Stepbrother Catfish: The Complete Series

by Sweet, Izzy

  Thankfully, though, I had a small warning. A painful rumbling started in my tummy.

  “I think I’m going to be sick!” I warned him.

  I don’t think I’d ever seen someone move as fast as he did.

  Thanks to his quick reaction, I was able to get myself to the bathroom where I could puke in the toilet instead of all over his bed.

  Chapter Six

  Charlie held my hair back for me while I puked my brains out in the toilet. When I was done, he helped me clean up and carried me back to bed.

  In bed he held me, spooning me from behind, and drifted off to sleep. Eventually, he began to snore softly.

  I couldn’t sleep.

  An ache started to stab me in my head, right behind my eyes. I felt awful.

  I felt awful because of the booze I drank. I felt awful about what we just did.

  What we did was wrong. He was my stepbrother. We may not have grown up together, but we were now tied together through our parent’s marriage.

  No one could ever know about it. It could ruin our reputation, ruin the company’s reputation. It could ruin my mother’s newfound happiness.

  It wasn’t worth it.

  I wanted Charlie, I loved him. If things were different... If we had met before our parents met…. But we hadn’t.

  If my head wasn’t pounding, I would have probably cherished those last few moments in his arms. Feeling his chest rise and fall against my back. His warm breath puffed against my neck.

  Instead, those last few moments felt as if they dragged on forever. I waited until I was absolutely certain he was deeply asleep and then I carefully wiggled my way out of his arms.

  He snorted loudly as I slipped off the bed.

  I froze, fearing I was busted.

  Then he grunted and rolled onto his other side.

  I tiptoed out of the room. I didn’t dare glance back at him, afraid I would lose my nerve.

  While Charlie slept peacefully, oblivious to my departure, I packed up my things and drove back to my place.

  Again, I was acting the coward.

  I didn’t have the nerve to tell him to his face that I couldn’t be with him. I didn’t even have the nerve to leave him a note.

  My heart wanted him.

  If I faced him face to face, my heart would override my brain again. And if I tried to write the words, they wouldn’t be honest.

  So the best I could do was to say nothing and run away…

  And hope he wouldn’t forgive me for it.

  I was in bed, still miserably hungover the next morning when he came knocking.

  Hannah answered the door. She knew I wasn’t feeling well and I assumed that’s what she told him.

  Thankfully he went away.

  That night I was physically doing better, but emotionally I was still conflicted.

  He came knocking again the next day.

  “Tell him I’m not here,” I told Hannah and locked myself in my room.

  Poor Hannah. She answered the door and awkwardly told him I wasn’t home. I felt bad for putting her in the position.

  Charlie accepted it, however, and left only to return the next day.

  After two weeks, I was hoping he would give up. My resolve was beginning to crumble.

  I loved him. I loved him with every fiber of my being. I couldn’t explain it, but I did.

  The moment I first laid eyes upon him, I just knew he was the one.

  But I couldn’t have him.

  I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way.

  But they did.

  The next day I was going to tell him myself to go away and put an end to all of this.

  I had it all planned out.

  I could be strong for a moment. The family’s reputation depended upon it.

  I wouldn’t let him talk because if he talked I would probably lose my nerve. I’d open the door, tell him to go away myself, tell him I didn’t want to see him, and then slam the door in his face.

  It would be perfect.

  Minimal interaction. Minimal risk that my heart would turn me into a stupid twit again.

  The next morning it was the bald gentleman knocking on my door.

  So instead of getting to tell Charlie face to face to go away, I rejected his every present and his every invitation, hoping he’d get the hint.

  Apparently he didn’t get it.

  Christmas was fast approaching and for the first time ever I was planning on spending it alone, away from my mother. I may have gathered up the resolve to face Charlie and tell him to go away, but there was no way I could handle being around him for any extended length.

  The phone rang and Hannah stopped admiring the pink sapphire ring long enough to answer it.

  “Hello?” she asked as she picked up the receiver though her bright eyes never left her bejeweled hand.

  “Oh, hi, Mrs. Blackman. Yes, she’s right here!”

  Ugh. My mom was probably calling to discuss Christmas plans and I dreaded having to tell her I decided to spend it at my place, alone.

  “Hi, mom,” I said with as much cheer I could muster after accepting the receiver from Hannah.

  “Hi, honey, how are you doing?” my mom asked me. It was always the first thing she asked.

  “Oh, I’m great,” I lied.

  She seemed to accept the answer. “When are you planning to come home? I could really use some help with planning Christmas dinner now that it’s not just the two of us.”

  Immediately I felt guilty, “Oh, I’m not coming home this year. I’ve decided to stay here.”

  There was a long pause.

  She was quiet so long I asked, “Mom, are you still there?”

  “Is it because of Charles?”

  Yes.

  “No.”

  Ugh, I lied to my mom. All of this lying was getting out of hand.

  “I know what’s going on between you two.”

  I nearly dropped the phone in shock.

