Forbidden Touch: A Second Chance Stepbrother Romance

by Rye Hart

  “Just a fuckbuddy, huh?” Brittany shot me a coy little smile. “I'm okay with that. Now that you're stopped, what do you say we hop into the backseat and – ”

  “No,” I said. “I'm not interested anymore. You need to go.”

  “But why?” she whined. “I just want to make you feel good, baby.”

  “Because honestly, the sex was mediocre. At best. And I have no desire to experience that more than once,” I said. “And if you want the God's honest truth, I used you. You were really nothing more than a card I played to piss off my family. And now that I've accomplished that, I have no further use for you. So go ahead and get out. I promise that you'll never hear from me again.”

  “You're an asshole,” Brittany spat, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Your sister was right about you.”

  “Stepsister,” I shouted as Brittany climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

  She flipped me off as I drove away, leaving her standing on the curb behind me without even a glance back at her. Once I was alone in the car, I turned the radio up as loud as I could handle and sped down the freeway. She was right. I didn't care about getting a ticket, I just didn't want her touching me. I only wanted one woman's hands on me – Vanessa's. And God knew, that was never going to happen again.

  But once I started thinking about her, I couldn't stop. I remembered the way her strawberry blonde hair fell in waves around her shoulders and down her back, framing a soft, feminine face with large eyes and thick, delicious lips – and it was too much for me. I had to shut off those thoughts and the feelings that came with them for my own good.

  Vanessa had always been out of my league. She was the good girl in high school. The smart girl who went on to Stanford, graduating with honors. She was the woman who wore vintage style dresses and always had meticulous hair and makeup because she lived her life in the spotlight. In public, she was always well put together, had her head straight, and was the perfect, All-American girl.

  But I knew the real Vanessa. I knew her better than anyone else. I'd seen her in pajamas with no makeup on, her long hair pulled back in a messy bun as she devoured a carton of ice cream in front of the television. And let me tell you, that woman was just as beautiful as the one the world got to see.

  Of course, I couldn't stop thinking about her. The harder I tried, the more her face floated through my mind. And my daydreams didn't stop at her beautiful face – not when she had curves that could bring a grown man to his knees. She kept in shape with her yoga, but she also didn't deny herself life's simple pleasures either. Her breasts were perky and large enough to fill my hands, her ass tight and firm. Many summers, I'd watch her sunbathing in her itty-bitty bikinis with her best friend, Amy from a safe distance. And more often than not, I'd have to take care of myself afterward because damn, she was the sexiest woman I'd ever laid eyes on. Still was.

  My dick was growing hard as I imagined her soft skin beneath my fingertips, and I yearned to feel her body against mine again. My erection was pressing against my jeans now, causing me pain and discomfort. It was so uncomfortable that I pulled over to find a parking garage. Thankfully, my windows were tinted so no one could see inside.

  I unzipped my pants and took out my cock, stroking it as I imagined slipping it inside of my stepsister's tight little pussy. Vanessa was always so tight and warm, her skin incredibly soft, and I could never get enough of her. She always smelled amazing too. I yearned to feel her touch, to smell her skin as she rode my cock. But it wasn't going to happen, so I kept stroking away as I remembered the things we used to do together.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the headrest, remembering the way her tight little ass would move up and down on me, taking me deeper and deeper inside of her as I pumped away. Fuck yes... Yes, Vanessa, yes...

  All I could see in my mind was her – see her tits bouncing as she rode me harder and harder, her moans filling my ears as I brought her ever so close to climax. I squeezed my cock tighter, imagining the spasming of her pussy as she came close to coming with my cock buried so deep inside of her.

  “Carter, yes, oh God – I'm coming!” The sound of her screaming my name would always bring me so close. I loved the sound of my name on her perfect lips, especially as I brought her pleasure. Knowing I was making her come was the sexiest thing I could fantasize about and as my imaginary Vanessa orgasmed, I felt my seed boiling up through my shaft.

