I’ll play the good little step-brother,” he says. “But I’ll be undressing you the whole time with my eyes.”
I laugh. “I’m sure.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re downstairs in the library, of all locations. Which is pretty much the exact place I’ve fantasized about having to sit in front of a camera and answer questions about my relationship with my step-brother. I mean, it’s just fucking perfect.
“What happened to the living room?” I ask, as Mona ushers me to a seat, usurping whoever’s in actually in charge of the television show.
“The background in here is more suitable for a family interview,” she says as she adjusts the collar of my jacket.
Yes, of course. The place where Caulter and I broke a ladder while fucking is definitely suitable for a family interview.
I glance at Caulter, and he’s hiding a smile, the shithead. Argh. Caulter is going to love everything about this, especially my discomfort. We may be screwing, and I may not hate him with quite the fiery passion with which I used to, but that doesn’t mean he won’t take great pleasure in watching me writhe under the pressure.
Caulter likes to watch me squirm. The thought jumps into my head, immediately making me think about sex, and I try to push it away. Focus, Kate.
Mona slaps me on the thigh. “Knees together, crossed at the ankles. Sit up straight, lean slightly forward so the sofa doesn’t eat you.” She barks out her orders like a drill sergeant, before motioning impatiently for Caulter. “Caulter. Here.”
Whoever is actually in charge of the set up on the set gently intervenes, moving my father and Ella onto the sofa adjacent to us.
When the cameras roll, it’s three-two-one and smile and one big happy family. Meanwhile, my mind is nowhere near even listening to any of the questions directed at my father and Ella.
When the interviewer, a grandmotherly woman with a penchant for asking questions that make stars dissolve into tears, turns to Caulter and I, it's one softball after another. Did we know each other at Brighton? Did we get along? What are our plans after the summer?
We parrot the responses we've been given, smiling and being engaging, like two robot minions doing my father’s bidding.
On the surface, it’s uneventful. But I carefully avoid eye contact with Caulter, and choose my words like I’m stepping through a minefield. The questions that should be so easy to answer are now laden with a deeper meaning.
Of course we get along, I say. What I don’t say is that Caulter’s face was buried between my legs this morning before I even got out of bed. We get along very well.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THR
EE
Caulter
“Get off the phone.” I step through the balcony door even though Kate waves me out, shaking her head. She turns to the side, like she’s trying to shield the phone from me, and says something I don’t quite catch, but I hear the tone of her voice, and that interests me. She’s irritated.
“I don’t think so,” she says, followed by silence. “Because do you remember the last time we went out?”
“Is that Jo?” I ask.
Kate shakes her head and shields her mouth with her hand. I’m tempted to take the phone out of her hand and throw it across the room like I did before, but I don’t, only because she’s looking irresistible in the yellow sundress she’s wearing that drapes down to the floor. The fact that the top of it pushes her tits out to the point where they’re practically overflowing makes me want to put my mouth on them.
She keeps talking, even when I walk up to her and slide the fabric of the dress and her bra down over her luscious tits. She shakes her head at me, her brow wrinkled and her expression scolding, but she doesn’t exactly stop me.
I run my fingers lightly over her breasts, watching her nipples rise to attention.
“No, Jo,” Kate says, her voice trailing off as I stroke her breast with my finger. “I’m not in charge of the invitations.” I bend down toward her, running my tongue over her nipple, and her head lolls back, phone still against her ear. “Nothing is wrong. I’m over what happened at the party. But that doesn’t mean you’re coming to the wedding.” She pauses for a minute, when I envelop her breast with my mouth. Then she throws the phone on the bed without even saying goodbye.
“Was that Jo?” I ask, pulling up the volumes of fabric of her dress and sliding my hand between her legs. “Why are you still talking to her?”
“I’m not,” she says, her breath short. She’s wet already; the fact that she's wet so soon makes me rock hard. I love how this girl is always ready for me, soaking between her legs the minute I get near her. “I haven’t spoken to her since the party. She wants an invitation to the wedding.”
“Why were you friends with her?” I ask, sliding my finger between her folds. I slip it inside, watching her jaw go slack and her eyes half-close.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’ve known her for a while. I mean, she's my friend during the summers up here. She’s fun. Funny.”
“She’s not a good person,” I say. Kate already knows what I think. “Is Ella dragging you to do wedding stuff?”
She answers, her breath already ragged. “No, not me,” she says. “I think she has friends she's doing that with. Do you know how many celebrities are going to be here for this? They’re already descending on the town.”
“Like a plague.” I hitch her dress up around her waist and push her against the bed. “So no one is looking for you right now.”
“No,” she says, her voice raspy. “Is anyone looking for you?”
“Hell, no.” I slip my fingers from between her legs and unbuckle my jeans. “It’s just you and me.”
“There are so many people in the house, Caulter,” she whispers. “Right downstairs. Anyone could come up here. I’m sure Rose will be looking for us. I think she knows about us.”
“Then she won’t be looking for us,” I say, walking to the bedroom door and locking it.
“Why don’t we go somewhere?”
“We can,” I tell her. “After I come inside that tight little pussy of yours.”
She groans. “You’re making me --”
“Wet?” I ask. “Yeah, Princess, I already felt that.” I start to unbuckle my pants, slipping them over my ass, but she stops me.
“Just stop undressing and fuck me,” she says, wrapping her hand around my cock. It throbs in her grip. “Like, now.”
