Stepbrother Catfish: The Complete Series

by Sweet, Izzy

His lips capture mine in a deep, needy kiss. His scruff is growing back, it scrapes against my chin, but I like it. I like him somehow imperfect. It makes it easier for me to give into the moment. I have to take all of this moment by moment, kiss by kiss. If I let myself think about it too much, about who he is, what we are, and what we’re doing, I’ll end up running for the elevator again.

  Reluctantly, Andrew tears his mouth from mine. He rests his cheek against the top of my head, catching his breath and giving me a chance to catch myself. I listen to his deep, ragged breathing. I soon realize the rhythm of my own breathing seems to be matching his.

  Andrew smells my hair and then I feel him stiffen against me. He pulls back and there’s displeasure in his eyes. I remember that look. I hate that look. It’s that critical look he gets when he’s sizing me up, picking me apart, and judging me. Why is it back again?

  “What’s that smell?” he asks.

  “Uh, I’m not sure?”

  “Did you wash your hair?”

  “Yeah? I used what was in the shower.”

  “Oh,” he says and his frown deepens. His hands fall away and he takes a step back.

  Great, now I feel like I’ve done something to displease him. Maybe I should have stayed stinky.

  “Is there something wrong with it? I would have used something else, but I don’t have any of my own things with me.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it. I just don’t like the smell on you.”

  Oh, that stings. I feel suddenly very self-conscious, but Andrew appears to be completely oblivious to it. He turns and I cross my arms over my chest. I feel the doubt knocking on my door. I really don’t want to let it in.

  “Shall we eat?” he asks, walking to the table.

  Was he trying to be mean to me, I wonder as I stare at his retreating back. Or am I being overly sensitive?

  “Sure,” I answer meekly and pad across the kitchen to join him at the dining room table.

  An uncomfortable silence settles over the apartment. I hover awkwardly while Andrew pulls several white cartons from the plastic bag. Once he has the bag completely empty he takes a seat. The dining room table is small, there are only four chairs. I hesitate, stuck between sitting beside him or sitting across from him. I decide sitting across from him is best.

  “I didn’t know what you like, I forgot to ask, so I ordered a bit of everything.” Andrew waves his hand over the spread, “Help yourself.”

  How can he be such a jackass one moment and so thoughtful the next? It’s making it impossible for me to get a grip. I grab up a set of chopsticks and peek inside the carton closest to me. It’s some kind of vegetable and chicken thing. I try it. It’s not half bad.

  We start eating in silence. My eyes drop, I focus on my food. I’ve made my way halfway through the carton before Andrew speaks again.

  “What did you do all day?”

  I peek up, expecting to see a sneer quirking his lips. Was the question meant to insult me? Instead, I’m pleasantly surprised to discover he actually looks like he’s interested.

  “Not much. Showered, ate, and napped.”

  Andrew’s lips quirk but not into a sneer. There’s something actually playful about his restrained grin. “Is that all?”

  I find myself playfully grinning back, “I could get used to this.”

  “Could you?” Andrew asks, leaning forward. His posture is suddenly invested.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “No, really, Hailey,” he says more seriously. “Could you get used to this?”

  Why is he looking at me like that? I thought we were playing. I was just trying to flirt and lighten the mood, but now there’s energy and static between us. His eyes are dark but burning with heat. He’s looking at me with such intensity, I feel a bit lightheaded.

  Could I get used to this? Sitting around all day, killing and wasting the minutes away, and endlessly waiting on him? In all honestly, I don’t think I could. But at the moment, I really don’t want to tell him that.

  “I don’t know,” I say, hoping he’ll accept the answer.

  But he doesn’t.

  “Think about it.”

  “Okay,” I say softly and something flashes in his eyes.

  I look away. It suddenly got very hot in here. I feel my blush. It’s burning my cheeks and flashing down my chest. Now I’m overly aware that I’m wearing only his shirt as a dress. I squeeze my thighs together. I don’t even have underwear.

  “One night with you and I’m already considering renegotiating our terms.”

