My Stepbrother's Promise (Contemporary Stepbrother Romance)

by Anne Burroughs

  As he slid inside me I realized two things: Rob actually knew what he was doing, but he wasn’t very good at it. There was a sharp pain, which I knew to expect and wasn’t too bad, and then I felt Rob start to thrust. He was slow and sensuous, and I truly enjoyed feeling his cock slide in and out of me. It was my first time, and his being slow was actually great in that I could close my eyes and focus on the feeling.

  He started to moan and then thrust faster and harder, which I liked even more, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. Rob whispered, “I’m coming,” and then he thrust as deep inside me as he could. He shuddered and I felt a warm wetness inside me.

  I was no longer a virgin. Exciting it wasn’t, but it felt good.

  Rob collapsed next to me on the sofa, the tight space forcing me to roll onto my side and face him. “That was amazing!” he said.

  I kissed him on the forehead, but didn’t say anything. Inside I was thinking two things: It wasn’t really amazing; it was nice. The other thing I was thinking was that Aidan simply kissing and sucking on my nipples at the edge of a lake was infinitely more erotic and hot than Rob masturbating and fucking me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  Aidan

  A couple of months into the Summer session after my sophomore year, Jenny called. We hadn’t talked since before the end of the school year, but I blamed that on the fact that we were both busy with advanced studies. Of course the reality was that I was afraid to call her after the disaster with Erin, and then life got complicated again, and, well, here we were.

  “Jenny!” I answered when I saw her number.

  “Heya Aidan.” She sounded kind of wistful.

  “I’m so glad you called.” She didn’t reply, which scared me a bit. “Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.” Which was true—Jenny was always the passionate and excitable one. More often than not she would do something crazy to make me smile. Quiet and restrained wasn’t her style.

  “I just miss you is all.” As she spoke the words my heart leapt. I missed her terribly, but we had parted on such bad terms a few months earlier I didn’t think we would ever be close again. She hated Erin, and I didn’t really blame her. I had told her we had broken up on the phone afterward, but she didn’t seem impressed. More than anything I knew I had disappointed her.

  In the few conversations we had since then there were so many things I wanted to tell her, but none of them seemed appropriate. I mean, you don’t tell the woman who has lost faith in you that you keep dreaming about her in a wet t-shirt at your swim meet. I knew I had to rebuild a foundation of trust, but I just hadn’t known how to do that with my own life swirling around me.

  “Oh Jenny, I miss you, too!” I decided to make an attempt at rebuilding that trust. “I know I’ve been an idiot in so many ways.” She was quiet. “You deserve better than me,” I finally whispered.

  “No. Don’t say that. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve always known that, but sometimes I just need to be reminded of it.” Her voice was still sad and thoughtful. It was killing me, and I was going to tell her I loved her, but her voice suddenly brightened, and she said, “But you know, that’s not as important as getting your opinion on The Walking Dead!”

  I laughed, relieved. This was the Jenny I knew and loved. “It’s really going downhill. I warned you of this. The comic is way better.”

  “You’re crazy. The comic is missing some of the best character dynamics you see in the show.”

  And thanks to The Walking Dead Jenny and I began a conversation that was like every conversation we’d had since we met at twelve years old, whether it was Firefly or The Avengers or even porn we’d examine as we huddled around my laptop. The topics of the conversations changed, but the spirit was always the same—a joy in discovery, in sharing opinions, in gentle insults, and, more than anything, shared enthusiasm. Our conversations never got old, and our current phone discussion reinforced that. We were having a blast.

  “Okay, I’m going to give in on The Walking Dead and reluctantly admit defeat on Peter Jackson.” I laughed. “It’s funny, you and my girlfriend are so similar. She is constantly giving me a hard time about the same things. Thanksgiving is just not going to be fair—two against one.”

  There was a pause, and then Jenny replied, “You have a girlfriend?”

  “Didn’t Mom or Dad tell you? Well, shit, obviously not. Don’t worry, Jenny. She’s nothing like Erin. Like I said, she actually reminds me of you. She’s nice and sweet and loves the same things I do.”

  “You’re bringing her to Thanksgiving?”

  “Well, I guess. That’s like five months away. I was just imagining you two teaming up on me. That would be tough for me.”

  There was a long pause, and then Jenny replied, “I bet you dream about that, don’t you?” There was a kind of dismissive tone in Jenny’s voice, which I took as a good sign. She had a long history of mocking me.

  “Ha, that’s more like a nightmare. I can barely handle you, let alone you and Julie. I wouldn’t know what to do!”

  “Sorry, I have to go,” Jenny stated, her voice rushed. “I’m glad Julie is like me.” Before I could make sense of her comment she had hung up the phone.

  I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of our conversation. Part of me thought she was mad over Julie, but part of me was thinking that she didn’t really say anything negative. I had explained that Julie was nothing like Erin. That was good, right?

  I decided to make a better effort at calling Jenny, but she was never free when I called and never called me back the rest of the Summer.