  “Edward and I both know. We’re not blind.”

  Oh, my God. I had to sit down before I fell over.

  Hannah mouthed, “What the fuck?” as I sank down to the floor.

  “You know?” I asked hesitantly, hoping I had heard her wrong.

  “Of course we know. Everyone can see it.”

  My life was over. Apparently everyone could see I was in love with my stepbrother.

  “I’m sorry,” I sniffled into the phone.

  Hannah looked distressed as she watched me become upset.

  My bottom lip started to quiver on its own accord and it was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears.

  “Honey, you don’t have to be sorry. Come home and we’ll work this all out.”

  “I can’t,” I said and then bit my quivering lip.

  “You can,” my mom countered. “And you should. Life’s too short.”

  Life was too short. After losing my dad, we were both too aware of that fact.

  “It is too short, mom,” I said in reluctant agreement. “But I can’t come home. I just can’t.”

  It would be even worse. What would I do? Continue to pretend I didn’t have any feelings while everyone could tell I did?

  “Listen,” my mom softly chastised me, “Edward and I both feel this has gone on long enough. You and Charles are both miserable. You’re making us miserable.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you for being sorry, honey, but what we really want is for you to stop.”

  “I’ll try to stop being miserable.”

  “Good. How are you going to do that?”

  How was I going to do it? I tried to come up with an answer but couldn’t.

  “I don’t know,” I was forced to admit.

  “Do you want to know what I think?”

  Honestly, I was afraid to ask.

  “I think,” she went on, “You should give him a chance.”

  Was I dreaming? I had to be. My mother would never advise me to explore m
y feelings for my stepbrother. That was just what I wanted to hear…

  “What would everyone think?” I asked and she laughed.

  “I can’t even count how many people came up to Edward and me at the wedding and remarked upon what a lovely couple you two would make. And, when it was time for his speech, we knew it was more than coincidence that you both were missing.”

  Oh, my God. Apparently the only person I had been fooling all this time was myself.

  “Come home, sweetheart. We can talk about this face to face. I don’t want to spend a Christmas without you.”

  I didn’t want to spend my Christmas without the only parent I had left.

  “Okay, mom. I’ll be over later,” I told her.

  I missed her and had been dreading the thought of a Christmas alone.

  “Okay, I’ll see you later then. I love you, be safe.”

  “I will. I love you too,” I told her and hung up.

  Chapter Seven

  I didn’t know how I was going to face Charlie knowing now that everyone could see what was going on between us.

  It made me feel like a complete ass.

  Hannah had tried many times to find out what was going on between Charlie and I, and every time I had shot her down. I was in so much denial, I had even tried to fool my best friend, and I had even brought her unwillingly into the situation.

  Now that I didn’t have the fear of public shame and ridicule, I didn’t know how to process my feelings. My mother had been the first one I had discussed what was going on with. I was very much looking forward to spilling my guts to her, and hoping she could provide me with some much-needed wisdom.

  The Blackman mansion was strangely quiet when I entered. I had been to the mansion a few times before, before the wedding and before my mom had officially moved in. During my previous visits, the place had always seemed alive. There was the constant noise of various people coming and going, there was always something going on.

  “Mom?” I called out, my voice echoing in the grand foyer.

  “She and my Dad left for the evening,” Charlie said from the railing above me.

  Then he started down the stairs.

  “She did?” My voice squeaked, “She knew I was coming…”

  Charlie grinned and my heart fluttered.

  Then I nearly fainted as he said, “They wanted to give us some privacy.”

  Was this really happening, I thought. My mouth went dry. My heart started to race a million miles an hour inside my chest.

  And Charlie was coming for me.

  My brain wanted to flee, but my body was overriding it. I was frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch him stalk his way across the marble floor towards me.

  His lips were curved with a knowing smirk and his eyes were lit with a predatory glint. He wore only a pair of blue jeans that hung low on his waist. The jeans were torn and looked soft from wear and age.

  I found myself backing up as he drew closer and ended up backing myself against the door.

  He’d have to stop at some point. He couldn’t just keep on coming.

  But he did.

  He didn’t stop. He grabbed me up and pulled me into his arms.

  He should have been angry with me. He should have been demanding I give him an explanation or something.

  Instead, he was kissing the breath right out of me.

  I never wanted it to end.

  “Don’t you ever,” he said between pulls on my lips, “Leave me again.”

  His arms were possessively tight around me.

  “Promise me,” he demanded, pulling back and directing the full force of his gaze at me.

  I felt lightheaded and well kissed. The last thing I wanted at that moment was to be separated from him.

  So I said, “I promise.”

  “Good,” he said gruffly, “I’ll forgive you this time.”

  “You will?” I asked, nearly dumbfounded.

  “Yes,” he grinned wolfishly, “But I still may make you pay for it.”

  I almost swooned. I’d never swooned before, but the heat in his eyes and the promise in his lips were too much.

  Without warning, he swept me off my feet, and as if I weighed nothing at all, carried me through the foyer.

