Taking His Rage (Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)

by Gwen Allen

  I stare up at him defiantly though he is standing way too close for comfort. As he stands only inches from me I can feel the heat from his body right through my clothes. He is a like a heat wave washing over me.

  "You're right, you're not a slut. It's whores that do it for money," he says as he eyes me like he's trying to put a price on what he sees.

  "You're paying me now?" I ask him, pointing out the obvious flaw in his logic.

  He has an answer for that though. "You're doing it to keep me docile, keep the peace so I won't derail the gravy train you and your mother are riding," he claims.

  "I haven't taken any of your or your father's money," I tell him.

  Vince doesn't buy it. "He didn't put money into your little café? He's not putting you through school?"

  "Your dad invested in the café, but no, he is not putting me through college. I have a scholarship!" I inform him.

  "You would." He holds that against me too? What is wrong with him?

  "I don't hear you admitting you're wrong," I point out.

  "And you aren't going to because I'm right about you. You're a gold digger, but I do admit you're better at hiding it than your mother. If you have a scholarship, why did you only go back to school this term?" he asks like he thinks he found something incriminating.

  The answer to his question isn't anything incriminating. It's just sad. "I dropped out for a while to be with my dad while he was sick and to help out so the café wouldn't go under."

  "Don't pretend the café matters to you now that you can get money straight from the source," he says. I noticed that he ignored what I said about my dad, like he doesn't want to touch that subject. That's just as well or I might have to murder him right here.

  "It's our family business. It was my mom and dad's dream. Not everything is about money," I tell him. "Have you ever thought that maybe my mom and your dad need each other? Maybe they love each other, and there is nothing sinister going on."

  "Listen to the perky little cheerleader," he says, dismissing everything I just said. He's so pigheaded.

  "I've never been a cheerleader in my life."

  "Maybe that's why you suck at it. Speaking of perky..." he trails off. He drops his gaze from my eyes to my mouth and then to the front of my dress.

  My breasts are heaving because he is so close and aggravating. I can't catch my breath when I'm around him. How can I when I never know what he'll do next?

  Surprising me, Vince steps around me and opens the door to my right. "You better get in here unless you want me to make you indecent out here and have someone see."

  "What?" I say stupidly as he gets impatient, grabs my arm and manhandles me into the room.

  I don’t really fight him. I know I can't afford to be out in the hall with him. But this is way worse. We're alone now and he just shut the door. I stare at the door, expecting him to lock it, but he doesn't. Instead he backs me into it, but then he steps back almost immediately to look down at the front of my dress.

  Slowly, deliberately, he pulls the dress down one shoulder then the other. Shivering, I shut my eyes tight as I feel the silky fabric pulled down even lower. Swallowing a whimper, I feel my breasts come out of the front of my dress as well as my strapless bra. Next I feel Vince's hands on them and I let out a strangled cry. My eyes snap open and Vince looks into them cruelly.

  "Get as loud as you want as far as I'm concerned," he says. "Maybe they'll all hear and rush in here, see you like this." He then pinched my right nipple and I moan.

  I don't want to make noise but I can't help it. It gets even worse as he leans down slowly and puts his mouth on the same nipple he just pinched. It feels incredible. My head falls back to thump against the thick wood of the door as he sucks and nibbles. I didn't even know that could feel so good.

  He moves his lips to my left breast and I whimper. Now his fingers are torturing my slick right nipple while his mouth sucks on the left. I'm panting and to my shame I hear myself beg, "Vince, please, please."

  He stops. "Okay. I guess that's enough. I'll let you go," he says and pulls my dress and my bra back into place with movements that are just as slow and deliberate as when he took them down.

  I look down at my dress, back into place now and then up at Vince. But that wasn't what I wanted. I clamp my mouth shut so I don't blurt out what I really wanted. I just shiver with unsatisfied need and stare at him, feeling kind of hurt.