  Chapter Seventeen

  * * *

  Jenny

  I called Aidan after I lost my virginity to Rob. I needed my best friend, even though I knew things had changed between us. I wanted to call the friend who would say, “Awesome! I hope you had a great time. Was he hot?” or ask me, “So what’s it feel like to have a cock inside you?” or say “He didn’t go down on you? What an asshole!” All girls have friends like that, and Aidan had always been that friend for me.

  But after Erin such a conversation would have been awkward. Still, part of me wanted to tell him that I had lost my virginity but that it was disappointing compared to our time on the lake. Part of me also wanted to tell him that his cock was beautiful compared to Rob’s and that I never had a chance to taste either, and that bummed me out.

  For years I shared everything with Aidan, and now it would have felt weird to do that. It made me sad.

  Still, Aidan was Aidan, and our conversation brightened my mood. It was like we had never had a falling out as we talked about The Walking Dead, teasing each other in that way we always did.

  But then he mentioned his girlfriend, and my heart sank. I couldn’t deal with it, especially as he said she reminded him of me. How could I make sense of something like that? Did he actually want me but was fucking her instead since she was accessible or was she a better version of me?

  And then he was mocking me with comments about a threesome when we’d all be together at Thanksgiving. That hurt the most. Was that all I was to him any more? A fuck toy sister for him and his girlfriend to use?

  That night I fucked Rob in anger. I practically forced myself on top and rode him hard. As I ground my hips faster and faster I didn’t even realize Rob was under me. I pictured myself straddling Aidan’s face and teaching him that his body was mine. All mine.

  It wasn’t until Rob whispered something like, “Oh yeah, do it” that I realized I was growling and saying “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” as I drove my pussy up and down on his cock. I didn’t care.

  Over the next month I fucked Rob a few more times. None of them were very good, although I was glad to find out that it was enjoyable to suck cock and that porn isn’t a bad teacher in that department. Rob never did go down on me, so I guess I had saved at least something for my next conquest.

  I cried when I broke up with him. Not because I was sad ov
er the break up, but because I was sad he wasn’t Aidan and that it never would be Aidan.

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * *

  Aidan

  There was Erin, then there was Julie. Then a drunken night with a girl whose name I don’t remember. Isabel. Rose. Then Petra senior year. I guess I made it through college with some degree of success with women, but every one ended with an empty feeling.

  The fact was that none of them measured up to Jenny. Petra was the only one that remotely compared, and I clung to the one difference between them—she was a sexual beast. Petra was amazing in bed. I didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t do with an animal-like enthusiasm. The trouble was that she was just so incredibly boring. We had nothing in common.

  She would talk, and my mind would wander back to Jenny. Something about the whole situation bothered me, though, and it was the idea that I would always have at least one piece of my relationships that would disappoint. I’d look at Petra, and smile, knowing that if I couldn’t have everything, at least I could look forward to a good fuck at the end of the day.

  But the entire idea bothered me. Was complete happiness with someone impossible?

  I was thinking it over while I was in the shower, and started thinking about how Jenny would be like in bed. I mean, really in bed. I’d masturbated to Jenny hundreds of times living through every possible fantasy. But I never really imagined if the reality would match the fantasy. I guess I dismissed it out of hand. I hoped that she had a porn star sexuality behind her porn star looks, but it seemed so unlikely.

  I thought back to the farthest we ever went, making out at our parents’ lake house. It was a moment that I thought about a lot. As the hot water pulsed and removed any distractions, I dropped my hand down to my dick. It was hard as I thought of Jenny. She was not nervous or shy at all. She had the most amazing tits, and loved every moment as I licked and sucked them. But the one thing burned into my memory more than any other was the passion on her face as she begged to feel my dick.

  And that’s when it hit me: Oh my God, Jenny and I trusted each other completely. We loved each other. We shared everything. As wild and exciting as Petra was, Jenny would be even more wild. At that moment I knew—I just knew—that all those fantasies I had of Jenny weren’t fantasies. They were what our reality would be if we were together.

  I pictured the moment on the shore only not interrupted by our parents. Jenny would have smiled, a combination of delight and raw desire, as she took my dick in her hand. We would fuck doggy style, missionary, 69. Fuck it, it’s a fantasy—we’d each come multiple times, with me coming in her mouth, in her pussy, and on her gorgeous big tits.

  The water mixed with my cum as it flowed down the drain, and I realized with utter certainty that I could have it all—with Jenny.

  I broke up with Petra that night. I uncorked that sad old cliche on her, “It’s not you, It’s me.” She slapped me and stormed out, but I didn’t blame her. It wasn’t her. It was me. All me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  * * *

  Jenny

  I fell hard for Phil senior year. He was a sculptor, and I volunteered to pose for him because he was hot in that long wavy dark hair, brooding artist, and intense stare kind of way. I mean, he wasn’t an Adonis, but as far as artists go, he was tall and had a tight body. So I figured, what the hell, I’ll pose. He needed someone to pose for him practically every night for a full semester. I hadn’t been laid in months and figured forcing the two of us to be together would lead to at least something.

  The first night he greeted me with a firm handshake. “Jenny, I’m so glad you volunteered for this. You have the perfect body for what I have in mind.”

  I laughed. “In a bar that would mean something entirely different.”

