My Stepbrother, His Highness: A Royal Stepbrother Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Victoria Cabot

  Tristan shrugged at me. “I’d be happy with your company, sure, but I’m not going to force you to ever do anything.”

  The smug son of a bitch. I knew he was right. He wasn’t forcing me to do anything at all. I think he knew it too.

  So why are you being so bitchy?

  I think internally, I wanted The Pervert to acknowledge that he really was a creep for even dreaming up this scenario in the first place. Aside from the fact that I had voluntarily gotten into it with both feet, I wanted to still claim the moral high ground.

  Tristan waited for an answer, then after a moment turned and walked back to the dining room. I closed the door and looked through my room. In angst, I lay on the bed.

  My stomach growled again, upset that it had lost out to my ego. I was, in actuality, starving. I had basically run out of money three days ago and was surviving by eating whatever I could find in our refrigerator as well as slipping food into my pockets from the coffee shop I worked at.

  But still, I wanted to get that moral high ground. So I stayed inside for another half an hour. I was just about to get up and go eat when I heard footsteps coming towards my door.

  What is it with this guy?

  Tristan didn’t bother to knock this time, he just talked louder from the hallway. “I have to run into work. I left the food out. I’ll probably be there most of the evening, but call me if you need me for anything.”

  Ha! As if!

  But I waited for him to grab his keys and walk out and I ran out of my room, going straight to the dining room. It was a veritable feast lying there for me! Food enough for five people. I was loading my plate with pad thai and pineapple curry chicken when the door opened suddenly. I looked up to see Tristan coming inside.

  “Forgot my phone,” he told me with a smile as he went to go retrieve his phone on the bookshelf in the living room. I blushed as he gave me a knowing smile. “Try the prawn cakes. They’re really good,” he said as he walked out the door.

  I had gone hungry for close to an hour and in the end my pride had still lost. But Tristan was right. The prawn cakes were actually very good.

  I ate till I was stuffed and then actually began to take a look around the apartment.

  You could tell it was just a guy living here for a while. There were dirty dishes in the sink, old leftover take-out containers in the fridge, and a pile of dirty clothes outside the laundry room.

  Laundry rooms, or even washing machines and dryers weren’t common in New York City. The fact that this apartment had one meant it was a fairly new development. And it saved me having to take everything to the laundromat.

  But by far the biggest thing that caught my attention was the 57” ultra high-definition curved television with corresponding Blu-Ray player and gaming console that sat in the middle of the large living room. It had been so long since I could relax and just veg out watching television or a movie. I took another heaping helping of food and ran over to the sofa, grabbing the remotes and deciding to turn on the Roku player instead of the AppleTv.

  I scrolled through Netflix and HBO Go, expecting to see porn, or some raunchy movie. If not that, something action oriented. I was a bit surprised to see an old romantic comedy from the early 1990s. I had never watched it before, but soon I was engrossed in it – it was nothing superb, but like the Thai food, its value was increased because I had been so long without it.

  It was 10 pm by the time I finished scrolling through and snooping through Tristan’s Netflix list. I really wanted to explore the rest of the apartment to figure out what I could about the guy, but I was really full after a long time and completely relaxed. I decided to put off any sleuthing till tomorrow, putting the leftovers in the fridge and heading to bed, choosing to not think of the fact that I would have to soon pay a price for these newfound luxuries.

  The rays of sunlight woke me up the next morning. I realized belatedly that I had left my window blinds open to be able to gaze out at the view of the city as I fell asleep. That unparalleled view came with direct access to sunlight in the morning, apparently.

  I wandered out of my room around 9:30 am to see that Tristan had already left for work. He had apparently ordered a box of donuts. I grabbed one and went out to the balcony.

  Donuts?! This apartment is not healthy for you, girl.

  So far, I had only gone down on Tristan once, as a form of ‘deposit’ when I agreed to the apartment. I didn’t know what it was actually going to be like when we actually had sex. Should I call out of work that day? I didn’t actually think I was going to be sick, but I didn’t know if the entire process would be filled with revulsion for me, causing me to want to throw up.

  I told myself that the first time would be the hardest. That after a bit, I would get used to the arrangement. That it would stop bothering me and that it was just sex – that I was using my body to make sure I had a roof over my head and a full belly.

  I tried telling myself all that, but a part of me told me it just wasn’t true.

  The truth was that I had a lot of things I needed to think about if I was going to make it through this situation in one piece. I needed to get a handle on them and then I needed to talk to Tristan about it in order to move forward. Sure, the thought of having sex with him wasn’t repulsing or anything - on the contrary, it was something that I would be happy to do had I met the guy without needing an apartment - but the whole situation wasn’t one I ever expected to find myself in.

  I had the sinking feeling there were some gaps in the deal Tristan and I had struck and the only way to make sure those gaps were sealed was to really think about some of these things.

  I also realized I needed to bust my ass and find a job. I really needed this to be a temporary situation so I could move out on my own.

  All this went through my head as I gazed at the Midtown traffic going down Park Avenue. From the 46th floor, the cars looked like little toys and the people looked like ants. I realized I had a lot to think about and plenty of questions to answer.