  He notices my unhappy expression. "You should be proud of a job well done. You got me over the worst of it. We can go back in there and I won't say one unpleasant word."

  "Great, just fucking great," I say and turn to go.

  But I must still look too gloomy for his liking. Vince stops me before I can get through the door. "You still don't look happy. I know how to fix this," he says and swats me on the ass. I squeal in shock and glare at him. "See, that's better." He smiles at me and walks out the door, leaving me to stand there like a horny, unsatisfied idiot.

  Great now my ass tingles where he slapped it and between my legs is slick and throbbing. This is the going to be the worst dinner of my life.

  Chapter 8

  ~

  Vince

  It's been a while since I've run into Julie or groped her or whatever. Even after I moved out, I used to spend plenty of time at my dad's house. Mostly I was helping out with business, but I liked to split my time between his office, the gym and the pool. I haven't done that recently. With Julie and her mother there, the house feels like enemy territory.

  At least I found a use for Julie. Teasing her was nice, but fucking her was even better. I wonder what else I might make her do for me. At the same time, I would rather never see her again. If only she wasn't so much fun to play with.

  This morning I'm at my dad's place to go over the paperwork for a new acquisition. As I listen to Dad explain some of the finer points of the deal, I feel like I'm an apprentice. "No one is born knowing everything," Dad likes to say when I complain about his tutoring. I guess he is like my mentor and my boss.

  Once we're done with business, I step outside and head toward the pool. It's a nice morning, and it's still pretty early. I might be able to jump in the pool and still get out of here before I have to run into Julie or her mother. As I'm about to turn a corner, I see Julie by the pool.

  Stopping, I suppress a grunt at the sight of her in a white and pink striped bikini. I catch sight of her just as she gets ready to dive in. I can see her biting her lower lip and I want to bite it too, soft and plump between my teeth as she whimpers. My eyes travel up her thighs then up to her perfect, round ass.

  This is my first good look at her body. I didn't really get to see her properly during our tussle in the bushes or when I had her against that door. I uncovered just the parts I wanted to get to. I really need to strip her naked one of these days. Not because I'm dying for her, but just for the hell of it.

  I'm not done ogling her when she dives in. Her body breaks the surface with a neat little splash. Though I have better things to do with my time, I still stick around to watch her. It's official. I must like torturing myself. After that first splash, her body mostly stays under water, obscured and a little distorted. Her hair fans out behind her as she swims.

  When she hits the end of the pool, I see her roll under water. She's having fun with it. I see her dive at unexpected times and she even races at one point then raises her arms like she won. If she knew she was being watched, she wouldn't act so damn goofy.

  She stays in a good while and I stay right there and can't seem to take my eyes off her. Maybe I was waiting for this moment, when she pushes her way out of the water. She does it with a big splash so she can get out on the side of the pool instead of using the stairs. "I'm not using the stairs like some old man," I always say to my dad when he complains that I'm splashing water everywhere. It's funny to see Julie doing the same thing.

  As she lifts herself up to the edge and climbs out of the pool, water streams down her body. She twists her hai
r to squeeze water out of it. When she looks around, I draw back. She was only looking for where she left her towel. When she wraps herself with it, I decide it's time to go. I don't want her to see me lurking there. I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing I was watching her. She isn't worth even one second of my time.

  Later that morning I went to a meeting Dad wanted me to take as a courtesy to some old business associate of his. I wasn't meeting with the big man himself. Two protégés of his are pushing a new investment. Dad didn't like the sound of it. That's why he skipped this meeting and had me talk to them. I didn't like what I heard either. Thinking it might turn out like that, I made sure to schedule the meeting before lunch so I could claim to have a lunch meeting and keep it short.

  I had no plans for lunch. Hoping something might catch my eye, I'm walking around until I find myself near Bly Street. The café Julie's mother owns is right around here. The memory of Julie wet after her swim is still fresh on my mind. So when I find myself in the neighborhood, I decide to drop in. I'm just curious about their café. I've never seen the place. It's kind of out of the way, which isn't to its benefit.