  He smirked, and the way the light from his workroom lit up his face sealed the deal. I totally had to fuck this guy. “Yeah, well this isn’t a bar.”

  Damn. Okay, if he wants to play hard to get, let’s see how long he can hold out, I thought.

  “Okay, take off your clothes.”

  “Uh, what?” It’s not that I minded getting naked for him, but the professor expressly told me that this job did not entail nudity. “I thought you were to focus on fabric.” At least that’s what Professor Greene had said.

  “No.” He stated in a very matter-of-fact tone. “The rest of the class is focusing on fabric. It’s hard to sculpt. But I’m going to surprise him and focus on something higher.” The look on his face was intense, and I found it exciting. I couldn’t help but nod my head and agree with his vision, whatever it was. “I’m going to take your beautiful body and provide it the permanence of stone.”

  Oh, I was all in for that. I kicked off my shoes, pulled my shirt over my head, and removed the rest of my clothing. I stood in front of him, completely naked, and focused on his eyes as I shifted my weight from one leg to the other with my hands on my hips. It made my breasts sway a bit, and I was looking forward to that involuntary widening of the eyes that indicated that his stare had made its way down to his cock.

  But he didn’t do that.

  He looked at my eyes, then my mouth, and his attention followed every curve and angle of my body from top to bottom. He paused while he looked at my tits, but I wasn’t sure if that’s because he liked them or he was figuring out which tool to use to carve them. He frowned when he looked at my crotch.

  “You’re shaved.” He sounded annoyed. I couldn't believe it. What guy doesn't like a shaved pussy?

  “Yeah. I like how it feels.” Holy shit. I couldn’t believe the conversation we were having. The words were so full of erotic potential, but they were all spoken in this clinical context.

  “I won’t get to that for a couple months, so don’t shave between now and then and we should be okay.”

  “Uh, look Phil. I’m not going to stop shaving because you can’t sculpt a clit.” My intent was to tease him, so I said it with a smile. But he marched forward, reached down and grabbed my bra.

  “Fine. I’ll find another model.” He threw my bra at me. “Get out.”

  My heart fell, and at that moment all I wanted in the entire world was to be sculpted by Phil. I walked backward to the riser where I was to pose and stepped on to it. “Fine. Do you want a landing strip, a tight trim, or the full monty with hairy pussy lips, too?” I stared at him, a grim determination on my face.

  “Just grow it. I’ll let you know if you need to change anything.”

  I shook my head. “So what’s the pose?” At that his face lit up, and he walked over.

  “Sit on the edge of that.”

  I sat down on what looked like a cube of wood covered in a blanket, and he immediately said, “No. That’s not going to work, stand up.” I got up, and he put a stone slab under the block of wood. I sat down, and then he had me stand up again. He added more height and only stopped when just the balls of my feet touched the floor.

  “Great. Now spread your legs.” God, Phil made posing for a sculpture into porn direction, only without the payoff. “Lean forward, intertwine your fingers and drop your hands between your legs with your elbows on your thighs.” I did as he asked. “Great, now look up at me, and smile with a look of confidence. “Heck, you have that look normally. That’s perfect.”

  I pictured how I looked from his vantage, and I guess the best way I could describe it was if I were sitting down and leaning forward to listen to someone speaking. “This isn’t too bad, but I’ll need to stretch every few minutes.”

  “That’s fine. Sculpting marble takes a long time.” He stared at me with his hand on his chin. “Yeah, this is perfect. You’re perfect.” He walked back to the large block of marble that he would be working on. “By the way—“ he turned and looked at me. “—It’s called ‘Quiet Confidence.’”

  He grabbed a drill off a shelf and moved to the block. I sat and watched while he spent the next ten minutes making progress as he carved down to the rough form I would take in the marb
le. When he stopped, I spoke up, “Do you really need me here while you are prepping the marble?”

  He stood up straight, looking angry. “The marble is already prepped. I’m sculpting.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Is there a reason I have to be nude for this part?” I didn’t really mind, but it was a question worth asking.

  Sighing, he put the drill on the floor and walked over. “Look, Jenny.” It was the first time he said my name since I entered the studio. “I’m capturing this—” He put his hand against the side of my face. “—in marble.” He took his hand away, and I yearned for him to put it back. It was electric how he touched me while talking about capturing my essence. I was lusting for him, for sure, but more than that I was falling for how he wanted to take the external me and know it so that he could understand it completely. The only one who knew me, really, was Aidan. Would Phil be the other?

  I nodded. “I don’t mind. I was just wondering.” He nodded, and I added, “I like being naked for you.” I almost kicked myself. That line sounded so desperate and sad.

  “You’re not naked, Jenny. You’re nude. Whores are naked. Muses are nude.” His response not only eliminated any self-consciousness over my comment, it made me fall under his spell even more. I wasn’t just going to fuck him. I was going to inspire him.

  A few weeks later I sat down, leaned forward, and prepared for the session. Phil had the outline of my pose down and was starting on rough detail work. He was working from the top down. I was looking forward to him using the chisel to start to reveal my face from the marble, but before he started he walked over to me.