  I quickly showered and got ready for the day. I had a night shift which meant I could do other stuff during the day today than work so I curled up in my old recliner in my room, grabbed a blanket, and found some paper and a pen. It was actually harder than I thought – Tristan had tablets, but no real paper in the apartment. In the end I made do, but I promised myself that one day, when I was on my own feet, I would have enough money to buy tablets and smart phones for myself. By the time my phone rang an hour later I had a pretty sizable list of questions but very few answers.

  But circled above everything else, was something that at this point was all of a sudden a much bigger worry than mere sex. I shuddered, and went to my computer to google something very important that had occurred to me.

  I wondered what I’d find as I typed in, “How to Cook?”

  Tristan had left a note with the donuts that he’d probably be home later on around 9 pm as he had a long day at work so I realized I should probably have something made for him by then in the fridge since I would be at my job when he got back. I opened the fridge to see what I had to work with. I had noticed the leftover take-out containers the first day, but it appears at some point between then and now, Tristan had actually gone to the grocery store and bought stuff. Being a guy, most of it was condiments and beer, but in his note he’d also left me his login details for Fresh Direct.

  Before moving in, I used to eat out all the time at first. Then I realized what it was doing to my cash flow. As soon as I realized that, I started eating in. But that usually meant instant ramen noodles, mini corn dogs, and ice cream.

  You can get away with it when you’re young, but watch out by 30!

  Given that “cooking” was one of my jobs included in housework, and considering the fact that he had stipulated out the sex more so than some job offers I’d gotten in my lifetime, I doubted the fact that Mr. Park Avenue Pervert would consider heating up instant noodles as dinner.

  I had to learn. Fast.

 
; But until I could pick up stuff from the cooks at work, I had to do the next best thing.

  Online videos.

  It took me most of the morning into the early afternoon to find something. I finally came up with a pretty decent pasta with chicken and tomato soup. I had some and it tasted pretty good for my first try. I left the food in the fridge, with several hours to spare all alone in the apartment. It was time to focus on my main task that had been going through my brain all day: Snooping.

  Had I had even a modicum of success at snooping as I did with cooking, I would have had a much better afternoon. Instead, after going through everything in the living room, including all the movies and the bookshelf filled with papers and binders and stuff, I began to think that despite being unnaturally gorgeous, Tristan must also be one of the most boring guys I’d ever met. There was nothing interesting at all. Either he was very good at hiding, or he was just very bland.

  There was no porn at all anywhere to be found in the living room. No pictures of family or letters or cards. No drugs or drug paraphernalia. Nothing that indicated how much he was worth. It seemed he wasn’t lying when he said that he worked, ate, and slept.

  Oh wait, add to that list. He fucks you too now…

  It wasn’t a complete waste of effort – I did manage to do some organizing of the living room while I was snooping, but it was all appetizer and no main course. I would have stayed longer, but I looked at the clock and saw that I had to start getting ready for my shift. Looking through his bedroom and office would have to wait another day.

  I came home from work around 12:30 am, and found a note from Tristan. He wrote that he loved the pasta and chicken and the tomato soup was fabulous. It looked like he had meant it too – he had eaten almost half the pot it seemed. I had planned on that lasting at least half a week – my plan being to make as many big meals as I could so I wouldn’t have to cook all the time. But still, my first foray into cooking and it was a rousing success, by my standards. Someone else actually was able to eat it too.

  With a smile, I jotted a reply down underneath his note thanking him and mentioning I had some questions and clarifications on our deal that I wanted to figure out as soon as possible. Then I downed a small bowl of soup and went to bed. I had a whole day of work tomorrow starting at 10 and I wanted to get as much sleep as possible.

  I should have realized I wasn’t going to be lucky enough to sleep in when I heard a gentle knock on my door at 7 am the next morning. I woke up and looked at my clock. I still had at least two hours I could be sleeping.

  “Alicia?” Tristan called out from the other side of my door. He knocked two more times.

  “Alicia? Are you awake?” he called again.

  What the fuck does he want at this hour?

  “Tristan, I’m asleep!” I yelled back. There wasn’t an answer and I figured he went away.

  You should be so lucky…

  Just as I was drifting off again, two more soft knocks on the door. Then three more.

  “Alicia? I have to leave for work soon…”

  “Have fun!” I yelled back, frustrated.

  There was silence again, as if he was wondering whether to let me be. Apparently not. Another two knocks. “Alicia, our schedules aren’t going to be lining up. I’m leaving for work in an hour, and then I’ll be sleeping by the time you get back. So we only have until then.”

  I swore into my pillow. This was going to be our first time?!

  Another knock.

  “Seriously?!” I yelled. “Give me a fucking minute!” I threw my covers off my body and ran to the door, opening it and taking Tristan’s hands and yanking him into my room. I threw him on the bed roughly and took my hands and pulled off his sweatpants in an angry flourish.

  I was angry. I was angry at the world for being thrust into this situation. I was angry at Tristan for thinking he could have me whenever he wanted - at his convenience. I was angry that all my friends were just that - fair-weather friends who couldn't even help me out with a place to live. I was angry that my parents didn't pry into my life to see how I was doing and find out that I was doing shitty.