  I look up at him in surprise. “You are?”

  My heart flutters with panic. My blush drains away. Does he mean to not pay me now? Has he gotten his fill?

  There’s something fierce about the way Andrew is looking at me. Fierce and hungry. But we just ate…

  “One week isn’t enough.”

  I swallow. I don’t know what to say. His words give me so much hope, hope that something more could come of this. I fear, though, that if I put those words out there, the Universe will take it all away.

  Andrew sets his food down with careful deliberation then stands from the table. He prowls towards me. I sit frozen.

  “All day, I’ve thought about you. It drove me mad leaving you this morning.”

  He loosens the tie at his neck and then pulls it off. He drops it to the floor.

  “I kept stopping by your office. Your smell is still there…”

  He comes to stand next to me. He’s so tall, so intimidating. I look up.

  “All day I’ve imagined what I would do to you…where I would touch you…where I would kiss you.”

  He grabs me, pulling me to my feet. The chair I was sitting in topples backward.

  “Andrew,” I gasp.

  He growls. “No, don’t call me that.”

  Gently his hands grab me by the face.

  “AJ,” I say cautiously.

  He smiles tenderly, “Yes?”

  I look at him, my eyes searching his eyes. When he looks at me like that, tender and open, it’s like for a moment the mask has slipped and I’m getting a peek at the real him.

  “Just shut up and kiss me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I don’t want to think, I want to feel. If Andrew keeps baring his heart to me, if he keeps sharing his true feelings with me… well, I just don’t want to go there. I still have a tiny, itsy bitsy piece of self-preservation left inside me.

  Right now, kisses, kisses are good. Words are bad. Go away words.

  Andrew’s mouth covers my mouth. I close my eyes, wanting to give in, wanting to be swept up and lost inside our passion. His lips are so warm, they’re so soft. I part my lips, opening for him. I feel him resist then he pulls away.

  Did I do something wrong?

  He must know exactly what I’m thinking. “Not here.”

  By the hand, he leads me to the bedroom. I guess he just wanted to do it in bed? Then he leads me right past it.

  “Do I smell that bad?” I ask as we step into the bathroom.

  He laughs. “It’s not you, I just don’t like the smell.”

  Then why do you have it? I almost ask, but then he pulls me into the shower. He turns the knobs and we’re both blasted with water.

  I squeal, “We still have our clothes on!”

  “Here, let me take care of that.”

  The water starts to warm. Andrew grabs my shirt and rips it open. The buttons pop, I hear them hit against the tile wall and then clatter to the floor.

  I squeal again, “What are you doing?”

  Andrew grins at me. The back of his head is getting hosed. Water drips down his nose as he says, “I’m helping.”

  Instead of helping me out of the wet, clingy shirt, his hands land upon my now very slippery breasts. My nipples harden instantly as he squeezes me and I can’t help but groan.

  “God, Hailey, I’ve thought about you all day.”

  His hands knead and work me. I look down and watch. I can’t believe we’
re in the shower, still dressed, and he’s feeling me up. But seeing is believing. As his fingers squeeze, I find myself stretching up on my tip toes. My body tenses, becoming as taut as a bow.

  “I love it when you groan like that.”

  His fingers tighten, I arch my back. I love his hands on me. My breasts feel so heavy, so achy. If only he would just kiss them… if only he would just suck on my nipples.

  Just as I think that, his grip loosens and his hands leave me. Dammit, no.

  “You’re so cute when you pout like that,” Andrew teases.

  He starts unbuttoning his soaking wet shirt. I’m at a loss for words. Completely drenched, I can already see a good deal of his skin through the transparent white fabric. Still, I watch, rapt, as his fingers swiftly free the buttons. Then he has to peel it off as if it’s a second skin. He balls the shirt up and tosses it out the shower door.

  The way he throws the shirt seems extremely athletic as if he’s had a lot of practice. And I bet the shirt landed exactly where he wanted it to.