  “What are you doing?” I asked in surprise and clung to him.

  “Taking you to my room.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can pick up where we left off.”

  As easily as he had swept me into his arms, I was becoming swept up in the moment.

  I wanted this, I wanted it so bad. I had dreamt of him, imagined what he would do to me. I still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening was really happening and not some wet dream I was having, but even if it was a dream I was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

  He kicked the door to his bedroom shut behind us with the heel of his foot.

  “Charles…” I started tentatively, reverting back to formality with sudden apprehension.

  “Call me Charlie,” he said as he tenderly lowered me to his bed and I forgot what I was going to say or ask.

  He held himself above me as I sank into his mattress. His head dropped, his mouth claimed another kiss.

  I found my hands roaming over him. First sliding across his broad shoulders, then exploring the smooth firmness of his bare chest.

  His shifted his weight and while his mouth held mine, unwilling to let go of the kiss, I felt his own hand roaming over me. Then his fingers were pulling down the straps of my green dress.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said in admiration as my breasts spilled from my lowered dress. “I could spend the rest of my eternity just gazing upon you.”

  I blushed from head to toe. I wasn’t used to being called beautiful, but I could definitely get used to it.

  Feeling shy now, I peered up at him through my lashes. He was the most extraordinary man I had ever laid eyes upon, but my awkward inexperience kept me from being able to vocalize it.

  His dark head came back down. His mouth landed on my breast and I arched off the bed with a moan as he sucked it.

  Back and forth he suckled my breasts, paying each equal attention.

  He kissed, sucked, and licked until I was wiggling and squirming, unable to stay still with the need building inside me.

  Nerves I didn’t even know I had were alive and torturing me with their need for stimulation.

  When his mouth covered me, it was wet and warm with heat. And when it left, I was chilled by the loss of it.

  It felt as if there were strings connecting my nipples directly to my sex. And as he lavished me with his licks and pulled back hard sucks, my sex was jolted with sensation.

  Soon, as the muscles in my thighs tightened and my sex throbbed with swollen need, I found myself saying his name.

  “Charlie…” I said, my voice desperate with need.

  He stopped his worship and looked at me with hot eyes full of interest.

  “Yes?” he asked, his voice husky.

  I didn’t know what I wanted, only that I wanted.

  I lifted my hips off the bed, “Please.”

  He closed his eyes as if he was in pain. When he reopened his eyes they were blazing with heat.

  “I’m not sure you’re ready…”

  “I’m ready,” I said, the desperation in my voice thickening.

  His strong hand released its grip on my breast and stroked its way down to my drenched sex.

  His thick fingers slid through my folds and I couldn’t help but cry out, desperately hoping he’d thrust them into me.

  “Are you sure?” he asked as his fingers brushed against my engorged clit.

  “Yes, oh, yes!” I cried out and I reached for him as he slid up me.

  My hands grabbed at him and I ended up latching onto his hair.

  Suddenly his mouth was upon me.

  I still gripped his hair, tugging it and pulling it as he kissed me as if he couldn’t get enough of me.

  I was vaguely aware
of him fumbling with something between us. In my need and desperation, I couldn’t understand what he was doing. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t inside, giving me what I needed.

  Then I felt it.

  Hard, he was so hard, and he was pushing himself against me.

  Even though I was almost dying with my need and drenched with want, it hurt.

  I stilled, my sex painfully stretching to accommodate him, and I was afraid.

  He stopped, “Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?”

  I didn’t want the pain. I wanted the pleasure back. I just wanted the hurt to end.

  I was sobering.

  I knew from the recounts of other girls that the first time always hurt. But now that I was actually experiencing it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through with it.

  “It hurts,” I said and felt tears starting to fill my eyes.

  “I know, baby,” he nuzzled my cheek, “but it will only last a moment.”

  I wanted to believe him but how could he know? He was a man, he never had to experience it.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

  “I’ll stop if you want me to stop, just say it. But it is just a moment of pain and then I’ll kiss you better.”

  “You promise?” I asked and then I braced myself.

  He gave me an encouraging grin, “I promise.”

  “Do it,” I whispered and before I could change my mind he thrust through my barrier.

  My sex seared with pain. I couldn’t hold back my tears.

  He kissed me. He brushed his lips across my lips, then across my cheeks, and wiped my tears away.

  He was right. The pain faded quickly.

  “I love you, Lauren,” he said as he held himself still and continued to place small, tender kisses all over me.

  “I love you, Charlie,” I answered back and as the pain ebbed.

  I squirmed against the bed.

  He groaned, “Feel better?”

  I smiled and squirmed again, “Yes.”

  I was tender and sore but being filled by him was overcoming it.

  The man I loved, the one I thought I could ever have, loved me back.

  Just knowing that he loved me, that he wanted it just as much as I did and probably even more, was making me wet again.

  It felt so right being filled by him. He stretched me and touched me in all the right places. As if our bodies were made to be connected.