by Alpha, A
Storm
A Stepbrother Romance
By A. Alpha
© 2015 A. Alpha
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
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STORM
“Do the most forbidden thing you can think of, then,” I dare her. Her eyes latch on to mine, and my heart almost bursts out of my chest.
“Kiss me,” I order her.
Will she accept my dare or just run back home like a good little girl?
She bites her bottom lip, and I almost lose it right there. Her full lip curves under the bite of her perfect teeth, her eyes dancing over my face, looking for affirmation.
Then she moves a little closer, inch by inch. Her eyes never leave mine until she’s a breath away from my face.
She sighs, and her soft moan might just be my undoing. Then she leans in, like she doesn’t want to chicken out at the last moment.
Her lips crush mine, but her act of defiance is full of fear.
I part my lips under hers, and she almost pulls away, but something keeps her glued closer. She gives me a soft kiss, her lips puckering against mine. I think she’ll move away any second, giving me a triumphant look, and I’m pretty sure that’s her plan, as well.
But then she changes her mind, grabbing my shirt and pulling me closer. I keep my hands behind my back, afraid of what will happen if I touch her. I know there’s a big chance I won’t be able to let go once I feel her skin again.
Her tongue sneaks into my mouth, and she deepens our kiss, pulling me in. She whimpers against my mouth, and my hands form fists at my sides. I’m still in charge here, I tell myself, my resolve weakening by the second.
Rubi’s lips are scorching hot against mine, the tender skin of her mouth trembling under my touch. I can’t help myself – I bite down on her bottom lip and she moans against my lips.
She’s not cursing now. In fact, I can feel her trembling.
“More,” she moans against my mouth, moving away just enough to beg.
PART 1: The First Summer
Chapter 1 – RUBI
Today is not a good day.
I’m trying to make my suitcase move, but of course one of the wheels turns out to be faulty. It’s like someone doomed this day.
Hauling the suitcase behind me I curse out loud, knowing my father wouldn’t approve, which makes the cussing all the more fun.
My day is even worse, knowing he couldn’t be bothered to come for me himself. He sent a cab instead, but I will not let anyone see how upset I am.
It’s his way of getting back at me for my less-than-perfect score on my finals. Knowing I’ve disappointed him hurts more than any grade I could ever get.
My father, Tony, re-married a few months ago. It was like taking a knife to my chest when I heard the news, because up until he called, I hadn’t even heard of this woman, Valerie Manning. I don’t know when or how he met her. I don’t know shit, because I guess I’m not important enough for them to involve me in their lives.
Daddy wants a picture-perfect family with his new wifey and her kid. I don’t know where I fit in with my filthy mouth and skimpy clothes. But regardless, Daddy wants us to spend the summer together this year, getting to know each other.
The most painful thing about this is the fact that we’re staying at the beach house – a new, fancy name for what used to be my home. This house is where I grew up, back when mom and dad were still together. It’ll be painful to see another woman trying to take mom’s place. My poor mom works such long hours, goes on disastrous dates and is the one who got the short end of the stick when my parents divorced.
So I’ve already decided – I’m going to make this summer unbearable for little wifey and her kid. He is probably some Spiderman-loving pre-teen with an addiction to his PlayStation console. Yuck.
The cab I take from the airport drops me off at the gates to the beach house. That would have been all fine and dandy, had Daddy dearest not decided to change the security code on the gates.
Of course, nobody is home to answer the doorbell either, so what am I supposed to do? I am most definitely not expecting to be climbing the gates to our beach house at 8.30 on a Sunday morning.
But that is what I have to do, giving my leg a nasty cut in the process and almost tumbling over the gates. Boy, what a fun way to start the summer.
I stop in front of the house, trying to catch my breath, hoping the key Daddy gave me will work. At least the door is cooperative, opening right away. I stumble inside the house with a heavy sigh.
The suitcase stays in the hall, already forgotten as I venture inside. I must admit I’m a little curious what the house looks like now, after so many years have passed.
It’s nothing like I remember it, which makes me purse my lips in annoyance. It sure didn’t take long for the new wifey to get a-hold of the place and make it just the way she wanted.
There’s no denying the fact that the house looks nice, though. It used to be filled with crumbly furniture and musty blankets. Now, there are modern shapes and all-white cushions covering everything. It looks breezy and beautiful, which for some reason makes me even angrier.
Who does she think she is, strolling in here and changing everything? I grit my teeth as I run upstairs to my room, already preparing myself for a nasty surprise.
As soon as I open the door, I see my old bedroom looks nothing like it used to. There’s a huge bed in the middle with a canopy; everything is in pastel purple and pretty whites and beiges.
Ew. What a cliché.
It does look kind of pretty, though.
I try to deny that I’ll enjoy sleeping in the luxurious French bed, as opposed to the creaky single I used to have. This woman has managed to convince my father to upgrade– no idea how– but to be honest, the place looks… better.