  “Fuck yes,” I moaned a little too loudly, releasing my cum and shooting it all over my stomach and onto my steering wheel. But in my mind, I was filling my stepsister up with my semen instead. As my orgasm wound down, I pulled some napkins from my glove compartment and cleaned up the mess I had made.

  When my phone buzzed, I hoped it might be Vanessa, calling to tell me she wanted me as badly as I wanted her, but instead, it was a friend of mine. I answered after I finished cleaning myself off and taking a minute to get my breathing back under control.

  “Hey Joel, what's up?”

  “Just getting ready to head out to that new club, Liquid Lounge, wanna join us? I hear it's going to be crazy,” he said.

  “Sounds good. What time were you thinking?” I asked. “I need to go home and change.”

  “Works for me. We're heading out in a few, but maybe plan to meet up in half an hour or so? I mean, we'll be there all night, so no rush – unless you're worried I'll get dibs on the hottest chicks. Which is a distinct possibility.”

  I laughed. “Let's face it, once I show up, they'll be flocking to me anyway.”

  “Whatever, man,” Joel said. “Anyway, see you there.”

  “See ya.”

  ooo000ooo

  “Fuck, this place is insane,” I said, joining Joel and a few other guys in a private booth at the club.

  “Told ya, man,” Joel said. “And look at all the chicks out there, just waiting to get laid.”

  He was right about that. The bar was packed with women, all of them young, hot and dressed in the skimpiest clothes you could imagine. One particular women – a blonde, of course – caught me staring her up and down and flashed me a thousand-watt smile. She stopped dancing and walked over to our table in her stripper heels.

  She leaned over the barrier separating our VIP table from the rest of the club and motioned for me to lean closer to her, which I did and she whispered in my ear.

  “I caught you staring” she purred. “I'm Nicole. Care to invite me up there with you?”

  Her cleavage was ample and practically in my face. Joel was watching me with an approving expression and a smile on his face, and I knew none of the guys would fault me for inviting such a hottie to join us. But I just wasn't feeling it.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” I said, pulling away from her.

  She gave me a look of pure disgust as she turned away. I didn't even bother looking back at her as she walked away, but Joel let out a low whistle.

  “She wasn't too happy about that,” he said. “Dude, why'd you send her packing? She was smoking hot.”

  “Too easy,” I said, leaning back into the booth.

  I took a swig from my beer as Joel continued berating me for not inviting Nicole to sit with us. But I was tired of women like Nicole and Brittany. I wanted something more.

  “I need a challenge,” I said. “Not some slut who'll bone anyone with a dick.”

  Joel shook his head as if he still didn't understand it; and maybe he didn't. But it wasn't my job to explain it to him or make him understand. There was something going on in my head and I didn't know what it was, but it was making me see a few things differently.

  “How about that one?” Joel asked as he pointed.

  I looked at where he was pointing and saw a familiar face. April Jennings. She wasn't the type of woman who normally partied in a place like the Lounge. But then I figured that no, she wasn't there to party, she was there because of all the big names coming out for the hot new club's grand opening. And her camera was at the ready. We locked eyes and she smile
d at me.

  “Ahh, the paparazzi have made their appearance,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It must be nice to have nothing better to do than stalk rich people all day, trying to catch them at their lowest.”

  “So you wouldn't bang her?” Joel asked. “Because I sure as hell would. In a heartbeat, man.”

  “Yeah, and that's about how long you'd take, too,” I quipped.

  Joel gave me the finger and grinned. “Fuck you, Prescott.”

  “If I'm not gonna nail her,” I said. “I sure as hell wouldn't fuck you.”

  Joel laughed and punched me in the arm. “Why wouldn't you tap that?” he asked. “That is one fine piece of ass, brother.”

  “And have the whole world know about it the next day? Fuck no, man,” I said.

  “Maybe I'd like the whole world to know how good I am in the sack,” he said, a grin upon his face. “Might help my reputation some.”