  I’m still not used to seeing such sexiness up close and in person. Such hard bodies are the things of TV and magazines to me. Seeing him in his suit, I would have never guess what was beneath it, but now that he’s bare-chested and standing like a dripping wet Greek god before me, I experience another hot flash of want.

  I’ve touched, licked, and kissed that amazing body. I’m ready to do some more.

  He leans against the shower wall and pulls both of his shoes off. He flips them over and lets the water dump out before they to go flying out the shower door. Next come his socks, he has to actually bend over to peel them off his feet. Then he straightens and his fingers go for the button of his pants.

  I hold my breath with anticipation. Just like that, probably because they’re so heavy and wet, his pants drop, hitting the floor with a splat.

  He stands there, so confident, so cocky with his feet spread as if he likes me looking at him. I watch as my attention seems to arouse him. He goes from semi-aroused to fully erect in less than a second.

  Oh. My. God. I’ve had that inside me. I can’t even.

  The steam seems to thicken. Andrew kicks his wet pants away.

  How can he stand there like that? Like he’s God’s gift to women? Then I remember all those girls he paraded through the office. All his boasting.

  Before I can chase that train of thought any further, he falls upon me. The weight of his body pushes me back, against the wall. I feel his hands tugging the wet shirt I’m still wearing off.

  “All day, I’ve thought about kissing you.”

  His mouth covers my mouth. I can’t process all that is going on.

  His tongue is in my mouth, deliciously invading me. He’s so sweet yet so savage. I reach out and try to get a grip of his slippery wet skin, but my fingers just keep sliding. I don’t even know where they’re going.

  He tips my head back as he pushes more of himself into me. I feel his erection against my thigh. My legs tremble before my feet begin to spread in invitation.

  He groans into my mouth. It’s a husky, desperate sound. I answer it with my own.

  His weight crushes into me. I’m pinned, trapped between him and the tile. My breasts are smashed against his chest. My hard nipples are probably stabbing him.

  His hard cock slides between my thighs. His hip bone grinds against my hip bone.

  His mouth continues to ravish my mouth while he rubs himself against me. The silky skin of his cock slides against the slick wetness of my folds.

  Oh, how I want him.

  In and out, he works his cock between my thighs as if he was fucking them. It’s the most agonizing tease imaginable.

  Pressure builds inside me. The steam thickens. My left hip is getting blasted by a hot spray of water while I swear another hot spray is hitting me directly in the ass. The head of Andrew’s cock teases me, pushing just enough before it withdraws.

  I’m so wet down there, my juices mixing with the water. My thighs make the perfect slip n slide. It’s not enough.

  In me, I need him inside me so bad. My inner walls clench. I hope he doesn’t get off like this. He seems really into it.

  I try to turn my face away. He growls and increases the intensity of his kiss.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on but the way our skin slides against each other as if we’re not even touching, it feels extremely precarious.

  I stretch up on my tiptoes and Andrew pauses. My cheeks clench against the onslaught of water. Andrew’s cock is unintentionally trapped. I can’t hold the position for more than a moment. I lower back down and Andrew groans as my clenched thighs drag down him.

  Finally, he tears his mouth from mine but he doesn’t say a word. He just presses his forehead against mine, eyes closed, and pants. As his hot breath puffs against me, I feel him reach between us.

  Then he’s rubbing the head of his cock against my too sensitive clit.

  I moan and my legs tremble. From the top of my head to the tip of my toes I’m pulsing with electrifying pleasure. He works the head of his cock against me in hard swirls. Pushing and circling, my hips gyrate as if they have a mind of their own.

  “Come for me, baby,” he groans out.

  And I almost don’t want to. There’s something about being told to do it, even by him, that makes me want to resist.

  But the pressure keeps building. My clit is throbbing so hard it’s shooting down my legs. I’m on fire. I don’t really have a choice in the matter, my body takes it right out of my hands.

  It’s like breaking. I crack. My core splits. I’m atomic. Boom. The throbbing, the pressure, and the aching bursts from me. I’m gushing and it’s so not the shower.

  Andrew presses his advantage.