But it’s not so easy to trick me. Valerie snooping around my room, messing with my things, even if it is in the name of renovation, makes me angry. She has no fucking right to move my stuff.
I pull out a box from under the bed with defiance, yanking out an old and dusty teddy bear and placing him on top of my pillow. Standing back, I look at it with satisfaction.
“There you go, Mr. Fuzz,” I say to the teddy bear. “We’ll fight this woman together, won’t we?”
Then I realize I’m talking to a stuffed animal, blush and focus on more important things. Daddy didn’t even wait for me at the house, so why I stick around? I’ve got better stuff to do.
Deciding to be a brat, I make a mess in my room. I wear a smug expression on my face as I rumple up the duvet and plump pillows. Then, I drag my suitcase upstairs and throw clothes everywhere. Once I’m satisfied with what I’ve done, I congratulate myself.
The dress I’m wearing is off in one swift motion, landing on the bed. It doesn’t take me long to locate my bikini and put it on, since I don’t plan on wasting any time – the beach it is.
If I can’t spend time with my real friends in the city, I can at least hope to have some fun here, at the beach. I’m sure there are some of my old friends around… We used to spend every summer here when I was younger.
There was a bunch of girls I was fri
ends with, but it’s safe to say I’m a different person these days than little ten year old Rubi. I wonder if they even remember me. I used to be a huge bookworm, and I’ve been fighting hard to hide my addiction to books. If you ask anyone in my new home in Cali about my habits, they wouldn’t have a clue about the stacks of novels I keep in my room.
I’m considered one of the mean girls now, and that reputation sits just fine with me. It’s easier to attack than to get bullied by mean girls, anyhow. I’d rather be the tormentor than the victim.
Grabbing a towel and a pair of sunglasses, I head straight downstairs. The French doors in the living room (also very fancy, very beige) lead straight to the beach.
At least this place hasn’t changed. Beautiful, silky sand under my feet, a cloudless sky, and the ocean … Azure blue and pure perfection, just how I remember it.
My hopes of finding my old friends become extinguished as I realize no one I know has hit the beach yet. There’s a group of people a little way off, so I set my towel on the sand and rush straight into the sea, giddy like a little kid.
The cool water envelops me, the waves soothing and pleasant against my skin. I’ve always been a summer kid, always had wet, salty hair and feet covered in sand.
It takes a while for me to get tired, but when I feel like I can’t do another stroke, I get out of the water, heading straight for my towel.
The sun feels good on my skin, and for the first time, I think I may enjoy my stay at the beach this summer. As my eyes travel to the left, and I check out the group of people there, I even let myself think I may finally–
Whack!
I almost topple over, and it takes me a moment to realize that what just hit me in the head was a beach ball. All I can do is stare at it, lying a few feet away from me, and then let the rage take over.
I’m already turning around, my hands forming fists at my sides, ready to kick whoever did this in the balls. And sure enough, a guy is rushing towards me, his hands raised in the air in an apology.
I’m ready for my speech – that is, until I get a better look at him.
In the name of all that is holy- and all that is not.
“Hey, your big head was in the way of my ball,” he says as soon as he comes closer, giving me the most perfect smile. Crooked smirk, teeth as white as pearls and full lips. And tattoos. So much ink, I’m having trouble seeing some actual skin through the art. Good lord.
But then my mind processes what he said to me, and I have to fight the instant urge to scratch this guy’s face off. Even though I haven’t been around in years, I still think of the beach as my turf, and some tattooed bad boy will not be throwing me off my game.
“Yeah well, maybe you shouldn’t aim your ball at me,” I spit out.
I take a long moment to take him in. I’m tall, but he stands much taller at over 6’5”. His hair is wet and jet black, a little too long and falling into his eyes. Tattoos cover his body, from top to toe.
I have a thing for tattoos.
What I do not have a thing for are douche bags. A prime example of one is smirking at me right now.
He comes closer to me, and I’m now realizing he’s a little menacing. Tall, ripped and covered in that ink – he might as well be in a motorcycle gang. I gulp.
“Would you rather have I aim something else at you?” he asks me in a quiet, rough voice, grabbing my hand and pulling it towards his body.
Realizing what he’s trying to do, I pull away just in time, making him laugh, his voice raspy. I’m blinking fast, my breath sounding strangled. What is going on here?
“You don’t wanna play?” he asks me, and his tongue darts out of his mouth, giving his bottom lip a lick.
I would very much like to play, I realize, then shake my head to get the thought out. Bad boys are okay in theory, but this guy is foul. But I can’t resist replying, deciding a little teasing might be fun after all.
“Oh, I wanna play,” I say in a purr, stepping over to him. “Think you can take me?”
He smirks, and one of his hands sneaks up my arm, closing in around my neck. That is not a place he should be touching right now, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to stop him.
I’m breathing hard already. His fingertips are rough from being in the water, but they leave goose bumps in their wake as he trails over my skin.
“Do you have a name, darlin’?” he asks roughly.