  “Yeah, except she doesn't cover the good about people, only the bad,” I said. “And I don't need to bang you to know you're a selfish prick in the bedroom.”

  Joel laughed, but I kept my eyes peeled. If April was there, that meant others would be too. It was only a matter of time before they started snapping pictures, hoping to catch me at my worst. I'd promised Vanessa I'd behave when it came to the paparazzi, to keep my name out of the press, but damn if it wasn't hard. They hunted me. Stalked me. It was almost impossible to keep that promise I'd made her with the paparazzi so far up my ass twenty-four/seven.

  “Looks like she got company,” Joel said.

  “I knew it,” I muttered. “Goddamn vultures. That's all they are.”

  Max Sheppard was with her. He was another soulless photographer who stalked the rich and famous, claiming they were journalists when all they actually did was write sensationalized headlines that were only half-truths – if even that. I despised Max even more than April, if that was even possible. He had a longer, more abhorrent track record of distorting the truth and delivering nothing but “fake news” to his readers. But oh, did those ignorant fucks who read his shit eat it all up.

  “And here they come,” Joel said. “The vultures have apparently spotted the carrion.”

  Max and April walked toward us, pushing through the throngs of people and never taking their eyes off me and the boys. That was the problem when you hung out with other trust fund brats, I supposed. Wherever we went, we got attention. The Billionaire Bachelors was what some of the magazines called us, which I thought was cheesy as hell. April leaned over the barrier and shouted, “So, what brings you boys out tonight?”

  None of us answered. We ignored her, but I knew that it was only the beginning. Because if they didn't get something from us, they'd start causing trouble so they'd have something to write about. I finished my beer and the bartender promptly brought me another.

  Max piped in. “Carter, I noticed you weren't at your dad's press conference today. Have a falling out with the family?”

  Stepfather. I didn't bother to correct him though, because talking to them would only lead down a rabbit hole of trouble. I drank and tried to ignore them as best I could.

  Max continued. “What about Vanessa?” he shouted over the music to be heard. “Aren't you two close?”

  Max kept talking and I clenched my jaw tighter and tighter. It was enough that Joel put a hand on my arm and nodded to me.

  “Just block them out, man,” Joel said, “They want to get a rise out of you. You know that.”

  “Vanessa is a hot piece of ass, isn't she?” Max called. “Of course, you would know, am I right?”

  April piped in, “Nah, Vanessa is too goody two shoes for a bad boy like Carter. She'd never fuck him. Never in a million years.”

  Max followed right on her heels, leaning even closer to make it more personal, “I don't know, I bet she's a feisty little slut in the bedroom,” he said. “I'd sure love to bend her over and take her – ”

  Before he could finish that sentence, I clocked him in the face with my beer bottle. The glass shattered, sending broken fragments flying all over the floor – and Max's face was bleeding. He held his face in his hands as April took photos and everyone around us had stopped to watch what was happening.

  “You don't fucking talk about Vanessa like that,” I growled, standing, looming over the two pseudo-journalists. “She doesn't deserve your shit, and frankly, neither do we. Go to hell.”

  I started to leave the club, but security grabbed hold of me before I got very far. I knew it was only a matter of time before the cops came. Yeah, I screwed up. I shouldn't have done that. But God, it felt so fucking good to smash that prick in the face. Finally.

  CHAPTER THREE - VANESSA

  That old truth was true – nothing ever good came from a phone call in the middle of the night. So when my sleep was shattered by the shrill sound of my cell going off, my heart raced as I reached for it. And when I looked at the display and saw that it was an Unknown Number, I felt a sharper stab of fear that bordered on panic.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Vanessa? It's me,” Carter said. “I need you to bail me out of jail.”

  I looked over at the clock, appalled to see that it was after two in the morning.

  “What did you do?” I sighed. “This time.”

  “I'll explain everything when you get here,” he said. “I just can't be here another minute, Vanessa. Think about what it'll do to your father's campaign.”