  Rain Drop Café sits right on the corner of Bly Street and Lucrest Avenue. The big windows have a view on both streets. The two streets aren't very busy though. Without much foot traffic, they wouldn't get that many people dropping in.

  The cafe is nice enough. As I go through the doors, I expect it to be more vulgar, but it looks pretty straightforward and unpretentious. Tables are light colored wood. The chairs have a nice curve to them. On the walls I see some subdued black and white prints. They aren't trying too hard and there's nothing here that hurts the eye like some trendy places I've been to. I might even be willing to eat here, but it's not hunger that brought me to this particular café.

  Seeing me lingering by the door, a hostess comes to greet me. She's cute but I can't help comparing her to Julie. When I tell her that's who I'm here to see, the hostess turns and I spot Julie near the back, talking to some guy.

  "I guess she's busy," I say and can't keep the edge out of my voice.

  "Who should I say...?" the hostess starts to ask, but I cut her off.

  "She's expecting me," I say though it's not true. "Don't interrupt her. I can wait."

  The hostess leaves me alone, and I hang back and watch Julie and that guy. He's tall, lanky, looks kind of worn out. He isn't bad looking though his mousy brown hair is kind of shaggy. Julie isn't taking her eyes off this guy while they talk. Her gaze is so intent, it's really pissing me off. And if she smiles at that guy just one more time, I'm going to knock all of his teeth in.

  Did she just touch his arm? Isn't she such a friendly girl? Now I'm going to have to break each and every one of his bones starting with the arm she patted. I'm seething even as I watch this guy leave.

  I've moved off to one side of the door. Still standing by the wait station, Julie hasn't spotted me yet. Sighing deeply, she stares after that guy and looks sad. Does she miss him already? As I keep glaring at her, I notice that she's way too upset to be just missing some guy. She's not moving. She's just standing near the wait station looking pretty damn miserable.

  Hell, she looks like she's about to cry. Not being able to help it, I cross the restaurant and walk up to her. She lifts her face, and when she sees me she looks like she's about to burst into tears. She takes a few shaky breaths to stop herself and walks out into the hallway that leads to the storage area and the restrooms.

  I follow her, and she turns to me and tries to speak. No words come out, she just gulps air. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms and the waterworks start. She's sobbing against my chest and apologizing for crying.

  "What's going on?" I ask her. My voice sounds harsher than I meant it to, and she pulls away.

  She gulps a few times then she explains. "I was just talking to a friend of mine. His older sister was diagnosed with cancer. He said breast cancer runs in their family, and she got it really young. She had a baby a year ago. When I think of that... I told him breast cancer has a good rate of recovery. I tried to be encouraging, but after he left, I couldn't help thinking about my dad. Sorry, I didn't mean to cry all over you, but you were there so... Why are you here?" She frowns at me, her eyelashes wet with tears.

  "Just passing by," I say with a shrug.

  "Or checking out your dad's investment," she says while wiping the last of the tears from her eyes.

  "I wouldn't mind sampling something," I tell her to make my excuse for being here more believable.

  She nods and squares her shoulders as she shows me to a table. I have to give her credit. She did hold it together when she was talking to that guy. It was only after he left that she fell apart, mostly once she saw me.

  I take a seat and she hands me a menu. "That's just so you can look it over," she tells me. "I know what I want you to try. You just sit back and relax." She goes off before I can object. I guess she's doing the ordering.

  After putting in the order, she comes back with a fizzy drink for me. "That's real ginger ale. We make it here. It will kick your ass," she promises.

  I'm skeptical, but it does have a kick. I guess I forgot that ginger can have some serious heat. When I'm about to tell her the drink isn't bad, she stops me.