“Why do you ask?” I murmur against his ear, enjoying his scent more than I should. It’s just like a day at the beach – salty, mixed with suntan lotion and so, so hot. Pure summer.
“Oh, no reason,” he replies with a slow smile, his fingers tightening around my neck. I should feel scared – his grip is strong and unrelenting. But for some reason, this conversation with a complete stranger is turning me on way more than it should.
“Just want to know whose tits I’m about to see,” he says. I give him a confused look just as his fingers pull deftly on the strings of my bikini top.
“Fuck,” I yell just as he moves away and my bikini drops down from my neck. I feel the strings on my belly and before I can react, I realize his eyes are already glued to my chest, his gaze a mix of lust and arrogance.
My hands fly up to my exposed chest a second too late and an avalanche of curse words roll off my tongue.
The douche bag moves away, laughing his head off. “Nice to meet you, too,” he shouts after me as I run away from the beach, leaving my towel forgotten on the hot sand.
I can’t believe that happened – who does that? It’s pure evil and I’m so angry I wish I’d stayed long enough to slap him silly. But the embarrassment was just too much to handle, and I had to get away, knowing tears would be stinging my eyes if I didn’t.
As soon as I’m closer to the house, my mind swimming with ideas on how I should avenge my dignity, I hear voices.
I make sure to re-tie my bikini so I’m not too exposed, rushing inside and grabbing a kitchen towel when I’m inside the house. I cover myself up as well as I can, then storm inside the living room, where the voices are coming from.
“Daddy!” I call at the top of my voice, walking into the room and hoping my feet leave sandy prints on these perfect floors. “Daddy, I’m here!”
“And charming as ever,” he remarks, coming around the corner with a wide smile plastered on his face. He’s already got his arms out, and I run into his hug, gripping him close.
I haven’t seen my dad in months, and as angry as I am, I have to admit it feels good to be back in his arms. Before my parents divorced, I’d always been a daddy’s girl. It hurts to know this is no longer the case.
“Missed you, little one,” he teases me as I step away from his embrace. His eyes scan my face, and I guess he can see the distress as he furrows his brow. “Something wrong?”
“Only everything!” I exclaim with a dramatic sigh. As soon as I realize it’s just dad and me, I drop the kitchen towel on the floor, kicking at it with my sandy feet. When I see the mess I’ve made I feel better, deciding it’s just the start of my rebellion against stepmother dearest.
“You should tidy up,” Dad says with a kind smile. “Don’t just leave stuff on the floor, honey.”
I look at him with surprise, not appreciating the scolding. “I’m sure step momma will take care of that,” I give a nasty reply, immediately regretting my words as I see the hurt register on my Dad’s face.
“Sure, and I guess you’ll be cooking your own dinner, then?” a sweet voice interrupts, and I turn around to see a woman standing in the doorway.
She’s petite, has a blonde bob and blue eyes. She’s pretty, that’s for sure, but I decide on the spot I don’t like her. She’s trying to change everything, and I don’t like her thinking she can take mom’s space. I don’t much appreciate her attitude, either.
I’m about to give her a nasty reply when dad cuts in on the conversation.
“Honey, this is Valerie,” he says in an attempt to be placating. He takes me by the elbow an
d drags me to the woman in question. We shake hands, my grip limp and stiff at the same time.
“My Rubi,” Daddy presents me like I’m some trophy, and at least that makes me feel a little bit better. He may try to replace mom, but he never will find a good substitute for me.
“Nice to meet you,” Valerie answers. It annoys me to see the genuine smile on her face, because I’ve already decided I’m going to be a pain in her butt. If she’s nice to me, that might make things more difficult.
A reply is out of the question, so I just give her a sulky stare.
An awkward silence follows, and then dad clasps his hands together. “We’ll be sitting down for breakfast in a bit, Rubi; do you want to get changed before that?”
A look down my front tells me I should do as he says – my body is already a bit sunburned, my bikini leaving me exposed. “I’ll be right down,” I say.
Back in my room, I take off my salty bikini and discard it on the floor, then head down the hall to the bathroom to clean up. As soon as I walk in there, I realize someone left the shower on in the bathtub.
“Daddy!” I scream at the top of my voice. “You left the water running!”
I don’t even bother to turn it off, too lazy to push the curtain aside, instead checking myself out in the mirror above the sink. I’m not your typical Cali girl – far from it. I look Irish, with my long red waves, green eyes and freckled skin. At least I’m pretty now, as opposed to the lanky figure I used to have, along with braces and hair that is always limp.
I grab a towel from the rack and wrap my naked body in it, my mind filled with thoughts of the guy on the beach. It still makes me furious to just think of what happened, and I make a mental note to find out who he is. I can rip his head off next time I run into him.
My mind swims with murderous ideas as I rush to brush my teeth.
I finish, spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste. Just then, the water stops in the shower and I turn around, feeling confused. All of a sudden, someone pushes the shower curtain aside, and I scream in horror as a male figure emerges.