I don’t even bother to take her clothes off. The urgency in her voice as she sits on the edge of the bed with her skirt hiked up around her waist, looking slightly disheveled, makes me want to do whatever she asks. My pants are around my ass as I grip her thighs and pull her down until she’s hanging off the bed.
When I plunge my cock into her, she moans out loud. I guess she doesn’t give that much of a shit about anyone hearing. Thrusting inside her, I watch as she throws her head back, pressing against the mattress, and moans a little louder this time. “Fuck me,” she orders. “Harder.”
She’s so damn warm and wet I can’t take it. I fuck her harder. “You’re going to have to keep your moans down so your father and Ella don't catch us.”
That makes her moan again.
“Is that making you hot, Princess?” I ask, thrusting into her, my cock so deep I swear I’m going to bust through her. “Knowing that our parents might hear us?”
“What you’re doing with your cock is making me hot,” she says. Her voice is a little too loud, so I cover her mouth with my hand. Her eyes fly open wide, and she bites into the side of my finger.
I thrust into her harder to punish her for biting me, and she groans. My movements are rapid as I shove two fingers just inside the entrance of her mouth, the same two fingers that had been in her pussy a few minutes ago. Watching her devouring the fingers that still have her juices on them makes me want to come. I don’t care about holding out; I want to fill her up with my warm cum. Her muscles tense around my cock and I know she’s ready. “Suck them,” I whisper. “Wrap those lips around my fingers like you do with my cock.”
She groans, low in her throat, her pussy tightening.
“Are you going to come for me, Princess,” I ask, and she nods her head, looking at me with big pleading eyes. “Come for me.”
She’s been so close that the minute I give her permission, I feel the orgasm rip through her pussy, muscles tightening over and over as she comes. Her back arches and I keep my fingers lodged firmly in her mouth, my thumb under her chin as I drive as deeply inside her as I can, letting go. My balls clench up and I fill her up with my warm seed.
A minute later, my cock is still throbbing, still leaking with every spasm, and she’s grinning at me. She pulls my fingers from her mouth. “What the hell are we going to do tomorrow, Caulter?”
“There’s no fucking blood in my brain right now, and you’re asking me a question like this? What's wrong with you?”
Katherine grips my palm, moves it down across her chest to cover her breast, and I knead the flesh with my hand. “I mean it,” she says softly. “They’re getting married tomorrow, and you’re fucking me.”
“Don’t forget,” I remind her. “You’re begging me to fuck you.”
She wrinkles her forehead. “Is there a bachelor party?”
“Are you trying to make me vomit?” I ask, running my other hand over her chest.
She giggles. “You don’t want to go to a bachelor party with my father?” she asks. “That doesn’t sound like fun?”
“Don’t be disgusting.” The thought is so repulsive I can’t help but shiver.
“Am I going to have to see a bunch of Hollywood girls you’ve slept with, when we're at the ceremony tomorrow?”
I pause, mentally running through a list in my head of Ella’s friends I might or might not have banged. It’s not a small list, but I don’t tell her that. “Maybe.”
“Shit, Caulter,” she says, slapping my hand. “Don’t fucking tell me that.”
“You asked. You want me to lie to you?”
“I don’t know what I want,” she says. “But we can’t keep doing this, you know.”
“Why the hell not?” I ask. “Other than that you have some fucking hang ups.”
“Me and the rest of the world,” she says. “They’re getting married.”
“So?” I ask. “We’re not actually related. You do realize that, don’t you?”
She shakes her head. This little chunk of hair falls over her forehead and across her eye when she moves, and I lift it back into place. “That’s what people will think, Caulter.”
“No,” I say. “People will think we’re two adults who are complete
ly unrelated and who are also screwing.”
“That’s all this is, right?” she asks.
“What do you want from me, Kate?” I ask. I sound annoyed, but the truth is, I've thought about this. She has no idea how much I've fucking thought about her -- or us. I never stop thinking about it.
Doesn’t she get how absolutely insane it is that I’ve been with her, and only her, since the end of the school year? That is not me. Sticking my cock in one pussy for months is not me. Spending all my fucking time with she same chick is not me. Laughing at the stupid little things that chick says when I’m lying in bed at night, before I fall asleep, is not me either. Yet, here we are.
“You want me to be your fucking boyfriend or something?" I ask. "Or you want this to be our dirty little secret? I’m not sure what the hell you’re going for here."
She looks at me through narrowed eyes. She might be irritated, but it says something that we're having this conversation while I'm still inside her, with my hand on her tit. “I’m saying we can’t keep doing this, because we’re going to get caught.”
I thumb my finger over her nipple. “Says the chick who was moaning so loud a minute ago we were sure to get caught.”
“Because you make me crazy,” she says. “I can’t trust myself with you.”
“So you want to stop?” Her nipple is hard under my finger, and I feel my cock begin to stir again. This girl is like taking a little blue pill. I’m constantly hard for her.
“We shouldn’t keep going,” she says.
“They’re not married yet.”
“They will be tomorrow.”
“So tomorrow we’ll stop,” I say, pinching her nipple between my fingers and watching her flinch. But she doesn’t smack my hand away. Instead, her pussy muscles tighten around me.
“Just like that?” she asks.
“Just like that,” I tell her. “You don’t want to fuck me, I won’t fuck you.”
“It’s that easy for you.”
Of course not, I want to say. As if I want to stop fucking her? This girl has me wrapped around the axle, thinking about her constantly. I can’t stop. But I don’t tell her that. I can’t tell her that. “It’s that easy.”
A Very Dirty Christmas Page 18