  Tristan wasn’t hard at all as I looked at him with eyes of rage. That kind of surprised me - a part of me was expecting that he would be naked and all ready to go outside my door. Whatever. I scooted down and brought him to my mouth and began to suck.

  He closed his eyes and leaned back and I thought back to my childhood. This is what I had become? This is what it all came down to? I hated the circumstances that had made me go down this route.

  Like any guy, it took Tristan only a few seconds to get hard. I had blown him before, but I didn't think he would be cool if I made him cum like that again. He might want more. I extricated my mouth and in a swift motion pulled down my yoga pants and straddled The Pervert. I thought about how such a large cock would feel inside me - if I wasn't so angry I would actually be thinking about this more. He was probably the largest guy I’d ever been with in that department. But at that point, I just wanted it over with. Positioning myself, I sunk down onto him slowly and then began a hate-filled bounce.

  Thank God I was already wet - hey it was a biological response, okay? It had nothing to do with him with being so drop dead gorgeous.

  If you say so…

  Tristan definitely filled me up quite nicely. Normally, I need my hands to rub my clit so I can get off. But with Tristan, I could tell that I could get really close without even having to try that hard. I still hated him. I still hated the world. The accumulated frustration in my life was coming to the forefront of my consciousness.

  I could go on about how I bounced on him, or how I started moving back and forth after a while, but the main thing that’s important is that I began to feel a slight tingle as well. I put my hands on his broad chest and began sliding my hips back and forth and I knew I’d be close by the time we got done. But I didn't want him to see me cum.

  When Tristan took my nipple between his teeth - I actually shrieked a little bit. Not in pain. It was a surprise, and exactly what I needed at that point. I wrapped an arm around his neck and brought his mouth closer to my breast to let him nibble and lick and suck easier. I started sliding and thrusting on him again as well - this time slower, but harder.

  I was grunting and groaning from exertions at first, but it started to feel not that bad. He was still a pervert though, but at least he was a beautiful pervert. And having him inside me felt, I had to admit, more than good.

  At one point, he looked at me and asked if I was close to coming.

  “Just hurry the fuck up, Tristan!” I answered back with acid dripping from my tongue. “This is all about you, after all!”

  No way in hell he was going to think that I was enjoying this.

  He shrugged and put his hands on my hips. I stopped sliding as he picked me up with his hands and his hips. It dawned on me that he wasn’t just beautiful. He was fucking strong. He lifted me with ease and then brought me down onto his cock with very little effort. I just sat there as he slid me back and forth on him, taking complete control.

  As if I was just an intricate sex toy for his pleasure. Like I was a total object.

  In a few minutes, he was done.

  Thank God. I was only moments away myself.

  He reached over to kiss me, but I hopped off and ran into my bathroom. I turned on the shower and got in, cleaning him off of me. It took me thirty seconds in the shower to use my fingers to come.

  Hard.

  The Call Out

  It took me a while to regain my composure in the shower after I came. I had my eyes closed and I could tell that it had been a powerful orgasm that had rocked through my body.

  How the fuck did that happen, Alicia?

  I didn't know what was going on. What was it about the Pervert getting me on top of him that caused me to get so aroused? I had thought it would be a grisly affair, and it was, don't get me wrong. But why did I cum so hard. Another few minutes and I would have gushed all over h
im. Hard to keep the moral high ground when you're moaning and screaming out in pleasure.

  I shook my head to myself and continued to shower. Maybe it was something I'd figure out in time.

  By the time I came out of the shower, I had my robe on in case the Pervert was still in my bed. Should I wash the sheets after he was gone? I pondered for a second.

  Of course you should, girl! You want to sleep where he came?!

  It was a no-brainer. But by the time I got out of the bathroom, the question became moot. Tristan was still lying in bed, in some sort of post-sex afterglow. Now, normally I am no opponent to a nice long cuddle after sex, but I had no desire to get back in bed naked with this guy who had just used my body in a deal that Satan himself had probably advised on.

  "Ahem," I cleared my throat as he raised his head and looked at me. I gestured with my eyes towards the door. "Agreement doesn't say anything about post-sex, Tristan," I added, keeping an edge to my voice.

  Tristan shrugged and got out of bed. His abs flexed and rippled as he lifted himself off my bed. My brain was saying to look away, but my eyes had a mind of their own, and they stared at his well-muscled abs, down to his slender waist, and his thick, fat, cock as it swung in between his legs. His balls were nice and big too. That thing was at least 10 inches when it was at rest - God knew how big it was when it was inside of me.

  Enough!

  As Tristan reached over and pulled his sweatpants on, he began to speak, "I know that you want me to probably be gone, don't worry," I felt like nodding at Captain Obvious. "I was only here because now that we have this taken care of, you had left a note about some things you had wanted to talk about. I have to be at work soon, so wanted to know if you wanted to discuss now."

  Oh crap! My note. I had forgotten all about writing that note in the midst of this morning's activities. "Uhmm, sure," I agreed. "We can talk about my note now."