  “Oh? So now you're worried about my dad's campaign?” I said. “I'm not going to come down there and bail your ass out, Carter.”

  Of course, I knew full well that I would go bail his ass out. I slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt. It wasn't the first time I'd had to get up at some ungodly hour to save my stepbrother's ass. And though I hated to admit it, the son of a bitch had a point; him sitting in jail wouldn't be good PR for my dad. Especially not now that the scrutiny was going to be even higher given his Senate run.

  Not that Carter actually cared. Him throwing that out there was just a trick to manipulate me into coming down there and bailing him out. But even knowing that, being the good daughter I was, I knew what I had to do. The longer he sat in jail, the more the time the press would twist the story. I could see the headlines now: Congressman Mitch Elliott Promotes Family Values Except When It Comes to Stepson, Who Rots Behind Bars.

  “Well, the douchebag deserved it,” Carter said. “He had it coming.”

  They always deserved it according to Carter. Rolling my eyes, I didn't bother to ask him who deserved it this time. I'd be seeing him in a few minutes anyway and would get more answers at the jail.

  “On my way.”

  “Thanks, Vanessa,” he said, his voice soft. It almost sounded like he felt bad. Almost. “Listen, I'm sorry about earlier – ”

  I hung up before he could even mention what happened at the press conference. I was so tired of hearing his excuses. Tears burned in my eyes as I grabbed my purse and headed down to my car. Carter wasn't a stupid man, yet he continued to do stupid shit. It was almost like he enjoyed tormenting my father. Or maybe Amy was right, maybe he was doing this to torment me. It almost felt like it sometimes.

  And hell, maybe I deserved some of it for everything that had happened between us. But that was a logn time ago and this bullshit had gone on for far too long.

  ooo000ooo

  “You hit a member of the press with a beer bottle?” I asked. “Are you fucking kidding me, Carter?”

  If I wasn't mad before, this pushed me straight over the edge. Any crime would come back to bite us in the ass, but the fact that this was caught on film just made thing worse. This was going to be a PR nightmare for my father and a goddamn headache that was going to plague him for his entire campaign.

  “Calling that asshole a member of the press is way being too generous,” Carter said as he climbed into my car. “Max Sheppard is a parasite. Scum of the earth. You know how these fucking paparazzi are, Vanessa. They delight in cat
ching us at our worst. In fact, their paycheck depends on it.”

  “And looks like you gave him one hell of a story,” I said, sitting down in the driver's side seat. “This couldn't possibly get any worse, Carter. You've really screwed up this time. And I don't know how I'm going to fix this.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But he was on me. And he just kept picking and picking and picking. I just couldn't take it anymore.”

  “Because it's always about you, isn't it? You never stop to think how your actions might affect others around you,” I said.

  “Now you're sounding like your father,” he snapped.

  He should be grateful I was driving, otherwise I would have smacked him upside the face for being such an ungrateful little jerk. I didn't even get a thank you for bailing him out – again. Not that I should have been surprised, but there was absolutely no appreciation for the fact that I'd gotten up in the middle of the night to save his ass one more time.

  I let out an exasperated laugh, one of pure frustration and disbelief. “I can't believe you, Carter. You just keep pushing people away. First my dad, then your mom, and now me. Is that what you want? To be completely alone?”

  He didn't answer me. Instead, he just continued staring at the road ahead of us as if he hadn't heard me. In the dim lights from the street, he looked so tired. His eyes were heavy, his hair was tousled , and he looked more bedraggled than usual. He didn't look anything like the Carter I knew and cared about so much once upon a time. He was headed down a dark, dangerous path and it killed me to see him like that. I so badly wanted to help him, but he just kept pushing me further and further away.

  “Answer me,” I said through clenched teeth. “Is that what you want? Do you want to be alone in this world?”

  “No, of course not,” he said, shifting in his seat. “You know that's the last thing I want. I only stay away because that's what you want – isn't it?”