  She sits across from me, holds her hand up and says, "Don't say anything bad about it. My dad developed the recipe. He loved munching on crystallized ginger. I always wanted some too, but then I would make a face, and my dad would laugh. Mom would say, 'Don't give her any more. It's too strong for her.' And Dad would tell her, 'But I want to see her make that funny face.' He was a fun dad." Now Julie looks sad again but a smile still lingers on her face. She sobers up when she sees me staring at her and sits a little straighter. "Your lunch will be here soon. But I probably won't let you say anything bad about the food either." She seems determined to sit and keep me company though.

  "So you work here as a waitress?" I ask her so we don't end up sitting in an uncomfortable silence as we wait for my food.

  "I pitch in and do whatever they need me to. Now that I'm back in college, I'm working at the café only part time. Just as well. The pace in there is so hectic. I can hardly keep up with the more experienced staff. But I make sure I'm there for clean up after dinner. That's not as big a challenge and that way the wait staff don't have to stay late," she tells me.

  Looking around, she points out a few people who work there. She seems to think highly of them. When people pass by, she introduces me to them. My best quality, as far as everyone there is concerned, is that I'm Curtis Henderson's son. I guess it's nice that they all think my dad is a great guy.

  When my food arrives, I see that Julie chose a pork cutlet sandwich for me with some pickled vegetables on the side. It's very nice, I have to admit. She talks about how they make it, heaping plenty of praise on the people who work in the kitchen.

  "So I was right?" she says. "You like it, right?"

  "It's good."

  She smiles in triumph. "I asked myself what you would like, and I thought this was a sure thing. But there is plenty of other good choices, don't get me wrong," she says earnestly.

  It's funny to see her like this. At the house she's more diffident. She shrinks into herself more, like she's not in her element. Here, she claims to be out of her depth, but she seems to be at ease and so enthusiastic about everything that goes on here. She's friendlier too, and not just to me. She waves and smiles at customers she recognizes and they greet her warmly too.

  As I finish eating, I have to remind myself that she's faking it all. Damn, she is good. Her eyes are bright, her smile seems so genuine. She acts a little shy with me with bursts of enthusiasm she can't contain. Can anyone really be that good at faking it?

  Now she's talking about how the rooms upstairs are empty since she and her mother moved into Dad's house. That gets me thinking.

  "Up there. Show me," I tell her and get up from the table, leaving plenty of money for the meal and a generous tip.


  "It's on the house," she tells me.

  "Then I guess I just left a really big tip," I tell her and leave the money there. "Now let's see those rooms."

  "No way in hell," she whispers, changing her tune, and I can't help but smile. Is she letting her good girl mask slip?

  "It's part of my dad's investment isn't it," I point out. "What's the problem? Are you afraid to be alone with me for some reason?" I taunt her.

  "No," she lies, but she backs up that lie with some bad judgment and leads me through the hallway and then upstairs. I watch her ass as we climb the stairs. I can't wait to get my hands on it. I plan to show her why she should have trusted her instincts and not brought me up here.

  Chapter 9

  ~

  Julie

  I can't believe I'm taking Vince upstairs. He called me chicken and I had to prove him wrong. Maybe I'm just plain dumb. Or maybe it's something else. No. I don’t want anything else to happen.

  Then why the hell am I bringing him up here?

  I show him Mom's old room, but he doesn't show much interest. One quick glance and he's done. I open the door to my old room gingerly. It's a small room, but between work and school, I never spent much time here. The familiar furniture from my bedroom at our old house fills the space. It makes the room feel more homey and reminds me of better days.

  The only piece of furniture Vince shows any interest in is the bed. "Wonder how many times you brought guys up here so you could make out with them?" he says, making it sound like I had them lined up at the door. He's a damn nightmare.

  "Never!" I tell him.

  "You have now," Vince informs me matter of factly.

  "That's not why we're here," I try to tell him, but my words fall on deaf ears. Or maybe he just doesn't believe me. Honestly, I'm not sure if I believe me either.