  Caught in the throes of my climax, he spins me and pushes me up against the wall. I’m no longer facing him. My hands hit the tile. Now the spray of water is hitting me directly in the clit instead of my ass.

  Grabbing me by the hips, he thrusts himself into me. Instantly, my walls latch onto him. They were rubbing and grinding against each other and now they’re rubbing and grinding against him. I’m milking my climax out of him. Every long hard inch.

  He’s so big. I feel so full. I’m so wet, and still I feel stretched. He buries himself inside me, to the hilt. He’s lifting me off my feet. Damn him. I explode all over again.

  I’m no longer moaning, I’m screaming, and the sound of it is amplified by the tile, mixing with the beat of our wet slapping skin. Andrew pounds into me, he’s showing me no mercy. He’s mad with his lust. Impaling me, viciously. All I can do is claw at the wall and hope for the best.

  Deep, so deep he drives into me, touching a part of me that’s so tender, a spot that’s too sensitive. And he keeps doing it and doing it. Over and over again. Throwing himself into me, slamming himself into the jiggling cheeks of my ass. If he doesn’t stop, I’m afraid of what’s going to happen. It’s so different. I’m fucking terrified of where it ends.

  And then it happens. It’s not an explosion this time, its death. I’m fucking dying. I’m experiencing something so intense, something so mind-blowing, it feels impossible that I could possibly survive what is happening to me. System overload. Too much to fit. Game over.

  After an eternity of convulsions and screams, somehow, miraculously, I come out on the other end.

  Gradually, awareness of my body starts to come back to me. It’s like I escaped, slipped accidently out of my skin, and now my body is slowly sucking me back in.

  I’m aware that Andrew is coming. He’s tense. His face is buried in my neck. He’s grunting and growling. I feel warmer. I feel his cock pulsing, his hard body trembling. My hips pick up the rhythm of his rolling his hips.

  When he’s done, he releases a deep sigh, and then his weight collapses against me.

  I try to hold myself up, but my legs won’t stop twitching and my arms keep jerking. I’m spasming with the aftershocks of my orgasm.

  “Eek,” I squ
eak as my toes start to slide out from under me.

  Thankfully Andrew grabs ahold of me. There’s a pause, he slips from me and then spins me to face him.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his voice thick and sated.

  He pulls the clinging strands of my hair from my cheeks. I’m still incapable of words beyond eek. He smiles at me. All I can do is smile back.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Now, let’s get this smell off of you. Shall we?” Andrew says.

  With one hand still helping me stay upright, he reaches around me and grabs a bottle off the shelf. The bottle pops into my line of sight and I see that it is one of the dark ones with bold masculine letters.

  Now would be the time to ask him why he has bottles of shampoo that he doesn’t like the smell of. With his thumb, he snaps open the lid and instead of squirting some into the palm of his hand, he lifts the bottle up until I can no longer see it and squirts it directly on top of my head.

  “Would you like me to help?” I ask. “I think my hands still work.”

  Andrew shakes his head, “No, I want to do this. You just stand there and…” He smirks. “Look pretty. I’ve got this.”

  My legs stop trembling so much and I feel like I might be okay standing without his help. But he keeps one hand firmly on me while his other hand begins to work into my hair. I feel the suds start to drip, bubbles sliding down my forehead. I close my eyes to protect them.

  Why am I such a coward?

  Those bottles mean something. All I have to do is ask. All I have to do is put it out there. Are they an ex-girlfriends? That would explain why he doesn’t like the smell.

  Are they designated for his fuck buddies? Perhaps he sees me as more as that…

  No, no, I don’t think either of those possibilities is the real answer. The real answer is: I know those bottles mean something important. Something I’m not going to like. I don’t want to know because I don’t want the answer.

  I don’t want to ruin this game of pretend.

  We have a good thing going and I want to enjoy every moment of it. We’ve had one amazing night together and this one isn’t yet over. I know it’s not going to last forever. Andrew may have asked me to consider extending our agreement but in reality, how far can we extend it? At some point, all of this has to end. He has to write me a check and I have to go back out to reality.